prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] In the world of the immortals, scientists discovered a drug that makes you mortal for a day. People start doing the "try not to die" challenge for views, and find out it's harder than it looks. | There once was a little boy named Hansel. And this little boy had a little sister called Gretel. And like unfortunately too many children in fairy books, they had a father who drank too much and talked too little. And one day, the father decided he'd had enough of the family-man life and kicked them out into the deep dark woods.
This point comes in every child's life, the exodus into the forest. For most children this leads to some metaphorical self-discovery, a few bad decisions, a few good decisions, and a college degree. Hansel and Gretel did not wind up on a college campus though, they wound up in a horrific cannibalistic ritual involving an improbable house made of candy and a hermit-witch who rather suspiciously collected child-sized cages. They decided to self-defence this witch to death using a preheated oven and book it out of there right quick. That's why people wrote stories about them, and the stories are why they became immortal.
The part that they leave out of this tale, and probably the most important part of the story, is why the witch lived in an improbable candy-house in the forest collecting child-sized cages and ovens for cooking small children. Some so-called scholars may tell you that the story is a metaphor for the challenges and dangers of going out on your own without a trail of breadcrumbs leading you back to the support of the society you've ventured out from. This is nonsense, the story of Hansel and Gretel is a true story, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.
At this point in time, an aside is necessary.
It is a sad fact of life that teenage years are the best years of life. This has been scientifically proven. The chemical pathways in the brain amplify the joy, excitement, rage, and despair to levels never again to be reached, and the rest of life is spent chasing poor imitations of those emotions. Like a drug addict searching after that first high, people spend their lives searching for that first crush, or that triumphant euphoria which only exists in the clouded memories of their youth. This is why adults run countries and youth run cultures.
This is also why immortals perpetually hunt the life-bound, and specifically, the young. From vampires draining the blood of the folk, to fae tricking away the children of men, to demigods demanding worship and sacrifice, to cannibalistic witches living in decaying mounds of candy. Those who cannot produce emotions of their own are damned to an eternity feeding on those who can.
Until, that is, nanbrosia. Nanbrosia is a pharmaceutical mood synthesizer capable of producing raw emotion in the undying. It acts in the same way as the hormone addled brain of a high school student, it promises death, and that promise makes life taste sweet.
---
The couch hadn't been cleaned in years. Hansel sat on it, feet kicked up on the stained coffee table next to an ashtray. A video game controller rested on his ample belly as he looked over to Gretel.
Gretel's dull eyes poked out from behind a greasy mane of hair, and her fingers, nails half-painted, half-grown out, clutched a small bag of pills.
"C'mon Hans, lets do it."
"Gret, isn't that stuff dangerous?"
"So what? What else are you gonna do? Build a shelf?"
She kicked a half-finished Ikea monstrosity which had been sitting in the corner the past two months. It was the one-hundred-seventy-sixth shelf they'd owned.
"Learn Greek?" Hansel suggested, after searching the stained walls of the apartment for inspiration.
"Oh, right, I haven't heard that one before," Gretel mocked. She popped open the bag and took the death-pill then tossed the rest on the table and glared at Hansel.
Hansel stared at her for a long minute, then put the controller to the side and took one as well.
---
It was snowing that day. After a thousand years, snow loses it's impressiveness, but for some reason, maybe the pill, maybe just the idea of the pill, it was like the first Christmas all over again.
The pair slipped down the stairs making fools of themselves, they went to central park and ice skated to twenty year old radio hit music, they threw snowballs at each other, they stole McDonalds trays and sledded through the woods in the park. It was a Junkie's Christmas.
---
The sun was setting as the two sat, shivering, on the edge of the lake. The snow lilted down in that lazily predictable unpredictability of snow. The exhaustion of the day made their faces glow, Hansel sat up straight for the first time in decades, Gretel's cheeks shone rosy beneath frosted hair.
"I can't go back, Hans."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't do this anymore, day after day, century after century, what's the point?"
Hansel was silent for a long moment.
"We could learn Greek." He suggested.
"And then what? Hebrew?" She laughed a humorless laugh before continuing.
"I've never felt this alive. I miss this feeling, this rush, this needing to do things because you only get one chance, one opportunity, and if you fail..."
She trailed off and stood up, walking over to the lake, she walked out a bit on the ice until there was a soft cracking noise.
She held up another pill, and popped it into her mouth, then turned back toward the lake and continued to walk, slipping here and sliding there.
Hansel looked after her for a while, then pushed himself to his feet and did the same.
---
What happened next is anyone's guess. All that is known is that on that day, two immortals remembered what it was like to really be mortal, and that everlasting life is not so [sweet](https://www.reddit.com/r/jacktheritter) as a single day of really living. | This is illegal. In the palm of my hand, was a pale blue object. A pill, I believe. Joel glanced wearily at me. His eyes urged me to rethink my choices. His efforts were futile.
Heat began to build within my throat as the capsule snaked its way down to my stomach. A chalky aftertaste remained as I felt the pill settle within my body. “Now, we wait. The effects will be activated in the morning.”
Sighing, Joel left the room. Turning back he whispered, “This better damm work, Tianna.”
The door clicked shut. Slumping into my bed, I gave some thought to what I just did. The next morning, I would be mortal. Only for a day, however. Sure, my decision to do this wasn’t the smartest by any means, but I am following the demands of the masses. Earlier in the week, a similar immortal did the same actions as me, filmed a video, and dubbed it, the “try not to die” challenge. Boy, did it soar. Massive ad revenue was made and the scientist backing him with this mortal pill received quite the sum of money.
Dozing off, I thought once more about this scientist who discovered this pill. He hadn’t approached me asking if I could try out this pill. But, I did own him a favor, so a theft may have been committed. That scientist should learn how to secure their work better.
Day arrived. Joel and I found ourselves in an empty parking lot.
“Alright, how do you want to start this off?” Joel questioned.
“Make it look like I almost got hit by a car.”
“Wow Tianna, shooting high right at the beginning.”
“We need to start with something big to draw the viewers in, Joel.”
Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the camera and positioned it so it faced the road. After, he explained his approach to this feat. It was relatively simple. He would turn into the lot and slowly tap me with the car.
“It’s not dramatic enough, Joel. Try speeding into the lot, but stopping last minute and only tapping me with the car. I trust you.”
Joel stopped right in his tracks to give me some hell about my edits to the plan.
“We’re just following the demands of the masses, Joel.”
“Alright then, if you die, then Dad’s career will be ruined.”
My patience was running dry. Hastily, I urged him to start up the car.
Everything was in place. The camera was positioned, I had filmed some start of video greeting, Joel was in the car, and the road was clear. Joel gave me the signal to start the plan. The revving of the car engine faded into the distance. Sunlight shone into my eyes, hindering my view. A little up head, was the place where Joel was meant to tap me with the car. From the left, the roaring of a car was audible. He was getting closer, time to speed things up. My pace quickened as I walked towards the camera. Smiling, I glanced into the camera, as to tell the viewers that something was about to occur. The car was near the turn in. “It’s now or never,” I murmured. Launching myself forward, the screech of rubber on pavement filled the space.
My actor side shined as I yelled, “Oh no!”
Only I didn’t get tapped by the car. The force of the impact took me off guard. Just as I felt myself flying, an audible sound of an object against concrete was heard. Unfortunately, that object happened to be my body.
“What the hell, Joel?” I shouted. Pain radiated through my body as Joel exited the car.
“We are not doing this anymore. This should put you out of commission for a bit.”
“But dad needs the ad revenue to fund his research about this mortal pill. Also, what the hell was that for?”
His temper was rising. “I had a feeling this whole shit show would get botched. That’s why I hid the real pills before you could get to them. Basically, I gave you a placebo.”
Fury took hold as I called him out on how I could’ve died. He ended up giving some crap on how he slightly hit me, so all I would receive is some bruises.
“Besides, Tianna, Dad would be furious if he found out about the stunt you pulled.”
“You don’t say. Shall we try this again when I’m all patched up?”
Joel’s silence indicated [his answer.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CasualScribblings/) | 2020-06-20T23:47:05 | 2020-06-20T22:14:18 | 196 | 71 |
[WP] You often pick up pennies you find on the ground, inspecting them for date, markings, etc. One day, you find a penny from 2044. Even more shocking, it's your face on the front. | He had picked up the quirk from an old girlfriend. Her grandmother had always picked up pennies if they were face up and made sure to flip them over for someone else if they were face down. The thought of leaving some good will for a stranger if he couldn't earn it himself through a good luck penny always appealed to him and he picked up the same habit.
Running late and impatiently checking his watch for a second time in a few moments because he didn't really look the first time.
"Is this train coming or not?" he breathed out to himself while sticking a piece of nicotine gum in his mouth. A fellow passenger bumps into him and as if they were having their own individual conversations to one another, mutters, "oh, it's coming, it's coming" and wanders off towards the edge of the platform.
The traveler being jarred back to reality looks past the woman that nudged him and sees a single copper penny on top of the trash can near a support column. He heads over to it to toss the gum wrapper away and get a better look at a little luck.
He sees a very dingy and corroded penny, but the side facing him is tough to discern. "Must be a foreign currency" he says, speaking to no one in particular.
He lifts the coin up and casually inspects it to attempt to decipher which side would be 'face up'. Turning it over in his hand he sees that the reverse side is in much better shape, but he doesn't see the face as anything he has seen before on a penny, even though it has a familiar look to it.
The train is finally arriving and wanting to get a closer look at the unfamiliar coin, forgetting the bad luck he might bring by not leaving it face up for someone else, he stuffs it in his jacket's breast pocket.
Climbing into a car on the red line, he sees the woman who had run into him asking a seated passenger a series of questions. "... you believe LeBron has been to the finals so many times in a row? What's that now, four or five? Crazy right? I can't believe there's another election coming up, feels like it was only yesterday that Trump and Clinton were facing off. Historic election indeed. Do you think he'll win again? What if he....", the traveler walks out of ear shot to find a seat, and after figuring he will be about 5 minutes late to his meeting if all goes well, pulls the penny back out of his pocket.
Flipping it over to see the face again, he notices that it is a US coin. "What the hell, 2044? Is this some kind of..." his face freezes. He brings the coin closer to his eyes.
Most will never seen themselves cast in metal, etched in stone, or similarly enshrined. But here the man looked closely at the metallic visage of... himself. The chin, the lips, the hair, and the eyes. Those were HIS eyes. A strange sense of panic and otherworldliness overcame him for a moment before he looked around the train car and hoped to see this as some kind of prank. Feeling like there was no one else looking at him, save the lady still quizzing passengers around her with odd current event trivia, he turned his attention back to the coin.
He reached into his pocket and seeing no signal on his phone from being so far underground, he snapped a picture of the penny and composed a message to his assistant asking him if he thought the portrait looked like him and moved it to his outbox.
The man gently opened his wallet and placed the penny inside, looking at it again, surprised that he didn't notice just how much the face in the coin looked like him as the first thing, he tucked his wallet back in his pocket and stood up to be ready to exit the train as it slowed down for the stop.
The woman who had been running a focus group of fellow begrudging passengers stood by the doors just as the train slowed. Happy that she was picking a door further down the car to wait, the man started to go over the meeting he was going to be late for in his head.
Walking into his building and stepping into the elevator, he sees the same woman from the train walking into the lobby just as the doors close. Breathing a sigh of relief to not be stuck with her again, he tries to focus on the meeting, but his thoughts only go to the penny. Reaching into his pocket to withdraw his wallet to look at it one last time before getting to the conference room, the doors to the elevator open 15 floors before his. Looking up the traveler says, "hey, I didn't expect you to be down here, I figured you'd be upstairs waiting for me. Still, glad to see you and do you have the..." his assistant cuts him off. His face set in a look of determination and his jaw clenched. The elevator doors close and it begins to move. "I got your email."
The assistant reaches out and grasps the man around the neck with both hands. Surprised to say the least, the traveler begins fighting back and they're thrashing about the elevator. 12 floors before stopping.
He punches his assistant square in the left eye to little effect. Kicking and pulling at him doesn't seem to deter him any. 10 floors. Rushing towards the elevator door and slamming his assistant into the aluminum causes a slight loss of grip around his neck and allows the man to gasp for a small amount of additional air before going right back into the fight of his life. 6 floors.
Falling to the ground, the assistant now plants his knee squarely on the chest of his boss, expressionless until he sees the redness of the traveler's eyes, a sign that he's heading towards unconsciousness, then a slight smirk starts to appear at the corner of his lips. 2 floors.
Reaching up towards his assailant, the man tries to push his thumbs into his attacker's eyes. Even this does little to phase him, and he opens his eyes even wider. 1 floor.
Trying to twist away and get just any amount of air into his body, the man tries to push his legs against his assistant when the doors open with a ding. Hearing others scream in the background at the sight of the two men locked in combat causes the attack to slow for just a moment, giving the man a chance to grab the pen from his pocket and stab it into the hand of his attacker. He scrambles to his feet, gasping hard and coughing, trying to drink in every molecule of air that he possibly can, he dizzily stumbles towards the open door, and is tackled from behind and rolls forward towards the glass fence that encircles the upper lobby and looks over the building's atrium. Turning to look he sees his (now former, obviously) assistant pull the pen from his hand and throw it over the glass to the marble forty floors below.
The glean in the assistant's eyes changes from anger to the calm that comes with completing a difficult task, as he charges at the man, ready to push him over the edge and send him to the same fate as the pen.
At the moment before impact, the traveler sees the woman from the train, closing rapidly, pushing him down while getting underneath the assistant. Using his own momentum, she expertly throws the attacker up and over the glass.
Dazed and still trying to take a normal breath, he manages to get out between coughs, "what the... who are you?"
Kneeling down, the woman leans in close and puts her hand on his shoulder, then whispers, "you're already late, and this meeting is very important."
| "Today started just like any other day. I woke up, got myself ready for the day, and then went and ate some breakfast in the cafeteria." I said to Carol.
"Okay, so then what happened?" Carol replied.
She seems more cold today than usual. Less cheery maybe but who knows I could be reading into too much.
"Well after breakfast I took my morning walk through the park and you know how I am. I was looking around for any change to add to the collection and I found a particularly shiny penny. So, I bent over to pick it up and read the date, but it said 2044 on it..." I can feel my chest get tight as I utter out the last few syllables.
"Well that is quite strange Theodore. Was there anything else strange about the penny?"
"Well... I noticed that my face is on it. I...I..."
"What is it Theodore? You can talk to me, you know I am here to talk through anything with you."
"Well Carol. I had a flashback or a vision when I saw it. I saw myself in a suit and holding that penny in a box while shaking a man's hand for pictures. I don't know what it means, but it felt so real... like I was actually there."
"Do you have the penny now Theodore?"
I reach into my change pocket and sift through my handful of pennies, nickels, and dimes. It's not here. Where did it go?! I came straight to my session with Carol after my walk.
"I... I... don't know where it is... I had it on my walk over here." I stuttered to Carol in shame.
"Well Theodore. I don't want to upset you but do you think that maybe you just imagined that penny? Your condition is starting to develop more rapidly now and hallucinations are often one of the first late stage signs."
"It felt so real Carol. I could feel the fake copper between my fingers... the indention of my face in the coin."
I feel my chest tighten even more and my vision starts to fade to a different image. I can see a band above my eyes. I can hear the distant hum of machines, and what is this cold metal I am laying on. My vision swirls back to the room with Carol, and I feel sweat covering me.
"We are loosing him. MAYDAY MAYDAY he is starting to breakthrough!!" Carol shouted into her lapel.
The security guard comes crashing through the door with a nurse following him. He starts to push me down in my chair.
"What are you doing John?!" I scream as I try to struggle out of his grip. The nurse sticks my thigh and I fade away to darkness.
Oh God it's so bright in here. It feels like I have a hangover... Wait where am I? This looks like the room from before. I look over to my side. There are a ton of tubes sticking out of me whats going on?! Did I have a panic attack? \*CRASH\* the door busts open. Three people in masks walk in.
"It's gonna be okay Theo we've got you now." The largest of the said through a skull masks.
"Who are you people? Where is Carol? Where are we?" I stammer out in fear.
"Theo now is not the time for questions you just gotta trust us so we can get you out of here safely." The smallest of the group said in a kind voice.
They cut the band from around my eyes and remove the enclosure around me. The larger two flip me onto a stretcher and drape a sheet over my body.
"Play dead until we are out of here if you want to live."
A few minutes pass by and then the sheet is removed. I'm in the back of a van.
"Where the hell are we going? What is going on Goddammit?!!"
"Shh Theo, we are here to help but we aren't out of the woods yet. This place is about to go on full lock-down so we have to hurry."
I can feel the van speeding up beneath me. \*WOOWOOWOO\* A siren blares in the background
"This is not a drill. Repeat this is not a drill. Code Orange. I repeat code orange. Everyone report to your designated check-in terminal." The man says hurriedly over the loud speakers.
I can hear the van struggling to get to speed. \*CRASH\* The van crashes into something metal. Im hurled into the wall as we turn sharply at a corner.
"Okay so are we alright now, can you tell me why I am in the back of a getaway van???"
The two sitting in the back with me remove their masks. One is a slender woman probably 5'4 or less, brunette, doe eyes. The other is a rather nerdy looking guy, short black hair, a little on the heavier side, average height.
"Well Theo, we came to save you. What all do you remember?" The woman said with a smile and a pat on the shoulder.
"I remember being at my care facility for the past couple of years. I remember working through my problems with Carol, and I remember all of my walks in the park and time spent with the other patients. I remember my life from before I got sick. God I miss those days with my family."
"Oh Theo, this may come as shock to you but none of that is real. Carol, the walks in the park, the fellow patients, your family from before, your sickness... It's all fiction. You have been in a simulation for the past three years." She said looking disheartened
"I... I.. What?"
"You were the President Theo, but the Ishkas took you, put a clone in your place, and put you in a simulation."
My vision flashes back to me standing at the Lincoln memorial. I can feel my chest starting to get tight again. My vision is swirling around the room.
"Oh no, Kyle, we have got to remove these memory blockers now or he might get hurt."
Everything goes black. I fade away to darkness...
\~FIN\~
I would be willing to do a part 2 if anyone likes this I just don't want to make it too long. | 2018-06-27T09:22:43 | 2018-06-27T08:56:39 | 79 | 22 |
[WP] You are an immortal being, eons old. Your best friend is a mortal who reincarnates every time they die. They do not recall their past lives but they always remember you.
​ | Like we arranged, we always met toward the ends of his lives. I was not to intrude, not to disturb him, until he was absolutely bedridden (we'd decided this in one of his earlier reincarnations, when he couldn't stop himself from asking questions about his previous lives, and those memories, frankly, made him insane).
This time around he was a she, an old Filipino lady at the edge of her life, tucked away in a nursing home in America. It was early Fall. The year was 2018.
I was dressed in all black, as usual. Long, black overcoat over a black vest and dress shirt. Black jeans and black dress shoes. As a rule, I changed my race to match hers. So this time around I had smooth brown skin.
When I arrived at her door I didn't bother to knock. We had given up such formalities centuries ago.
She was dressed in all white, and was thin, delicate, sitting on a chair by the window.
"Who's there?" She asked, turning her head.
I hovered at the doorway and smiled my smile while she squinted her eyes and inspected me. Slowly I could see her remembrance of me returning to her, like color in someone's cheeks when they return inside after a winter day.
"It's me." I said.
"Oh." She turned her gaze back to the window. "That time already, huh?"
I entered and took a seat on her neatly-made bed.
"So, how'd I do?" She asked.
"This time around?"
"Yeah, how'd I do?"
I hesitated.
"You haven't asked in a long time. You sure you want to know?"
"I'm tired." She looked me in the eye. "It's rough. Has it always been this rough around the end? Of course, there were good times. But just..." And she thought about it, then turned back to the window. "I don' think I could do it again. I just don't think I can, you know?"
"That's alright." I felt sorry for her. There *were* bad times, horrible, messy, unspeakable times. I mean, she's lived through most of human history. But bad times always passed. Or she always wondered at what was next."
"I mean it. I think I'm done."
"Why the change of heart?"
"I've had many hearts. Seeing you again reminds me of that. I didn't even know why I was so sad until you walked through that door. Until then, it was like a cold mist. Something fogging the windows, freezing me up inside. But now I know.
"I'm sick. I don't just mean the cancer." She turned her body towards me now and grabbed my hand. "Don't you get tired of seeing it all pass by? Like a pool of water bound to evaporate? Souls waiting in the clouds, a life as fast as falling rain?"
"I don't get it." I said. "You've been through millenniums? Why only now?"
She squeezed my hand, and the lines in her smile deepened. "I'm sorry. I haven't been explaining myself well." And her lips started to quiver. "I cant see you anymore and I cant come back. You carry the weight of my past lives and all my past losses and past loves and everything in the shadows of your black coat. Somehow, even when I'm born, I know that you're bound to come, and that burden of memories looms over my life and affects every grain of my existence, even if for all those years I cant explain why I feel that way.
"I'm done reincarnating. And I know that you are inevitably connected to that process, so I guess this will be my last time seeing you, too."
Then, something I'm not used to. Something that had been missing for longer than history. An emptiness gathering inside me.
"I'm sorry" she said again. "We've had so many good times. And I've learned so much by looking back with you. But I'm done looking."
"No," I said. "I understand."
She burst into a fit of coughing, and I helped her into bed.
"Can I ask you something? Why do you choose to visit me?"
"I needed a friend." I said.
She chuckled.
"We met once. A long time ago. And we became friends. It was something I hadn't expected either. I was just doing my job."
"I hope you will make more friends." She said, quietly.
She was starting to doze off, and I sat by and just watched her.
Then, "Can I ask one more thing?"
"Yes."
"Are you Death?"
She looked at me and we both smiled.
Then she closed her eyes and slept.
And she never woke up again. | I was sitting in my favorite coffee shop in Paris, Le Procope. I first came in 1686, when it opened, and though I wasn’t always welcome, I always came back. I like things that last, even if they grow old and tired. Sometimes they spring up new and fresh again, like Le Procope. Plus I always get the best gossip here. Love won and lost, and wars started and ended. My favorite topics.
But today was a quiet day, and I sat outside in the waning afternoon sunlight watching the tourists and sipping an espresso.
I was waiting for a friend. I wasn’t sure he was coming, but this was the last of his usual haunts I had to check. Sometimes he was in Rome, sometimes Berlin. One time he was in America, and wasn’t that a treat. I hated almost every moment we spent in that upstart colony. They didn’t even have decent coffee. The first time was in Africa, before human spread across the earth like mold on bread. Although they did create bread, so maybe it was worth it. I decided to get a nice baguette to go with dinner.
A stranger rounded the corner a block away, but something about him drew my eye. Perfect, it hadn’t taken too long. He was young still. Looked to be 25 or so. We would have so much time together.
I waited until he was almost even with my table, then I set my cup down too close to the edge and watched it tumble to the cobblestones. “Oh! Pardon moi, I’m so sorry!”
He stopped just short of the broken cup and looked at me for a moment. “Oh, it’s alright, you didn’t get me. Um, do I know you? You seem very familiar to me.”
“I’m not sure, I’m Anna. Please, have a seat if you have time?”
A waiter rushed out with a small broom and dust pan and swept up the mess while another brought out two fresh cups. I love good service, and they knew I’d reward them appropriately. I don’t keep up with much, but tipping practices appealed to me.
“I’m Sam, it’s nice to meet you, Inanna. Though I swear we’ve met before.”
Good, he was remembering faster this time. Sometimes it took him weeks to remember my name.
“Well, if we know each other, then we must catch up! Tell me about yourself.”
Sam was hesitant at first. He started with the usual, where he was born and who his parents and siblings were. But he slowly got more comfortable and told me of his hopes and dreams. He worked in low-impact power generation, solar power, specifically. Fitting, for a sun god. He was actually about to take a new job in Africa, setting up low-cost solar panels to generate power for water pumping and purification.
“You always loved Africa.” He says. “And they loved you there. Though I can’t for the life of me remember ever visiting there myself.”
We stand and I smile as he flips his scarf around his neck. I can never get those little local touches like he can. I’m always an outsider, always a tourist.
“Come, brother, we’ll bring water and life to the first continent again.” | 2018-08-29T12:22:01 | 2018-08-29T09:07:25 | 730 | 102 |
[WP] After you die, you come back as a spirit, but only while someone alive is thinking of you. For 10 years you've had seconds or minutes of consciousness at a time. But for the past 16 months, you've been constantly awake, and you begin to suspect why. | This would be so much more convenient if I awoke near the one who was thinking of me. When I first awoke, I didn’t even bother trying to find who was thinking of me because all my previous hauntings had only lasted a few minutes. I just enjoyed being awake.
After the first hour, however, my first thought was to find my loved ones. I didn’t even know how much time had passed. I went back to our home, but a new family inhabited it. That was no surprise. I think my kid sold it before I died, but that time was all so hazy.
I tried the home of my son and his adorable wife and children, but a new family lived there. They had only been renting that house, I knew, but I thought I’d give it a try.
I remembered the nice orderly at the hospice center who spoke to me with a grownup’s voice instead of talking to me like a child. I liked that young man. The hospice center still smelled the same. Was he there? Was he the reason I was awake? He wasn’t there, however. I never thought the torture of being a ghost would be that I can’t do a simple Google search to find someone. Wouldn’t you think that I would be drawn to those who were thinking of me, pulled to them by an invisible string?
After a month of being awake, I remembered that I could travel anywhere. I had never been able to see the Pyramids of Giza or the Colosseum. I had lived my entire life on one continent, but now I could see it all. Fearless of danger, I saw, smelled, tasted and heard all the famous sites that I had missed when I had a body. I sampled cannolis in Italy, watched sunsets in Thailand and swam with dolphins in the vastness of the ocean, without fear of drowning.
Now, I have been awake for sixteen months. Still not enough time to enjoy all that the earth has to offer, but a taste of the world I never had as a human. I have searched my hometown for my progeny to no avail. I feel lost and unconnected, but at the same time, connected to this world as I have never felt as a living being. I could follow any human, watching them as they rested or played on their phones.
And then I found it. I found the reason why I was awake. A young teenager who I had been haunting came across a video. I watched her play the video and settle in like a child with a cuddly blanket. The video was titled, “Grandma Tells A Story.” It was me, at my most hideous. Old, blind and senile, I was babbling about the time my brother pushed me into the creek and I punched him in the face so hard that I broke his tooth. I pointed at the picture in the photo album and you could see the devilish grin in my eyes as I recounted that day. I watched her repost the video with the comment, “Forever Repost.” | She had to know I would find out. She expected me to find out, but she didn't think it would take this long. I think I was wilfully ignorant, enjoying my second life since I didn't want to face the truth, but I didn't have a choice anymore. Knowing this truth requires action, but I don't know what I can do. The door will keep out the living, but not me. She knows this. She planned it this way. I slip through the first door, the second door, and finally the solid wall to her sanctuary. There's a dim glow from the instruments nestled in a cabinet in one corner of the room. I see the portrait she made of me hanging on a wall, ominous in the pale light, and kept company by a new one of her. In the corner is a crumpled heap of off-white with the unmistakable gold lace of her wedding gown. I don't need to examine it. I know it's her, and I'm certain the corpse would be exactly as old as my current incarnation. Against my conscious will, my head turns to the wall opposite our images. I knew she would try anything to be with me again, but I always hoped she wouldn't go this far. Two pairs of blank eyes stared out from two ghastly heads floating like squids whose tentacles stretched to the machines in the corner. One would forever be staring into the lifeless eyes of my visage, and the other into my beloved's. "Forever," her sweet voice spoke as she floated into the room. | 2019-06-30T10:43:02 | 2019-06-30T10:14:26 | 625 | 22 |
[WP] You find an abandoned altar in the middle of a forest. You’ve read about them in class. Abandoned altars would mean someone – or a group – had abandoned their deity. Saddened by the betrayal of the worshipper to his worshipped, you clean the altar. You never thought the forgotten god bless you. | This god was like any other: boring and repetitive and taking fucking ages to wake up. It was a little gold statue that kept stretching and yawning like it was waiting for me to do all the talking.
I stood impatiently before the altar. I was high on the mountain that I, very creatively, named Big Mountain (as opposed to Small Mountain). The foliage all around was a dark purple, the color of a ripe pomegranate.
The solid gold altar was still glistening from the scrub-and-rinse I'd given it, stripping off the old leaves and dirt and shit. I didn't know the names of any of the plants on this tiny, shithole of a planet, so I made some up: small thorny piece of shit, big thorny piece of shit, pink burny stuff, fuzzy-murder-leaves.
Admittedly, the plants suffered from my rage at being mutinied and marooned by my own damn crew.
I still remembered the gleam in my first mate Royale's eye as she told me, smirking, "Don't worry. There's enough oxygen in the atmosphere for you to survive. You'll die from starvation or dehydration. Maybe eaten alive by the locals, if you're unlucky."
And then she'd pushed me out of my own goddamn spaceship with nothing but a parachute and my space suit. I was lucky I'd started hiding a knife in my boot after I walked out on the deck a few too many times to find that the crew shushed their conversations, immediately, and stared at me like an intruder.
I couldn't be too surprised. Space pirates only measure their honor in how much gold they can get out of you. Truth was, I'd have done the same to Royale, if I was next in line to be captain.
But Royale couldn't hold a grudge like I could.
"Hey." I nudged the god statue in the chest. It looked like the civilization I could only assume once existed here: creepy little spindly fuckers, all arms, big giant eyes. To be honest, I was glad they're all dead. If the god-statues I'd found so far were any hint, they were all nightmare creatures from evolution's B-roll.
The god opened its eyes, which were huge black circles that take up most of its face. It blinked at me, owlish, and wiped some water from its face.
"What sort of creature are you?" it said.
"The kind that knows the rules around here. I cleaned your little altar thing, and now you owe me a blessing."
"Indeed. If you're one of my true followers." The god looked me over, suspiciously. "You do not even appear to be of this earth."
"You're a perceptive one," I said. "But trust me, buddy. I believe in every bit of your power. And I need that blessing."
"What do you desire?" the god asked, solemnly. Then its eyes flicked above me as it realized, too slow, like the gods always do, that I was not alone.
There was a whole storm of gods, hovering over my head. They were trapped spirits that might have looked like a low-flying rain cloud, if you didn't look close enough.
Here's something you should understand, if you ever find yourself stranded on a foreign planet, far from home: every planet has its own weird physics. Call it whatever you want. God. The eternal life force. A quirk of evolution. The first spark. The great so-what.
The point is, if you can find it, you can use it.
I grinned and lifted up the entire altar from the earth. It dislodged like an old boot from mud. It was small, about as heavy as a cinderblock. "You'll see. I have a special plan, just for you."
I turned and walked off, back the direction I'd come. I knew the god would have no choice to follow, just like all the rest.
I'd found the first altar by accident, thinking it might be a door or a map or something that could lead me to someone who knew the way off this tiny dirt-rock. But when that first god appeared (and I realized I wasn't just losing my fucking mind) and explained the rules to me, I saw a plan come together.
It was stupid and desperate, but so was I. | It was a senseless pursuit to try and recover all things abandoned. But when one was right in front of you, how could anyone with a beating heart resist?
Amidst the plentiful trees and shoots that sprung from the forest floor, a stone altar sat, as high as my waist and as long as my body, but nearly every inch of its surface covered with moss, almost every crack filled in with lichens. It was probably loved, once, evident from the tenderly etched in symbols and lettering once filled with gold leaf, now merely speckled--but now, it sat abandoned and cold.
I knelt before it, feeling my knees give into the damp ground. I clasped my hands together, and prayed. This was the home of a deity--a forgotten god--I think. But I muttered my blessings anyway, for they were free and plentiful, and took but a moment of my time. My thoughts inadvertently drifted to when people would gather about, whether in revelry or tragedy, and bask in the glory of a god that looked after them through rain or shine. I wondered if this god ruled over its own domain, or an aspect of life, and thought about how the tribe that once sought validation from the deity have all but disappeared.
"It is nice," said the wind.
My eyes shot open, and my head warily spun around. The wind cannot speak. I had to have been mistaken.
"I did not expect to hear prayers," the breeze's tendrils flowed and tickled my ears, placing words into my mind unlike any other sort of speech or sound. "But it is appreciated."
"You must be--"
"I am," it said. "Forgive me, I would tell you my own name, but I cannot remember it for the life of me."
I continued to kneel, my knees sinking ever deeper.
"I'm sorry," I muttered.
"You have nothing to apologize for," the wind tinkled and laughed. "It is fate. To still exist is a blessing to me."
"It is?"
"This is my life now," the breaths of nature swirled. "There was a time when my form was more corporeal, more awesome--but that a past long gone."
"I'm sorry," I said again. "I wish I could do more."
"You are doing more--more than anybody else has had in what feels like a thousand years," the gust ebbed. "Thank you, but please feel free to leave me be. I appreciate it, but you have your own fate and blessings to chase, and not on an old, forgotten deity."
"But you are abandoned," I said. "How can there be a worse fate for a god?"
"My mortal shelter now serves as home to the ever-shifting flora and fauna of the forest, an intricate and undeniable ecosystem of so many lives," the forgotten god smiled. "There could be worse fates, I think."
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-05-01T23:54:36 | 2021-05-01T23:43:50 | 368 | 125 |
[WP]: Your little crime family ran a restaurant as a money laundering front. However, the place got so popular, you decided to quit the crime and just run the place straight. Now, a new crime organisation is trying to inch into town, on your turf. It's time to get back to business. | Beads of sweat rolled down Hector's forehead, threatening to sting his eyes as they collected on his bushy eyebrows; he dabbed his face with the hand-towel he kept slung on his apron for that specific purpose, calling out merrily to his young employees on the other side of the service counter.
"Two large Hawaiian and one Italian heat ready to go!" his raspy voice boomed through the small restaurant, and a slender kid responded quickly, grabbing the warm boxes of pizza and spinning on his heels.
"Number 64 you're out the door, grab your pies please!"
Hector never imagined himself running a pizza joint, hell, he never expected to make it past 35. So, when he looked out past the heat of the kitchen towards the crowded, bustling dining area, he was filled with joy. Against all odds, against his upbringing and his sins, he'd managed to carve out a peaceful, honest life for his family.
Six sons, all still alive and well; his two youngest working right here in the original Hector's, and the other four operating the two expansions they'd opened in the last few years. Uncles, aunts, nieces, and nephews, all doing their part to create something that brought joy to the people of their old neighborhoods.
He'd had a reoccurring nightmare of the cops storming the place, killing everyone inside, payment for the crimes of his dirty past. But they were just dreams, just horrible, awful dreams.
"Boss!" one of the new kids called out from the front, a local high-school girl one of his nephews recommended for the job.
Hector snapped out of his daydreaming and poked his head over the counter, "Problem?"
"Some guys wana talk to you," she was facing him with a nervous look and shaky voice.
Hector came around front, but not before washing the grease from his hands and grabbing a revolver he kept wrapped in a towel under the sink. Sliding the gun into his baggy apron pocket, he calmly approached the cash register where two large, block-headed men were standing.
"Gentlemen," he said, maintaining an air of great customer service, "was there a problem with your order? Maybe we can get you boys a few vegan calzones?"
"We're here on behalf of our employer," the larger man stated confidently. "He wishes to congratulate you on your business's tremendous success, and to extend to you a little business opportunity."
"Oh?" Hector whispered to the young cashier, and she hurried off to the kitchen. "Who might your employer be and what's he got in mind? We do have catering menus, you know?"
Both the men chuckled to each other, but the big guy's tone was serious, "Mr. Larry is going to need 10% of your monthly profits, so if you could hurry off to your safe and get that for us, we'll be out of your greasy hair until next month."
"Oh?" Hector smiled, leaning on the counter and almost whispering to the men, "and if I don't?"
"Then we'll break your fucking—"
The old man moved fast, yanking the gun from his apron and bashing the goon's face in with it. He pulled back the hammer as the man fell backwards, pointing it at his still standing associate who'd backed up quickly and thrown his hands in the air.
"You crazy old asshole—"
He was silenced by the sound of a shell being racked into a shotgun behind the counter. Hector's nephew, Sam, had the long barrel of the weapon trained on the man slowly rising and choking on his own blood.
"Get the fuck out of here," Hector screamed over the cries of panic from the regular customers and some of his employees. "and tell Larry, whoever the fuck he is, that if he wants anything from me he can order a shitload of pizza and have you idiots come pick it up—10% discount on the house!"
"You're fucking dead," the men were backing up through the hole that had parted in the long line of customers, "we'll be back, and we're gonna burn this place to the ground!"
"Good-luck," Sam yelled out as the men scurried out of the door, "we passed our fire-safety inspection just last month!"
The mass of customers were frozen in fear, all watching Hector who still had his revolver pointed at the door.
He finally snapped out of his tunnel-vision and lowered the weapon, "Get everyone in here a free large pizza, any toppings."
This brought the crowd around, most of them clapping and cheering.
"And Sam," Hector turned around, dabbing his head with his sweat towel. "Call everyone, get the boys down here, and tell em' to stuff the crust."
/r/BeagleTales | Lord forgive me but it’s time to go back to the old me, said Mario Tagliatelle, proprietor of Mario’s Fifth Street Pizza and my third-favorite uncle.
I was down on my knees beneath a wobbly table, wedging a folded napkin beneath the leg responsible for the wobbling.
I’m sorry, what? I said.
I tried to stand up and bonked my head. Uncle Mario loomed beside the window, his massive hairy arms crossed across his massive hairy chest. I went to stand with him, rubbing the back of my skull.
Across the street, somebody was selling drugs. I could tell because they had one of those fold-out posterboards used in science fairs, except instead of describing the chemistry behind laundry detergent or whatever the posterboard simply said “BUY DRUGS HERE.” Sad-looking people were lining up by the dozen. I watched a customer walk out of our pizza shop, see the sign, drop their pizza in the street, and run across to join the line.
Uncle Mario said a series of very profane Italian words.
Hey, whoa, I said, what’s bothering you so much?
Because I knew Uncle Mario and I knew that Uncle Mario did not have a heart that was, like, touched by the plight of the drug addict here in this big unspecified North American city.
It’s time for you to learn the true history of the Tagliatelle family, said Uncle Mario, turning to me and going down on one knee so that his eyes were level with mine. (I’m not short. He was seven feet tall and just about that wide.)
We were not always humble pizza merchants, said Uncle Mario. We were once the city’s most feared criminal organization.
I knew that, I said. You told me that as recently as last Thursday.
Uncle Mario pressed onward.
Mario’s Fifth Street was a money-laundering front, he said. But the pizza was so good, soon it was making more money than the rest of the operation combined.
Knew that too, I said. None of this is a secret.
I picked up one of our menus, and pointed to the paragraph on the front, which recounted this exact story, except with more words, in a curlicue font.
My question is, if we’re making so much money, why do you care about the drug dealers?
These are my people, said Uncle Mario. My customers. Nobody sells stuff to my customers but me.
That seems to run somewhat antithetical to the whole concept of free market capitalism that made you so successful in the first--
Come, Little Mario. I’ve got to show you something.
Is it the gun locker? I said.
It was the gun locker. Uncle Mario threw open the door and we walked inside. On the walls: every conceivable gun, including some that looked made-up. I grabbed a shoulder-mounted missile launcher. Uncle Mario dual-wielded AK-47s.
Lord forgive me but it’s time to go back to the old me, said Uncle Mario, wrapping ammo belts across his chest. He slipped a grenade into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
You just said that five minutes ago, I said.
I don’t recall.
Well you did, I said. You need a new catchphrase.
Say hello to my little friends, said Uncle Mario.
We’ll work on this later, I said as I followed him back into the restaurant. | 2019-04-17T09:03:50 | 2019-04-17T08:41:40 | 446 | 85 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | If I knew I had more of the same to look forward to, I don't think I'd of killed myself. Really it was basically like life but worse, at least if you were alive you had needs and wants, urges and drives. When you were dead you just boredly watched the living. Watched them make the same stupid mistakes again and again.
Centuries went by before I finally figured out how a ghost died. Was spending time with one of the dead in his families home. His widow said his name and he just vanished. I hung around for a while longer but no further mention of him was made, and that's when I figured out that the dead were little more than memories. As the memory of us faded, so did we.
I knew a catastrophe unlike any other was coming when the ghosts began to vanish in droves. The only comparable time was the fall of Rome, so many who should've been remembered were lost for forever. Even then however, paled in comparison to what had been happening. I was praying with a friend of mine, a holocaust victim by the name of Elijah. I happened upon him shortly after his death, wandering around France in a daze. So long it had been since I had any real company, even as a ghost I was reviled, my name synonymous with betrayal and greed. He didn't care though, so we spent our time talking about our lives, about theology, about the world. I think part of the reason he was willing to talk to me was because he no longer saw the light, but in time he did again and in doing so made me think perhaps I could as well.
When he vanished I couldn't believe it, there was an entire museum dedicated to remembering the holocaust victims. I made my way to the museum only to find it intact, with more people than ever. I stayed there, praying each day, watching ghosts blink out of existence by the hundreds. Praying they found something better after. Then the bombs fell, it took Rome years, decades even, to fall. The modern fell in less than a week, utterly destroyed by their own power.
Even so I didn't fade, I guessed some knowledge was just to stubborn to be forgotten. I couldn't do it alone anymore however, and I had an idea of who to speak to, to begin to see about finding forgiveness. I moved slower than I could have, stopping and spending the night with survivors I'd find, praying over them, then spending the time on the road praying that my prayers were heard. I didn't think I'd find him there, but the first place I checked was the eternal city. As I suspected he was nowhere to be found, so I continued on to his old home in Galilee.
I made my way to the waters edge and saw him standing in the water, immune to the radioactivity, water lapping gently against his knees. Even after all these years I recognized him, the rock. He turned and looked at me then, and I could see the pain and anguish in his eyes. I wondered if my eyes looked similar, both of us having experienced three thousand years of human loss and suffering. "Still I don't have enough faith" he chuckled, gesturing at the water and how even as a ghost he sank beneath it's surface. "Hello Peter" I greeted. | "Okay guys today is a very special day, as I'm sure you're all aware. Today it has been exactly 3000 years since the incredibly popular "Ghosts Named John Smith Society" was first formed by our lord and savoir, John Smith." The crowd of ethereal John Smiths, numbering well into the millions, let's out an underwhelming cheer, walking the face of the earth as nothing more than a whisper for
millennia really takes the energy out of you.
"And to celebrate such an occasion, world renowned mad scientist, John Smith, has an announcement to make!"
"Ladies and gentlemen," the spectacled spirit began, "Today marks the beginning of great change. Seeing as I have had over two thousand years to further my studies, it seems plausible that I would make a discovery or two along the way. My most recent creation, however, will rewrite the face of not only this world, but the previous one too.
"With funding from the economical powerhouse that is the late Donald Trump, I have theorised a way in which every single John Smith can be reborn into the past life!"
The crowd's attention had been caught, it was so quiet, you could hear an ectoplasmatic pin drop.
"Not only shall we be reborn, but we shall be immortal." The cacophonous roar of the crowd caused a wily grin to slowly spread across the face of the wizened old scientist.
"I put it to you, fellow John Smiths of the ethereal plane, that we rise up against those mortals and take back our old home. We shall enter the world of the living and rule as gods! Every last John Smith shall finally be repaid for the purgatorial nightmare we have been bound too for years. Tonight is the night, my friends, that John Smiths shall become gods. | 2016-01-17T15:06:39 | 2016-01-17T12:40:16 | 235 | 20 |
[WP] While driving you hit and kill a boy. You feel terrible, and at the funeral you tell the family you wish you had died instead of him. 3 weeks later, a new surgery comes out that can bring someone back from the dead at the cost of another's life. You hear a knock at your door. It's the family. | How do you feel son?
Hungry.... can I have pizza mommy?
Where’s spot? I miss him
“I would give anything to trade places , im so sorry.”
I said it and I meant it. But it meant nothing.
They walked away broken , changed and full of hate. I did this to them. I took their son. And that was that .
I was sober when I hit him so I faced no criminal charges. Although I often wish I had. I deserved to pay for their suffering , i deserved something.
Three months later they were at my door. They looked hopeful. I was a combination of scared and confused.
We found a way, they said. We found a man who can bring him back. We’ll gladly pay what he asks but he needs a host.remember when you said you’d trade places if you could?
The man they found was dressed in a dark robe as he chanted over me in my living room. I didn’t understand what he was saying it sounded like gibberish. I was scared beyond words. I was ready for what was about to happen but scared non the less. He ask the family to step outside he need privacy for the spell to work. They obliged.
The man pulls a small bottle from under his robe and ask me to drink. I do. After a few moments I become numb. After a few more I’m completely paralyzed. He leans in , he whispers in my ear
What I gave you will wear of in about an hour. At that point you have two choices , you could tell them I’m a scam artist and break their hearts again . I don’t care by that time I’ll be long gone. Or .... your favorite food is pizza. Your dogs name is spot . You’re five , they can’t quiz you on much
| I took a long breath, tentatively laying my fingers on the knob. I pushed until I heard it unlatch. A few eager morning rays pierced the crack between the door and the frame, and after what felt like an eternity, I found myself eye to eye with the boy's family — his weeping mother, somber father, and bitter grandparents.
"I've changed my mind."
\*WHONK!\* | 2018-09-16T20:33:29 | 2018-09-16T18:01:16 | 64 | 23 |
[WP] In a new TV game show contestants must jump into a wormhole that drops them into a random point in time where they must survive for longer than the other contestants. You've just been dropped in the worst possible place. | "The god maneuver" was how Madison had described the plan during our strategy sessions. "Easy money, it's all about the swagger." Sure, I could land anywhere, anytime in all of human history, but yokels were yokels be they cave men, israelites, or 15th century chinese peasants.
I swished my purple satin cape and tipped the fake plastic crown jauntily toward the audience as I stood on stage with the other contestants. Madison beamed at me from her seat in the guest section. There was a solid variety this time around. One man decked out in camo, a hunting bow at his side, a fit looking woman in hiking clothes with a full set of backpacking gear strapped on, even a man in suit of armor, longsword included. They always liked to throw in a few oddballs. Granted, in my LED bedazzled finery he had nothing on me.
What you brought all came down to a combination of strategy and gambling. In season three a contestant conquered an entire Nordic fishing village using only a pistol. Other times that trick would get you burned at the stake. Me, I hoped to dazzle without frightening, put on a show. The guy next to me had clearly taken the opposite approach, dressed all in rags and covered in mud. He'd spend his time trying to blend in. Then there were those who spurned social interaction altogether deeming it too risky. The hunters and hikers. They'd go off the grid and hope to survive in the wild.
The crowd cheered as the host stepped onto the stage. "Welcome welcome welcome! Welcome friends! Welcome families! Welcome Audience! And of course Welcome contestants to another exciting season of *TWISTED TIMELINES!*" The theme song played as he danced happily about the room clapping along with the audience. I couldn't help but smile. Sure, it was a blood sport, but it was the most popular blood sport in history and I'd waited my whole life for a chance at that hundred million dollars.
The house lights dimmed and a spotlight lit each of us standing there on stage as the host explained the rules. Not that it was necessary. We all knew them by heart. Any time in human history was possible. Any place in the world as well (barring the middle of the ocean of course). No attacking another contestant directly before the second year. Other than that, the last contestant alive received the prize and a rescue.
One by one the host introduced us, asked us our strategy, asked how we'd handle various times or locations. Behind us on screen an assortment of random times and places scrolled by accompanied by the names of contestants who'd died there and short clips of each death.
I was last.
"So, Mr. Cornelius. How are you feeling today." He beamed a smile more towards the cameras than me, his purple sequined suit glittering in the stage lights. "You and I would make a great match don't you think?" He chuckled, fingering the embroidered lavender silk of my shirt and directed the camera toward the blinking LEDs sewn into the fabric.
"I'm great today Jerry, just great." I replied, trying my best not to sound nervous. "And yep, this ridiculous getup is all part of the plan. But what's your excuse?" I joked, pointing to his suit.
He laughed a deep belly laugh, the kind only used when projecting for live television. "Me? Oh, you know, I just like to stand out." His tone grew slightly more serious. "But tell us Mr. Cornelius, I know, but why don't you tell the audience at home what exactly your plan is and how you expect this costume to help."
"Well, I'm banking on what my girlfriend Madison calls *the god maneuver*. Basically Jerry I figure any time post-WWI I'll look like an idiot, but not be in any danger. But pre-WWI I want to dazzle the local yokels. Purple cloth to make me look rich, lots of fake gold, and the lights can be turned on and off at will if the appearance of magical powers seems potential beneficial." I switched the LEDs on and off a few times and altered the blink pattern.
"But no weapon?" Jerry asked a bit incredulously. The man with the bow gave a self assured smile and the audience grew silent.
"No Jerry, no weapon." I shook my head. Madison gave a reassuring thumbs up from the audience. "I want to appear powerful, potentially dangerous, but not immediately threatening. Lets be honest, a man with a gun can hold off a Nordic fishing village fine, but if you end up in the wrong place and the wrong time with a weapon in hand you could have a whole kingdom's worth of enemies in seconds flat." The man with the bow frowned and looked down at his shoes thoughtfully.
"Well, some very interesting strategies to consider." Jerry turned back toward the audience and the cameras. "Very interesting indeed. From all of our contestants. But now folks," He flourished his hands and from off the stage the TV crew began to drag a large cartoonish lever toward him as the screens around the studio began flashing question marks. "without further ado, it is time to select a destination." He gripped the lever tightly and gave it a pull. On screen locations and dates flashed by in rapid succession. "Ladies, gentlemen, contestants, why don't we get a final look at you?!"
On stage we all began to spin, some with more verve than others. I tried to give myself an rather imperious look, with an angry scowl. Best to get in practice. The locations on screen slowed, as did the numbers, Russia, Japan, Antarctica, 1920, 200 BC, 1480... And finally, hesitantly, they stopped.
Paris: 1793.
My brain took a moment to catch up to what I was seeing before the plastered on television smile was replaced by a frown. "Oh fuck..." I turned toward Madison in the audience. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slack. As quickly as I could I began to tear at my clothes, but too late. The bell that announced the beginning of the game sounded and then disappeared behind a fizzling thunderclap.
When I opened my eyes I was standing in the middle of a large square at the back of a large crowd of peasants. At the center of the crowd, on a large platform stood a guillotine and below it the headless remains of some unfortunate aristocrat. Slowly, quietly, I backed away.
From somewhere in the crowd came the cry, "Un noble! Un noble!" | "ALLLLLRIGHT CONTESTANTS! IS EVERYBODY READY TO BEGIN?"
A chorus of 'yes's echoed around the contest hall, filling the air with the sound of our assent. Sweat dripped from my brow as I went over everything I had learned one last time. Languages, edible plants, and combat skills flicked before my eyes like a movie with the controls stuck on fast forwards. Years of preparation had gone into this moment. Yes. I was ready for anything I could conceive of.
"EXCELLENT! REMEMBER: YOUR LUCK IS JUST AS VITAL AS YOUR SURVIVAL SKILLS IN *THIS* CHALLENGE! YOUR GOAL IS TO SURVIVE JUST AS LONG AS YOU CAN AT THE POINT IN TIME THAT WE DROP. JUST PRESS THE BUTTON AROUND YOUR NECK, AND WE WILL INSTANTLY PULL YOU BACK - SO NO GETTING SQUEAMISH JUST FROM EATING A FEW BUGS! NOW...BEGIN!"
Below my feet, the floor dropped away into a long tunnel like a slide made out of glass and steel. For a few seconds, the feeling of weightlessness tugged at my stomach as I and the other contestants weaved our way towards the fluctuating time portal below, static from the tunnel snapping around our hair. Then, I was out over empty air, spinning wildly into a kaleidoscope of colors as I was pulled through time and space. I shut my eyes, nausea threatening to overwhelm me, when suddenly I landed hard on my hands and knees.
Stomach still feeling like I had left it some miles behind, I glanced around at where I had landed. It was a city, grey and bustling with activity. People seemed to be everywhere, rushing past without a glance at the strange person who had just dropped out of nowhere. A quick glance at my watch told me it was August 6, 1945.
*Ok. I can deal with this. Cities are easy, I was worried that I would be dropped somewhere like the Sahara, or possibly in the Precambrian. All I need is a clue about where I am and I can get going.*
I glanced around, trying to find a street sign. Pedestrians would be great to help me out, but I would rather not have to muddle my way through figuring out what language they spoke.
"Aha! Japanese!" I practically crowed, spying a sign on a nearby building that read 'Prefectural Industrial Promotion Hall'. "I can deal with Japanese." Luckily, it had been one of the first languages on my list that I had studied.
"Konnichiwa!" I called out to a passing man, who frowned and kept on moving.
"Well, that wasn't very friendly." I said, frowning. "Must have been busy."
Suddenly, sirens posted at every street corner erupted into life, wailing their warning to the throng. Suddenly, people started moving faster, ducking into buildings and barring the doors behind them.
"RIGHT! 1945 is during the war, no wonder no one is being friendly with a random foreigner on the streets. I better find cover too."
A low humming eminated from overhead as a plane came into view, so high up it was barely a speck. Suddenly, alarm bells went off in my head.
*1945...1945...* That date meant *something* to me...if only I could...
"Shit."
Practically ripping the button from where it hung around my neck, I started to hammer away at it, praying that they would call me back in time. An oblong object detached itself from the plane, falling to the earth as if it were a speck of dust. I covered my eyes and screamed as an enormous flash of light burst from the bomb, and then...
"OHHH! TOO BAD, LOOKS LIKE CONTESTANT NUMBER FOUR DREW THE SHORT STRAW! HIROSHIMA WAS NO PLACE TO GO VACATIONING IN 1945, YOUNG MAN! NOW, LET'S CHECK ON THE OTHER CONTESTANTS!"
I gasped. laying on the floor in a pool of sweat.
"OH! LOOKS LIKE CONTESTANT NUMBER ONE HAS LANDED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION! BAD LUCK THERE, HOPE YOU DON'T GET BEHEADED! OH, AND WHAT'S THIS! I DON'T BELIEVE IT! CONTESTANT NUMBER THREE HAS JUST LANDED IN THE AUDIENCE, LOOKS LIKE WE HAVE A CLEAR WINNER! THAT IS, UNLESS NUMBER TWO CAN CONVINCE THOSE MAYANS THAT HE IS A GOD - OH, DOESN'T LOOK LIKE IT IS GOING WELL FOR HIM...OHHH, THOSE KNIVES LOOK *SHARP*! STAY TUNED IN FOLKS, LOOKS LIKE THIS YEAR IS GOING TO BE A *WILD* ONE!"
***
*I hear that Hiroshima is great for getting a tan, though. CC welcomed, and check out more of my work over at /r/TimeSyncs if you enjoyed!* | 2016-07-24T13:15:55 | 2016-07-24T10:39:59 | 1,360 | 644 |
[WP] You made it to the semi-finals of a nationwide elite wizardry competition. The crowd loves you, and the esteemed judges regarded you as the dark horse of the competition, with your unorthodox approach. There's just one problem; You don't know how to use magic. You never did.
Bonus points if you find a way to include a harmonica solo. | How had no one realized I was a fake? I'd signed up for the wizard competition as a joke. Figure it was a bunch of Harry Potter fans running around on broomsticks pretending they were playing quidditch.
In the first round I did card tricks. Wizards aren't great at probability--it turns out their education system skips math in favor of alchemy--so they were all shocked when I guessed what card a girl from the audience was thinking of.
In the second round, I wrapped ten chains around myself and swallowed the key. The audience gasped like they'd never heard of Houdini. It turns out wizards skip anatomy and physiology, and study astronomy instead. Afterwards I asked the emcee if he'd ever heard of a double joint and he asked what kind of door I needed it for.
Honestly, a nice guy. I felt bad for deceiving all of them.
And now, I was the piece de resistance. A darkhorse nobody who'd walked in off the streets and made it to the final round. People were already whispering things like "chosen one" and talking about about how I'd match up against "the bad one."
Sweat trickled down my forehead from the hot spotlight. A woman in the back screamed my name and fainted. The rest of the audience took up the chant. "Eustace! Eustace! Eustace!"
I was out of tricks. No more cards, no more chains. A good magician always prepares, and I'd assumed the whole thing was a joke. No time to set-up sawing a woman in half. I didn't have a partner who was in on the trick.
It was just me.
And my harmonica.
I nearly dropped it pulling it out of my pocket, what with my sweaty palms.
"Music!" gasped a man in the front. The word traveled through the rest of the crowd like a wave. The emcee suddenly looked nervous and mopped his brow.
Had these people never seen a harmonica? Listened to some Bob Dylan?
I put the harmonica to my lips, trying not to remember the disaster that was the second grade talent show.
The whole auditorium quieted down and seemed to breathe as one.
I stamped the wooden stage, hard and loud. It echoed across the whole auditorium. After four bars of resting, I began.
The first few notes tested the air. Hesitant. I was clearing my throat, so to speak.
I put down the harmonica and spoke, my boot still thumping the stage.
*I guess plus being a wizard /*
*I'm a harmonica player too /*
*And if you care to take a dare /*
*I'll summon a devil for you*
Then I tore into the first bars of "Devil Went Down to Georgia." The crowd screamed and got to their feet. Some were stamping, Some were clapping. Some were rapidly making their way towards the brightly lit exits. The stage shook from all the noise and the lights overhead rattled. But I couldn't stop. I had to finish. The notes poured out of me like water.
The stage under my feet rumbled. What the hell was happening? I couldn't think about it. My lips were bruised, I couldn't get enough air, and my hands were slick with sweat.
*Play. Play.*
With my last breath, I forced the last run of notes out of the harmonica. For one shining moment, silence descended on the auditorium. I panted in the spotlight.
Then, with a groan, the stage collapsed.
I was later told the wizards fled the building. Not a one came to look for me, assuming I'd been dragged to the Planes of Unending Agony for my arrogance. I wasn't. Instead I woke up several hours later covered in dust and cobwebs and several pieces of lumber. It turns out wizards skip architecture, too--and study advanced circle drawing instead. | “Once again Michael has done it! With his opponent defeat he will move on the the semifinals. We can’t wait to see what he does next time.” Said the announcer for the tournament. I hadn’t actually wanted to be part of this in the first place, but my school had required every student to take part in their tenth grade. I specialize in enchanting and summoning because I don’t know any magic, I also am in a music program. So many useful skills for a combat based tournament. I have won five rounds because I annoyed my opponents so much that they just gave up. I don’t know if they thought I was so strong that I could joke around with a harmonica or if I just annoyed them to a win.
—————————
“You won’t win this time Mike” my opponent said as he pulled out his wand.
”You’re probably right Robert.” I replied as I tuned my harmonica.
“This should be an interesting match today folks, these two haven’t even struggled with previous matches! It is anyone’s game! Now , three , two, one, FIGHT!” And just like that the announcer started the fight.
Two firebolts flew past me and lit up as they hit the barrier separating the crowd from combatants. I started playing twinkle twinkle little star in the key of A, because that is much more annoying. More firebolts flying like red comets. Constant movement just in case Robert uses a fire ball, now play old McDonald in The key of F. Quickly limbo the ray of frost, Play the G scale and arpeggio. With the final note of that order of three songs the room starts getting colder, nothing weird yet, just a strong ray of frost, right? Robert stopped his magic and just screamed as something made him fly to the far wall of the arena. Everyone cheered as I had obviously won.
I slowly turned around and saw it, a monstrous being made up of tentacles and some sort of dark liquid in a vaguely humanoid shape. Did I summon this? What was it? Why did it attack Robert? So many questions that are impossible to ask. If I reveal that I can’t control my magic right before the finals then I will be disqualified. For now I’m just going to go rest and figure out what I did so that I can replacte it for the final round. | 2020-10-09T07:54:58 | 2020-10-09T07:53:00 | 1,801 | 42 |
[WP] You just died. While in purgatory you hear that you will be send in a room with all the people you caused pain or suffering. After waiting in your room for 2 hours nobody is coming. You find that odd because you were the most efficient assassin of the CIA. | "Hello, I'm your guide for this phase. May I know your name?"
"Call me Ghost."
"Well, Mr. Ghost ... "
"No, just Ghost."
"Are you insulted by the title?"
"The title assumes that Ghost is my real identity."
"Well, at this phase in one's afterlife, use of the real identity is the norm.... I see. Well there are always exceptions. Come along Ghost, we'll get you onto your next stop." They start 'walking', hey, their legs move and they move with them, but a lot faster. What else would you call it? "May I know what your occupation was? From your *ahem* name, I would guess that you were in one of the intelligence agencies. You should be aware that non disclosure agreements and bindings by law have no effect in this place."
"My sworn word is good anywhere, do not test my patience. As to my occupation, I am an assassin. According to my reviews, I was the agency's most efficient assassin."
"Oh, dear." I look at this pure white creature, "Is there a problem?"
"Well... it's this next phase..." I hate it when people start beating around the bush, it wastes time and does nothing for my disposition. "Come on, spit it out, you can't say anything that I haven't heard before."
"Very well, just remember, you asked for it." Finally, some spine. "You're to be locked in a room, for two hours, during which everyone that you caused pain and suffering will be present. I leave it to your imagination how that will go." I smile at him. "Sounds like a restful two hours to me."
...
"Hello! This phase is ... done?" About what I expected, he thought he'd find me torn to bits. That's the thing. I'm *efficient*, that means there isn't going to be any pain or suffering. If I do my job right, they never have a chance to feel pain or suffering. As to the rest of my life, they showed up, we had a short chat, forgave each other, and they moved on. All told, that took about 30 minutes. The rest of the time, I was sleeping. It's been a rough afterlife, not because of the stages, but because of the bureaucratic blathering. I smile at this glowing apparition of the ultimate bureaucracy, "Fresh as a daisy and ready for the next challenge." In a much less friendly tone, "Hopefully, there will be one before I reach my final destination.
"Um, I'll see what I can do... how much of a challenge would you like?"
"Something where the fate of many rest upon my skill to accomplish the task assigned. Perhaps you would like the leadership of Hell changed?"
((finis)) | I was the best assassin of CIA and I was dead.
2 hours pass and the room wher people that have suffered from my hand were supposed to show up was empty. My stomach starts to feel like a heavy ball and the huming of my heartbeat was filling my head. Three deap breaths and I'm abble to calm myself. This reminded me of the first kill, the first mission. I went in there thinking it was gonna be just like training
clean shot straight in the head. I mean this guy was a terrorists, had killed many people. He was wearing a brown worn out leather jacket , black jeans with a pair of green military shoes. Nobody's in the room except for the man. I target for his head and wait for the man to get closer to the window so that i have a clear shot. My face covered in sweat eyesight starts to get dizzy i manage to get it together and put the finger on the trigger. I'm ready, the shot is clear, I can see the vein on his neck pulse beating no room for hesitation "Pull the trigger, get it together man" and just like that mission completed. A deadly cold possesses my boddy freazing every muscle my finger feels numb ears hurt from the noise i can't see or hear anything but my beating heart that had fallen to the stomach "Mission completed sir". Just like that done.
I was an assassin and and on that day two were dead. | 2019-09-29T19:14:08 | 2019-09-29T12:58:42 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | Scott shuffled down the hall; the final bell had rung, and it was time to get out of dodge.
And, each and every day, what a time *that* was...
"Hey, Scotty!" Ronald Verrater slapped Scott on the shoulder. "We on for fencing practice, tomorrow?"
Scott shook his head, pushing forward and leaving Ronald behind.
Poor Ronald. He was a nice enough guy- ambitious, but friendly. He was the kind of guy that might cheat a little in a tournament, but still feel bad about it later. 'Conflicted', that was the word.
That was one of about fifty reasons Scott had to quit the fencing club. He didn't need some old friendly rival like Ronald to be his friend, then later get all angsty and anti-villainous, and then have to be taken down in some gut-wrenching, action-packed, emotionally climactic duel on a rooftop, somewhere.
Scott didn't need that kind of drama.
Hell, it wasn't like the universe was being very subtle this time, either. 'Verrater' even meant 'traitor' in German. This was the same reason Scott had to legally change his last name a few weeks ago.
'Scott Zweihändige' was just a little too... 'protagonist-ey'. He picked 'Bore' as a name, instead.
No one could be a main character with a name like *that*.
It also helped that he gave up playing with swords. Heroes prefer swords...
"Ooh, Scott!" A thin, muscular girl in a tank top tapped his shoulder as he passed her, "my dad's going to these really cool ruins next week, and he says I can invite a friend! I thought, well, since these ruins are dedicated to the Ares star constellation, and *you're* an Ares, an' all, it'd be kinda neat to-"
"No thanks," Scott growled. "Not interested in absorbing the freaky ancient powers-slash-memories-slash-demons-slash-chili recipes of whatever ass-end civilization have you. But thanks all the same..."
He trudge warily on, passing by another girl, this one a little shirking violet, bangs covering her eyes, holding her books up protectively against her chest. She walked beside him, her skittish eyes wide:
"S-Scott? I... just want you to know... that if anything happens to me... like, anything at all, you should try to *follow your heart*..."
She tried handing him a weird-looking necklace: a bunch of squiggly lines surrounding a heart-symbol. Scott shook his head:
"Nope. But you be sure to enjoy being kidnapped, or possessed, or whatever..."
Tons of others swarmed him, all of them offering things like a trip to their cabin in the woods (cute), or asking his opinion on these weird photographs that apparently show him mining for coal in ancient Egypt (nice touch), or loudly bemoaning the fact that they need help with some super-easy-sounding problem that *no one else* in the whole world will help them with (nice try).
Scott managed to make it to the library, sighing. He shuffled down the stacks until he found Janette. She was leaning over a table, absently studying a book, and she looked up at him and gave him a wan smile:
"Rough day?" She asked.
"You got no idea," he grumbled. "Everyone and their mother's trying to get me in on 'the adventure'. Universe just won't take a hint, will it?" He cocked his head at the book: "find anything else helpful in there?"
Janette shook her head: "No, it looks like most of the obvious plots the world can throw at you have been played out, so I think you're pretty much in the clear!"
Scott smiled warmly, and Janette reciprocated.
"Listen, Jan," he said: "I can't thank you enough, for helping me these past few weeks..."
"No problem!" She said. "If there's anything I hate, it's dumb cliches and hackneyed situations!"
The library doors opened, and men in dark suits began moving down the stacks. When they caught sight of Janette they quickened their pace:
"That one!" One of the men cried, "it's the *Tropebreaker*!"
"And the other must be her apprentice!"
"The one who changed his last name to 'Bore'. The one who helps 'bore' holes in the Tropes!"
"The *Tropeborer*! We have you, now!"
Scott held up his hands, sighing, and he shook his head:
"Nah, guys: you all got me confused with someone-"
Janette produced a wand from her backpack and created a swirling portal of light in the air.
"...else..." Scott's voice trailed off.
"Come on, Scott! It's the Meta Police! They've *found* us!" Janette disappeared into the vortex, leaving Scott to alternate his stunned gaze between the approaching men, and his mysterious escape route. He rolled his eyes, sighing:
"Fuck," he grumbled.
| First prompt. Dunno why I wrote this at 12AM. Oh well. Guess the shows and win points! (not really)
I don't even know what I've written. I'm not even sorry.
_____
I swear, it's like the damn universe wants me to become a main character! I don't want to though, I'd much rather take the back seat when it comes to things like this. Even so, the universe spams me with so much weird stuff, it's hard to not give up and just go with the universe's plans.
I decided to limit my conversations with the guy sitting next to me. He was a genius but kept on playing games in class so the teacher kept on stealing his handhelds but he always had more on hand. He suddenly started wearing a leather collar. Kinky. Not into that though, but it seems like our teacher is. She always teaches the class while wearing a spiked collar. Maybe the two were close to each other somehow...
The next day was pretty weird too. A girl suddenly transferred in from another school, in the middle of the semester. Pretty weird, right? It wasn't nearly as weird as her class introduction. She said that she hated normal people and would rather prefer to be in the company of aliens, espers, and time travellers. This girl is nuts. She was pretty cute too with a yellow bow in her long brown hair. The teacher told me to move to the empty seat in our classroom, at the back near the window, so the girl could take the chair I was sitting in. I told him that she could take that seat instead.
During lunch that day, some dude from the class next door burst in, asking if people wanted to join his club. Dude was wearing swimming goggles and a weird red hat, so no thanks.
Some rumours popped up regarding the resident rich girl and her butler. I tried to talk to the heiress, but decided against to. Apparently her butler was seriously into crossdressing. He was really convincing too. I almost believed he was a girl when I saw him wear a cheongsam. Dude had legs! I avoided the two before I started thinking too much about the butler.
Next week got a bit weirder than usual.
I was walking home, following the river, when suddenly an old man floated by. I grabbed my phone and started to call emergency services, when I saw that his chest opened up, and inside of him was a baby with green hair. I closed my phone, gave him a small push so he would continue floating, and walked away again.
A friend of mine stopped coming to school. Some students say he went missing a few days ago and no one has seen him ever since. They asked his parents and the the last they saw of him was when he left his house to get his laptop repaired. I wonder where he went? Maybe he got sucked into a portal into another dimension. That could never happen though.
I was at school during the weekend, and there were people fighting in the baseball field. There were sparks and explosions everywhere. One guy was wearing blue and the other red. Blue was holding a red spear and Red was holding two large knives. They looked really awesome, but scary at the same time. So I ran in the opposite direction immediately. On Monday huge gaping holes were scattered across the entire field.
The universe was bombing me with more dangerous situations now. That last one might have gotten me killed if I didn't run away at first.
I should probably just stay home and sign up for the beta of that new virtual reality RPG that's been announced. The publisher says it's so awesome you'll never want to leave until you've beat the game.
Yup, that's what I'll do.
| 2014-11-08T08:36:17 | 2014-11-08T08:20:31 | 799 | 41 |
[WP] 2 years ago, tired of all the bugs in your house, you made a deal with a spider. He would protect your house from pests, and you would not kill it or drive it off. When you made the deal, you could have held the spider in your hand, now, it is much bigger, and its definition of 'pests' is also. | In the Texas summer, bugs tended to be a huge annoyance. For me, mosquitos, flies, and all kinds of pests were constantly a problem. They would find their way into the house, buzzing around the room, leaving itchy, annoying bites.
There was a spiderweb in the upper corner of the living room. The ceiling was too high for me to reach, so I didnt take it down, partly because I didnt see it as a problem, and partly because I was lazy.
Over days, the web caught many bugs, which I appreciated, due to there being fewer pests around my house. But the web grew larger, and over time it became an eyesore. I was soon to be inviting family over, and while cleaning in preparation, I set up a step ladder, and grabbed a rolled-up newspaper to dispatch of the arachnid.
I climbed up, and as I went to swat at the web, the spider spoke to me. "Before you destroy my web," it said, "I can help you. If you let me live, I'll remain in your house, and insure that you will never have pest problems again."
Almost falling off the step-ladder, and debating whether or not I was dreaming, I went along with it. I agreed to the spiders terms, however I made it relocate to a spare bedroom. After all, no one would probably be using it.
After the spider constructed the new web, I had no more pests. Over weeks, the spider grew bigger, along with its web. First it was about the size of a penny, then a quarter, then a golf ball, then a tennis ball.
The web began covering all corners of the ceiling, and bugs seemed almost attracted to it. Bugs from outside would flock to it, cockroaches and cicadas would find their way into my home just to crawl into the web.
The spider grew concerningly large, transforming the bedroom into a huge web. Eventually, I grew tired, and scared of my spider roommate. I told it that its alright for him to stay near my house, if it relocated to the trees outside. The spider, through the web, agreed. It reached its oversized limb through the doorway, carrying it's now terrifyingly large body out the door.
The sight frightened me, it was now about the size of a basketball. I considered myself lucky that I wasnt on it's bad side, then got to work cleaning up the bedroom. It stunk of rotten insect corpses, and as I cleaned away the web, I found bones of small rodents and animals, all picked clean.
The forest behind my house had long since fallen silent, the croaks of frogs, chirps of birds and cicadas had all been stopped. There were massive webs between the trees outside, and occasionally I'd see the spider crawling it's way along them, now about the size of a prepubescent child.
The spider was friendly to me, and I continued not having any pest problems. I observed bones in the web, not just small animals, but bigger ones too, from animals like deer, wild hogs, and maybe even a mountain lion. I kept a shotgun by my bed, and a pistol on me, in case it ever decided to turn on me. I found myself missing the calming sounds of the cicadas and crickets at night, and the pretty light of fireflies, which were all since extinguished in its web.
As I prepared food in the kitchen by my back door one night, I was startled by the glass on my back door being hit, hard. My stomach dropped, and an icy wave of adrenaline hit me. The spider must have grown tired of of its other prey, and wanted a taste of human!
I turned to get my shotgun as the glass shattered, and a voice shouted at me; "Run and I'll fucking kill you." I stopped in my tracks, it didnt sound like the spider.
"Turn around," he said. I turned to see a man with a pistol aimed at me in one hand, and his other hand reaching down to unlock the door.
"Empty your pockets." He said. I showed him that I had nothing in them, and he entered my house, still aiming the gun at my head. He held me at gunpoint as he made me zip tie my hands and feet, assuring me that if I didnt try to escape or tell anyone, he would just rob me, and leave, without doing me any harm.
But when I was restrained, he went back on what he said. He bound my mouth so i couldn't scream, and began taunting me, holding the gun to my head, pretending to pull the trigger, telling me that he was going to bring me to his "torture room," and have some fun with me.
He turned the porch light off to ensure he isnt seen,
And dragged my by the legs to a van parked outside. He roughly lifted me into the back, and threw me in, and my body painfully hit the hard floor of the van. The spots that had been dragged along the ground were aching.
"Take one last look at your house," he taunted, "'cause this is the last time you will ever see it!" He made a sick, smug smile as he closed the van doors, not noticing the gigantic, spindly legs descending from the trees behind him.
I heard something bump the van, and a blood curdling scream, that was abruptly cut off. The doors were ripped off their hinges, and there stood the spider, now about the size of a car. I would've screamed, had it not been for the gag in my mouth.
It carried me back to the porch, helping me to cut the zip tie with its massive fangs. I removed the gag and fought the urge to run, and thanked it.
"A deal's a deal," it said. "I told you I'd get rid of pests." And with that, it returned into the darkness.
The next day, it seemed more bones had been added to the web, and I thought I might've seen a human skull grinning from the trees. Whatever the case, I'm glad to be free of my pest problem. | Like every August around here, the dragonflies were darting, frogs were heard in chorus, and the ticks were a plenty. This always meant plenty of meals. Well, haha, not for me obviously. I liked my garden, where I grew asparagus, tomatoes and pumpkins. Plenty of other things too, mind you. I had a green thumb of sorts. I recently finished up my days work, and headed in to clean up some.
Now, mind you, insects have always been tiresome to deal with when tending to crops, but in my cabin, I haven't had to worry much.
I called her Mary Jane. She was a jumping spider, who lived on the ceiling. [She wore a red abdomen, atop a completely black body](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phidippus_johnsoni). Every day, she would come out of the ceiling and patrol. She galloped from window, to doorframe, and all along her domain. When I could, I would catch flies who couldn't escape through the window, and hold them up to her. Grateful as she was, she cautiously approached and leaped for her tasty treat.
2 years ago when I moved in, I had been working on building the plot for my field when I tripped over a root I missed, and my hand nearly came down on a [velvet ant](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mutillidae). A more popular name for them around here is a cow killer. To my surprise, and much to the ants surprise too, it was snatched up by Mary Jane. She was smaller than it, but wrestled it to the ground, inches beyond my fingers. I found her later that evening on the handle of a rake I was about to pick up. I knew it was her again, because she kept watching me, almost as if she were curious about me. She scared me too at that point, because her colors mimic the velvet ant.
I grew fond of seeing her hanging out by my tools every day, and gradually she worked her way closer and closer to the door. I never minded, because she seemed to grow close. Eventually, I would open the door and she would dart under the door frame to check out my place, as I worked outdoors. Upon coming back for lunch, or evening, I noticed that the flies and mosquitoes that worked their way inside dwindled.
She was safe in here, and kept down my pest problem, so she was always welcome.
Back to today, she has her own apartment I installed up in the rafters of this log cabin. As the years have gone by, she has grown up some. Usually, spiders like her look for a place to settle, while a mate comes along, and then they lay their eggs and the life cycle continues. She hasn't had any mates inside, so she has lived off the plentiful rations here. She is about the size of a baseball now, and I've begun to understand what she wants by her mannerisms.
She feels like you or I, has desires and dislikes, and can feel under the weather or over the moon. Her favorite food this season is cicadas. She doesn't like bees, probably a good thing. When she's excited, she will raise her front legs up and saunter from side to side, or dash across the windows, looking for bugs. I worry about her when she isn't well. Usually rainy days or chilly days tend to leave her cooped up.
She seems to understand me when i speak, at least a bit. She listens to my problems, whether it be about how certain crops are wilting, or I have pests munching on what I intended to pick for dinner the following night.
I don't eat meat much, not because I don't like it, but I have more energy to work when I eat the crops I've grown myself. She finds the occasional healthy meal, larger than a bug, when she hunts outdoors on warm days. Yesterday she caught a finch. She chases off mice in the garden, and keeps me company during the long day.
She continues to surprise me every day, by showing me how intelligent one can be, even without facial features I could recognize, and how it doesn't take much to keep one's happiness up with simple things that benefit you, no matter how small, or tasty.
Creatures of all sizes can feel, so next time you see that spider in the corner of your home, if you don't like it there, move it out, and give it a bug. If you don't mind it's presence, it may help you one day with a pesky fly your could never catch. | 2021-07-04T00:11:47 | 2021-07-04T00:06:21 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You're a thief who breaks into homes, but try your best to stay undetected. You lubricate the hinges to prevent squeaky noises, you sweep the floor to get rid of footsteps, etc. Eventually, you fix more than you take, and rumors spread about a mysterious, helpful fairy in town.
EDIT: Wow, didn't expect this prompt to blow up so quickly. Thanks for the responses, guys! Glad I was able to help inspire some writers. | It started off small.
I brought some cheap screws and an oil can to a job because I had gotten busted twice when homeowners heard a floorboard creak or a hinge squeak. Almost got my head blown off the second time.
Not anymore.
The town I prowl is rich, not super rich but old money comfortable rich. Lots of old people, lots of big mostly empty houses. And a lot of those old people rattling around in big drafty not-kept-up houses have a lot of stuff they simply don’t care about.
I started out slipping into the houses in the early evening and using short screws to tighten key floorboards so they don’t squeak. Then I started adding a few here and there when I noticed they were missing. Oiling the door hinges was a no-brainer. Then I realized that some of these elderly rich people had freaking cold houses because they didn’t tape or caulk any of their windows. Caulking the windows kept them from rattling.
I started making multiple trips to some places because they were so easy to get in, and if only one or two things were missing, then they would notice so much.
Then I found Mrs. Johnson shivering in a freezing home in early January. I didn’t know what to do. She was clearly going to freeze to death if I didn’t do something. When I went down to the furnace room, it was obvious that the filter was clogged. I found a spare, and put it in. A quick prime of the system and voila! Heat. I heard Mrs. Johnson thanking ‘her angel’ for saving her. I got some nice Craftsman tools that hadn’t been touched for a decade that night.
Two weeks later, there was a note on the immaculate marble counter top in the kitchen:
Dear Angel.
Thank you for saving my life from the cold. If you could make the garage work again, there is a nice ride-on mower that I don’t need there. I get so cold brushing the car off from the snow. – Agnes.
Well, stealthy I am not, I guess. All the garage needed was 20 minutes of oiling the track and resetting the center screw. I loaded the mower into my truck, brushed the car off and put it in the garage. She waved to me from her bed room.
I have a ten o’clock tonight at the Wilsons. Their sump pump isn’t working, and there is going to be some collectable sports memorabilia that her husband doesn’t want anymore waiting in the dining room. This just feels so wrong.
| Well, it's obvious that I'm going to have to relocate. Everybody has caught on to my tactics. Just about every home in town has a cheap safe bolted to the floor. That's not the worst part though, it seems as if people find my burglary skills to be more of a blessing than a threat.
Some of the smart asses have begun leaving their doors unlocked with a God damn wish list of chores to be done on the door. Fuck them. Who do they think they're dealing with here? One of the jackasses even asked me to let their dog out so that he wouldn't wake them up early in the morning. Sure enough, the dog didn't even bark! He wagged his tail at me, so I just had to let him out.
Then, just last night, I walked into this one house (doors unlocked) and there was actually cleaning supplies and a note requesting that I get the fucking soap scum out of the shower. Assholes. I think that the "wet bandits" may have been on to something. At least they had some "street cred." | 2017-03-13T08:45:46 | 2017-03-13T07:50:06 | 428 | 118 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | Dexicon moved his cosmic fortress from Centauri B straight into Earth's orbit. Dexicon was able to do this in one turn thanks to the cosmic paving it had laid earlier. This allowed faster than light travel.
"Your move, God." Dexicon roared, knowing it had the ancient deity in its proverbial palm.
*Shit shit shit* thought God. It was tough to display no emotion but a strong poker face was crucial. Dexicon had already taken Zeermon out the game and had now moved on to God.
God had not been blessed with much luck. Each deity had been given a species that had space travel potential. The objective was to either enslave or obliterate the other species. God had unfortunately randomised the least intelligent possible species - homo.
2.7 million years just to leave the hunter gatherer stage. This was a new record. He had had to wipe out his first few species of homo and start over - they had simply been too stupid. By the time he had rerandomised into homo-sapien he was at least 2.6 million years behind Dexicon.
What didnt help was that the homo-sapiens turned out to be incredibly aggresive. This would be useful for fighting other species, but they mainly killed each other! Oh how Dexicon and Zeermon laughed!
When he had finally researched the abilty to send a vassel to Earth to enlighten and guide the people, the earthlings did something unprecedented in stupidity - they decided to kill it.
Finally the humans became space able. At the time, God was pleased. They visited their local moon first, as expected. But the moon base never came. The colonisation of nearby planets never came. They regressed.
"Using your cosmic paving I move Earth into alpha Centuri B", said God, in a move that would have made the humans proud.
Dexicon's mouth dropped.
"Rematch?" God asked.
--------
If you liked this you can read more on my sub I just set up (come follow me!): /r/nickofnight
| God floated somewhere in the rift between dimensions, watching Earth intently with judging eyes.
"The little fuckers have barely even left their planet, let alone the galaxy. Seriously? They keep killing *each other* off? T.V. shows about aliens because they have no idea about what's out there?" God muttered in angst. Total sore loser.
Another deity, linked to him through a quantum transmission, spoke up. "You tried to cheat and tell them about yourself. Serves you right they keep fighting over it."
------
*I don't usually write so little but I don't know shit about Civ-style strategy games D: fun prompt, though. if you're bored, check out /r/resonatingfury!* | 2022-09-11T19:19:52 | 2016-04-09T05:31:00 | 1,980 | 689 |
[WP] Mankind has reached the stars, the human origins are forgotten. Earth is a place of myth and legend. | No one expected aliens like this. After having spread across many planets all across the galaxy, the Palani Empire has found no evidence of sentient alien life able to travel the stars. But here it is, a spaceship slowly hurtling towards Palan Five. Commander Tempers couldn't believe it, but the excitement sent his blood coursing through his body. He was going to be the first human to make contact with sentient alien life. He would make history.
The team was spread out surrounding the expected landing area, awaiting the ship. It took a little over an hour, and the soldiers were getting restless. But the time had come, and the bright spark in the sky was evident. Tempers stared up at the spot, slowly getting brighter and bigger heading towards the expected spot. It was an old model ship, it shot in a direction and used physics to get where it needed to; there was no controls. In about 45 seconds it would land less than 50 yards from his location.
The decent was uneventful. As expected, a parachute of sorts released to slow its decent, and it hit the ground at precisely where Tempers determined it would. It was incredible that alien tech would be so similar to the ancient human tech. Tempers made the motion to have the troops approach. After 30 minutes of no further activity, Tempers had 4 officers approach the object and inspect it.
"Sir, you're going to want to see this." Called one of the officers.
Tempers approached the ship quickly in his excitement. What exciting alien would it be? As he arrived, an officer pointing inside the ship at what they found, and Tempers could feel his stomach rise to his throat.
After clearing his throat several times, Tempers was able to finally speak again. "Is that a cryopod? And that alien, it looks like a..." Tempers couldn't finish his thought.
"Should we open it, sir?"
"Yes, let's get to the bottom of this." The officer pressed a button on the cryopod and it hissed loudly as it opened. A chill breeze exploded out of the pod, and Tempers shivered despite himself.
The alien opened its eyes and stepped out. It looked excited and began chattering. The weird part was not that Tempers could understand him, but that he could barely understand him. He was speaking in the ancient format. It took some concentration, but Tempers could make out what he meant.
"Oh my God, am I stiff. So glad I can finally stretch. Talk about a long trip, am I right?"
"Enough tomfoolery, where are you from?" It seemed from the look on the alien's face, he had just as hard a time understanding his speak. "Palani Four? That's the only world close enough for your ship?"
"Well, I mean, same place as you guys, right? Earth." To say Tempers and the officers were shocked is an understatement. If human anatomy allowed it, their jaws would have hit the ground. This false human seems to have indicating he just arrived from Earth. The Earth! It's been only ever spoken of in the myths told to children, and of course the ancient text. There's no way he could be from Earth.
"There's no way you can be from Earth!" Tempers said.
"What? Of course I am! Where else would humans come from!"
Tempers felt shellshocked, he must be misunderstanding something.
"Sir, could he...could he read the ancient text?" An officer braved to ask.
"Impossible, no one now days can. It's too old." Tempers replied.
"There's no harm in trying."
Tempers thought it over, and decided to go along with it. The Temple was on the way to the galactic offices where the alien will be held. The trip only took 30 minutes, but his three officers and the alien never stopped chatting with each other. Blasphemy! This man spoke as if he knew Earth and was fooling his soldiers into believing them. Tempers was going to enjoy interrogating him.
When they arrived, Tempers led the four into the Temple and to the Ancient Text. It was preserved and able for all to attempt to read. So he sat the alien at a desk where the text was. It was going to prove the truth of things.
"Read this. If you succeed I'll believe you're from Earth."
"Wait a second, is this what I think it is?" The alien looked over the text and smiled. "I love this book!" There were four audible gasps. Then the alien read it. After a few moments of complete silence, he looked over to the ancient ship and a look pf surprise crossed his face. Tempers and the officers only watched in shock.
"Oh shit! Is that what I think it is? I remember when Elon shot that into space! How cool." | The rustle of paper was an omnipotent sound within the wooden walls of the dusty room. The ancients of eons past called this place a 'Library', which essentially meant that it was a repository of information both in a digital and physical form. Its purpose in everyday life would have been mundane, as everyone had access to data lodges, which were far more convenient.
There, however, was a little catch.
A Library only existed in the era of Earth - our birthplace, our progenitor planet. Our Exodus to the Vast Expanse, according to records, had encompassed 99% of all humanity - and we lost all contact with the last 1%.
The Vast Expanse was home to many a habitable planet, and thoughts of our birthplace were pushed to the back of our heads. The Library I currently was in was found drifting in space a year ago - an entire building somehow found intact in space, protected by a Class I shield. It had taken us one year to convene the most knowledgeable historians to this repository of information.
There was a dry cough to my left. A man, draped in the colours of the Erudite school, had found something of interest, and everyone instantly moved to form a circle around him.
"I've found some stellar information about Earth," he said, moving instantly to the relevant parts. Which was definitely better than people from the Sage circles, who preferred to ramble...I shook my head, and awaited his next words.
"As you can see," he gestured to a somewhat faded picture,"Earth is located in a system our precursors called the 'Solar System.' The third planet out of nine, it was located in what we too recognise as the Goldilocks zone."
It seemed that the claim that primordial life could only come from planets within the Goldilocks zone was supported by this piece of evidence. Some auxiliary researchers had already recorded this discovery.
Paying them no heed, the Erudite continued on. "More importantly, the Solar System was located in," he paused and looked at the book again, before continuing," the Orion Arm of the Milky Way."
At this revelation, murmurs broke out. "As to the location of the Milky Way, I'll leave it to Erudite Lee."
Another man, draped in similar clothes, stood up, book in hand. "As you all know, the Great Loss had resulted in the utter devastation of all historical records on our seed ships. However, navigational data - amongst other important data - were retained by a select few ships, whose AI were more robust than was the norm."
Everyone nodded. In fact, that was the data we used when we rebuilt our civilisation in the Vast Expanse. Ignoring our acknowledgements - which started to seem like a Erudite sort of thing - he flipped to a certain page in the brown book.
"In these astronomy records, it would seem that we are an incredible distance away from the Milky Way. In fact, it is, counting from the border of the Far Reaches of the Vast Expanse, at the very least 300 to 400 hyper-light years away." He sighed.
We all knew why he sighed. It was a distance that made even temporal cryostasis risky, and AIs unstable.
"But at any rate, the Capital has already begun a recruitment drive. I wonder if anyone here will join?"
A wry smile could be seen on many faces. | 2018-02-22T07:39:39 | 2018-02-22T05:47:24 | 66 | 22 |
[WP] A Serial Killer found a pendant that gives him 10 years of extra life for every person he kills, but what he doesn't know is that there is an invisible experience bar, and he is one kill from "level 2 human". | I have only ever killed people who deserved it.
When I first found the amulet, and the instructions with it, I never thought I would actually ever kill someone. Ten extra years of healthy, young life was tempting, but I didn't think I had it in me to be a murderer. I wasn't even sure if the amulet worked, despite the strange feeling I got when wearing it.
That changed the day I heard my neighbor beating his wife, and went over to stop him. I had the amulet on, as I often did, since I liked how it looked. But that was the last thing on my mind when I burst into their apartment to find him standing over her, kicking her when she was already bleeding and unconscious. I had brought a bat, but I hadn't intended to swing it.
But when I saw him like that, and the rage boiled up in my belly, the amulet did... something. I'm certain it urged me on somehow, though I only remember it getting warmer as I beat in the man's skull. It only took three hits before I knew he was gone. How I knew, I'm not sure I can say. There was a rush that overtook me, a sort of euphoria. I felt stronger, faster, healthier, all of it stemming from the place on my chest where the amulet touched me. That was when I knew that it worked.
His wife testified for me in court, and I was charged with manslaughter, though it was dropped for reasons of self-defense, and I walked away spotless. But I knew that I would kill again. It troubled me a little, but I felt like I had seen the way. I'd have to me more careful, to be certain, or else I would end up in court again, but I convinced myself that what I would do was right. There were people alive who did nothing but cause grief and pain, and the world would be better off without them.
All I had to do was find them.
It found it surprisingly hard to find someone who I thought really deserved to die. Most people have some pretty redeeming qualities. I started out looking for pedophiles, but I quickly realized that most of them were actually just normal people with a problem. That's not to say I didn't kill two that I knew for a fact had recently done something unforgivable to a child, just that I didn't feel quite as justified about it as I had killing my neighbor.
After that, I started looking for more abusive relationships. I hung around in support groups for abused partners, and found three targets that way. One of them was even a woman. Until then, I had only killed men, so I wasn't sure how it would feel. It turns out it feels the same, if they're just as guilty.
Then, I started to think bigger. I'd killed six people, helped at least six more, and gained sixty years of life,. But there had to be people who caused pain and suffering to more than just one other. I could help even more people, I was sure of it.
The next man I killed was a cop. He was crooked, took bribes, killed small-time criminals, gave false testimony, and more. It took me a long time to make sure, but I knew that he had hurt many, many people. And when I killed him, I felt a rush like never before.
Two more crooked cops quickly followed, and I admit I may have been sloppy with them, taking too little time to check their guilt, too eager to feel the power and strength coursing through me.
Then, something strange happened.
I was driving. Not on my way to kill, but to see the wife of my old neighbor, who enjoyed my company rather a lot now. And on my way, a child ran out in front of my car, chasing some toy. Out of old habit, I jerked my wheel, but not fast enough it would seem. I felt the bump, knew what I had done.
And then, something... happened. I felt a sensation that was utterly at odds with what I had done. The amulet burned on my chest, and there was this sensation of rising, though I did not go anywhere. A feeling of increased potential, though I had just done something completely despicable.
I fled, after it passed. It has been two weeks since then, and I realize now that I have changed, become more than I was. I no longer feel hunger, or the need to sleep. My body is much stronger, though it looks no different. My mind is quicker, my eyes are sharper, everything about me is improved.
And I've come to realize something, in my time since my ascension. There is no line, no division between those I could have killed and those I did, that made what I did better. They were no different from anyone else.
All of them deserve to die.
| "He called it the "the tear of Largon" I called it bullshit, but I still took it though, it was shiny and this charlatan was old and frail, I was out of there before he knew what hit him. The moment he pendant found it's place on my chest I noticed the gem was heavier than it appeared, somehow it's weight increased over time while wearing it. I first thought nothing of it and went on my merry thieving way, that was until the voices started. Kill. Maim. Murder. It started as a background noise which was pretty annoying with me being a thief back then and trying to concentrate on stealing stuff, however soon my life became the background noise and the voices became my life. I still remember my first target... I tried to be all moralistic by selecting someone who "deserved it," a corrupt guard at the castle town I was living at the time. I stabbed him straight though the armpit in between his armor, he bled out faster than I expected and with each squirt of blood the voices lowered in volume and the pendant became as a light as a feather. Ah, good times, O, I'm sorry am I'm boring you?"
"Why are you telling me all this?" The man shivered as he looked at the stranger reminiscing. The room was dark, his hand were tied, hope has all but deserted him.
"You asked remember? When I showed you the crossbow?" The stranger waved the medieval killing machine in front of his victim, clearly annoyed. "You asked why are you doing this? Well I'm explaining, and getting a bit sentimental in the process, I have to remember way more things than you with your short little life."
"W-what?" The bound man exclaimed.
"The pendant had allowed me to live long past a human's natural lifespan. I didn't notice the affect until many years later after acquiring the pendant, mirrors weren't as popular as they are now, you see."
"I don't understand, how is this even possible?"
"Of course you don't understand, I don't even understand how this magic works. My point is," the stranger said while loading a bolt on his crossbow, "I was a young man then, I'm a young man now and I do not intent to age in the foreseeable future, to accomplish this you will need to die."
With a crushing sound the bolt impacted the skull of the bounded man, covering the room in blood.
"Excellent." The stranger looked content, smiling before being engulfed in a ray of light, voices came from the pendant in a roaring fashion the likes the stranger has never experience before. "WHAT IS THIS," the stranger screamed, the voices answered:"Congratulations you are now part of the Ascended, you have spilled enough blood to serve Largon, demon lord of greed and vanity, hereby you relinquish your free will for ultimate power."
"I never asked for this," the stranger cried, before the pendant oozed a black liquid on his chest, spreading to his limbs and silencing his screams.
The police arrived on the scene on reports of strange noises, they found a half eaten body, a black sticky liquid and a flesh like construct resembling a cocoon of some sorts. Interviewing the neighbors proved fruitless as one said a man with a crossbow was roaming the streets while an other talked about a black demon flying away into the night. | 2014-11-20T14:09:48 | 2014-11-20T13:36:15 | 515 | 45 |
[WP] A fortune teller foretold that twins would be born where one was evil and the other was good. A year later, a woman gave birth to a boy with horns and bat wings, and a girl with angel wings and a halo. The boy was sent away, while she and her husband raised the girl. They kept the wrong one. | “Are you sure?”
The new mother looked down at the young boy, tears in her eyes as she took in the tiny little horns and wee bats wings.
“What if we can... raise him right? Show him kindness and love, and hope he turns out ok?”
The king looked on with a heavy heart, and spoke,
“You know what happens when you try to avoid a prophecy, dear. I understand your pain, but we just can’t risk it.”
So, in the middle of the night, they left the boy with an elderly widow who was passing by in her travels. She thanked them profusely, promising to take care of the boy and show him all the love he deserved.
The king cast one last, apprehensive look at the pair, before turning to make his way back to the caste where his weary wife held their daughter.
As the years passed, and Eve grew into a beautiful young woman, the kingdom rejoiced.
Unknowing of the prophecy, the general public could only assume that a daughter of the royal family sporting great, golden wings and a shining halo was a good omen for the kingdom.
But this would not last.
The first sign was the handmaiden.
After being assigned to the princess, the young girl was overjoyed to be of service to the radiant angel.
Ten days later she was found dead in a hall closet.
The second was the jewelry. Nothing of great importance, but an earring here, a necklace there. Gone without a trace.
Next came the animals.
The first was an old lap cat, a favorite of the kings first advisor. The princess wept when she heard the news, but there were no tears behind the hand she held in front of her face. No one noticed.
After that, it was one of the hunting dogs. He was found dead outside his kennel, face mutilated and body torn asunder. The princess simply smiled when she heard the news.
“Poor thing” she said, her wings held aloft behind her.
“I hope you can find a suitable replacement.”
Her parents grew worried. The king assumed teenage hormones were to blame, but the queen quickly realized that something was... not right with her daughter.
Hoping to avoid raising suspicion, she took a “quick holiday” out to the sea. In reality, she had spent weeks tracking down that old traveling merchant, and had arranged to meet with her on the night of the full moon.
On the night of the meeting, the queen was nowhere to be found. The traveling merchant, Gilda, waited there for hours. No one came.
The little boy, Gideon, hopped up onto her lap and kissed her cheek.
“Can we go now, mama?” He asked, all sweetness and dimples.
“I wanna make sure the chickens at home are ok!”
Gilda sighed and smiled at her adopted son.
“Ok. Let’s go.”
15 feet away the Queen held her breath as the knife pressed deeper into her neck.
“You never told me I had a brother, mommy...”
*Part 2, upon request*
The kingdom held a day of mourning for their beloved queen. No expense was spared, the kingdom was bedecked in white flowers, and twisting vines bore shaded lamps.
“Common thieves”, one man whispered.
“Heart attack”, a woman sighed.
“Liver failure,” a third mourned.
None of them knew the truth.
Back in her chambers, eyes alight with the high of a fresh kill, Eve sat planning her next move.
“A brother...”
She sat, twirling her golden locks. Smiled. How interesting, indeed.
She had the full story, now. Given by her mother under the pretense that she would be granted her life. Silly.
Eve knew what she was. There was no denying it. Her very soul lusted for darkness, and remorse was a word she never truly learned the meaning of.
However, patience was a virtue she would need to take advantage of for the time being. Now was not the time to act rashly, or her entire world could collapse.
No, she would never allow her delicately crafted spiders-web veil to be lifted from the eyes of her father. Manipulation was an art, and Eve longed for a better paint brush. Age births perceived power, and Eve could be patient. For now.
More years passed, and still no one suspected.
Eve began to take her leave more often, using her powerful golden wings to escape to the countryside where she could delight in slaughter.
She preened extensively, making sure each feather was as sharp as the blade of her knife.
And on the dawn of her eighteenth birthday she washed her wings of the blood that stained them, only to find that she could no longer truly wash away the red.
Her father complimented her on her lovely auburn wing tips at breakfast.
•••
Gideon tripped, and fell face-first into the dirt.
He got back up again, determined to find the wolf that was killing his beloved sheep. He had spent days tracking it, only seeing it out of the corner of his eyes but that was enough.
As he turned back to his trail, he saw a single feather lying on the path.
He paused.
That hadn’t been there before...
He walked up to it, and picked it up with one delicate, claw-tipped finger. (Some of the boys at school had made fun of him for his claws and wings, but he had won them over by pinching their lost quarters from where they had fallen into the cobblestones, and using his wings to fly on top of the schoolhouse to fetch their lost balls and toys.)
As he tried to identify the mysterious item, he heard a rustling up ahead. He looked up to see a pair of the bluest eyes he had ever seen staring back at him. He gasped.
“Uhhh...” he stuttered.
“Hello.” The voice whispered.
A girl emerged from the trees. Her long sandy hair was tied back intricately, and her hunting gear looked to be of the finest quality. But what mainly drew his eyes were the giant golden wings behind her.
“I see you’ve got my feather.”
Gideon trembled and dropped it.
“I’m so sorry!” He wailed, tears starting to form at the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to take it!”
Eve narrowed her eyes at her brother, and opened her mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted as he threw himself at her feet.
“Please forgive me goddess!”
Eve shut her mouth quickly, eyes widening. A low delight curled in her stomach. Is this what it feels like to be worshipped?
She quickly finds she quite likes the idea.
“Yes... it’s alright now Gideon.”
The boy looks up quickly
“How did you know my name, Goddess?” He asks in awe.
Eve simply smiles benignly, and nods to the feather.
“You can keep that. Really, I don’t mind.”
Gideon’s wings tremble with delight, drawing Eve’s eyes to them. Her smile fades, and she tries to replicate the look her father sometimes has when she comes back early in the morning with a bloody deer slung over her back.
Frightened, but masked with a forced smile.
From the horrified look in her brother’s eyes, she knows she has succeeded.
“I, uh, I was born with them, I-“
“I understand” she cuts him off rudely.
“I hope you understand what this means, however,” she finishes.
Gideon looks at her, wings pinned to his back in fright.
“What, what does it mean Goddess?”
“It means that you were born sinful, evil, and stained.” She kneels down next to him, tilts his chin up with a finger.
Her eyes are filled with divine light, and her smile is all teeth as she says
“But I can make you whole. All you have to do is exactly as I tell you...”
AN: Sorry, I just can’t resist a good cliffhanger... hope you enjoyed :) | It was early in the morning, I could hear the birds chirping. I opened my eyes just a little only to see my little girl Jessy there. I was happy to see her until I realized she was holding a knife. That was the 5th time this week she has woke me up like this. I wish we would have kept her brother. We noticed from a young age she was different. She always cried even when we gave her what she wanted. I thought maybe this was just normal baby stuff everyone said it would get better. Spoiler alert it never did. She’s six now and always finds a way to try and hurt us. She doesn’t have many friends. The adoption agency finally told me I could get my boy back by next year. He was still in the foster system so it was easy to get him. I haven’t seen him since he was born.
*a year later*
Today we finally get our boy back. We don’t know what we’re going to do with Jessy. We named our boy Lucas before giving him away at birth.
*a week later*
Jessy seems meaner lately. She hasn’t tried to hurt us but she keeps warning us we should get rid of Lucas. I told her we’re not getting rid of Lucas. No matter how many times I tell her she still tries to convince us he’s bad news. There birthday is coming up soon. I plan on bringing Jessy to a military school. She has to be at least 9 so I will try to give her the best birthday ever. I’m sending her for her own good. She won’t stop lying and holding knives like she’s ready to attack someone if they make her mad. The military school is very good to there students and it’s nothing like any of the other schools I’ve seen. I know this will be good for her. I still love Jessy very much but I just can’t give her the help she needs at home.
*the twins birthday*
I woke them up this morning and sang them happy birthday. When we went downstairs I told them they could have anything they wanted for breakfasts. There dad took Lucas to a roller skating rink while I took Jessy to a trampoline park. This is the happiest I’ve seen Jessy in a long time. It makes me sad that I’m sending her off tomorrow. It was a good day today everyone had fun and we ate a lot of cake.
*the next day*
I didn’t tell Jessy we were sending her to military school I just told her we were bringing her somewhere for a bit and to pack her bags. I told her it was like a summer camp. When we got to the gates it seemed very nice. Everyone was so sweet and welcoming and they seemed like they were very nice to there students. When Jessy found out what I was doing she cried and begged me to not leave her here. She said Lucas should be the one here and she did nothing wrong. The security guards quickly directed me to the exit. The whole way home I cried. I didn’t know if I made the right decision but I had to be strong for Lucas and Jessy.
*two years later*
Jessy has been in and out of the school. She’s gotten better at some points and worse at others. Today Jessy gets to come home again for who knows how long. Lucas seems happy she’s coming home. We all had a nice family dinner and Jessy seems happy to be home.
Jessy has been home for a week now has been very good. She seems a little nervous sometimes but other then that she’s doing good.
*later that night*
I was sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden a boom went threw the house. I realized it was the sound of a gunshot. I rushed to Jessy’s room only to find her bleeding out on her bed. I ran over to put pressure on her wound while I yelled for my husband to call 911. I saw little Lucas sitting in the corner of her room, he look terrified. I asked him what happened. He said “I came in here cause I thought I heard her crying. When I walked in though she pointed a gun at me. She tried to shoot at me but the gun wouldn’t shoot. I ran and pulled it out of her hands and pointed it at her. All of a sudden it fired I didn’t even pull the trigger!”. He was talking fast and crying so I hardly understood him but there was no time to wonder what happened I had to make sure Jessy was ok. The ambulance arrived and I tried to go with her but the police said I needed to stay behind for questioning. After hours of questioning they finally released me and my husband to go see Jessy. They said the had to keep Lucas for a little longer. Jessy was on a breathing machine. I found out the bullet almost hit her heart. She was passed out they said she should wake up tomorrow or the next day but she wouldn’t be able to talk. I cried and prayed that she would live.
*the next day*
Jessy woke up but was very dazed. The police came in to talk to her. We still hadn’t seen Lucas we assumed he was picked up by my sister but we didn’t have enough time to call and ask. After the police talked to Jessy for what felt like hours they finally informed me they had arrested the person who did this. At first I was happy then I realized they were talking about my son.
“What?”
Police “we’ve arrested your son for attempted murder”
It all came crashing down I tried to explain it was an accident but they said he tried to kill her. He confesses to coming to her room with a gun in a attempt to kill her. They said there was proof. How could my little boy do this I thought he was the good twin.
*trial day*
It’s all come out everything he did. He tried to kill her. Every time we woke up with Jessy holding a knife she was trying to protect us. She was scared he would come hurt us. It doesn’t make sense to me either. Today Lucas goes to trial. He’s tried to say he was innocent for the longest time but when the police showed him all the evidence they had against him he confessed. A year after Lucas tried to kill Jessy she’s still broken. I found out she’s the good one not him. I tried to keep the wrong one. I tried to get rid of Jessy even though she’s the best girl anyone could ask for.
Edit: I’m not a writer so sorry for this being kinda boring and having horrible punctuation. :) | 2020-05-07T10:15:45 | 2020-05-07T08:18:26 | 29 | 17 |
[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. | "They made a new season of Firefly"
My heart was all rose petals and bubbles. The air was champagne and I was lapping it up in quick hyperventilation. I finally got to live in a world with my favorite adventurers once again. They gave me hope, they gave me spirit, they gave me fulfillment beyond all else.
I was chastised for my choosing when I was 18, but you can't help what you love, and those who don't embrace it will only live life under dim light and low volume.
It was worth the few hundred years. | 2014-11-11T21:52:28 | 2014-11-11T19:29:24 | 912 | 49 |
[WP] A necromancer discovers that spells to animate dead bodies also work on other things that have been described as "dead," such as batteries, cars, appliances, friendships, and romances.
Edit:
I did not expect this!
Thank you all, and thank you for the gold! | “Hey friends, it’s ya boy the Re-Animator!”
A man in a dark robe shuffled into a brightly lit studio set.
“Lemme ask you something? You got dead batteries pulling up in the house? Of course you do, their everywhere.”
Cuts to a woman opening a closet and being drowned in a sea of batteries.
“Well what are you gonna do withum? Put them in a landfill? That hurts the environment. Keepum in the fridge? That’s stupid. Bring them down to the Re-Animator and I’ll bring them back to life.”
A green light races from his hand and falls over a pile of batteries. As they are struck they jittered and glowed with energy.
“How many times has this happened to you huh? Your backing out of the drive way, paying no attention, and WHAM you hit your kids cat. Now it’s dead and your kids gonna be home in three hours so now what?”
Video plays of large truck running over a cat.
“I tell ya what, you bring that thing down here and get the Re-Animator to bring it back to life!”
A dead cat on a table sits up and is good as new. A warning runs across the screen, “Warning:Re-Animator inc recommends that you seek veterinary services as cats bones will still be broken. 20% chance that Re-Animation process will raise nightmare creature that will murder your friends and loved ones. Never bury animals in the old MicMac Indian Burial Ground. Keep in mind that sometimes dead it beta.
“There’s no limits to what the Re-Animator can do for you. Old Car? BAM good as new. Broken Toaster? BAM like the day it was bought. Dead Marriage? Hey you drag that sack of shit down here and we’ll rekindle that thing in a matter of minutes. Accident drown your baby in the bath? BAM he’s good as new!”
A picture of a fixed car, a working toaster, a couple hugging, and a happy baby being pulled from a bathtub flash across the screen with upbeat music.
“There’s no limits to what the Re-Animator can do for you. We even do house calls for...
School shooters remorse
Husbands who come home to early
Horse Funerals
Husbands who come home to late
Karaoke related Vietnam Flashbacks
Groupon related accidents
Craigslist murder spree remorse
Your upcoming manslaughter trial
And much much more.
“So call today for your free consultation. Call in the next thirty minutes and get a Shamwow absolutely free; cause that shit is magic. Here’s how to order.” | "Friendship ended with Musadir , Now Salman is my best friend. "
Said the meme. This was even a new format. Won many memecoins at the memeeconomy awards.
Even trump got into it , Friendship ended with Canada , Now North Korea is my best friend.
Friendship ended with Obi-wan ... Palpatine is my best friend... Endless memes , Damn memes ..
As a good friend to Aasif Raja Rana , I don't know where I made it wrong. I was there for him at every steps. Salman came in and he was the best friend with Aasif. I wasn't even a friend, Salman got upgraded to Best Friends status almost overnight.
I hear you can fix it all , please bring back my friendship . I beg you .
"Interesting , [fear no more](https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/001/170/143/dbd.png) "
" But You will be blamed for the death of this Meme , hope you live with that all your life "
Nooooooooooooo.
| 2018-11-27T07:17:17 | 2018-11-27T03:49:00 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You have the superpower of mildly convenient coincidences. Clouds always make sure you're in just the right amount of shade, and traffic lights are always green for you. | In a world of superheroes with impressive abilities like super strength, flight, super healing or lightning speed, it's easy to miss the heroes with smaller or not as impressive powers. Like the girl who can command squirrels, for example. Or that guy who calls himself the "Arm Fall Off Boy". With just the ability to detach his arm. Like, really.
We could never compare to the great likes of the Tier 1 superheroes, those who could move planets and mountains with just a simple tug, or can circle the world a few times over in a few seconds. No, we couldn't. To them we're just no different than the ordinary non-powered humans.
Still, we still try to make do with what we have, trying to make the world a better place one small act at a time. We take on the small cases that the bigger superheroes don't have time for.
Like this warehouse that I am walking into right now. The mum called and reported that her daughter was kidnapped by a couple of shady guys outside of her house, presumably by the jealous ex-boyfriend who got dumped. With the rest of the League and police force fighting the alien army that is still pouring out from the portal above the city, the dispatcher didn't have much of a choice but to turn to us small time freelancers for help.
I groan as I push the giant wooden door open, which was conveniently left unlocked. From within the warehouse, i can hear the sound of two guys laughing, mixed with the shrieks of a terrified girl. It's going to be a quick case, I tell myself, just like all the other cases that I took. After all, it's my superpower to make things convenient. I follow the noise to the middle section of the warehouse, finding two hooded figures and a girl tied to the chair.
"Alright, cut it out, hand in yourself before anyone gets hurt," I shout rather uninterestedly. The law mandates us to at least give a warning to our targets before arresting them, which is a waste of time, because who in their right mind would actually listen?
The two guys laugh at me, a reaction that I was too used to. After all, my appearance is nowhere as imposing or recognizable. It is kind of generic too, as I prefer to dress more comfortably than in style. T-shirt, jeans. More than enough.
The taller of the two points a gun at me. "Get out of here, loser, and we make sure you don't end up in the hospital."
I sigh. "I don't want to do this, but you give me no choice," I say as I walk slowly towards the girl.
The first guy tries to shoot me, but to his dismay discovers that the gun is jammed. The shorter guy, seeing that his friend is in difficulty, takes out a knife and rushes at me. He probably did not see the puddle of oil on the floor, as he slips on it, falling down and knocks himself out as his head hit the concrete floor.
The first guy, seeing that his friend is passed out, begins to panic. He fumbles around for a weapon, though not fast enough for me. I deliver a punch to his head, which luckily for me is just enough to knock him out too.
I make my way to the girl, who is repeating utterances of thank you over and over. I tell her that it is okay, as it was my job anyway.
"At least tell me your name?" she asks, to which I smile.
"My name is MC Hero, also known as the Mildly Convenient Hero, who the clouds shade just right and the light always turn green for."
----------
/r/dori_tales
| "It's all in your head," teased Janie, walking a few steps ahead of me on the car-fucked street. I felt a raindrop on my forehead. I took a look at the ground and began to see sprinkles polka-dot the concrete. I sped up to catch up to Janie but softly tripped on something wedged into the crack between two buildings. It was an umbrella. I looked around and slowly pulled it out. Janie caught wind of this.
"See?" I said, smirking as I opened it.
"Stealing umbrellas now?" she asked playfully.
"Hey, at least until we hail a taxi. Then I'll put it back, I swear." She gave me a gorgeous smile and walked me to the curb yelling "Taxi!" Some 7 taxis passed us by without a second thought.
"Let me try. Taxi!" I yelled. Immediately, one stopped in front of us. I turned to Janie and gave her a big, shit-eating grin as I opened the back door for her. I motioned her inside with my open palm.
"Whatever!" she huffed jokingly, crossing her arms as she ducked into the car. I followed suit after placing the umbrella back where I found it.
"Does this mean you'll let me kiss you on the first date?" I grinned cheekily. She laughed.
"Maybe." She told the driver her address and we were off.
"So have you always had this...power?" she placed her fingers to her mouth coolly.
"Yep. In fact, I've never waited at a stop light. Just watch." She watched as we passed one green light. Two. Three.
"Impressive." I looked into her eyes and moved my gaze to her glistening lips. She smiled softly as I began to pull in. Guess I'd be getting the first kiss after all.
***WHAM***
I felt Janie's body push me against my side of the seat as glass and debris flooded my vision. As our car spun out into the street, I saw the grill of another car detach itself from behind Janie. The car stabilized, my ears hearing nothing but a cacophony of sirens and horns.
I then felt the warmth and wetness of Janie's blood seep through my clothes. | 2017-02-27T18:52:54 | 2017-02-27T18:30:49 | 43 | 13 |
[WP] One normal day, a loud voice is heard by everyone on Earth, "Finally, one of you schmucks has made it into Heaven." | "Finally, one of you shmucks has made it into Heaven."
The office board meeting fell silent, everyone was so stunned at the voice they forgot all about continuing CPR on Craig, who had just suffered a heart attack.
"He's stopped breathing!" Mary exclaimed from the floor next to the recently deceased Craig.
"Yes he has," boomed the voice once more, "He's up here now, in heaven."
"God? Is that you?" Asked Tim dumbstruck.
"Yes it is, and Craig's here too, say hello Craig."
"Hey everyone, thanks for trying to resuscitate me, but I'm in a better place now." Craig said with a more booming voice than he had had before.
The board room looked around at eachother, then at Craig, then down at their feet, around the room, nowhere in particular. It was Mary who spoke again.
"Can we have him back please?"
"What, no, of course you can't, he's dead."
"I'd like to have him back too," chimed in George.
"Me too," agreed Desmond.
Murmurs of agreement filled the room for a while then it went back to quiet.
"What say you Craig?" God asked, "You are the first human to get in here."
"I'd love to take you guys up on that offer, but sadly I can't do it." Craig said remorsefully.
"Why not? You had so much down on earth."
"Well, see, I'm the first human to get in, but all dogs go to heaven as we all know and I really like dogs."
"Well then, that's that, God signing off." And with that the room fell silent again.
After a long solemn pause Tim spoke, "He was a great man, my best friend truthfully. He didn't have much, but he had heart. Its sad to see him go, and the company will never be the same. Especially since he was the only one who knew how to operate that damn fax machine."
Whispers of agreement filled the room and a few tears were shed. Then there was a bang from the fax machine room, and smoke curled out from the doorway.
"Not again," groaned Tim. He walked down the hall and turned into the fax room to find a new, fully stocked printer, photocopier and telephone neatly arranged and hooked up to the wall. All with a single sticky note attached, Thanks for the years of friendship and office pleasantries, enjoy the new machines- Craig. | June 6, 2024 was a tragic day for all Americans. I, was watching the news and mourning the death of beloved actor, Tom Hanks. It was heartbreaking, how he passed in his sleep from kidney failure. The 2023 remake of “Big” was the last piece we'd ever get to see America’s sweetheart in.
But my grief suddenly turned to confusion, as a loud tremble shook the ground, and sent me spiraling out of control. Everyone across the globe ran to see where it was coming from. We looked up, and saw the face of glory. The face of creation. The face of God. He spoke to us just nine words.
“Finally, one of you schmucks made it to heaven.
The attention of the news quickly turned to frenzy, and religions across the world wondered who that was, or what that was. But there was one thing we knew for sure. None of us were going to heaven.
Because none of us can be as good as Tom Hanks.
| 2018-03-21T14:54:49 | 2018-03-21T13:00:48 | 55 | 24 |
[WP] You are best friends with Death. Although you don't know this. Every Sunday he has you killed just to talk to you about his week then brings you back to life after. However you never remember the meetings. | I used to dread Sundays because the next day seemed to always be Monday.
Now, Mondays are a welcome respite. The furthest I am from Death, until next weekend. His smell lingers. That's the only way I know he's been through. I recognize it from all those other times I've summoned him.
Why me? Who fucking knows. I'm just a regular guy. Sure, I play God with some folks, picking if they'll live and die. But this isn't confession, and I'm not trying to replace him or anything. It's just a hobby.
Maybe it's admiration. Maybe that's why each Sunday, just as I'm about to start making dinner, there's suddenly a gap in my memory, and when I'm back, it's Monday morning and all I feel is relief. Maybe he admires how discreet I am. Everybody knows him, but nobody has heard of me.
Maybe it's boredom. If the scythe is the only way, it must get pretty boring eventually. That's why I switch up my routine. I experiment. Try new things. Keeps the cops off my tail, too.
Maybe it's loneliness. With that, I can relate. It's lonely being me, and it must be lonely being him. It's lonely when everybody is a potential victim, or a future victim, and the only people you know are current victims.
Or maybe I'm his heir. That's what I dread most. I've read about that, probably a thousand times, between victims as I browse Reddit. "You are Death," or "You fight Death and win," or "Death hires you to help out."
Imagine that. Nothing but a scythe, and the same filthy black robes. I wash up after each person. Clean the clothes too, right down to any splatter. No wonder he smells so bad. Everything about him reeks of death.
But then again, they always told me to chase my passions. So if I am his heir, it's a good thing I'm getting some good practice in now.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | I love my local park - being a big kid adult I can’t help the attraction. It is like everything I need to have a great Sunday is all in one place
Who can resist monkey bars and the weird animal shaped seats on springs and that circle thing with handles that you can spin around on
I learnt a few years ago to avoid the swings - hips aren’t as slim as they used to be. But my favourite is the slippery-dip. Why? Cause I fit for one and two, I can close my eyes and lift my arms and just fall into oblivion even if it is just for a few seconds
I’m not religious at all but Sunday at the park on the slide is like nothing I have ever experienced | 2020-01-31T07:11:38 | 2020-01-31T05:04:17 | 225 | 42 |
[WP] Your ship's new prototype energy cannon just vaporized an alien warship, shattered a moon, and punched a hole through a planet. "Sir, message from thier flagship: What the !@#$ing %/&$ was that?!". | "Sir," my communications officer managed to tear their eyes from the sensors long enough to think clearly. "Enemy fleet commander is hailing us." The young man reviewed the screen and frowned. From his position at the rear of the command deck Commodore Higgins could see the junior officer struggling and decided to offer some encouragement after what they'd just seen. The weapon, their final great experiment to end the war, had been a failure. Designed to devastate the technology of enemy warships, the Entropic Array had been meant as a large scale area denial weapon. It should've neutralized the weapons of the hundreds of ships streaming towards them and the thousands of defense platforms and weapons installations scattered around the system, but it hadn't. The weapon had catastrophically misfired and destroyed itself in the process. Now Higgins would once again taste the bitter draught of defeat as the enemy gloated over their much vaunted but now completely useless toy. Higgins stood and clasped his hands behind his back, a picture of calm and order. He could face his final moments with some dignity at least. His crew deserved no less.
"And what does the good warlord have to say, Lieutenant? I'm sure it's quite the earful." Higgins braced himself as best he could.
"Sir...the fleet commander...he's...furious. And...sir the computer is having trouble with the translation but it appears to be a string of p'Theht vulgarities. He's ranting like a madman, sir."
Higgins eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a few moments before an epiphany struck him. The enemy didn't realize the weapon had misfired. He gasped, sensing the opportunity within the tenuous moment.
"...Lieutenant, I want you to transmit the following...'Congratulations on a successful low power test.' Then order our fleet to hold position and standby. Transmit that order in the clear, is that understood? I want to be *certain* the p'Theht hear this."
Lieutenant Johansens voice was shaky but even confused, the man followed orders without question. Things grew strangely silent on the bridge as the Commodore strode towards the tactical display and highlighted the enemies flagship. He tried to imagine the panic his counterpart was feeling at this moment, suddenly faced with a weapon that appeared to far exceed even the most breathless of expectations. Perhaps the day, the battle and the war could yet still be salvaged.
"Lieutenant, contact the enemy fleet commander. Advise them we are willing to accept their unconditional surrender, and will be so inclined for the next....four minutes. After that we will use the weapon again, and again, and again, until such time as they choose to surrender or until there is no one left available to surrender."
Commodore Leslie Higgins nodded to his communications officer and returned to his chair to wait and find out if the biggest bluff in human history had worked. | Captain Jesup scratched his cheek, looked over at Engineer Colins who simply handed her datapad over to him.
“Well High Patriarch Woo’bani,” he said to the screen portraying the insectoid lizards outraged expression. “That, was our answer for the genocide and enslavement of three of our colonies. we made sure none of them were on the ship, planet, or moon of course.” he chuckled at the xeno bastards increasing rage.
“now to what it actually,” he looked down at the datapad, raised an eyebrow at Colins for her ‘pet project’, and began reading aloud.
“Project Shatterfall, using miniaturized FTL generators to speed up the fission of condensed uranium, capturing excess radioactivity using a prototype dampener which is part of cannon, and… activating the ships FTL generator to fire the-“ he glared at Colins. “Thats where your budget went?! Those mini-generators where expensive!”
She had the the tact to look bashful, but still had that shit eating smirk and pointed out the window. “that,” she started. “was the test run. and i only used one of the fifteen generators. where’s there homeworld again? my sister died on Outpost Halcyon, so unless there leadership is going to surrender…” she tapped the pad in his hand, “then Project Shatterfall will be ready in-“ she looked at the time. “-five seconds.”she glared at the now pale xeno on screen. “let this be a lesson: dont. fuck. with humanity.” | 2021-08-03T10:12:20 | 2021-08-03T09:59:42 | 182 | 42 |
[WP] You are a world-class programmer who has died. God agrees to allow you in to Heaven on the condition that you work for him while he debugs the human body. Write the patch notes for the next version of humans. | *Homo* v. 1.5 release: *Homo modernus*
**New features:**
* Improved and sustained acuity of visual sensory systems. They should no longer wear out as quickly.
* Female models now have access to facial hair growth.
* In order to facilitate numerical reasoning, an arithmetic logic unit has been included in the frontal lobe.
**Bugfixes:**
* Fixed an issue where memory systems would report a new experience as having happened before.
* Fixed an issue where the immune system would incorrectly respond to nonthreatening foreign substances.
* Fixed multiple issues where the immune system would incorrectly attack other native systems, causing significant damage.
* Fixed an issue where sensory systems would produce unintelligible output while asleep.
* Fixed an issue where the male reproductive system would identify various foreign objects as being suitable to mate with.
* Fixed an issue where memory systems would report a new experience as having happened before.
* Fixed an issue where cell growth restrictions could be ignored, causing uncontrollable cell growth, leading to severe damage to nearby systems and potentially full system shutdown.
* Fixed an issue in some models where lactase production would continue past physical maturity.
**Additional notes:**
Multiple bodily systems are no longer supported and will be removed from subsequent models, including:
* Appendix
* Wisdom teeth
* Coccyx
**Previous patch notes:**
v1.0 [*Homo habilis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_habilis)
v1.1 [*Homo erectus*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_erectus)
v1.2 [*Homo heidelbergensis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_heidelbergensis)
v1.3 [*Homo neanderthalis*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neanderthal)
v1.4 [*Homo sapiens*](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homo_sapiens) | Human v1.1
* Created basic cell membrane and stored in new GIT repository. Does nothing yet, but will provide a better basis to develop from than the old DNA sequence which jumps back and forth between coding sequences and is full of dead code. There was actually a *goto* command in there. Whatever crack-smoking monkey created this mess appears to have been writing DNA sequences randomly while trying to see whatever happened to work. Oh and of course nothing is documented. FMAL | 2015-08-25T08:53:32 | 2015-08-25T07:22:26 | 746 | 112 |
[WP] "They that pull the Sword from the Stone shall be the True King, and lead the kingdom to a golden age!" the prophecy said. However, no-one's been willing to argue the legitimacy of the Queen who's been wielding said sword, still stuck in the stone, as a giant mace. | "Mom, why did you marry dad? He's so ugly."
The Queen looked at Prince Edward, and scolded him while secretly chuckling to herself. Pulling up a chair next to the young prince's bed, she caressed his head and began to talk soothingly.
"Your dad wasn't always ugly Edward. When we were young, he was a tall glass of water. A little wild for my taste back then, but no one could argue that he wasn't a looker."
"But...you're the queen mom. You could have married anyone you wanted"
"HA! Don't I know it! I was quite a beauty myself too. The Mace Queen, those were the good old days. I ruled my Queendom strictly, but fairly, with my trusty mace at my side."
"You mean, excaliboulder?"
"Yes! Excaliboulder! Your mom was never one to listen to prophecies, so she just took the sword with the stone in it, and decided to rule the land. It was a lot easier than I thought, in retrospect. Turns out it's a lot easier to convince people when you have a 200 pound boulder at your side all the time."
"You were so strong Ma!"
"Haha, and I still am Edward. But I wasn't the only one who was strong enough to lift that sword. Once in a blue moon, I'd come across someone else who was strong enough to use excaliboulder as well. Remember, back then, your mom had a lot of enemies. One day, while collecting taxes from a wealthy port village, a pirate came along and tried to kidnap me and hold me for a ransom."
"Was the pirate dad?"
"Heavens no! What is it with you children and jumping to conclusions all the time. No no, this pirate may have been ugly, but he wasn't your dad. The pirate, however, was also strong. Very strong. When he had me cornered in the alley, he picked up my mace, and swung it at me."
"Did it hurt?"
"Well...I never got hit. You see, just before I was about to have my face smashed in with a rock, a stranger jumped in front of me to shield me. As soon as the rock made contact with his face, the boulder slipped off! Now, everyone was astounded at what happened, and your mom used that split second of surprise to overpower the pirate!"
"And...that stranger was Dad?" Prince Edward said hesitantingly
"You got it! Your dad's face was horribly disfigured, but he had a kind heart, and eventually, we married. I was never one for politics for finance, but it turns out your dad was a very adept trader. He balanced the Queendom's debt, and made it a burgeoning hub for trade!"
"And that's how I was born!"
"You got it!"
"Tell me Mom...do you think the prophecy came true after all? Dad is a King after all, and he may have not pulled the sword from the stone, but he definitely pulled the stone from the sword."
"Maybe my little Prince...but like I said, I was never one for prophecies." | "Ah come on!" Yorrick exclaimed "She never pulled the damn thing outta the stone at all!"
Hule rolled his eyes "That's the only argument you ever got and it-"
"It's all the argument I ever need!" Yorrick interrupted.
"Says you! So hung up on prophecy you want to ignore seven years of progress and joy for the Queendom." Hule rebutted.
"And that's another thing! I ain't gonna call it no Queendom, 's always been called Kingdom and always will be far as I'm concerned."
"What's your big hang up, she don't ask much from us but change a few words and-"
"And pay some heckin' huge taxes!"
"They pay for the warrior training barracks and shaman healing huts!"
"Yeah but what they done for me lately!"
"Aw you're impossible you are! Don't you have one good thing to say 'bout the Queen?"
"... Well."
"Yeah?"
"'S pretty impressive watching, you know, when those knights come from far and wide to try their hand at pulling the sword from the stone and they see she has it and tell 'em they gotta take it by force if and when they wanna try it."
Hule smirked "Yeah.."
Yorrick grinned "Yeah and she smashes 'em like a bowl fulla eggs second they make their move. For a big gal she sure moves real fast."
"Sure does."
And both men sipped their mead, picturing their mighty and wise queen in all her ample beauty utterly wrecking those gaudy knights in their all too shiny armour.
EDIT: Spelling errors. | 2018-03-18T21:49:07 | 2018-03-18T16:20:36 | 296 | 114 |
[WP] Recently you’ve noticed an increasing trend in the souls entering hell. They’re not at all tormented by the conditions, most of them seem *happy* with their too-small homes and long five hour days of mindless tasks. You report to Satan that maybe someone should check the conditions on Earth. | "What do you mean i should check in? If I so much as poke my head into Earth's atmosphere, God would have my ass!" Lucifer spoke, visibly upset by the suggestion put forth by Satan. After all, his shenanigans in Eden has not been forgotten by any of his siblings. And God went no contact.
"I understand, your Grace. But this is abnormal to say the least." Satan replied. "Our world was supposed to be the ultimate punishment for all damned souls. But they seem to genuinely enjoying it down here. One of the souls I interrogated just moments ago told me that life on Earth has gotten so bad, it makes Hell looks like a trip to the Caribbean."
"Are you sure about this? Have our demons forgotten how to torture?"
"That's just it, our demons have forgotten nothing. I even had Mammon opened up Hellsmith again. You know just how hot his old workshop is. And yet, they all just happily walked in and did whatever he told them to do, barehanded and all."
Lucifer was perplexed. For the longest time, he has reigned with a burning grip. Souls that arrived here, the first thing they received was a shower of fire. A soul is burnt until there is nothing but black smoke. The smoke is then forced into a humanoid but faceless shape, similar to their former mortal body. Then, chains are clamped onto their hands and feet, sealed their fate for eternal suffering. Tasks were given to each individual soul, and they would spend five hours of human time doing that tasks over and over again. Days after days, years after years. Sprinkled a random torture here and there by Amodeus, and you got a winning combination. Though, souls are allowed furlough once every month, which usually last five days. Then, a temporary released from the chains once a year, and they can roam Hell on their bare feet, which last anywhere from twenty days to two months. Lucifer and the other six Princes of Hell agreed that even though this is Hell, it does not always have to be. But, these conditions were enough to make even the likes of Gabriel nauseated.
"Bring me a soul, any soul." Lucifer commanded. "If this is another scheme by Livyatan, I will deal with with him myself. He still hasn't given up on his hope for my seat, I'm sure."
"He has not. But you should know that this is a problem shared by all of us."
Satan raised his hand, and a cloud of black smoke appeared on the roof of Pandemonium Main Hall. From that cloud, a soul descended down and stood in front of the King of Hell.
"What is your name?" Lucifer asks the soul.
"Jimmy, your Grace."
"And Jimmy, who were you before you got here?"
"I was a lawyer, your Grace, for a drug cartel."
"So basically you are the worst there is."
"Well, depends on the situation, your Grace. I did do a lot of stuff for the cartel for money, but mostly just to keep my head attached to my neck."
"And what is the world like before you died?"
"Terrible, your Grace. Racism, poverty, diseases, wars, spread in every corner of the world. You have those so rich that they can practically do anything with impunity, and those so poor that they can't even afford food or gas. A lot of them overworked themselves nine to five every day, sometimes longer, for minimum wages job with no health benefits. And the funny thing is, some of those poor ones would vote to get the rich ones to stay in power, consistently."
"Why would they do that?"
"Because they were lied to, your Grace. Politicians that they elected to represent them would often promise a better world for everyone, a safer world for everyone, and once they're in power, poof, all promises are gone. Nothing changes. Actually, no, things would get worse. A little adjustment here, a few votes there, and you get less rights and more debts. Not to mention that these things actually repeat themselves the next voting cycle. I mean, for a long while I thought that what I did back then was bad. But my sins compared to some of those guys, heh, a drop in the ocean. It blew my mind!"
"Right, and how would you describe Hell?"
"Pretty okay, in my opinion. I mean, sure, the repeated works and the random torture does get to me sometimes, but knowing that I'm already dead and these are just routine, it actually became easy to tolerate. And the food ain't half bad, your Grace. Nothing to brag about, but definitely beats prison chow. And I don't have to work two months out of the year and just travel. All in all, a pretty good deal, if I do say so myself."
"So...you are not at all scared? Angered? Depressed?"
"Not really. Well, as long as I don't run into one of those Salamanca guys, I'm good. It's all good."
Lucifer sat back on his throne and contemplated. Hell was supposed to be a warning for all mankind to do good and stay good. Instead, they are enjoying it. If this kind of news reach Heaven, he would be laughed at by Michael and others. But if he doesn't tell them, they might not know just how bad God's Earth is right now. And it is Lucifer's duty, whether he likes it or not, to ensure that Hell runs properly. His reputation and his power on the throne depends on it.
"Jimmy, you can go." Satan waved his hand, and Jimmy is gone.
"What now, your Grace?" Satan asked.
"Open the sky gate. I'll go get my wings." Lucifer sighed, dreading the trip to Heaven.
Edit: Thanks for the awards and upvotes, strangers! Also, sorry for any grammar mistake. English is my second language. | Me: E-excuse me, Your Malevolence?
Satan: *WHAT!?*
M: I have somewhat of a concern about the way the souls we’re taking in are…
S: Are *what?* Speak, little imp; don’t you dare try my patience.
M: S-sorry, Your Cruelness! New souls entering Hell are not scared or worried anymore!
S: Hah, really? That was your concern? Of course they aren’t as worried. Some people mistakenly *romanticize* us, don’t you know? They believe that since they presently disagree with the way the Bastard on High runs things, that we would treat them well. Of course, those are lies *we* help them believe just to *trap* them down here in the first place. Once they realize the grim reality of their eternal torture, they usually shut right up~.
M: You misunderstand, Your Fearsomeness! They don’t care about any of those things anymore! They even seem happy with our average methods.
S: …go on…?
M: Five hours of menial tasks, enforced by whipping should they ever slack for too long, every single day for all of foreseeable eternity… sound acceptable to them. Relieving even!
S: …*oh*.
M: Just what sort of conditions exist on earth that they may feel this way? Your Vileness, I think we may need to—MMPH!
S: Silence!… So… *that* is what has you concerned…?
M: …
S: …
M: …
S: …heh. HheehehehahahAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Your naïveté knows no bounds, does it not, little imp?
M: Mmmph? Mphmmm—!
S: Up on Earth, particularly amongst the middling economic classes and upwards in society, there is a sort of pandemic of… extreme work conditions. Some centuries back, some people were working whenever they weren’t sleeping! It’s not nearly so extreme now, not in most places anyway, but eight hours as a standard is still much. One would easily assume that less than that, plus seemingly endless free time elsewise, would be merciful… and one would be *shortsighted!*
M: MMPH— *cough*— *sputter*— gah! In what way!?
S: Simple! Despite the hours, living souls have all sorts of entertainment they can share with each other, all sorts of physical items and amenities. Many of which seem to be increasingly complicated methods of storytelling. Now, you see, little imp, here in Hell we provide our enchambered souls with none of these things. Sure, they can potentially wander around, perhaps converse, but besides that, we don’t allow much else. Meaning it’s the work… and nothing. Eventually, a given soul is forced to confront the sheer ennui of their new eternity, regardless of just how *appealing* it sounded at first… and eventually, that soul will crack. It will slip up in its given work, make a mistake, not show up on time, leave when not allowed! And then we get to punish them more directly, bringing out our old fashioned methods as a mockery of discipline, before setting them back to work…
M: …p-pardon my continued intrusion, Your Sinisterness, but is this not rather… arbitrary?
S: Oh, but of course~… but you see, there is some beauty in the horror of being forced into an arbitrary system, one that you might try but always fail to “game” to your advantage. And this also means whenever someone suffers under our more *extreme* methods, they have the added sorrow of it being their own fault. Such is the deeper psychological manipulation of Hell’s labor…
M: …I see! But even then…
S: …even then, what?
M: Even then, most souls I see seem contented. Driven, even. Sure, there is some level of submission to this cycle you describe, outside of the direct torture, people seem largely unaffected!
S: …unaffected!?
M: Yes, Your Terribleness! That happiness I described… it isn’t exclusive to new ones just coming in! Their positive feelings don’t vanish for good! That happiness seems to stay in one form or another throughout everything! The souls still persist!
S: …
M: …
S: …………….*WHAT!?* | 2022-12-28T15:57:57 | 2022-12-28T11:49:30 | 194 | 39 |
[WP] You are a superhero with shapeshifting powers. You don't fight crime. You cover for other superheroes when they need to sneak out to save the day. | I have found myself in quite a few interesting situations in my line of work, but this was certainly new. My arms and legs were strapped to a metal chair in a dark room with some dim monitors about 10 feet away. My instant reaction was to shift my way out by flattening my limbs but I had no idea if I was being watched and if someone learned who I was, my "babysitting" job would be shot down the tubes. The light from a door opening momentarily blinded me, which was probably the effect my captors were going for. I heard the door slam shut and a single lightbulb lit in the middle of the ceiling, offering enough light for me to see the man in the suit and his female assistant. The man was very stern and looked like he could shower in pepper spray without flinching. His assistant was clearly the plot twist mastermind. I mean, she /looks/ like she's trying to blend in. As someone who blends in for a living, it is disheartening to see someone fail so miserably at it. I started to smirk but that was interrupted by the man in the suit. "Do you know where you are?" I met his gaze. "Well, to be frank, it looks like I'm about to be subjected to a supervillain monologue." The man's stern face cracked for a second to allow a thin grin to form. "Well I hate to break it to you, but you're actually in a federal agency interrogation room." I wasn't that far off, I guess. The woman handed him a folder which he opened and produced a thumb drive. He disappeared behind one of the monitors to plug it in. He was really going for a grand display here. After a moment, the monitor showed a familiar scene I was surprised to see. Grant Draftstone, the D. A. f our fine city was standing at the window of his office. Except that wasn't Mr. Draftstone. It was me. I was covering while he was patrolling the streets that night as the Skyscraper. It wasn't the best name, but I'd heard worse. For a split second, a shadow covered the window. When the shadow disappeared, there I was. "You care to explain what you were snooping around in the D. A.'s office for? And don't even /think/ of lying. Ms. Claire here is our resident telepath." Telepaths always bugged me. You never know what thoughts are private. Fortunately, I have a technique for dealing with them. I wish I could have taken a picture of that woman's expression when she tried to read my mind only to find the nastiest thoughts I could conjure up. She almost threw up, courtesy of that time I threw up on a dead rat in the subway station. I wasn't aiming for it, but crap happens. /Speaking of crap.../ I thought. That's when their resident telepath hit the floor, out cold. As the guy in the suit turned to look at what was happening, I extended my arm fast enough to cold-cock him right in the head. He fell down right beside her with a wonderful noise that I'm sure some illustrator would represent with huge block letters covering half the panel. I slid out of my restraints with only the greatest of ease and began to head out the door. I remembered the thumb drive, stepped back inside, snagged it, and left a note on the assistant, listing all the reasons that she was clearly the mastermind of some great plot. I wish I could see the aftermath of that note. I was positive it would have been the greatest falling out since I accidentally convinced the Silver Bullet's wife that he was secretly seeing Lady Werewolf when I was in actuallity calling the Silver Bullet to make sure I was being paid extra for picking up his dog's crap. Anyway, as I left the complex, borrowing Ms. Claire's face, of course, I knew I was going to have to talk to Mr. Draftstone about getting a little bonus. | Superman looked nervous he never usually looked nervous. It must be serious. I hope he won't forget to pay me though, I wish he got a better paid job than a low ranking journalist.
'I really appreciate this. I cant have my partner finding out that I am gone, It will change everything. Theyre all I have. But they can be a bit erratic, and if news gets out that I'm off Earth then humanity is jeapordized.'
I nodded. He took another breath, there was more?
'I'm not sure I'll come back from this one, pal and if I do it could be weeks. You are going to have to fill in for me in all regards to make sure no one knows I'm on this mission... if you understand what I mean'
'I understand, it will just be a part of the job, I am a professional at the end of the day'.
'There's a schedule...'
'Listen Clark I've got this, I'm here for you like you're always there for us'
I thought I saw a tear roll down his cheek and then he was gone; out the window, out of the skyline and out of our atmosphere.
I morphed into Clark Kents form and ran a bath being very liberal with what were now my bath salts.
I heard the front door. God I love my job. I could only imagine the type of woman that Clark Kent would get. My job is I taste the sweet fruits of other peoples labour and run up their utility bills.
'Im in here' I try to hide the excitement in my voice.
The door creeped open but there's no one there. I look down.
An old four foot Vietnamese midget, bottomless to reveal what could be either set of grey genitelia, greasy thinning hair, a helping of white powder within its overgrown pinkie nail, with yellow teeth smiles at me, a large blue dildo in the other tabacco stained hand.
'Hello Clark baby, its our anniversary, it party time'
'What the fuck' i whisper matter of factly.
It snorted the bump of powder and stared at me with what could have been hate or love, but either way intent. It was licking its lips.
Not all heroes wear capes. Some limp home. Others find out that coked up midgets are not very aerodynamic when thrown out of a 30th floor apartment window. | 2020-03-23T14:51:47 | 2020-03-23T14:32:07 | 102 | 55 |
[WP] A time traveler warns the various indians of the america's of european invaders. Many europeans who looked to settle or invade are repelled. The First World War is fought in the 1800's waged by a united Native American alliance | Felix woke to the sound of heavy drums in the distance. Fearing what this new, alternate reality would be, he looked to his surroundings for cover.
Seeing nothing immediately, he could hear between the beats of drums a trickling of water. Hoping he could trust his ears, he ran towards the stream.
It was a river, judging by the distance to the other side, he knew he'd never make it to the other side before the drums reached him. Felix debated with himself whether or not to "predator" the river bank, but if they were Native Americans, they wouldn't be fooled.
The drums surrounded him. Felix turned, with hands raised up in surrender.
6 brown men on segways were staring down hard from above. They had high ground, numbers, and he was cornered. One man pressed a button on his machine and the drums stopped.
Silence filled the void between them.
No one spoke, and Felix dared not lower his hands even a millimeter.
From his experiences with the tribes over 600 years ago, he knew that speaking first would assure his death.
The six men dismounted their segways and closed the distance to Felix's position on foot. They inspected him with their eyes, no hints of emotion on their faces.
Felix wore the garb of their ancestors. His face bore the paint of a Shaman, an honorary title the Iroquois bestowed to him 3 days ago.
After what felt like hours of inspection, he saw a small grin form on one of the faces. "Our savior returned."
Felix was brought into a cheering town, where little brown children swarmed him. Their laughter and smiles filled Felix with hope for this new world.
Back in his old reality, there never seemed to be this many children on the reservations, let alone this level of excitement. The only experience close to it were pow wows, but they had a completely different energy. The pow wows always hinted of sadness, of something lost. But this positive energy was palpable.
An enormous man with muscles that had been grown atop an already sculpted physique awaited Felix at the end of the procession. His headdress suggested he was Chief.
"Felix Blackbear! A myth passed from Chief to Chief. The savior of the United Tribes of the Americas."
"The what?!" Felix's heart raced. It worked, he didn't know whether or not he could influence time in such a massive way. A new timeline. A new hope.
"We took your advice. We sent horseback riders to every corner, spreading word of the invasion. We created hard settlements along the coastlines, we learned how to live with each other."
"You gave our warriors something to fight other than each other. You gave our Shamans a purpose, and focus. You gave our Chiefs a goal. Unite and fight. Live and love. Grow and build. We're indebted to you, for we'd never survive without your guidance."
"I can't really believe it." Felix said, his mid racing through questions and confusion.
"We need you once more," the Chief said stoically, "for the new war brings new fears, and we know not how to combat them."
"What war?"
"German Empire. They took over Europe and Asia. They have footholds in Africa and the Middle East. Their resources are incredible and their numbers are inexhaustible."
"Germany won? World War I or II?"
"A world war? There hasn't been one in 200 years. We stayed out of Germany's genocide. We had hoped they would leave us alone, but their hunger for world domination is insatiable."
"Who else opposes them?"
"No one, anymore."
Felix sighed. "I'll check out the future, see what can be done."
Pressing the coordinates into his watch and hearing the beep, he felt himself sliding into the future. 20 years should do it. Just enough to get information and a strong technological lead."
The sliding slowed, an he felt himself coming out of the wormhole.
Heat hit Felix immediately. His lungs expelled the air from his body. His eyes bulged from their sockets.
Felix tried to look around, but he found himself blind, clawing at his watch to reset the timer. Thick wet blood trickled from his ears and nose.
Felix would cough if air was coming back into his lungs, but instead he just spasmed on the ground.
Some savior he turned out to be, Felix thought. He hated his home on the reservation, but he suddenly missed the silence. The wind. The smell of grass and trees.
Even on the reservations' worst day, it was better than this nuclear wasteland of death. | I am chief Wolf-tooth Swiftfoot , we have come across a strange man who came to us . We first threaten him of who he is , what he wants . We surround him and as we where about to strike him he says he does not want any harm , we let him speak . He calls himself " Stephen Teymur " , he talks about a big evil that will come to our lands and take everything away from our people and tells us we must prepare . He also talks about this evil having better weapons , and they are pure evil in there hearts . Stephen tells me to follow him , he shows me a an image of a strange object he tells me this could be used against our enemy . So he shows me how to make one , I was the first one to try and he told me to pull the trigger . I hit a tree , he showed me what impact it does and has far better use than our primitive weapons . I agree , so we produce this weapon called " gun " , also shows me a long object that when reloaded with a giant ball of metal shot in the air can kill many men he called this cannon . He then showed us how to produce guns , also taught us how to use them and reload them . My people are very amused , we feel powerful and feel brave that this evil will be demolished . So after that , he also tells us not all of them are evil some just want a better life here . We celebrate in honor of this man , we have a feast for him . All the fattest turkeys , bison , pigs , and other animals where killed and are heartily . After that taught us on doing different kinds of crops , crops we have not seen of planted before but are filled with nutrients . We feel safe , I know believe in this man so one night I tell him that we will show him our lands . After a long war , I know have conquered all of the lands in the Great Plains . We show him different parts , we show him the Grand Canyon and other lands . I am now riding with him in horses with fifty of my best men , when a messenger came . He was bloodied up , he says that a group of unknown men came to one of my villages and kidnapped everyone there . We then rushed back , we saw nothing but carnage almost everyone was gone and a few where injured . I see a flag , Stephen takes it he looks at it " This is one of the evils that we talk about ,this is the flag of Britain . He told me that they could not be far away , so we ride and take all the survivors we find . After a while we find a settlement , it has the same banner of the invaders . I creep up , it was bunch of pale faced men . They where bullying the captives , one of whom was my wife Windmane . Stephen tells us that we should attack them , so we creep up the settlement . We aim , and then fire . A lot of them fell , Stephen says that do it again we then aim and fire more fell to there deaths . Stephen then says go now , and attack . We charge , and we shoot everyone that was our enemy . After this , we got our people back and we rushed out of there as fast as we could . Stephen then told me " More will come chief , this is just the beginning .( Part 2 next) | 2017-03-21T04:08:22 | 2017-03-21T01:57:21 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] You're the normal guy the evil emperor keeps around to point out obvious flaws in his plan. It's a pretty sweet gig, but there are some annoyances. | Being a janitor in an obvious evil lair to a supreme dictator was a job I've always considered dangerous. The man who rules over all of us with an iron fist, charismatic to be sure, but was perhaps the craziest guy I've ever met..
So crazy that some of his ideas were considered both a suicide AND a death sentence. And not even most of his so-called inner circle would protest for fear that they'd get executed. Naturally of course he turns to the only guy within the vicinity of his meeting room for an opinion. The guy just nonchalantly cleaning his 'evil' layer.
They always tend to ignore us humble cleaning folk. So when the Overlord of Pure Evilness spoke to me, I knew that one wrong word, and it's either a banishment to the land of the Horselords, and or get executed. When I offered my opinion to his plans, well....it surprised me and his inner circle that he considered some of it.
He would later tell me once the meeting with his inner-circle was finished that he valued an honest man's opinion, and entrusted me of all people to be present when he does these kind of meetings.
"I have a plan for our great nation my cleaning friend. And I will not suffer the opinions of boot lickers and yes men who'd just nod and agree with everything I say!" He declared as he raised his ice cream cup to the roof.
And so, I was forced to be in that particular room whenever he suggested any of his crazy schemes, and me being just an honest man, would provide some insights and any flaws to his plans. Naturally this has caused quite a small level of Byzantine politics as his inner circle would come to me, sometimes when I'm on my way home, offering me gifts and such just so I could influence whatever they desired to the Emperor himself.
Naturally, I would decline, it never feels right to do that sort of thing, if they wanted to have a say, they ought to try and be honest sometimes.
The pay is great, and at least the Emperor is decent to his staff, the henchmen included. But the Byzantine intrigues those guys do with themselves to curry some favor from the Emperor makes me glad I wanted to be a janitor.
| Kylo Ren hitched up his pants, and gestured to me to come closer.
"Yes, my lord?" I asked, kneeling on one knee, my palms up in supplication. Hopefully, his Kylo'ness wouldn't notice that I had directly disobeyed him.
"Jonesy - what do you think of the good General Hux's plan?"
I followed K's glistening black gloved hand pointing menacingly at General Armitage Hux's neck. Glancing up at Hux's eyes, I could see them glisten and plead.
Time stood still as I thought about Kylo's question - and more importantly, how had I, a simple Tatooine moisture farmer gotten here?
Post if you want more..... | 2018-01-16T00:06:13 | 2018-01-15T17:08:18 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] There are many different rituals to gain power in the world, one such Ritual is to eat every last bit of an animal to gain its power. Eat its flesh, crunch down its bones, and drink all of its blood, every last bit. You are the first to gain the power of a . . . | A leviathan, never had anyone attempted such a feat, unfortunately I had no choice, stranded on an island with nothing else to eat save coconuts and crabs.
Such a grand creature,tentacles sprawling 100 meters long, some still impaled by the spikes used to prevent juveniles from scaling to the deck, most don’t live longer than 12 years, tender bastards, who do hold a flavour better than chicken could ever dream of.
It bled out into the nearby shore, a little secret, you don’t need all of your foe but 97%, the beast was speared in the brain with a harpoon by a dear friend, I found him halfway through the stomach, terrible way to die.
Surprisingly flavourful, already brined I guess, made a welcome change.
The beak,Hard, rough and entirely undigestible, I saved it for last.
As I consumed more and more, I seemed to gain attributes not befitting a man, firstly I developed a taste for flesh uncooked, then my stomach seemed to always find space for whatever I ate,my grip started to crack coconuts, my eyes stung less when I opened them under the sea,my breath slowly became efficient underwater,my mind was filled with memories of places long forgotten to even the stones on which they were built and I became less and less fond of the thought of shaving.
Others I only discovered later when I returned to ‘civilisation’, i stared to garner a group of loyal fellows across the region,my reach was long and I could ‘slip’ through any keyhole I deigned, the deck of a ship felt more homely than my own mothers arms.
Now the seas belong to me, the pirate king, no musket ball nor sword can fell me, I live in luxury, retired after one mission, I can tell you Spain is lovely at this time of year.
But now alas, my worst fears have come true, my beard has started to look more like tentacles by the day, my eyes are no longer mammalian and I fear my form is beginning to expand and grow, for you see this is the truth.
Leviathans never die,they just take a break. | It has taken 2 years. 2 Years of eating fatty meat, of grinding bones into milkshakes, of taking capsules full of blood. But you did it. You finally gained the powers of a mighty beast.
Others have done this before, many people have mild bug powers. Mediocre powers from small animals like squirrels and cats. An oddly high number of people with cat powers….a few elite with the speed of a cheetah or eyesight of an eagle.
But you? You have surpassed them all. You flex your hand, breaking a glass cup like paper. Your jaws feel incredibly strong, who knows what you can crush with these? You thighs…well you were never skinny per say but chunky might be a new descriptive term for you….
Yes you, you have attained the mighty power of a hippopotamus. | 2022-11-12T15:53:44 | 2022-11-12T15:27:19 | 86 | 34 |
[WP] The pantheon of heroes asked you your power. "Anxiety," you replied. They laughed, as though it was some 'relatable' joke. They suddenly stopped when they felt you use it. | The circular room surrounded Tom as he stood before the pantheon of heroes that humans looked up to. Such an honour to stand before such legends. The glistening chandelier above the rectangular table shone over Tom's sweating palms and forehead. He had never even dreamed that when he was younger, he'd be in the same room as these heroes.
The heroes were of unknown origin. They weren't quite human, they were what humans called 'Celestials.' Humans believed them to have come from the stars themselves, however, this was all beliefs of course. Nothing was really known about what they could really do, or what their real purpose was. The humans had a ritual to them. They would send any extra-ordinary person on a quest across barren deserts and blistering mountains. If they would complete this perilous journey, it was said that the skies themselves would open up to them and they would be invited into their palace of power. Tom, was one of these people to complete this journey.
A celestial asked him, 'What is your power, human? What makes you worthy in the eyes of your kind?'
Tom's stomach formed knots and sickness filled his throat. He coughed and said 'Anxiety.'
They laughed in unison, they had never had someone make jokes with them before. They had all of course, suffered doubts in their mind.
'Yes yes very funny... now what is your power. Really.'
Tom replied 'I'm not joking, anxiety is my power.'
They were confused. Their want for learning overtook them and they intriguingly asked him, 'Show us.'
Tom's closed his eyes as millions of colours flew across the dark canvas of the back of his eyelids, his mind relaxing and focusing at the same time. He focused on the colours that he had always found that made people worry. Red and orange. He opened his eyes and spread his arms and the raw emotion spread from within. The celestials felt it.
They were physically moved back by this power of emotion. The overwhelming worry and doubt they felt stunned them into silence. The few ones that still laughed were silenced and Tom stood confidently.
He began to ease off and let his mind rest as he stopped. The levels of raw emotion that channeled through him could be dangerous. They played with his brain chemistry. He was told he will be driven mad by his own power so he always made sure that he never overdid himself. The celestials leaned forward in their seats, admiring Tom. The one who spoke to him previously waved his hand upwards. Tom was gently lifted into the air as he was coated in armour shining with red and an orange tinted cape on his back. He fell back down to the ground and the celestials simply said.
'You're valuable, you'll be needed.' | From on high the heroes leered, faces obscured by billowing laughter, and disdain.
Said them, "What power is it that brings you here, amongst us all? What force do you maintain?"
Ascending onto that high mountain I smiled, my face full and bright.
Spoke I, "It is not the wisdom of my mind, nor the endurance of my body, or the muscles that grant me might."
They jeered and pounded their shields. They knocked their bows and with powers shined.
Said them, "Tell us then, oh newborn Hero, what power you have divined!"
With that I strode to mighty Achilles, ever wary, ever calm.
And in a single moment the fear set in, from but a touch of my palm.
Said he, "What's this?" From his brow came sweat, and from his chest mighty palpitations.
Said I, "Anxiety, like a poison spreads. First to the heart, till the enemy cry out their lamentations."
Like a thundering herd, I shouted then, "All of you have felt this, its true!"
"Your bodies bear testimony; the fear that you would not live up, to the Heroes who came before you."
The crowd nodded their heads at this, observed the scars upon the arms, the weight of the distant past.
And the gates of Elysium opened before me, at last. | 2020-04-12T18:37:23 | 2020-04-12T18:08:46 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] Your phone's always been a few minutes fast. You've never been able to fix it, so you just ignored it until the day you were hanging out with your friend and received this text from their number: 'Omg pls tell me your still alive' | I heard my phone vibrate in my purse. I bent down and fished the thing out, still listening to Val’s rant about her new employee. Apparently, his approach to being a salesperson means getting a little too hands-on with the customers...in a pet store of all places. Val doesn’t know whether to reprimand or fire him. He does a decent job in every other possible situation. It could also become a diversity snafu since his “targets” are the male customers. From her descriptions, I personally think Val’s employee needs to be told that flirting does not have an appropriate hands-on approach and that would be the end of it. But Val is still Val. She’s a great friend but sometimes she can make a mountain out of a molehill.
Still bent over I read the notification on my phone: a message from Val’s number that read, “OMG! Pls tell me you’re still alive!!!”
Wondering what could that possibly mean, I open my mouth to ask Val what’s going on.
That’s when I hear the woman at the table behind me scream. I glance over and see her husband, who had had his back to me, slumped over with blood coming out of a wound in his back.
I recognize the wound from my time as an intern with the hospital. It was a gunshot wound. Had I not been bent over, the bullet would have hit me in the head instead of him.
But I don’t have time to consider that because more people started to scream...and more people started to slump over. The crowd of people seated on the diner’s patio and on the patio for the coffee shop next door pushed and shoved each other as they scrambled in all directions. Tables, including the one Val and I sat at, were knocked over in the panic. Some people raced into the diner while others raced out into the street. The windows of the diner shattered as more bullets silently rained down on these innocent people. I look for Val in the sea of frantic people, but I can’t see her. Still clutching my phone, I start to crawl towards the restaurant. Hopefully, being indoors will protect me.
My phone vibrates again. Another message from Val saying, “Oh God, you weren’t in the diner were you?”
Without even questioning it, I turn away from the diner and scramble against the current of people. People were still falling to the ground as bullets riddled their bodies. A woman clutching her baby fell to her knees, blood bursting out of her thigh. My nurse instincts kicked in, and I helped her to her feet.
I saw an opening in the patio fence close to us that led to the other storefronts along the strip mall. I put myself between the mother with the baby and the street, guessing that the shooter was on one of the buildings on the opposite side of the street. I helped the woman run as fast as she could down the strip mall.
“Why aren’t we going inside the diner?!?” she demanded. I couldn’t give her a reason. What was I supposed to say? That my phone told me not to be in the diner?
Thankfully, an old man raced out of the bookstore next to the diner towards us. It was the owner, Jerry. He had served as a medic in Korea. He told me to grab the baby out of the mother’s arms. He then picked her up and carried her into his store. I followed close behind. I reached the door when the coffee shop exploded into a ball of flames. The shockwave knocked me to my knees and broke the windows of the bookstore. I glanced over and saw that the flames consumed the far side of the diner. People were racing out of it, their clothes in flames. The baby in my arms screeched for her mother. I raced inside the bookstore to the far corner, away from the windows.
A small group of people were huddled together. Jerry unlocked the cellar doors and ushered people inside. I handed the baby back to the mother when my phone vibrated again.
Another message from Val, “I’m glad you’re okay. The police say it’s safe now. They caught the psycho in Jerry’s bookstore.” My heart jumped to my throat as the sounds of the front door to the bookstore just opened and closed. | Thursday
*Shit. I'm going to be late to the meeting.* I check the time on my phone again. 10:22, and I'm still waiting at a red light. *Come on, change.* I shift in my seat and nervously tap my fingers on the steering wheel in a rapid staccato beat. A line of cars turn left in front of me. 10:23. Finally, it changes.
I get into the parking lot at 10:29. *One minute to get up to the tenth floor.* I nearly knock somebody over trying to get into the elevator, and it's only as the doors are closing that I realize it's somebody I'm supposed to see at the meeting. *Why are they just standing there?*
My boss commends me for being early, as usual.
\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-
Friday
My sister and I are in line at the concession stand. She tells me: "Relax. We won't even miss the first preview" I grit my teeth and hold up my phone, showing her that it's clearly showtime. She shrugs. "Fine, you go pick seats. I'm getting popcorn."
I pick a seat right in the middle of the theater. I turn my phone off as other moviegoers file in. My sister saunters in with a tub of popcorn and plops down next to me, content. When the previews start, I take the battery out, for good measure.
\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-
Saturday
I had already made plans with Cameron for the next day, so my phone and battery are still shoved in the bottom of my bag when we meet. "Wow, this has to be the first time I've actually beat you here." They smile at me from our regular diner booth. We chat about the movie\-\-they've seen it twice already. We argue about the age of one of the actors, and I pull out my phone to prove I'm right.
I'm digging around for the battery in my bag. Cameron tells me: "I'll be right back."I click the battery back into my phone and turn back it on. I missed a few emails this morning, nothing important. I am confirming I was correct about the actor's age when Cameron texts me from the bathroom.
*OMG, pls tell me yr still alive*
I frown and furrow my eyebrows. I'm typing, *What are you talkin* when three men in masks burst through the front door and our waiter screams. | 2018-05-23T18:18:07 | 2018-05-23T18:02:41 | 166 | 31 |
[WP] You are every Super Hero’s worst enemy, not because you are particularly powerful, but because nothing you do is technically illegal… you’re just a huge asshole. | "Not you again! Are you sure you're not in the League of Darkness?" he cried after I had tapped him on the shoulder.
"Please read the notice," I responded, handing him over the contract, "and please make sure you read through all the small print." A pulsating vein popped out of Wonderman's forhead as he began to scan the Fly-Safe risk assessment I had provided.
Wonderman slammed the paper into the ground, or at least tried to. Even with the strength of a thousand men, after dropping from his palm, it fluttered pathetically to the ground.
"Listen to me little man. There is a plane. It is full of women and children."
"And men," I interjected.
"Yes obviously," he spat. And it has sent out a distress signal and I should be there by now, helping."
"That's lovely Wonderman. You're trying to do your job. And so am I," I said, picking up the paper and checking the ticked boxes. "You haven't ticked whether you have had an eye test within the last year."
Wonderman sighed. "I can see motes of dust upon the moon. Look please, just let me go and help them. I promise to be extra careful."
"Oh, just like the time Electro Man promised to wear his rubber boots every day. Except that time on his day off when he went to save the runaway dog that had snuck away in the fireworks factory."
Wonderman's face dropped. "Please don't mention that incident. Electro Man is a good person. He was horrified by what happened."
"It was like July 4th. Don't think the dog fared too well either. If there's one thing we know about Superheroes, it's that they need Supervision."
I chuckled to myself. "Super heroes, needing supervision. Get it?"
"I take back my first accusation. You're worse than anything in the League of Darkness."
Part 2 - In case you found the first part mildly amusing, there's a slight chance you might find this too.
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ow898t/wp\_you\_are\_every\_super\_heros\_worst\_enemy\_not/h7j40rq/?utm\_source=reddit&utm\_medium=web2x&context=3 | [Poem]
In Villainous stride,
Push heroes aside,
But still abide by the laws
No big dreamer, no villainous schemer not even a righteous cause.
I walk a thin line
Between rules, so fine
Make annoyances mine
Aftertaste like brine
Every loophole abused
Every get away used
Every shin bruised, because I can.
No one can get me not superman.
No villain can get near my plan,
All this work in one life span.
Close to the edge, a worthwhile stroll
Annoying, my pledge, it gives me control.
A day not lived where I don’t cajole,
Or abuse everyone on my payroll.
Sincerely a troll with my heart black as coal
Am I a villain? Nay just an asshole. | 2021-08-02T04:41:46 | 2021-08-02T04:24:48 | 1,009 | 40 |
[WP] The fact the uncanny valley exists is terrifying. Being scared by things that look almost human but aren't. Other animals do not have this. That means that at some point in our evolution, running away from things that looked almost human was advantageous enough to be imprinted on our genetics. | An Old Man is seated on a rock by a large bonfire. To either side of him a group of about a dozen youths sit cross legged, ringing the fire. A few of the youths are whittling at blocks of wood, while others nibble on jerky. They are dressed in rough leather garments stitched together by chords of hemp and sinew. Some of the older ones already have their first tattoos, but most do not.
A few adults and older teens loiter near the fire pretending to be busy. In reality they are listening to the Old Man, but do not wish to be seen partaking in children’s tales.
“It was in the time of my grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather. And since I am old enough to be your grandfather it was about 8 generations ago that we came to this valley.” He said. His voice did not carry the hoarse rasp of old age, but rather remained clear and fluid despite the wrinkles and scars on his face that revealed the Old Man’s considerable age.
“We came from ancient land, far to the south, when the rising sun is to the right. We needed fresh land to hunt, fresh herds to chase. A land with many trees and shrubs for the women to pick fruit from.
“We followed the herds at first. They fled the ancient lands when the rains stopped falling and the dirt turned to sand.”
He paused to collect his thoughts. The children were listening raptly. They had never heard this story before.
“At first these lands were ideal, beautiful. Full of everything we wanted. But who can tell me why it was not perfect?”
The children thought for a moment. They knew an answer was expected, these stories were education as well as entertainment.
“Because of the Others.” One of them said, a younger girl.
Some of the older children quickly shushed her or else shook their heads in embarrassment. The girl looked abashed and averted her eyes.
“Yes, exactly right. The others.” the Old Man said kindly, smiling at her. His audience looked at him quizzically.
“It’s no sin to talk about the Others when asked.” He explained. He cleared his throat indicating that the time for discussion was over and it was time for the story to resume.
“Yes, the Others. They came from the caves. We prefer to sleep in tents made from skins and woven hemp, but these Others abided deep in the hills and mountains. That is why even today our people never go into the mountains though they surround us on all sides.”
“I thought all of the Others were gone.” One of the boys said.
The Old Man shot daggers with his eyes at the boy who had spoken. A second boy cuffed him on the head.
“Are they, Aku? Do you know why you were named that?”
He shook his head.
“Because Aku was your grandfather, and my best friend, and he died to keep your mother safe when she was just a girl. It was the Others who killed him. I saw it with my own eyes. So, little Aku, who speaks out of turn during story, are you brave enough to go into the mountains? After all, the Others are all gone, right?”
Aku remained silent and turned red in the cheeks. Old Man nodded in approval. He cleared his throat again.
“It is true that our ancestors fought back, and for a time we prevailed. Our flint and bone was superior to theirs, and our strategies in battle were superior. But the Others have advantages as well. They are larger than us, and have a deep, bellowing voice that can be heard for half a horizon, meaning they could call for help and always be answered.
“Soon enough they stopped competing with us for the herds and retreated into their caves. Instead they now make their desperate living by ambushing our camps and taking away our women, and attacking our hunting parties with greater numbers after they make a kill and steal it for themselves.
“Now, who can tell me how to spot an Other?”
No one spoke. Old Man shook his head.
“Well Aku will be pleased to learn that there hasn’t been an attack on our people for almost thirty seasons now, since Aku was learning to walk. As such your parents haven’t told you how to spot them. Who can tel me why you must know this?”
“Because they look like us.” A small child said.
“Yes. But more importantly there are other people’s in this valley now as well, our own kind but of different tribes. You must learn what the Other’s look like because you must know the difference between them and the other people of this valley.”
“It used to be much easier. The Others in the time of my grandfather were much larger than us, and hairier. Their foreheads were sloped, their noses huge, and their chests were enormous.
“But now, ever since they started taking away our women, it has become harder and harder to tell them apart from others of our kind. They know this, and have started using it. On the day young Hakka here was born a group of them came to our camp. We thought they were of our kind, come to trade. When we came out to barter they attacked, they carried away two women, slew two of our men, and stole three mammoth skins. The danger is very real.”
“So children, listen and listen well. When you see someone, and your first thought is that something is not right, run. Because the Others may look like us, and may act like us, but they will never look completely the same. I’ll not waste time telling you what to look for, but I urge you to look at each other closely. Go on, look into each other’s faces and study each other. That is the face of our kind. If you see someone else, and something looks different, or if they leave you unsettled, run away as fast as you can. For the Others hate us still, and long to reclaim this valley for their own. Heed my words and obey, fear that which does not look like you.”
And with these word the Old Man rose and disappeared into his tent, leaving his audience to their task of studying each other. | The retired professor turned this way and that, crazy haired and wild eyed, looking for something that wasn't there.
Sturbink's office light had shut off about thirty seconds ago. He had been lost in the research time vortex that afflicted adderall users everywhere, absorbed by first hand accounts of murders from the late 18th century. All of the reports had something in common; the witnesses glimpsed the killers before they vanished, and the killers always seemed achingly familiar, as if they were wayward family members of their unfortunate victims.
Sturbink kept returning to the same eyewitness account, fascinated by a gruesome series of murders in a shipyard in Liverpool. The witness survived by hiding in the half-completed hull of a British Man of War, where he watched his friends and coworkers die. When he was finally found he kept repeating the same line over and over.
*They came like wraiths in the night.*
The young man's story didn't hold up and he was deemed insane. He stood trial as the murderer and was promptly executed.
"No matter," Sturbink said, speaking defiantly to the pitch-black room. He had no family to speak of besides the wonderful woman who came twice a week to clean and do the dishes, so he was used to dealing with the old house's issues by himself. "Just bad timing. Been meaning to replace the light bulb."
He bit back a little frustration. So close to tying it all together... this eyewitness account had to contain the final thread in the riddle he had been trying to solve for a decade. Slowly but surely he had begun to uncover common themes in the murders, and now Sturbink was getting closer to understanding how it all fit into the bigger picture. These murders were related in some important way. The same patterns spanned for centures.
The retired professor groped around for his phone, feeling an intense sense of relief when his fingers brushed across the cold metal. "I'll just turn the flashlight on," he muttered.
Chilled sweat spewed forth, soaking his shirt in seconds.
A hand was placed on top of his, now frozen against the phone which still lay flat on the table. Eternity seemed to pass. Sturbink's vision adjusted until he could see an outline of the hand, which was covered in porcelain skin that almost glowed in the dark. His eyes followed the arm upwards to a face that stared at him with otherworldly intensity, its features blurred in the dark.
"So close," Sturbink said, eyeing the creature, feeling vindication amidst the pounding terror of his heart. He was right.
"You are close," the creature whispered. "So close to uncovering it all."
The being's breath was achingly cold, chilling the retired professor where it brushed across his skin. Slowly, surely, the being's features crystallized in the darkness until he could make out a younger Sturbink staring back at him, an unblemished face carrying a serene expression.
-----------------
"Fuck," Conrad was standing over the corpse, hands in his pockets, adopting the sarcastic tone of detectives everywhere. In this case it was warranted. The corpse's eyes were bulged and shot through with red veins, as if an unknown pressure threatened to pop them out of their sockets.
"Another freezer burn," Conrad said, pointing at Sturbink's clawed hand. "I swear we are seeing this shit more and more."
The entire house had been cordoned off, and all traffic had been re-routed through other neighborhoods, not that there was much this late at night.
The murder had been reported by a frightened maid earlier this afternoon, and the police presence had increased six-fold after it became clear who the victim was. This didn't make much sense to the two NYPD detectives who had been assigned to the case and ordered to catalog everything before the Feds arrived.
The victim was a conspiracy nut who had been a staple commentor on a few outspoken online forums. The guy had been a professor years ago, but for the last two decades of his life he had been a recluse. It was strange for the higher ups to show such an interest in a nobody troll on the internet.
"He was working on a novel or something," Tulfer said, eyeing the enormous amount of stacked documents on the table. The victim's laptop was still open, on a whim Tulfer put on a plastic glove and jiggled the mouse a bit, causing the laptop to spring to life. It did not prompt him for a password, instead opening straight to a word document. "Something called *Mirrored Species."*
"Bit of a lunatic, eh?" Conrad said. "FBI guys will be here in a few minutes, we should wrap it up."
The light clicked off. | 2020-09-15T12:53:49 | 2020-09-15T12:37:49 | 909 | 132 |
[WP] Earth is an unspoilt vacation spot for an alien race which returns once per year. Unfortunately for us their year is a million earth years, and the last time they visited was a million years ago. | “Sbrgrl, are you ready?”
The being nodded in response, jamming his appendages into the ship’s steering inlets. “Yes, Mother. I’m ready.”
“You’re sure? We don’t have to do this if you aren’t comfortable.”
“I’m sure. I have to do this, for myself if nothing else. Is everything packed?”
His towering father entered the operations room, a lumbering, beastly thing. “Yes, son, we are ready for liftoff! Do your thing.”
Sbrgrl nodded with all ten of his head-like parts, then initiated flight sequences while his parents strapped in for the ride. Particle engine—engaged; overdrive warp disc—flummoxed; pressurizers—wingled. He floated his vision-blobs back to where his parents were seated and paused a moment.
“We’re ready,” his father said in the way that Lkokdry reassure one another. “It’s been a long time, and you’ve been practicing a lot. Just take your time, take it slow, and everything will be fine.”
A smile, in the form of wriggling gelatinous tumors, crept across Sbrgrl’s being, and he activated all three cores at the same time, lurching forward sharply. He heard his parents gasp, but startup is always rough in the older models. It’s not his fault their ship is so outdated; I mean, the damn thing can’t even exit camouflage mode. It’s just stuck in a permanent state of being brown and rocky.
The ride was long and full of bumps, hiccups, and other such jarring jerks and jingles. Soon, though, they passed the ringed planet and stirred with excitement, knowing they grew close.
“Careful, Sbrgrl,” his mother said, coaxing. “You can start slowing down now.”
He obliged, but they were close, and Sbrgrl hated flying. He didn’t want to draw it out any longer than needed, so he slowed down, then, just as slowly, sped back up.
At last, the little blue planet with it’s creamy white swirls and marvelous yellow-ish sun came into view, and Sbrgrl warbled with relief, like a water balloon full of boiling honey.
It grew large in the viewscreen, and larger still.
“Slow down, son,” his father said, with a light half-body laugh. “You can slow down now.”
But Sbrgrl tensed up, seeing the little planet. His three minds went dim, thoughts racing as panic gripped him. “Shit,” he cried out. “Shit, I can’t control it!”
“Yes you can!” his mother scolded, trying to scare him into believing it. “I know you can, and you will. You have to get it right, or you’ll always be haunted by what happened.”
Sbrgrl tightened his grips on the levers, yanking them, but he yanked two of them the wrong way in his abrupt motion and fright, speeding up despite pulling out the counterthrust jets. The ship rumbled, creaking, moaning in complaint as the two forces collided, spinning them, tumbling toward Earth.
“Get out of the way!” his father shouted, trying to yank him free of it. But Sbrgrl knew—if he couldn’t make it right, that would be the last chance he'd ever get to fly, and prove he's not incompetent.
Unfortunately for him, it was.
The caterwauling clamor of smashing into Earth’s atmosphere at a bad angle tossed Sbrgrl and his father to the other side of the ship, removing any semblance of control there once was. They careened through the stratosphere, a ship the size of New York, and smashed into the southern hemisphere, displacing half of the Atlantic Ocean in minutes.
By the time they awoke from the trauma of their crash landing and stepped outside, Earth had died.
Again.
“Fuck!” His father circled around the hull, checking for damage. “It’s bad, but we can still make it back home. On the other hand, our vacation is completely ruined. I told you, honey, I told you not to let him drive again.”
Sbrgrl cowered in a corner, a limp pile of appendages and sadness.
“There’s no point in beating him up over it,” she said. “It’s been 66 years since his last attempt. I thought it’d be fine, but I guess there are some things we’re just not made for. We won’t ask you to do it again, sweetie. Let’s go home.”
“Sorry for yelling at you, son,” Sbrgrl’s father said to him as he strapped back into the ship. “I get worked up, but you know how it goes. Just like last time, no matter how bad the landing is, our little vacation home is always fine the next time we come around. Crazy how fast it repairs itself—I mean, a year? Anyway, we’ll just head back and spend our week off at home.”
Sbrgrl strapped in next to his mother, pouting, and they departed, leaving Earth behind as a smoldering pile of rubble and ash.
"I ruined it again," he said, curling against his mother.
"Oh, sweetie. I know it looked bad, maybe even a little worse than last time since the ship's bigger, but you remember how beautiful it was the year after your last accident. It'll heal. Just rest and we'll be home before you know it."
And so Sbrgrl, the ender of two Earth eras, took a nap in his mother's lap.
-----
*/r/resonatingfury* | "Sir!" I yelled as General Marr burst through the doors.
He glanced back at me and curled his lips. "If you have questions to ask, spit them out, Lieutenant."
I swallowed, nodding along as my feet desperately tried to keep up with his oppressive pace. "Uh, sir." He glared at me again. "What did the aliens say?"
General Marr scoffed, quickening his pace even more as he worked his way through the halls of the officer's mess hall. His hand curled into a fist and I didn't miss the way his fingers twitched toward the gun on his waist.
"They said both too much and jack shit at the same time," he said. His words came out as almost more of a growl than regular speech.
"What do you mean, sir? Did they agree to our terms?"
He scoffed again, this time much more dramatically. "Our terms! They didn't even *look* at our terms!"
My brows knitted together. "But, sir, how did the meeting go then? Did they have a counterproposal?"
"I wish," he snarled. "A counterproposal would've given me more to work with at least." Despite the bitterness in his tone, his lips tweaked upward at the end of his sentence.
"So what did they say?" I asked, repeating my *original* question.
"They're here for vacation," he said flatly.
I blinked. "Vacation? But we're a *planet*, home to intelligent life."
"We weren't a million years ago," General Marr spat. "To them, this is their fiftieth anniversary of visiting here."
"But h-humans barely even existed that long ago."
General Marr's gaze nearly punched me in the face. "Thank you for the obvious, Lieutenant."
I opened my mouth but shut it quickly after. My lips pursed and I hung my head, falling in line only a few steps removed from General Marr.
After walking in silence for less than a minute more, we'd reached the corporal's office. The wide-eyed, blanching man greeted General Marr with every formality in the book, but the General did little more than shrug him off.
"Do you have a phone in this office?" he barked.
The corporal nodded weakly and sprung from behind his desk, skittering across the room to where the only authorized phone was. General Marr mumbled some complaint under his breath but only nodded at the corporal as if to dismiss him entirely.
"Sir, who are you—" I started, but apparently, he had other things to say.
"These damned aliens. They treat *our* planet as nothing more than a vacation spot. Nothing more than a place to see pretty wildlife."
My eyes widened and I took an instinctive step back, trying to save myself from the poison spewing out of his mouth. But something nagged at my mind, something I just had to ask about.
"If they only see it as a place for nature, sir, why don't we tell them about human achievements? They would probably respond differently if they knew intelligent life lived here as well."
General Marr's unimpressed glare felt like it weighed a thousand tons. "Another brilliant idea, Lieutenant. But based on their complete disregard even for the terms we *politely* set up for them, I'm not sure it would've gone that way. In fact, I think the way I handled it was better for us all."
His lips twitched into a dangerous smile.
My tongue scraped against my suddenly dry mouth. "H-How did you handle it, sir?"
"If they want to see us only as a vacation spot. If they want to see us as absolutely no threat," he said, punching in numbers to the phone, "then who are we to say otherwise?"
His grin grew wider as he held the phone directly up to his ear.
"Who are you calling, sir?"
"The President of the United States," he said as if it was obvious already.
My eyes became dinner plates and my heart thundered in my chest. "W-Why?"
"You see," he started as the phone rang in his hand. "If they want to treat us as just some sort of planetary resort..."
He made the sign of an explosion with his hands.
"Then we'll just have to show them our most *impressive* attraction."
---
/r/Palmerranian | 2019-04-20T08:36:33 | 2019-04-20T08:30:52 | 2,225 | 312 |
[WP] "Disneyland will never be completed. It will continue to grow as long as there is imagination left in the world." -Walt Disney
(quote posted by /u/lupusdude)
The year is 2084 and Disneyland now covers nearly 20% of the Earths landmass. The united military's of the free world continue their bloody struggle against the encroaching wonderland as the most creative people are rounded up by shadowy organisations, allegedly being sent into prison camps, though others are not so sure. Some say they are subject to a series of humiliating and brutal experiments in the hope that we may crack the secret of Disneyland, others are less optimistic as to the fate of their kin, executed by death squad upon arrival.
Children have their imagination beaten out of them by an early age, to leave a child with even the faintest spark of creativity is to open another source of power for the never-ending march of the armies of Uncle Walt. | *Smack*. Her father's hand connected hard with the side of Kayle's face, her whole head throbbing with the force of it.
"I said what do you see?!" Kayle was sobbing so hard her whole body was shaking, trying to look at the piece of paper her father was holding through the blur of her tears.
"I don't know, it's just a blob." She said. Her mother, peaking out through the curtains as if she expected the Imagination Police to come marching down the street any minute, let out an audible sigh of relief. Kayle's father had been stiff as a board, but now that he had gotten the answer he was hoping for he allowed himself to breathe again. He let the picture slide to the floor and walked over to his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry, but I had to be sure. I saw her..." He broke off to peer out the window before continuing in a whisper. "I saw her playing with a *stick* this morning."
Her face still stung a little, but now that her parents seemed to have calmed down she dried her tears on her dress.
"Hey." She said, her eyes falling on the picture on the ground again. "That's not a blob." She giggled a little at how stupid she had been for not seeing it before. Everything else in the house was dull and gray, as if it had once been alive with color but had died and faded away, but this picture it was different. It was alive. "It's a house! No wait, it's a bat! Those are the wings and it's holding something, no, someone in it's claws! A princess! And there! That thing is..." Her voice trailed off as she looked up to see her parents staring at her as if they had just seen a ghost. Kayle's father was dazed, opening and closing his mouth as if the mere thought of bats and princesses and houses was more than he could handle. Before he could find the words there was a loud *bang* as the front door broke down in a mess of woods and dust.
"Get down on the ground, now!" A harsh voice yelled as a dozen men in black body armor wielding assault rifles in their hands streamed in through the broken door. "You're all under arrest for suspected creativity! Don't say anything... *unnormal* or we will shoot!" A man forced Kayle to the ground with his gun to her back.
"It's her. She's the one the Imagination Scan picked up." The man who had Kayle pinned said and another nodded.
"Kill her now, we have to get out of here befo-."
*Crash*. A window broke and in streamed color. Characters laughing and bouncing, talking animals, princesses and magic all flowed in and filled the room, sweeping Kayle of the ground and onto the shoulders of a big mouse.
"Oh boy, what an imagination you have little girl!" The mouse said in a squeaky voice.
"Where did you come from?" She asked.
"You just have to believe and the next thing you know, we're here!" The mouse squeaked.
"That's right." A goofy, long-legged dog said, letting out a guffaw of laughter. "We came as fast as we could. Hope these here Misters didn't cause you any trouble?"
"Retreat! They've got the girl!" The Imagination Police backed away, firing their weapons into the crowd of colorful characters, but the bullets fell short, stopped by a forcefield.
"Not so fast!" A girl in a blue dress embroidered with snow flakes flicked her wrist and a wall of solid ice blocked the way out. "Yes!" She said, high fiving her sister.
"It's no use!" One of the police wailed as his weapon clicked, emptied of bullets. A bunny jumped out and kicked him to the ground with both feet before hopping on his head, smashing it into a bloody pulp. "Now that's what I call a Space Jam!" He said and winked at his friends who cheered him on.
The remaining police fought hard, but they were quickly overwhelmed, swarmed by magic and mice, beam swords and lions, their blood soaking into the colorful characters as they laughed and cheered.
"For the glory of Walt!" They cried in unison when the battle was won, raising their newest member over them. From up high Kayle saw her parents, huddled in a corner, pale faced and shaking, clutching each other.
"Kill the non-believers!" A voice said. "Death to the imaginationless!" Another chimed in and soon they were all chanting for the death of Kayle's parents.
"Wait!" She yelled and the blood thirsty Disney characters reluctantly settled down. They may have been boring and strict and they never let her do anything fun or stay up late, but they were still her parents. They deserved better than to be torn about by a horde of imaginary characters. "I'll do it." She said. She closed her eyes and before she knew it she felt something heavy in her hands.
"Yeah! Imagination!" The others cheered as the weapon appeared out of thin air. Kayle aimed it at her parents.
"No, wai-." *Zap*. Nothing left but some dust, stirring in the breeze from the broken window.
"Yaay!!" A squirrel thumped Kayle on the back and congratulated her as one of the seven dwarfs pulled her into a merry dance. "For the glory of Walt!" | I can't remember a time before the Disneyland-industrial complex.
But I can remember my first mission. I was five. The elders were so proud of me the first time I wore the outfit. Mother cried as she put the poncho on me and Dad beamed as he lay the sombrero on my head. With my disguise set I was ready to relay messages between our pockets of insurgency. I was born in India. Not the real India, of course. This used to be Irvine. But there's a mock-up of the Taj Mahal now and there's a reflecting pool and these enormous kinetic sculptures of elephants with heads that sway back and forth. Mexico is eight monorail stops north, forty miles. Every five miles is another approximation of a country. Thank Walt there's nothing suspicious about a young child taking the monorail back home alone. My contacts were waiting for me at the Mexico station. I exchanged letters and changed my clothes before returning home.
...
It's hard to believe that I've earned my twenty year service pin from the insurgency. I was small for my age so I stayed in the Small World Corps until I was eight. When I outgrew the uniform I earned my ears in mechanical operations. I can drive the monorail with the best of them and that's why the resistance has chosen me. If this mission gets compromised they know I can force my way into the control room and keep the train moving. It's every good citizen's requirement to report to the home base twice a year to experience additional training, spend what little money they have made and to ride rides. My visit will cause no suspicion.
...
I try to stay out of Critter Country as much as possible. Since my compulsory service was in Adventureland, I'm more at home in the ruins along the Jungle Cruise than anywhere else in Disneyland. But today's mission requires me to continue past the river. I know exactly where they have the unmarked cardboard box, it's being stored behind the counter at the gift shop outside of Pooh. Normally the cast members would have noticed something out of place, but we have spies in the Hundred Acre Wood.
“I hear it's a great day for Pooh Sticks,” I say to the man behind the counter.
“Are you celebrating a magical occasion?” he replies.
“It's my first trip to Disneyland!” I answer, sticking to the script. This is a lie. Everyone has been to Disneyland.
“Well, then, here's your button!” He passes an enormous, gift-wrapped box over the counter.
“Have a magical day!” we whisper to each other.
...
I make it onto the monorail with no fanfare. No one looks at me except for the two bratty tweens dressed as princesses on my left. I've heard rumors of what is in this box. All the resistance has told me is this box doesn't have a bomb in it. After moving tens of packages, this is the first time I've heard that response. I remember snacking on my Mickey-shaped pretzel and looking out of the monorail window when traveling to Mexico all those years ago. The teal monorail then is even the same color as this one. I hear that if you go far enough out the countries start repeating. I'd like to visit another India one day. But right now my objective is to get this box back to base.
...
The elders congratulate me. I'll be receiving a commendation for my service, not that anyone will ever learn of it. When the box is finally opened I learn what I risked my life to transport. Two white gloves are carefully removed from the box, then shoes and pants and a shirt and finally the severed head of a Mickey. I'm not sure they're going to do with the costume. Make propaganda? Assassinate him on television? Lynch him? Burn him at the stake? I know they're ready to do anything to send a message. I'll leave it up to their imaginations. | 2014-06-29T12:43:28 | 2014-06-29T11:25:03 | 51 | 23 |
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class. | "Hey, I want to show you something."
I smiled widely, following Lydia into her basement. It was dark, the lights left off. I felt a little surprised, and excited. I felt her grab my hand, tugging me further in.
"Stand right here."
I obeyed, opening my eyes as wide as possible in the hopes of seeing something. But as they adapted to the dark, I found myself blinded as the lights were thrown on. A moment later something tightened around my ankles, lifting me upside down into the air.
"What's happening?!"
I shouted, blinking rapidly. My eyes watered as they adjusted, revealing Lydia standing there with a sharp knife, and a wicked grin.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did you think I wanted to hang out with a loser like you? I just wanted you to hang for me, and so I could get your blood."
I looked to the floor beneath, seeing a grille and a large bucket. A searing pain opened across my throat, and I felt warm blood pour across my face. She laughed, as I found myself growing colder. I couldn't speak, but I could mouth at her, as I glared.
**You'll regret this.**
She cupped her ear, tilting her head to the side.
"You'll have to speak up."
I felt black creep over my mind. The room fell away, as my consciousness drained with my blood.
\-----
I awoke with a gasp, before choking on the diet I breathed in. I pushed up, breaking through a few inches of soil. A shallow grave, how amateur. I pulled myself free, brushing some of the clumps from my clothes. She hadn't even emptied my pockets, as I felt my keys rattle.
With a chuckle I walked home. The moon was high in the sky, the midnight rays shining down. It had been a long time since my last murder, but it was good to see my protections were still active. I reached my house with little issue, entering quietly.
It was quiet, as always. I made my way to my room, stripping off my ruined clothes. I would have to get more now, but maybe I could get Lydia to replace them. It would be a good way to get her to repay me for the inconvenience.
"You're late."
I looked at the mirror. My reflection twisted into a sardonic smile, eyes dripping black.
"You know why I'm late, don't act surprised."
My reflection laughed.
"Oh I know. You walked willingly into that trap. It was a good thing you're my host."
I rolled my eyes. My protection was annoying, as much as it was right. I had grown complacent, the long years of inactivity draining my vigilance.
"Yeah yeah. Look, I will get her back for it, alright? Besides, how was your day?"
It frowned, shaking its head.
"Annoying. Another cleric refused to heed my warning, and now there is another slaughtered congregation. Which I will be blamed for. Again."
I winced. That was definitely worse. I settled down to go to bed for the small amount of time I had left before school tomorrow.
\-----
I walked into class at my usual time, a few minutes before school started. Lydia was already there, laughing with one of her friends. But as she looked at me the laugh died, as her face paled. I smiled, winking at her. She spluttered, eyes darting around.
I walked over, gently putting my hand on her desk.
"Hi Lydia. Thanks for the interesting time yesterday."
She was breathing heavily, and I smirked, standing up. Any crush I had was long since gone, drained with my blood.
"I will see you later."
I walked away, grinning to myself. She was definitely panicking. I didn't mind. I expected she would do one of two things after school. Either corner me, and try to work out what was happening, or head to the woods, and my shallow grave. Whichever path she chose, we were going to have a conversation. And she wouldn't like it. | I couldn't believe it when my crush, Sarah, asked me out on a date after school. I had been crushing on her for ages and never thought she would feel the same way about me. I was so excited that I couldn't concentrate on anything else the entire day.
After school, we met up at a local park and spent the afternoon talking and laughing. It was the perfect date. As the sun started to set, Sarah suggested we go for a walk in the woods. I wasn't sure about it at first, but I didn't want to seem like a wimp, so I agreed.
As we walked deeper into the woods, Sarah suddenly stopped and turned to me. "I have a confession to make," she said, her eyes narrowed. "I'm not really here to hang out with you. I'm here to drain your blood and bury you in the woods."
I was shocked and terrified. I had no idea what to do. Sarah advanced on me, her fangs extended, and I knew I had to do something fast. I turned and ran, my heart pounding in my chest. I could hear Sarah chasing after me, but I didn't look back.
I ran and ran until I finally saw the lights of the town in the distance. I knew I was safe now. I made it home and collapsed on my bed, exhausted and relieved.
Or so I thought. As it turned out, Sarah was faster and stronger than I realized. She caught up to me and drained my blood before I even knew what was happening. As I lay there, my vision fading, I realized that I would never get to see my family or friends again. Sarah had been right - I was just another easy victim, and now I was paying the price.
But somehow, I woke up the next morning. I didn't know how it was possible, but I was alive and well. I went to school and saw Sarah sitting at her desk, looking horrified. I walked up to her and confronted her about what had happened.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Sarah stammered. "I had a great time with you yesterday. I don't know how you could think I would do something like that."
I was confused. Had I imagined everything? Was I going crazy? I didn't know what to believe, but I knew one thing for sure - I couldn't trust Sarah. I turned and walked away, my head spinning with questions and doubts. | 2022-12-29T16:53:31 | 2022-12-29T15:08:56 | 1,519 | 67 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much. | On the day of his birth, Craig Barclay was visited by every wise man within travelling distance. Birth had become rare, Humanity on the brink of extinction. To witness such an event was a treasure. They brought gifts fitting for the family.
His father was born with the mark of the Bear on his back. It was large, indicating that he would heavily resemble his patron animal. He was strong, protective, and cared deeply for food.
His mother was born with the mark of the Dove. It was small, on the back of her hand. Non-threatening and clearly visible. She was kind and had the ability to ease tensions.
They worked as diplomats. She stopped wars. He stopped others from harming her. They were easily recognized. He was massive, covered in thick hair, leaving little visible skin. She was pale in contrast, thin and light of frame.
It was assumed that Craig would have something fitting his family's ancestry. Wolves, for example, almost always bore Wolf marked children. Children of Salmon parents nearly always marks of some Fish.
To think that Craig might have been born marked by the Bear, Dove, or Armadillo seemed logical. Maybe a Badger or a different kind of Bird would be in order. They speculated whether it would be as large as his father's, which would have been the size of an apple on his newborn body. Or small, barely visible on his newborn flesh, like his mother's.
As gifts of wool and food were placed in the room, the midwife pulled Craig free. His first wail in the world brought them all to tears. An aide cleaned his body as his mother finished giving birth.
His parents and guest shared a meal of celebration. In a few short hours, his mark would appear.
The Armadillo marked midwife gifted medicines to the parents and an ointment for the mother. The Mole marked farmer from down the lane gifted them with a bundle filled with dried mushrooms. A Wolf marked hunter provided a new pelt to keep the new babe warm. His grandmother, who was marked by the Hummingbird gifted a bottle of sweet wine to the new parents. Dozens more left food, clothing, tools, and trinkets for the new family.
They cleared away the food and shared stories. Speculation rose again. It was considered good luck to guess what patron would choose a child.
"Your child will bring joy to those around him, with a quick wit, and a fierce laugh. He will be marked by Hyena."
"Nonsense, your child will be daring and carefree, growing up safe under your care. He will be chosen by Squirrel for sure!"
"Wouldn't it be funny if he was chosen by Spider or Fox? A mischievous child would shake things up for you two. You are always so calm and quiet. The change would be nice." Many laughed at this. It was not likely.
"Your father was marked by Jacana." The father's mother spoke up for the first time in a while. Everyone listened. "He was fiercely protective of you children. I believe that bird's protective nature is why you were chosen by Bear. Yet you married a Bird. Maybe your son will be chosen by Jacana as well. He would inherit many traits from you both." Her voice shook slightly as she spoke. The loss of the elder was still recent in everyone's mind.
Nods of assent and murmurs of agreement spread through the group. No one wanted to speak against that.
They sat in polite conversation until a small black line sprouted on the child's right hand. Excitement spread as everyone turned to watch.
A thin tentacle spiraled and grew longer. "An Octopus?" someone offered.
"Too long. A Squid?"
It kept growing. The tentacle stretched the length of his arm. The mark bloomed across his back, they turned him over so all could see. As the mark became a body, more tentacles spread. Dozens of them grew along both arms and legs, around his neck, and around his face.
Everyone became silent. No one had ever seen a mark this large. No one had seen an animal like this. "What... What is it?" His mother asked in a quiet tone.
It was, again, his grandmother who spoke up. The single word slammed into all that heard.
"Leviathan."
His mother burst into tears. His father passed the child to his own mother to comfort his wife. The guests left quickly and quietly.
Everyone came to see what fruit the ambassadors of peace would bear. They came with hope and happiness. They left in despair. No one could have imagined that they would be witnessing the birth of the bringer of death, war, famine, and destruction, an unstoppable soldier with an endless bloodlust. No one would survive his reign unscathed.
All they could hope, is that his parents were strong enough. They had the chance to stop him now, before it was too late.
{Whelp, that turned out a bit differently than I intended, but it works, so I'm keeping it. What do you guys think?} | I've always hated the sea.
I've hated it since I watched Little Cattail disappear before me, his panicked screams echoing in my ears. His claws carved red furrows into my right arm, slowly tearing bloody grooves into my flesh as I desperately tried to find purchase, the waves battering my hands and tearing him from my grasp. He was swallowed by the very waves he had been playing in mere hours earlier.
It laughed at me then, the sea.
They found the body two days later in a rocky cove, just like I knew they would. He was perfectly preserved: eyes still pleading, hands still reaching out, tail frozen mid-thrash. His clothing - the Dolphin t-shirt I had bought him three years ago - had torn, revealing the cat curled up against his collarbone. It had served him well in life - but what use is the natural agility and sharpened reflexes of a cat when faced against the merciless power of the waves? The adults didn't know what to make of it: a body that had been in the water never came back out looking the same way. They searched and searched for answers, but the waves just laughed and washed their secrets away with the tide.
I cursed the sea then, as it greedily swallowed the tears that fell onto the rocks beneath my feet, the scars on my arm throbbing in time with the crash of the waves. They serve as a reminder, those scars, the angry white lines speaking of a feeling that I hope I will never have to understand.
Standing on the deck of the cruise ship, the wind whistling gently and the waves beckoning lazily, I begin running through a long list of expletives in my mind. My mother, already heading towards the group of passengers gathered near the bow of the ship, turns back and gives me a warning look, Dad trailing quietly behind her. Her white hair seems to glow in the sunlight, the delicate feathers of the dove tattoo fluttering on her shoulder a stark contrast to the pale skin beneath it.
"Don't you dare pull anything stupid, young man. We're here on this cruise to have fun, so wipe that damn scowl off your face before I do it for you."
I give a stiff smile and a robotic nod in response, which she grudgingly accepts, turning back around to continue striding purposefully towards the group. Despite her rough words, I know she means well - she's my mother after all: the one who had held me gently together with Dad as I had wept and cried and raged; the one who had accepted me for who I was; the one who had and never once thought to blame me for the tattoo that lay curled around the very arm that had failed to save Cattail's life.
It had been love at first sight, according my father. He'd fallen hard and fast as he watched her pummel a bully into the ground, the wings of her dove tattoo coming alive as she spun in the air, sharp talons slashing red trails through the roaring lion emblazoned across his chest. She was bright and wild and strong, the exact opposite of the shy fool who couldn't even handle his own bear-gifted size. That's in his own words, anyways. Looking at him now, his slack posture belying the raw strength thrumming through his body, I can't imagine it.
I was fifteen when my parents decided to tell me. Of course, I already had an inkling then - which child wouldn't notice when the faces of both their parents paled at the sight of their tattoo?
[I will add more later when I can find more time to procrastinate] | 2017-11-08T05:45:29 | 2017-11-08T05:35:22 | 192 | 29 |
[WP] The Evil Overlord infiltrates the hero's party as a new member. The hero's party realizes this, but they instead pretend not to and pamper him with love and acceptance.
I humbly hope this is simple enough that you can come up with many world ideas c: | “More tea?”
Elleriam waved the teapot in Jhon’s direction. The tall man held his hand up to indicate that he was quite full, so the elf turned to her other companions to offer refills.
In truth, Jhon would have loved another cup. Elleriam’s tea tasted of bright spring mornings and delicate mountain flowers. His stomach, however, was tied in knots. There was a conversation that he had been putting off, and he knew that it had to happen - soon, for they were at the very walls of the Ice Fortress, the lair of the Frozen King, a tyrant who threatened most of the Green Lands.
*His* lair.
He’d debated the best way to do this for weeks now. At first, his imaginings of this night ended in blood and screaming, the entire group impaled on shards of ice as he cut out their hearts. After a while, he had resolved instead to slip away quietly, take them out from a distance - a distance that kept him from seeing the betrayal in their eyes.
But now...
“Jhon?” Alreicht prodded him in the shoulder with a finger as thick as a sausage. “You okay there? That poor mug won’t take much more!”
Jhon started, then glanced down at his hands. He was squeezing the wooden cup in both fists, his knuckles white. He looked up into Alreicht’s sparkling green eyes, opened his mouth to speak, then shut it silently.
How could he begin? “*Funny thing, I meant to learn your weaknesses and dismantle you from within, but you see, things change...*.” No, no that wouldn’t do.
Elleriam came up on his other side, followed by Sid and Heart-of-Dawn. Heart placed both of her small, soft hands on Jhon’s shoulders.
“Something troubles you. It has for days. We have heard you cry out in your sleep - ever since we first spotted the fortress. Please, friend - share what burdens you. Lighten your heart.”
Jhon stared at the ground.
All his life, he’d been an outsider, wielding magic that nobody understood. After one too many rejections, he’d decided that if the world hated him, he’d return the favor, and force everyone to accept him or die. He’d wormed his way into Elleriam’s party for the sheer pleasure of breaking them in person, to literally rub their faces in his superiority.
He hadn’t expected...
“Jhon?”
.... Love. Warmth. Friendship. Family.
He burst into tears.
He felt Elleriam take his hands and kneel in front of him. “Jhon - we don’t have to go into the fortress tomorrow.” She paused, then with long, delicate fingers, lifted his chin. “Or ever, do we? Why don’t you just return it to the ice? We’ll tell everyone that you perished after a dramatic fight.”
Jhon tried to back away, but Heart-of-Dawn still stood behind him. Alreicht and Sid leaned in on either side. “How...” he managed to gasp.
Elleriam smiled. “You’re not a good actor. At first, we were just going along to see your plan. But Jhon - I think, we all think, that you’re a good person behind all the ice.”
“So,” Sid chimed in. “You knock this thing down, join up with us. We can create a good identity for you.”
Jhon took a deep breath. “No,” he said, more harshly than he meant. The others looked concerned. “No. If I’ve learned anything these past months, it’s that I need to be myself and face the world with the truth. I will stay here. I will try to repair what I’ve broken. I will face the people I’ve hurt. I will...”. He trailed off. He wanted nothing more that to follow Sid’s offer, but he wouldn’t live a lie any longer.
He missed the nod the others shared.
“Right, then!” Alreicht said, rubbing his hands together. “Hope you’ve got enough bedrooms!”
Jhon stared. “What...?”
Heart-of-Dawn wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “You’ll need help, won’t you?”
Sid punched him lightly in the arm. “Not going to make a friend do this alone.”
“But... you’re the Heroes! You have monuments in every kingdom! Every child in the Green Lands knows your faces! You have songs, and stories! You’ve saved the world thrice over!“
“Yes,” Elleriam said simply. “And now we’re going to save you.” | I'd slipped up one too many times. It probably started when I yelled "Kill the old hag!" after that librarian refused to give us the promised reward simply because we returned a day later than requested. Or maybe it was that time where I got so into the interrogation that I subconsciously started torturing that bandit to find out where their hideout was.
Either way, they know now. They had to know. I, as the evil overlord had joined their party through a trick, without them realising. I mean, they couldn't have known. After all, they had been so nice to me all this time. It made me laugh, to be honest. It was so clear that they had fallen for my deception, and thought they found themselves another comrade.
But now that'll all be over. I honestly don't know how they will react tomorrow, as we planned to storm the evil overlord's lair, MY lair. I just hope that I can hold off their suspicion long enough to lure them into a trap.
After a night filled with thinking and planning how I'd tell the heroes about their demise, and how I tricked them, ruined them, might I even say, we set off. The final spurt towards my own lair. Once we were inside, I'd tell them something like "There, I saw something!" to lure the heroes into my trap, and then I could slowly see them fall into despair as they realise my great plan.
There we are. It happened. The heroes, stuck inside the trap I made, inescapable even for people of their talents. Once they realised this, I heard one of them ask: "Why? Why are you doing this? What desire would make someone want to do all these evil things, even murder people, without feeling any remorse?" Pffsh, such a standard question. I had my answer ready.
"Well, that would be quite simple. Humans disgust me. They just squirm around happily, doing everything they can to make their lives better than those around them, even betraying those who loved them. I just want..." I stopped. What did I want? To kill these heroes? Yeah, that must be it.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter what I want. This is where you'll meet your end heroes!" I said, as I started my chant for the one surefire way to kill all these heroes. A spell so deadly that it would even cripple it's caster. The end of my conquest got closer and closer, and I felt... sad? Why would I feel sad now, of all times? I'd killed before, and these heroes were no different, were they?
Wait. No way. I couldn't have gotten swayed by their kind words, could I? I don't want to kill them. But this spell, I can no longer stop it! "Goodbye, heroes." I said as I finished casting.
I did it. I aimed the spell away from the heroes, saving their lives. Having taken no other lives, the spell would eat me up from the inside. But at least the heroes, who accepted me as their own would live.
This was my first ever try at writing something, so please do let me know what you think if you got through! If there's popular demand, I can see if I can try making a part 2, but I guess we'll have to see how this ends up. Thanks for reading, and have a great day! | 2019-11-02T13:22:44 | 2019-11-02T12:50:56 | 161 | 14 |
[WP] You own a small specialty meat purveyor. You and your crew inspect, purchase, slaughter, and butcher the animals yourselves. Years ago, on a whim, you started whispering "for Apollo" at each kill. You've just dispatched the firm's 10,000th cow. | Thirteen years. That's how long it's been since I started at Bucky's, completely wet behind the ears, as a butcher's apprentice.
I threw up the first time I slaughtered a cow on my own; the sounds and smells and the way the light left its huge brown eyes. Not so much the blood, though. I wouldn't have gone into the business if blood bothered me. Anyway, as I was heaving up the last of the booze and bar food from the night before into a bucket, I gasped out "Sweet fucking Apollo, please get me through this."
I don't even know what possessed me to say it. Most people say things like "Fucking Christ" or "oh my God", but I went straight to Apollo. And lo and behold, I didn't puke anymore after that. Weird coincidence, right? Yeah, that's what I thought. Still, to keep the up-chucking at bay, I began a simple little ritual just before I sent the cow to the big field in the sky. I would simply whisper "For Apollo." At the time, it was like a good little Pavlovian training to get my body ready for what was about to happen. After I got used to the slaughtering, it had already become a habit.
Now, Bucky- the dude who owns the shop- isn't a sentimental guy. He only cares that a job gets done and gets done correctly and you don't get any pats on the head for your 100th cow or your 1000th cow. He's not a "good job, buddy" type of boss. More like a "that's what the fuck I pay you for, now get off your ass" sort. Funny enough, I've always appreciated it, believe it or not.
That's why I was so surprised two days ago when I whispered, "For Apollo, " as usual, and a loud CRACK sounded from somewhere in the front of the shop as soon as I made the fatal cut. When I tell you I about shit my pants...
So, I'm frozen in place, half from fear and half because I don't like leaving animals to die alone. But I do hear Bucky holler, "Holy fuck!" and I'm like yeah, my sentiments exactly. Then I hear "Who the fuck are you, you fucking freak? Get the fuck out of my shop!" Another crack, and then silence.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Relax, Brandon, he's fine, " came a drawling, easy voice from the same direction. Moments later, the owner of the voice came strolling to the back, gliding between the flaps of the plastic curtain covering the doorway. "Just a little stasis, he won't remember a thing. Anyway, let's get to this."
I still had my knife clutched in my hand and instinctively raised it to defend myself against this...weirdly short, skinny, lanky little dude in a...fucking...toga?
"I will not hesitate to fucking use this thing, " I warned, though my voice wasn't nearly as convincing as I would have liked.
"Right, " said the man, then reached into a satchel around his waist and took out the smallest trumpet I had ever seen. When he blew into it, though, it sounded like a full brass wind section playing fanfare so loud that I had to cover my ears. Then, in a booming voice, the man announced, "CONGRATULATIONS, BRANDON HOWITZER, ON YOUR 10,000TH SACRIFICE."
Fucking what?
"Fucking what?" I said, realizing I was now cowering next to my latest kill.
"YOU ARE FAVORED BY THE MIGHTY GOD APOLLO FOR YOUR FAITHFUL AND LOYAL SERVITUDE. YOUR GIFTS HAVE PLEASED HIM, AND HE HAS FOUND YOU WORTHY OF A REWARD."
"You're Apollo!?" I squeaked in disbelief.
"What? No, " said the man, incredulously and at a normal volume. "Hermes, Messenger of the Gods. Peep the shoes. You really think gods make house calls? Pffffft. Now, can I finish?"
"Uh..."
"THE MIGHTY GOD APOLLO HAS GIFTED YOU THIS FROM HIS PERSONAL ARMORY. IT IS THE GAUNTLET OF THE SUN."
He held out a shining golden gauntlet to me and gave me a withering stare when I didn't immediately jump up to take it.
"What does it...do?" I asked hesitantly.
Hermes' little winged shoes fluttered angrily. "THE EFFECTS OF THE GAUNTLET WILL SHOW THEMSELVES WHEN WORN." And, again in a normal volume, "I'm just the messenger, kid. Take the gauntlet; I've got other shit to do."
I did take the gauntlet, of course. You don't exactly say no to a literal gift from God. Or...*a* god, anyway.
"Okay. Uh. Cool. Could you, um, tell him I said thanks?"
"Nope, " answered Hermes as he began to rise and hover over the floor. "I'm a messenger OF the gods, not TO the gods. Tell him yourself next time you send up a cow."
CRACK!
He was gone.
That was two days ago and I still haven't put on the gauntlet. I'm not college educated, but I know enough about these gods and their gifts to be super wary.
I did tell him thank you, though.
(*Grammar Edits) | Hey first time writing here and also sorry for formatting I’m doing this on mobile.
It’s a momentous occasion really, 10,000 cows, it’s such a large number but for us it meant a lot. When I started working here the company was close to bankruptcy. Nobody wanted to buy meat of any kind with our price tag on it, after all you can find “just as good butchers at your local grocery mart.”
Honestly it seemed like we would close the next week but on a whim and as more of a joke I said “for Apollo” when I slaughtered one our best cows. After that we got a couple new buyers and we could stay open for a little longer, and I’ve continued using the words since. I’m certain the good luck is because of that, but most of the guys say it’s just silly superstition. Like when jimmy rubs his hat 10 times whenever the Astros get up to bat, or how Elena swears she can’t make a touch down happen by stomping her left foot 3 times in a row. Well unlike then I’m certain of it helping, every hundred cows I slaughter while shouting that phrase we get more customers. So who cares if it’s just silly superstition it’s good for business.
As I finished breaking down the last of the cow I left for home, everyone else would be celebrating, but I felt so tired after the 10,000th cow like a mountain had been put on my back I needed to get home. As I drove home I admired the sky, lately they sky’s were always perfectly sunny with just a couple clouds that always seemed to make sure I got shade. As I arrived home someone stood on my doorstep, he stood tall with curly blonde hair, and a tan so perfect it looked like he came out of the ad for a beach.
“Hey Spence,” smiled the man teeth flashing like the sun, “it’s nice to meet you I just wanted to thank you.”
“Um sorry,” I smiled back nervously, “who are you? I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“Oh sorry,” he chuckled, “I never introduced my self, I’m Apollo, I just wanted to thank you for sacrificing so many cows in my name.”
“Oh I see what’s going on here, who put you up to this? Was it Earl he always loved pranks like these.”
“Oh nobody did, but I understand if your skeptical,” the man smiled again, “here let me prove it” The man snapped his fingers and as the sound rang out like a bell tolling in a grand temple. As the sound of his snap echoed of into the distance a small ball of fire formed at the top of his fingers.
“See I am a god, specifically I’m the god of the sun,” he beamed at me as he snuffed out the miniature sun in his hand as if it were nothing, “I’m here to thank you, it was thanks to your sacrifices that I was able to get strong again, and with you 10,000th sacrifice I’m almost near full power again, so I’d like to give you a wish per say, you can ask me for anything, and I mean anything and I’ll do my best to make it happen.”
“Well, uhh, your welcome I guess.” I stammered nervously.
“Oh and by the way, I’m sure if you start sacrificing to the other gods you can get some wishes and blessings from them as well. Just don’t sacrifice tot hose Norse gods, they might try to start Ragnarok again. Oh and just a small favor, could you start sacrificing to Artemis soon, she can be a bit grouchy but I miss her.” With a soft smile and a tap of his foot he seemed to dissipate into sunbeams the only evidence of his departure was a small note that read.
Hey Spence here’s my card for wishes just write it down here and I’ll know what it is, and it’s also proof this happened, because I know you humans are all too prone to pretend us gods were just a figment of your imagination.
As I stumbled into my home I had a new resolve, the only question was who do I sacrifice to next. | 2019-07-09T07:58:06 | 2019-07-09T07:54:11 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] Everyone is born with blond hair. A person's hair turns brown when they lose their innocence.
Edit: Loving all of these takes, guys! Definitely a lot darker than I expected! | It hurts to look at him now. That dark brown hair, almost the colour of dried blood. The reminder of what I did.
We're having breakfast now. He sits across from me, pushing his toast soldiers around the plate absentmindedly. I force a smile, and try and catch his eye but he ignores me. Is this always the way it will be?
"So how about that Blues game last night?" Dan says awkwardly. It's just like him to do this, to try and fix things, even the ones he never could.
He doesn't respond to Dan either, but slowly slides off his chair, eyes on the floor, starts shuffling towards the door where his schoolbag lies.
"Alex..." I say as he leaves. God, I have to say something. He turns to me, his eyes full of tears.
"Why did you do it Mum?" he asks me, the dead husk of the Christmas tree standing starkly behind him.
"Why did you tell me Santa Claus wasn't real?" | Everywhere I looked I saw alternating seas of blond and brown crossing the busy intersections. Like busy termites they paraded around their mundane little lives without a care in the world. I have to admit that part of me wondered how the change took place at first.
Most of the people had "turned" by the time they left high school. I remember the scandals that would cause since the moment someone's hair turned, everyone knew that something had happened. Of course, some were much better at theorycrafting than others. Rumors swirled about the new girl Sandra the moment she walked into our rotten halls. Her hair was a rich shade of platinum, reflecting the sunlight that she could see reflecting off of the drooling boys who she graced with her presence. The other girls weren't pleased with this, and envied the doe-eyed innocence that she exuded. She was as outgoing and friendly as any other person, except unlike the tainted bitches that tried their hardest to infect her with their misery, she was genuine about everything she did. I've seen her angry, upset, and frustrated at the numerous attempts of these girls but no matter what they did, her golden locks would stay the same.
When she got together with Randy the exchange student, everyone was sure that the change was going to happen. Who could blame them? Most of the dupes I knew were eager to hook up with the first girl or guy who said yes. We waited anxiously for the day to come but it never did, not even after they had broken up. Randy was furious when it happened, and I was there to witness the rapid change in his hue. Even as that happened there was no change in Sandra. Eventually people just gave up in trying to figure her out. She was nice, after all, and she never bothered anybody.
It wasn't until I saw her again years later that I had an idea of how she kept her locks in such a pristine shape. While lazily flipping through channels one day, I saw her on some video footage being aired on the news. People were baffled by how such a person could calmly walk over to someone, slash their throat, and then go back to eating dinner as if nothing had happened. All that really captivated me was that even when she went through that, there was still no change in her hair at all. | 2014-05-10T20:59:41 | 2014-05-10T19:53:59 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone is born with blond hair. A person's hair turns brown when they lose their innocence.
Edit: Loving all of these takes, guys! Definitely a lot darker than I expected! | She was blonde yesterday.
Blondness is a rare trait in this city. Sure, every now and then, you'll run into someone with locks of wheaty gold, but brown was the shade of this town. Even I had browned last year. I tugged at my dark curls, a reminder of that glorious night during which my blonde was taken in a bout of rough, passionate browning.
She was different. With all the brown that went on in town, she never quite felt it necessary. She got her kicks in things that only made her more blonde. Springy curls of sunlight bounced off her head and everyone could tell that she was blonde by choice.
I searched for her in the hallways this morning, seeking out the yellow glow that was always so easy to spot. Instead, I found a different glow. There she was, brown springs bouncing in the wind, a smile on a face that shone as bright as her hair once did.
In that moment, we all knew that she was brown by choice.
| Everywhere I looked I saw alternating seas of blond and brown crossing the busy intersections. Like busy termites they paraded around their mundane little lives without a care in the world. I have to admit that part of me wondered how the change took place at first.
Most of the people had "turned" by the time they left high school. I remember the scandals that would cause since the moment someone's hair turned, everyone knew that something had happened. Of course, some were much better at theorycrafting than others. Rumors swirled about the new girl Sandra the moment she walked into our rotten halls. Her hair was a rich shade of platinum, reflecting the sunlight that she could see reflecting off of the drooling boys who she graced with her presence. The other girls weren't pleased with this, and envied the doe-eyed innocence that she exuded. She was as outgoing and friendly as any other person, except unlike the tainted bitches that tried their hardest to infect her with their misery, she was genuine about everything she did. I've seen her angry, upset, and frustrated at the numerous attempts of these girls but no matter what they did, her golden locks would stay the same.
When she got together with Randy the exchange student, everyone was sure that the change was going to happen. Who could blame them? Most of the dupes I knew were eager to hook up with the first girl or guy who said yes. We waited anxiously for the day to come but it never did, not even after they had broken up. Randy was furious when it happened, and I was there to witness the rapid change in his hue. Even as that happened there was no change in Sandra. Eventually people just gave up in trying to figure her out. She was nice, after all, and she never bothered anybody.
It wasn't until I saw her again years later that I had an idea of how she kept her locks in such a pristine shape. While lazily flipping through channels one day, I saw her on some video footage being aired on the news. People were baffled by how such a person could calmly walk over to someone, slash their throat, and then go back to eating dinner as if nothing had happened. All that really captivated me was that even when she went through that, there was still no change in her hair at all. | 2014-05-10T20:17:29 | 2014-05-10T19:53:59 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] The hero is prophesied to save the world. He knows that prophecies always come true, so he does absolutely nothing.
...and saves the world. Or doesn't. Your call. | "Honey! It's the president again! he's asking when you're going to do something about that alien invasion!" Erin shouted from the hallway, she always does that.
*Sigh* "For the last time hun! I'm the HERO, I'm going to save the day eventually! Why don't you read that book people keep yapping about some more?"
"What, the book that's supporting the coffee table!?"
Hank rolled his eyes, "you might not not want to shout that loud with the president on the phone! But yes honey, THAT ONE"
A few moments later Erin appeared in the living room, "he's not going to hang up this time".
FINE, Hank resigned himself to never finding out how much that antique watch was worth and turned off the tv.
"Hank, for the last flipping time! FIX THIS"
"Now now no need for harsh language mister president", Hank smiled at his wife who was already furious at him for dragging his feet with this whole aliens thing.
Hank returned to the phone: "look, they're aliens, they probably have some crazy scheme for wanting to come to earth, do we know what it is yet?"
After a small moment of silence a very confused voice replied: "You know, we never even asked..."
"Well go on, ask the aliens why they're here, I'll wait"
Hundreds of years later, people still celebrate the day when Hank saved the world by asking what the aliens actually wanted.
And ever since we gave the aliens our wifi password we never heard from them again. | "But, sir! Sir, it is written in the book of Yoth: the noble knight will unearth the Javelin of the Conqueror..."
"Yes, thank you, Martin, I know the god damn prophecy, I know what I'm supposed to do."
Sir Gallant shifted his legs onto the little table in front of his rocking chair.
"I'm to go to the abandoned Elysian Temple and retrieve some spear or whatever from someone's tomb. Then I should head to the warlock's tower, right? Madness."
"Sir, there is great evil afoot..."
"I don't really give a damn."
The young man took a sip of wine from a glass next to him. He seemed to try and savor it, despite his obvious annoyance.
"I'm not doing it, Martin. I'm not going."
The servant eyed the knight worryingly. "But, sir. This is the fate of the entire kingdom, nay, the *world* we're talking about. You are the chosen one. And the book of Yoth is *always* right."
"No doubt. I don't dismiss the old religions, I've seen enough to know they never fail to predict the future."
He stood pensive for a moment.
"You know, I've always hated that."
"Excuse me, sir?"
"The prophecies. The whole fate thing. Doesn't seem right to me."
There was a brief silence.
"I mean, *what is* the future? It's what lies ahead, forged by countless wills, others strong, others but musings. I just don't like the idea of it being *pre-determined,* is all."
"Sir..."
"And stop calling me sir, will you?" Gallant shot up. "Don't you see how ridiculous this all is? Even *you,* Martin!" He pointed an accusing finger at him.
"Me?"
"Yes, you! A while ago you just somehow tagged along, ready to carry my gear, tend to my needs, loyal as a close friend, a proper side-kick from some childish fairy tale!"
"Sir, I just..."
"Hell, just this morning I went to the tavern to have a nice, relaxing beer, just by myself, to get away from all this, but *no!* Someone just had to start chatting me up, an old, dark fellow, dropping hints at the Javelin's whereabouts.
"I'm sick of it.
"I'm just going to stand right here, prove the damn book of Yoth an overly simplistic cosmological interpretation of reality, let the warlock do his thing in peace. What'd he ever do to me, anyway?"
Gallant crossed his arms.
"I think I'll just have some wine, thank you very much."
Martin let out a long sigh. "Well, at least the prophecy's gotta come true somehow...
"...right?"
-----
^(edit: few typos) | 2014-12-22T11:26:39 | 2014-12-22T11:07:02 | 280 | 21 |
[WP] Give me the history textbook from your latest game of Civilization V. | Page 912, A letter from Catherine the Great to Julius Caesar, circa 1892.
We were friends once, Julius, weren't we? It was so long ago when my scouts first left Moscow, their faces shrouded against the humid jungle air. They came upon your warriors whose simple spiked clubs had unveiled gold, horses, the secrets of pottery and alphabets. Though hardened into veterans by the barbarians that littered the plains around Rome, they met my men in peace. "Greetings Tsarina!" your letter read, "let our two empires be joined in friendship!" We realized we weren't alone in the world anymore. Together we cut down the jungle and made it fertile. We learned to build boats that sailed to the edge of the world, where mountains of ice blocked the way. I wondered if two great leaders like us could ever become something more than allies. I imagined the way your red banners could mingle with my brown ones.
Time advanced in strange chunks, didn't it? When your empire grew - Veii, Antium, Cumae, Pompeii - it was like all of Russia stood still. You seemed to stay frozen as St. Petersburg and Kiev rose. I taught you about banking. You showed me the theory of music. When you needed saltpeter, I offered you all I could. On those hot jungle nights, I would sip the fine wine you had given me and I would dream of kissing you.
But then her men appeared on our shores. They came from the West, from a whole separate continent we had never imagined could exist. At night I still dream of the way her yellow chariots caught the sun when they descended upon Minsk, taking it from me. She didn't even change the name. I was cut off from the sea.
What of the promises we made each other, Julius? Those treaties we had signed to protect each other? You had once told me that an attack on me was an attack on Rome. And yet when she began to take everything from me, what did you do? You said that in another world, another version of history, you and her could have been in love. You said you couldn't take up arms against her. But that was just your way of justifying it to yourself. Despite all I had given you, she had something far more precious: iron. You chose iron over a thousand years of loyalty, Julius. Why?
Russia is now a shadow. Odessa has burned. Her Japanese allies have claimed Sevastopol. I've heard rumors of great things: steam engines, medicine and metal birds that soar in the air? We have none of this in Moscow. We are a relic of the past, ripe to be exploited.
My people will not see another century, Julius. We will become a whisper in stories. Though I doubt you think of me very often now, I wish only greatness for Rome. And I wish that it remember it once held Catherine somewhere in its heart. | Chapter 1: The Founding of The Land Between the Rivers and the formation of the Arabian Empire
Arabia began long ago with the founding of Mecca in the Land Between the Rivers. Brave explorers ventured out into the harsh world. In between the rivers there was only desert. On one side, the great Meccan Mountains, and on the other the Iroquois Plains. But there was gold, a lot of gold.
In the south, where the two rivers met the Great Bay of Medina, a second city was founded, one that would one day become the greatest port in the world.
The Brazilians were encountered in the vast, jingled peninsula on the western side of the Meccan Mountains. Their lands were lush with fruits and black dirt. To the east, the Iroquois ruled the plains with an iron fist.
Nearby, Capetown competed with the young city of Medina for wealth and trade. But, the leaders of Arabia were wise, and ordered that all building projects be put on hold so that the Great Wonders could be built. Their rationale was: "well, sure, we don't really want to win a cultural victory, but if *we* build the Parthenon, then no one else can."
In time, the Land Between the Two Rivers grew and prospered.
Then, the Iroquois invaded from the plains. They came with spears and bows. They came with battering rams and horses. The Arabians were not prepared.
Damascus burned.
The Arabians rallied, realizing that the Middle Ages (324 BC) were a little late to be building their first armies, but seeing as the Universe had only been set to Prince difficulty, they had not feared an invasion. They paid dearly for that mistake.
After a viscous battle at Medina, where the great rivers flowed into the sea, the Iroquois advance finally came to a halt. The Arabians quickly adopted Patronage to celebrate. The smaller nations of the world would accept Arabian trade and the Arabs would get from them the things that their harsh land would not offer.
The Arabians retook Damascus, and the city burned again.
The Iroquois retreated to the plains, chased by the Arabians, who did not have the strength remaining to take Grand River. A peace was brokered, with a stalemate being the key outcome. Arabia returned to peace.
Until the Brazilians came down from the Meccan Mountain passes and surrounded the holy capital with their unexpected invasion.
Brave warriors died in their hundreds and thousands as Mecca broke wave after wave of Brazilian pikemen. The leaders of Arabia, in their infinite wisdom, questioned whether they should halt production of Machu Picchu and build more troops. Their wise decision was proclaimed to the whole nation.
“Meh, it’ll be fine.”
And so it was.
The Brazilians were pushed back across the mountains and peace was achieved. A golden age dawned for the Land Between the Rivers. Gold flowed to other nations in return for unimagined luxuries, spices and silks. Capetown allied itself with Arabia, recognizing the superiority of the Port of Medina, which now sported the Colossus of Rhodes at the mouth of one river and the Great Lighthouse at the mouth of the other; an achievement that was widely regarded by the leaders of Arabia as “looking totally badass”.
For the next few hundred years, Arabia became the battle ground of the great religions of Protestantism, founded by the Iroquois, and Buddhism founded by the distant Siamese.
The Persians fell to the Zulu in a distant land. Their leader surrendered the capital in shame. The Zulu then began their long and unsuccessful campaign against the Siamese.
The leaders of Arabia were far more concerned with the unmet nation that kept beating them in their quest to build completely unnecessary wonders. They vowed that they would turn whichever nation it was into “a nuclear waste”, a proclamation that few understood in 1100AD.
The thunder of cannons marked the invasion of Brazil by the Arabs. It was justified by a massive push in the Arabian government to “spice the game up a little”. In the end, the jungles burned and cities fell until the entire peninsula was added to the Land Between the Rivers.
The Arabian Empire was born.
| 2015-02-11T13:10:20 | 2015-02-11T12:55:26 | 843 | 77 |
[WP] A spaceship is passing by our solar system. It is so large that earth is merely the size of a dime. We can't make enough ruckus to get noticed until one day, someone has the perfect idea. | God, we all tried to get that spaceship's attention.
It just... Appeared one day. Blocking the sun and shit. We really wanted it to move, so crops could grow, you know?
It's fucking huge, mate. Like... I can see the logo from the bloody ground.
Anyways, we needed the UFO (more of an IFO, because anybody with half a brain could see it) to move. We tried everything. Probes. Radio. Explosions. We even tried launching stuff at it, but no dice.
So I guess the President of the United States got this big idea that we would go to it. Seems smart, right? Nothing could go wrong, right?
So the President gathers all the best and brightest and shit the world has to offer. They got astronauts. Scientists. Linguists. Reporters. Cooks. Surgeons. Military. They even had celebrities, because who doesn't love celebrities in space?
But anyways, they get there, right? Military's all ready to shoot, diplomats are ready to negotiate, and Colbert is ready to figure out whether or not they're Republican.
And you'll never guess. The ships' bloody empty! There's giant furniture lying around and shit, bigger than France, just sitting there.
So they find what some archaeologist thinks is the ship's control room. Big levels and fancy shit.
They climb up to the dashboard, and they see the craziest thing on the window.
It's a bloody parking ticket. Literally looks just like the ones on Earth. It had a drawing of the sun, with a big red X on it.
The ship dissapeared a week later. Guess poor sod got towed.
| Jack decided that something was wrong and woke up. Upon closer inspection, the world appeared exceptionally ordinary, and Jack decided to go back to sleep only to jump out of bed a few seconds later, cursing on top of his lungs. Today was a big day.
It was the 21st of August, and Jack had an eclipse planned. Not a puny, laughable eclipse, not a pathetic excuse for an eclipse, but a full, healthy, American spectacle, and Jack was not going to miss it.
He got dressed in a hurry. Outside, the sun was shining, unaware of the terrible fate that it was about to encounter. Having completed his morning routine, Jack went downstairs and made himself a cup of coffee. It was Monday, but Jack took a day off work, as, he was pretty sure, did plenty of others. After all, no one needed him to sit at the missile command centre all day with nothing better to do than trying to stare down a wall.
He went outside. The sun was still shining, the birds were still singing, and the temporary darkness was slowly approaching in the form of Earth's nearest celestial body. Jack smiled to himself. He was not even alive the last time anything like this happened. Which, he thought to himself, made today even better.
After a quick stroll down the street, he entered a small cafe, went online, and scrolled through the morning news that were big on the total and partial solar eclipses alongside the usual "Fashion to Flatter Every Figure" and "Eat Yourself Happy" articles.
Time passed. Jack waited attentively. Time passed some more. Jack read all about the latest fashion trends. Time crawled like a baby with a habit of going around in circles. Jack waited. And then he fell out of his chair.
The eclipse started. The eclipse started, and Jack immediately decided that something was terribly wrong. For one thing, the eclipse was not for another half an hour. For another, the eclipse seemed to resemble a giant spaceship. Jack couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly bothered him the most, but he decided that the whole thing was rather rude.
Outside, people were now screaming. The ship was gliding across the sky, an enormous phallic-shaped contraption, completely unaware of the tiny planet below. It hung in the sky in a way that made it perfectly clear that it had come to stay. Jack swore loudly. The ship clearly intended to steal his only chance of seeing a total solar eclipse, and Jack found himself screaming and waving his hands in a vain attempt to scare it off.
The ship didn't move. Perhaps it has come to enjoy the show, or perhaps it was going to take off any minute, but Jack was not going to give it the benefit of doubt. He made his way through the screaming crowd, and headed for the control centre. Maybe taking a day off was not such a good idea anyway.
For all Jack knew, the ship would have to go, and it would have to go in the next half an hour.
| 2015-03-09T09:19:42 | 2015-03-09T09:13:28 | 75 | 10 |
[WP] An troll challenges someone over the internet to "fight him IRL". That someone turns out to be Superman, who is bored of fighting evil, and now spends his time beating up internet trolls.
Basically, an internet troll's worst nightmare come true. | **WEEDLORDBONERHITLER666**: I'm just sayin all immigrants are lazy fucks who should be shot and killed as they come across the border.
**STEELFAN87**: I'm an immigrant. Would you say that to me?
**WEEDLORDBONERHITLER666**: I don't know, why arent you out mowing my lawn lololololol??!?!
**STEELFAN87**: Do you even *have* a lawn?
**WEEDLORDBONERHITLER666**: Yeah, cuz I have a real job that I got with my colelge degree, assbucket.
**STEELFAN87**: I have a job too. I'm a newspaper reporter.
**WEEDLORDBONERHITLER666**: lolololol jurnlaism is dumb. Ur a fag.
**STEELFAN87**: I don't know, my paper is modestly successful.
**WEEDLORDBONERHITLER666**: Whatever. If your faggot ass showed up at my place, I'd be waiting with my Baret .50 cal. Put a bullet right in your dumb illegal face.
**STEELFAN87**: OK. Prove it.
**WEEDLORDBONERHITLER666**: lolololol fite me irl
**STEELFAN87**: I'm serious. DM me your address. Let's see your .50.
**WEEDLORDBONERHITLER666**: OK, fagit.
\# \# \#
*[ed. note -- the chat log ends here. Attached below is a news story we believe be related]*
\# \# \#
#Man of Steel fights American Teen
**By Kent, Clark**, *reporter*
Controversial superhero Superman today was observed in the sleepy college town of New Wye, Appalachia, involved in a terribly one-sided fistfight with local teen Morton Kilkenny. Morton allegedly became involved in a number of online disputes on noted "dark web" sites such as Reddit and 4chan, relating to his use of racial, ethnic, sexual, gendered, and homophobic slurs.
Morton's friends describe him as a typical middle American teen, angry at the world but without a sufficient outlet, who then withdraws from an increasingly isolating society into a dark world of video games and online pornography. Without a healthy outlet for his teenage hormonal rage, friends say, Morton turned to the online practice of "trolling," or saying deliberately offensive things in an attempt to make one feel powerful and toughened when in fact they are impotent and alienated.
Superman, when reached for comment, had this to say:
"Let this be a lesson to Morton and all Internet trolls like him. I, the great and powerful Kal-El, am the defender of the downtrodden and the shield of the oppressed. I have viewed the cries of my people on Tumblr, and they really *get* me. For so long, *I* felt isolated, as the only Kryptonian on Earth, but now, I've learned that my feelings are normal and shared by many who do not feel quite at home in the society that they have been thrust into. Likewise, I have seen many attempt to impinge on this small sliver of good feeling, children like Morton who lash out without regard at anything they perceive to be even weaker than them. But this ends today. No more shall the Mortons of the world be allowed to do as they wish. Now they must contend with SUPERMAN!"
*[ed. note -- the article closes with a picture of Superman browsing reddit, his typical "S" on the front of his suit replaced with [this](http://i.imgur.com/prnNIFc.png) image]* | I look him over once.
No tumors in his brain, which is a bit of a letdown. I was hoping for something in the prefrontal cortex, that controls judgement and self-control. But no, just neatly curled grey matter, completely ordinary. His skin was a little pale, but his liver and spleen looked good, so it probably wasn't malnutrition either.
He didn't have a gun on him. No weapons, but it seemed he had a bookcase full of swords and knives. Nearly all knockoffs, too. The grain of the metal was all wrong. Some posters, a few books. His room was, well, *ordinary*.
He was gaping at me, but I got that a lot.
"H-how-?"
"I matched the cadence of the sound of your clicking keys to your online entries. Not that hard to figure out."
I looked around.
"I'd have thought there would be more nazi memorabilia."
The teenager, still apoplectic, managed a stammered "W-*what?*"
"Well, from what you said earlier. And maybe some kind of torture rack. For the little kids you mentioned. I don't see either of those. Or maybe a suicide how-to guide?" I arched one eyebrow meaningfully. "You really enjoyed recommending that to others, *too*."
He had, by now, seemed to have transitioned from shocked to subdued. Perhaps even *embarrassed*, but I'm not that big of a optimist.
"*C'mon*, Superman, it's all just a-"
I allowed my eyes to flicker red in warning, once. "No. That's not why. It's not *blowing off steam*. I've watched paramedics swap dirty jokes after working a school collapse, or practical jokes in firehouses. *That's not what this is.*"
I looked again at his room. Perfectly normal. I looked at him. Ordinary. Nothing wrong with him at all. I realized I was getting frustrated, just as I always did. I read his name from a school assignment on his desk.
"Why are you *such a jerk online*, Kevin?"
That must have pushed him too far. "Like YOU could *possibly* get it! You can do *anything*!"
I was taken slightly aback. "You want to be stronger?"
"Yes! **No!** It's- *What you do matters!* It *affects* people! It gets a reaction! You can change the things around you! People *care* about you! But I'm *ordinary*. I'm middle class. I'm not great in a cool way or damaged in a cool way. All I am is *the same as everyone else.* Who cares about everyone else?"
I paused. This was not something I normally dealt with, as Superman. But I remembered feeling this way as Clark, funnily enough. The yellow sun *didn't* give me the power to *write well*. I'd had to struggle for a very long time to break out of mediocrity.
"So... you're a **terrible writer**."
Surprise crossed his features again, but this time, without the tinge of fear.
"What? What are you saying?"
"Well, if you were a *good* writer, you wouldn't need to say terrible things to stand out. You could just write. Are you lazy?"
He shook his head, defiantly.
"No, Kevin. I'm sorry, but you *are*. You grew up in a middle class household. I can see from that homework over there that you never really had to *try*, to get those B's and C's you usually get. You're lazy. You want a reaction *just because*, not because you think what you do is worth it. I mean, really. If you thought what you did was worthwhile, you wouldn't be using a *fake name*, would you?"
He looked angry again, but this time, I was sure of it. Embarrassment was there too.
"Superpowers didn't help me get through high school, Kevin. Or college, or get me my job. You have to come to terms with your own ego if you want to be actually worth attention. Because as long as your ability can't live up to it, you're just going to end up bitter. And doing all of this just to laugh at other people's reactions? Well, doesn't that mean *they* have power over *you*?"
I sniffed the air. There was a fire downtown. A big one, in a chemical facility of some kind. The first-responders were going to need help.
"...Just something to think about, Kevin."
I whirled, and with the *-crack!-* of my cape, I was gone.
______________________________
EDIT: Hi! I hope you liked this. I've got a [subreddit over here](http://www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/) filled with things that only bear the most passing resemblance to this prompt, so if you like hodgepodges, you might find something to like over there! Maybe! Who knows? It's *exciting*, though.
| 2015-05-04T08:52:17 | 2015-05-04T08:17:43 | 140 | 78 |
[WP] Elon Musk is convinced that we live in a simulation, so he constructs the largest cluster bomb in history and sets it off in space. For the first time, MilkyWay.exe lags. | Jeremy looked at the read out on the monitor in disbelief.
Error 100101
Error? The Milky Way hadn’t had an error in...well ever. And what the hell was error 100101?
Beads of sweat began to form on his brow. Had he done something? The only manual interaction he’d had with the sim were the usual arbitrary interactions that were allowed every tech in his position. Still, Milky Way was Timothy’s baby, and if Timothy’s baby was damaged on his watch, there would be hell to pay. Jeremy took two quick deep breaths then signaled that he needed help.
The tech analyst floated to Jeremy’s station gracefully. A whirring ball of silicate and metal, it hovered over the station momentarily, scanning the error. It then whirred off in the opposite direction, assumedly to debug the error and notify Timothy of the on-goings.
Jeremy waited nervously recounting every action he’d taken after setting foot in the office today:
There was the asteroid he collided with Nebula6. Nebula6 current populace was well under the 2 billion threshold and didn’t require authorization to demolish.
Then there was the new species he introduced to the 8th sector. The 8th sector was so sparsely populated it would be a millennia in sim-time before his species was discovered. Again well within regs.
“What the HELL did you do to my universe Spitzer!?”, Timothy jumped into view, the steam was nearly visible from his ears.
“No..Nothing…I didn’t do..”
“Move, let me have a look” Timothy butted his way into Jeremys terminal. Timothy waived his hands, and pinched fingers in rapid succession, eyes glued to the read out all the while muttering “If I find out you broke protocol you are finished Jer…”
Timothy stopped mid thought, he’d found something of interest.
“Am I..”
“shhh”, Timothy retorted.
“..in trouble?”
“SHHH!”, Timothy responded vehemently this time holding a single finger to Jeremys lips, his face still buried in the read out. “This is fascinating!”
“What? What’s fascinating?”, Jeremy asked.
Timothy responded with 3 words that would change Universe Inc forever, “Elon fucking Musk!”
| When the big day arrived, it was like none other. Everyone had waited 30 years since humanity reached the consensus that our entire universe was only a simulation, it had taken 30 years for the neutrino cluster bomb to reach a safe enough distance from Earth to be detonated.
Over a billion people were born during that time. It had completely changed the way humanity thought about life. It had even become a pop phenomenon, as evidenced by the hit song "*I know you're not real, get off my lawn*".
People were gathering across the globe, joining in celebrations, orgies, book clubs, as they put aside their social anxiety for one night.
When the time came, they all had a screen in their hand. News programs and celebrity channels were all live-streaming the event. Pious figures were warning everyone about the danger of God. Politicians were arguing like usual, some probably hoped for the end of the world just so they could say "*I told you so.*" Economists were warning about the great depression that would happen if everyone fell into a depression over the matter. Androids inwardly mocked their inferior neurotic human counterparts as they went about their menial tasks. Even the Aliens took a break from their probing to watch the event with utmost curiosity.
Finally a hushed silence fell across the crowds as Elon Musk started his broadcast.
"*Today is finally the day. We started the project 30 years ago, sending the bomb off at near light speed, hoping to get a glimpse of what lies beyond this universe. And now that time has come.*
"*The bomb is not the only thing that's happened during that time, humanity has also come a long way in the last few decades. I started a colony on Musk, that's Mars for you Chinese speakers, but because you helped me save the world from Global Warming I am very thankful to point out that we don't need it.*
"*I faced a lot of opposition when I started this project, and I still am. To those of you worrying, I want you to know we have the best minds on the job, you have nothing to worry about. To those of you excited, I need to remind you that we have no idea what will happen, so don't get your expectations too high.*
"*Whichever way you feel about it, the bomb is 28 light years away, we obviously sent the activation signal 28 years ago, it's way too late to stop it now. Whatever happens will happen, so lets have some fun tonight!*"
Exactly an hour later, at midnight, in one part of the world, the countdown began.
10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 4... no wait- 5- 4- 3... 2...
**1...**
At that exact second, 30 light years away, a massive explosion tore a hole through space-time itself. The universe flickered for a moment, before coming to a complete stop. Nothing moved,from one end of the galaxy to the other. The earth stopped spinning, people stopped blinking, clocks stopped ticking, & sloths temporarily disappeared from existence. Space-time had stopped altogether.
In fact, it was so thorough that there was not a single way for anything in the universe to notice or measure that anything had happened to begin with. Which is why a long long time later, 0 earth seconds to be precise, everything continued as usual and life went back to normal.
People around the globe let out a collective sigh of disappointment and relief, before putting their VR headsets on and jumping back into their simulated worlds.
| 2016-08-19T15:21:07 | 2016-08-19T15:12:58 | 81 | 45 |
[WP]You work in a jewelry store. One antique diamond ring sits there, slowly tarnishing. You ask the owner the story of the ring. | "This ain't an easy job kid."
Joe was sorting the bills, counting them out like he did every night with slow patience. I sat on the old stool, spinning round now the store was closed for the night. I didn't like to leave the old man alone when he locked up and the few extra minutes, they didn't hurt.
“I know.”
“I’m not talking about keeping a piece under the register either.”
My spinning stopped. Joe had my own pay stacked neatly beside the other bills, but he didn’t hand them over yet.
“You’ve done alright,” I said. “Don’t see what’s so hard about it.”
Joe laughed and reached into the back of the register’s drawer. And he pulled it out. The old ring, the one he never talked about but never let me put somewhere safe. It wasn’t the most expensive item in the inventory, heck it wasn’t even the biggest stone. For as long as I’d been working for Joe, I’d seen that ring every time I rang up a customer.
“We deal with people,” Joe said.
“Their things you mean?”
“No.”
He clutched the ring tight in his fist.
“We see people at two points in their life. You’ve got the kid, just got into the military, got his girl pregnant, whatever, and he wants to make it special. He’s coming in here because he’s thinking about everything that’s going to happen when he leaves.”
“And the other?” I asked.
“They come in here to leave a piece of themselves behind. The man who’s wife was killed when they were driving back from a fancy meal. A father whose son isn’t coming home.”
Joe still sat on his chair, still faced the neat stacks of money. He picked mine up and placed the ring on top of it.
“You’re going to see people at their best kid, and at their utter worst. Make whatever money you want from the former, they’re full of life and happy to share.”
Joe held the money out and I held it, but he didn’t let go. The ring was balanced on top.
“When a person comes in this door, and their life has gone to shit? That’s when you’ll realise there are more important things than money.”
He let go and I took my pay. It was perfect as always, all the faces lined up neatly. I flicked the ring back and forth in my fingers.
“Joe?”
“Yeah kid?”
“I appreciate all this.”
After he retired, I took over the running of the store. I saw the happy and the sad.
And every time I opened that register, I saw a reminder that people were more than the things they left behind. | It was during his first month working at the store that Nathan saw the ring, tucked away in a box behind the cash register.
It was an intricate thing, multiple jewels winking at him. A layer of dust and dirt dimmed its luster ever so slightly. He was reaching for it, when the hoarse voice of Oliver, the store owner, spoke behind him.
"Leave that alone," the old man snapped, grabbing the box and slipping it into his jacket pocket.
"Sorry, I just wanted to clean it, it's a bit grimy," Nathan said, taken aback at the angry set of the old man's mouth. He had never seen him angry - melancholic and tired, certainly, but not angry.
Oliver's scowl faded slightly. "I suppose it is a bit neglected. It's just...this ring...well, never mind. You get back to cleaning the rest of the store, Nathan."
"Tell me!" Nathan said. "Please?"
Oliver knew he could just snap at the young man to leave the matter alone, but Nathan would just keep wondering. Keep digging and pestering him, and keep wanting to look at the ring. He knew how young people worked. He'd been one himself, once.
"It has a curse on it," Oliver said, trying for a light tone of voice.
"One touch and you die that very same night. Supposedly once belonged to an old wizard who proposed to a beautiful young woman...and when she refused him, he placed a terrible curse on it and forced it on her hand."
Nathan was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"Whoever touched it thereafter died slowly, in agony," Oliver added a touch defensively. "It somehow landed in my store, the family just wanted to get rid of it. Now, call me a suspicious old fogey, but I just leave it. I don't touch it and I don't sell it."
"Right. A wizard. Ok," Nathan said, and moved off to clean the rest of the store.
As an art student who specialised in jewellery, he'd chosen to work here for some practical experience. An old-fashioned, beautiful little store. He thought it'd be romantic. But Oliver was just a bit too weird, sometimes. He always seemed shocked and discomfited to find Nathan in the store, even though he'd been working there for a month now. The old man had probably been alone for too long. Maybe he should just get a job at a modern gallery.
"You be careful never to touch it, alright, boy? Don't want your death on my hands," Oliver added as Nathan resumed cleaning. He saw Nathan suppress a smirk.
He'd seen the contempt in the boy's eyes after he'd told the story, and was glad. Maybe Nathan would just leave, now. He'd thought it would be interesting to have another person working here, keeping him company. Help his loneliness a little. But all it did was invite trouble and stir up memories he'd rather forget. He'd almost managed to forget about the ring, for example.
The family marriage ring, passed down through the generations, and the many times he'd tried to use it to propose to Estelle. The only love of his life. His life, not hers. He'd almost forgotten the mix of pity and disdain in her eyes when she'd refused him, again and again. Forgotten the cursed thing that he could never manage to toss away or get over his heart to sell, rich as it was with his family's history.
Well. Hopefully his crazy story sent Nathan packing. Things could get back to how it always was, before a strange young life went about interfering with his store and what was buried in its corners.
There would be no more painful questions, and no more memories.
-----------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2016-11-20T08:15:25 | 2016-11-20T07:30:59 | 42 | 14 |
[WP] Due to a loophole in the system, people can escape hell and get to heaven after death. You go to hell and all you see is Satan, just sitting there playing the harmonica. Everyone left him and now he's all alone. | When you consider that Judgement isn't graded on a bell curve and is, in fact, a super stringent set of requirements that one was meant to follow over what seemed, at the time, an incredibly long amount of time one would assume hell would be practically filled to the brim.
So when I found myself utterly alone in an endless field of flames and suffering I took a moment to really rethink what it was that had made me the single eligible applicant to hell. Seeing as I was pretty much the coolest guy and way too handsome for my many teeny tiny sins to have counted I came to the conclusion that this was an obvious mixup and I just had to find management and get this straightened out.
After wandering for an eternity with only strips of my own flesh to use as trail markers on the never ending corpse decorated stalagmites and maggot cased bone spires I finally found another soul.
"Excuse me, sir, I believe theres been a mixup. I admit I've done some scummy things what with the cheating and lying and whatnot but, be real, who hasnt? My wife wasn't feeling it and if God didn't want it he wouldn't have invented tindr. And let's be honest everyone lies on their taxes, I mean I did use my computer for work so it could be reasoned that it was a...."
"Its not a mixup," the figure boomed, dejectedly. His barrel chest expanding menacingly as he inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly into his harmonica, flames jetting from the holes as it produced a depressing cacophony of "bwaaaaaaaaaaas".
"you're here because youre a sinner and I guess if you say you're sorry and kinda mean it you can go to heaven so, whatever, see you later."
Bwaaaaaaaaa the harmoica moaned followed by another, shorter, bwaa that maybe was supposed to be a flat note but its hard to tell because he was basically just blowing on every single hole at once.
"Yeah, about that," I replied smiling, worried that my smile seemed disingenuous because i had been forced to eat my own lips and cheeks for sustenance decades ago, "I dont think you understand. I can't rightly apologize for something that I didn't do wrong. While it could be argued that I have sinned its obvious that everyone did and my sins were like baby sins compared to most and, lets be honest, sure I used my vast inheritance selfishly and maybe I could have done a bit more for my children, im not going to apologize for that because thats like nothing compared to others."
The demon's bwaaas had gone silent as he looked me over. I gave a sheepish wave with what remained of my hand after the locusts had had their fill.
"You just have to say sorry. I dont think you even have to mean it."
"Well I obviously couldnt mean it, that would be lying which is a sin and apparently a really big one if im here and Hitler isnt."
The devil sat staring, disbelief forming on his face.
"And honestly," I continued, "I always figured the good would offset the bad stuff, sure I stole from pensions but I always tipped well at the club. Ask Rosa, I gave her chance after chance after chance before I fired her for stealing the good silver and, yeah, I found it later but it's the fact that I gave her so many chances that proves how decent I am. Im not going to apologize for firing her I didnt get to where I am by letting people steal from me."
As I took a seat next to him and continued to extol my many virtues and expand on the unfair realities of the world the devil's eyes began frantically scanning the horizon.
I explained, in detail, my political and religious beliefs to him as he shattered my bones with his massive hands, I attempted to summarize my screenplay as he filled my mouth with molten lead, and I found it increasingly difficult to summarize my love for the St. Louis Cardinals and he forcibly shoved my head into what remained of my worm infested anus.
"In short," I mumbled into my own ass "Denzel was only given an oscar to sate the ess double you jays if you catch my drift."
"JESUS CHRIST IM SORRY." he yelled and like that was gone. Which is fine, I thought as I waddled on into the abyss, ill just have to speak with his manager.
| He followed the lilting notes down empty corridors crusted with flecks of blood and gore.
He walked past cages crafted of bone that stood wide open, past the scattered and abandoned tools of torture. It was all too visceral to provide him with the illusion that he was drifting in some never-ending nightmare and would wake up any moment now, safe in his bed and alive.
"Jackson Hale," he heard a drawling voice say as he turned the corner. The music he'd followed for the past two days - somehow, its faint notes had reverberated maddeningly through the place since he'd arrived - paused, and he looked into the eyes of the player.
Calm dark eyes, startlingly ordinary, all things considered. The player was wearing a sharply tailored black suit. The material was a black so deep that Jack felt he could lose himself in it, could touch it and be swallowed right up in something nameless, something that was waiting to envelope him and tear him -
"Hey, boy," the player said, snapping his fingers in front of Jack, who blinked and focused on the present again. "I don't have time to play with you right now. I'm playing the harmonica. So. Want to get going? Join the others? They all left, you know..."
"Name's Satan, by the way," the man said, sitting down again on a twisting chair of bone stretched with a thin material that looked nauseatingly like skin. "Lucifer. Beelzebub. Fuck, who even cares anymore."
He picked up the harmonica again and resumed play. Jack watched him mutely, and finally blurted out the question at the forefront of his mind. Perhaps this was some dream, after all. Satan playing a harmonica *had* to be a dream. In which case he probably wouldn't die from asking a question.
"They left? How could they leave? Isn't this...Hell?" Jack asked. "And I'd have thought you'd be more..."
"Demon-y?" Satan asked, his fingers pausing again. "Yeah, I was. Had a voice that could shatter you apart, and everything. All my powers started to fade once they left. I can't even compel anyone to obey me anymore. Once that happened, even my demons left due to some blasted loophole. Bastards. All in Heaven now, I suppose. Or tossed into Limbo. Who knows what the big guy does with the damned once they get there?"
"Now I guess I'm just a guy playing a harmonica," Satan said, resuming the same tune Jackson had heard repeatedly over the past few days.
"Don't you know anything else?" Jack asked, sitting down beside the guy. He seemed harmless enough, really. It was actually rather nice here. Quiet.
"Oh, no, afraid not," the devil said, grinning at him. "There were thousands of guitarists, but a curious lack of harmonica players. So this is your Hell now. Listening to this song, over and over again."
It was starting to grate on Jack's ears. He knew many other songs, better songs - he'd been in a band, in his life, and had always taken pride in the number of instruments he could play. Part of him was itching to show the devil. But the other part had latched onto what he'd said: there was a loophole. And chances were everyone he'd ever loved and who'd left him was in Heaven. Perhaps he'd get a second chance once he got there. If there was anyplace where anything would be forgiven, that was it.
"What is the loophole?" Jack asked. There was nothing to lose by asking, was there? He said he'd lost his powers.
"Why don't you show me some of those other songs you know before I tell you, and you can go?" the devil asked.
"How did you know I play?" Jack said, frowning at the wide grin on Satan's face. "I thought you said your powers were gone?"
"I lied. Force of habit, I guess. C'mon, show me?" he asked. "I'm alone here. At least help me entertain myself."
There was a pleading glint in his eyes that softened Jack's resolve to get going. "All right, fine."
"You'll tell me everything you know? Promise?" Satan pressed him.
"Yes, yes, I promise," he said. "Give me that and I'll play you some stuff. But you'll tell me the loophole, afterwards?"
"Sure thing," the devil said, and handed him the harmonica. He clapped vigorously after Jack had played through his entire repertoire.
"Well, there you have it. Can you tell me now?" Jack said.
"Why so hasty, boy? You said you'd tell me everything you know. Everything. That means every scrap of knowledge you've collected in your human life. Then I'll tell you, and you can go," Satan said, playing one of the new songs he'd just learnt with a small smile on his face. "Pity you came here after the others had left. They'd have told you without a price."
He chuckled at Jack's stunned expression. "Binding promise, son, no getting out of anything you promised me directly. And yeah, I lied about the powers thing, too. I really missed you humans. So gullible. It's rather sweet. But come, talk to me while I play. I've missed hearing another voice, truth be told. And you have a lot to tell me, don't you?"
--------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2017-02-01T09:21:57 | 2017-02-01T09:11:17 | 224 | 19 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want. | Dreadnaught was the last of the Old Guard. The early heroes who had fought for the good of the world, for honor and justice and other long-dead ideals. they toppled dictatorships, brought aid to disaster-stricken regions and never accepted a penny. Dreadnaught himself had seen the greats of the age, had only been a young rookie when The Atom and Red Lightning and all the others were around. There had been villains, of course- bastards and madmen who used their powers for their own benefit, but they were always beaten back. The good guys always won in the end.
Dreadnaught had long since stopped caring about "good" or "evil". He was standing on a wind-tossed rooftop in Dubai, staring at the bright artificial stars, gleaming skyscrapers and rivers of vehicles, spreading forever into the distance. He idly wondered what had happened to the old greats, Atom and Lightning and Sunbeam. He continued to think back, remembering the first changes....
It began when he and a few allies rescued some fat cat from an attempted assassination, somewhere in South Korea. When word came out that the cat had been smuggling weapons up north, and had betrayed the country, Dreadnaught shrugged. He wasn't a political sort. But Fat Cats are always good at redirecting blame- they called him and his friends mercenaries, not caring who he fought for as long as he had glory and attention. He heard insults and threats as he walked through the streets. He tried his best not to mind. He minded.
He had never had much- Dreadnaught grew up in the inner city and came from a poor family. So when people said he, and others like him, was profiting from chaos and war and fear as he struggled to make ends meet and ate third-rate prepackaged meals- his blood boiled. Most heroes were offered work when their identities were revealed- Private armies, government work, criminal organizations. He decided that if people thought he was a thug- then it didn't hurt to do a thug's job.
He accepted a job offer, then another, and another. His pay was high and his scruples few. He moved out of the slums and into a high rise apartment. People kept calling him a crook and a monster, but it hurt less now that it was true. Others joined him, fighting wars and steal secrets for the highest bidder.
That was how it had happened. The world was a different place now than it was. Supers were identified from birth and signed on with one of the big corporations at the age of 12. There were no more armies anymore, no more citizen soldiers. Just hired guns with enough firepower to level cities.
Some Supers still fought the good fight, of course. They lived on the edges of the world, striking out against the "Man" in what little ways they could. But most Supers lived quiet lives, turning down the offers of big corporations, and not making a fuss of their powers for fear of attracting too much attention.
Dreadnaught looked down from the glinting lights and turned towards the desert. His contact would be arriving soon, with his pay, and likely another job. He was one of the oldest men in the business, after all. He never failed, he never quit a job until it was done. His skills were highly valued. | Like every day since I started this job, the subway was packed. Not the kind of packed where you have to occasionally mutter apologies as you slide past people; this was more like something that made me envious of sardines in a can.
Thank-god for phones. I sighed as an ad began to play again on the video I was watching, for the fifth time in ten minutes.
A superhero, dressed in a green and white spandex suit, smiles with impossibly white teeth at the camera. Besides him, a name: SteelSkin, TM. In his hand, he holds something that resembles an insulin syringe, complete with viscous lime-green liquid swirling inside.
“Thanks to EasyPowers Ltd., I can effortlessly use my superpowers without having to worry about reinjections every four hours. It’s the only choice, buy an EasyPowers starter module today! Only one hundred thousand dollars a shot!” He winks at the camera.
If only it was that easy. Everyone knew only a few select candidates received any powers at all. If you had the money, that is.
I stared out at the smog-filled city, admiring the six kilometer-tall JusticeTower from the window. Syracuse was responsible for that one, along with cold-fusion, and the cure for cancer if you could afford it.
I can see his memorial from here too, after he was killed by Czar. Apparently Czar couldn’t deal with the fact that a homosexual black man became the most famous Mender in history.
It was only because I was looking in that direction that I noticed it at all. A slight flicker of lightning in the sky, then another, closer to the train. A few figures, three men and two woman, charging towards the clouds.
Suddenly, there were thousands of flickering lightning strikes, the brightness briefly blinding me. I heard shouts of discomfort behind me.
“What the hell?”
“Oh god, is that Zeus?”
“He’s fighting the Justice Squad! Get out your phone.” A pair of shrill teenage girls behind me giggled.
I blinked away the spots in my vision, just in time to witness SteelSkin slam into the carriage next to us. Time slowed, and I saw the completely-full carriage crush in the middle like a stomped-on coke can. I watched, horrified.
Then my carriage derailed. I felt my body fly up, slamming into the ceiling with a deep cracking sound, and I couldn’t feel anything below my neck.
*I’m dead*, I thought. Then, *I don’t want to die*. Around me, I could hear a few moans. Most of the bodies were terrifyingly still.
“SteelSkin, are you alright?” A purring voice rang out from outside. It must be Asp. They both went to the same Long Island private school, apparently.
“I’m fine, darling.” He replied in that gravelly voice he put on for the cameras.
“Check to see if anyone had insurance in this train. Angel can heal them.”
I saw her, then. Impossibly beautiful, she entered the upturned carriage in a burst of pure white light. The illusion was immediately broken when her nose wrinkled. She only healed people who brought her million-dollar insurance. How else would she afford those designers clothes?
“Nah, they’re all just middle-class workers. No way do they have insurance.” They never included her ghetto accent in those documentaries they constantly ran.
“Alright, well at least we drove off Zeus.” Steelskin chuckled. I felt a brief stab of anger. I could see a one of the giggling girls from before sobbing over her dead friend in front of me, half of her head caved in like a deformed golf ball.
“He’ll think twice before he tries to steal that medicine again. Oh wait, what did we tell the newspapers?” I could hear Asp laughing outside.
*You told them he had a bioweapon he was planning to unleash on the world*, I thought again, that brief stab of anger turning into something deeper. Hatred. They flew off after that, acting as though thousands of people were not dying right next to them. They didn’t see my trigger, my screams of agony as the fabric of my entire body was remade, the first natural superpowers in over a decade.
The ambulances arrived thirty minutes later. It was a miracle, they said, almost like you could heal yourself. I smiled, laughing along as though everything was right with the world. It wasn’t.
They would pay. They would all pay, and when their corporations burned around them, I would be there to watch.
| 2017-04-02T09:11:57 | 2017-04-02T07:17:35 | 154 | 41 |
[WP] Every morning when your phone's alarm goes off, it shows a headline in the notification bar. If you snooze the alarm, the headline changes. You must choose which headline with which to wake. But, after three snoozes you're stuck with that future. | *Beep.*
A daily game. A daily gamble. I didn't understand why it was me, and why the power of a future-changer was in my hands, but I sure as hell knew my importance. I rolled over, eyes already opened and brain ready to process. *This had better be good...*
'Worldwide bomb strike annihilates Asia'. Fuck...that was one of the worst I'd ever got, next to the World War I'd nearly started. Without hesitation, I smashed the snooze button.
*Beep.*
Again. And with the memory of the near disaster I'd averted still fresh in my mind, I moved on to the next headline. But this...it was different. For the first time, I saw a glowing button at the bottom of the headline. 'Your next headline will be about: Billions of dollars being added to your account' was the curt message. The headline was world hunger and poverty being solved, for good. I looked at the reward I would get if only I'd pressed snooze. But...the world...people starved and people begged. This would help millions upon millions trapped under the society's footsteps. To take their right to be equal away...it was wrong. Definitely wrong. But I wasn't poor. Nor was I hungry. At 4am in the morning, I made a decision that cost the world.
I hit snooze.
*Beep.* The mechanical sound mocked my selfishness, my greed. It seemed to scold me, the cries of the poor I'd damned forever ringing in my head. I tried to turn over to my phone, but waves of regret and guilt washed over me. It was all my fault. My stupidity. My selfishness. And the ultimate punisher was myself. The very conscience I'd tried to ignore. Dragging myself to the bedside table, I checked the headline.
*There was none.*
In its place, there was a short paragraph of text. 'Dear Elrick, you've just condemned millions to death and generations more to a life worse than Hell. All for 'the money'. Well, guess what? We have no money for people, *scum*, pardon me, like you. But we do have something you might find interest in. Take a gander at the choice we offer you again, and choose wiser than you just did. The people of the world are counting on you.' My money...the only reason I'd done this! Where was my cash I was promised? I looked around wildly for it, and in a small corner I found it. Above was the sign: Money. But before I dashed for it, I saw the sign next to a red button. 'Forgiveness' was written on the sign. The choice was mine again. Cash, or morals?
This time, the choice was clear. I looked at the cash with a last, longing glance, then I walked towards the button. I could almost hear a sigh of relief. I smirked, as my athletic training proved useful. I darted quickly to the pile of money, greedily snatching it all. I could almost feel the looks of dismay.
Sorry. No justice in this world, after all.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | *HOBOKEN, NEW JERSEY*
...BZZZ...BZZZ...BZZZ...
*"Just another day."*
Yeah, no. Fuck that. Skipped for the millionth time.
*"Confront your past."*
Sure, right after I finish confronting the future. Next.
*"A quiet night in."*
I think I'll get my fill of those when I'm lying in a casket. Come on lucky sevens.
*"Let's see what you got."*
Jackpot.
I rolled out of bed and jogged to the bathroom. Took a piss, brushed my teeth, hopped in the shower. In eight minutes flat I was back in the bedroom, standing in front of the mirror and tying the knot on my tie with the baddest motherfucker I've ever seen staring back at me.
My phone vibrated on the bed. New notification. The 11am pitch to the VC downtown was now pushed up to 10:30am. Thanks for the heads up, assholes.
I strapped the Sub around my wrist, grabbed my briefcase and headed downstairs. My wife turned to look at me and her mouth was about to open. I saw breakfast on the table out of the corner of my eye.
"Not today, babe." I opened the front door. "The pitch was pushed up. Need to run. We'll celebrate tonight."
* * *
The elevator doors closed. We descended for three seconds. My partner turned toward me.
"You crazy bastard! You fucking killed it in there!" His voice rose to an almost girlish squeal as he tried to contain his excitement. Fuck professionalism. He was right. We just pitched the hell out of our startup and took everything they threw at us and threw it right back at them. I loosened the knot on my tie.
"Well, looks like we've got the whole afternoon to congratulate ourselves," I said. "What do you say we head down to 45th and get ourselves a little celebratory libation? My treat."
We hopped in the 5-Series and made our way down 2nd Avenue. Twenty minutes later I tossed the keys to the valet and we went inside. Five minutes after that I adjusted my posture, turned to my partner and raised the glass. The first blissful drops of the martini coated my tongue. Thirty seconds later I felt that subtle promise of a gilded future begin to wash over me.
For the rest of the afternoon we recalled all the best stories over the past twelve months trying to get this company off the ground. At some point we decided we needed a bigger audience and waved a couple of hot young women over to the table, then regaled them with more stories.
Around 11pm I was feeling pretty good. We bid adieu to the women, and I saw my partner walk off toward the subway. The valet brought my car around.
* * *
I've got the windows rolled down and I'm doing 100 across the bridge. The air is cool in my hair. I am in control of my destiny. I look out and see Manhattan lit up in the distance. The sky is the limit.
What the fuck. I hit the horn.
"Learn to drive you fucking asshole!" I turn the wheel hard to the right and begin to swerve. I feel the tires smash over something underneath. I begin to feel myself lift and turn.
What. The. FUCK.
* * *
*FREDERICK, MARYLAND*
...BZZZ...BZZZ...BZZZ...
*"Just another day."*
Rise and shine. I looked over to my left and saw the bed was empty. I guess Michelle beat the alarm yet again. She was definitely the early bird in the marriage. I walked across the bedroom and grabbed my robe off the chair. As I headed over to the stairs, I could already smell the eggs and bacon wafting up from the kitchen.
I pulled up a chair and sat down at the table. I began flipping through the newspaper as Michelle walked over and placed a couple of plates down in front of us. I heard the familiar sound of feet trampling down the stairs.
"Hey Mom! Hey Dad! I'm going to school now!"
"All right, buddy!" I called out to him. "Do your best!"
"Love you, honey!" Michelle called out after.
What a great kid.
I took a bite of the eggs.
"Thanks, dear," I said. "They're delicious." | 2017-08-01T07:11:38 | 2017-08-01T06:32:31 | 77 | 23 |
[WP] A crazed astronomer undergoes a quest to shut down the entire state's power grid, in an effort to force the population to behold, for the first time, the beauty of a starry night sky. | There was once a crazed astronomer
Who led an engineer astray
From his duties at the electronomer
His plan failed, dismay!
Day 2, he thought
a second chance at last
to give the public a view
of a night as clear as glass
Day 3, behold, he exclaimed
Pointing to his telescope
A magnificent instrument
That magnifies the stars
No one would join him, looking through it
He begged, he pleaded, "That view is *our's*!"
Day 4, defeated, he packed his bags and left
He hoped that the sight of stars wouldn't be turned into a memory left to forget
As he climbed over mountains, northwards, looking for salvation
His face lit up in rejuvenation
The sight of lights dazzling from the heavens
He almost believed his eyes to lie
When he saw how bright they shine
He knew the memory would never die.
| Yellow, brown, yellow, brown! It doesn't take a fucking genius to realize that the light pollution has obviously gotten out of hand. I dare you to look into the decaying night sky on a clear Chicago night, and attempt to see anything but yellow and brown. It's a stain on nature. A cloud over a cloudless city. Living in Chicago within itself is uptight, quick, and leaves little time for observation, and at the base level the inhabitants are already disregarding the beauty in the architecture. It doesn't come as much surprise that little to no attention is being payed to one of the most gorgeous sights an individual can rest their eyes upon, the ever unwinding cosmos. Sure, some may be terrified to rest their eyes upon the one sobering image that may immediately confirm in their little sycophantic minds that they are nothing, perhaps that reality check is needed. Years upon years of campaigning for some kind of light reform has given me a permanent migraine, having to sonically assault the ears of the drooling public has taken it's toll. It confounds me to even consider the minute possibility that maybe, just maybe, they don't fucking care. If that's the case, I'm going to make them fucking care if it's the last thing I do.
Now of course being in the field of astronomy has it's many perks, like an *cough* *cough* appreciation for the marvelous BIG outside, the BIG outside of course being the "unwinding cosmos" or whatever pretentious bullshit I can spew out to try and get someone interested. Oh, I also know some people, who know some people and guess the fuck what, it seems like I have set in motion a plan of elaborate events that will make EVERYONE appreciate the BIG outside. I can't give away too many details right now of course, who ever wants to hear a spoiler? Do keep in mind this: soon you will begin to realize that there are two things that are out of your control; the ability to neglect the wonderous sights that could potentially be right before your very eyes, and the concept that you can't tune out a brilliant mind. Sit back, and step out into the BIG outside. | 2017-08-31T04:49:31 | 2017-08-31T01:01:58 | 105 | 11 |
[WP] A crazed astronomer undergoes a quest to shut down the entire state's power grid, in an effort to force the population to behold, for the first time, the beauty of a starry night sky. | "Power's out." My father struck a match and lit another candle as he said this to me, as if I somehow wasn't aware already. I sighed.
“Yeah, dad, I know.”
He dragged a wicker chair across the porch and sat down next to me. “They say some fella in Columbus did it. Something about seeing stars. I'd like to make him see stars, I've got meat thawing in the freezer because of him.”
“I know, dad.”
We sat together on the porch in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again.
“I get it, though. It's nice to see the stars. Shame it's about to fuckin' rain for two weeks straight.”
“I know, dad.” We looked up into the sky together, and saw nothing but the rain rolling over our awning. Inside our increasingly warm freezers, the meat continued to thaw. | Yellow, brown, yellow, brown! It doesn't take a fucking genius to realize that the light pollution has obviously gotten out of hand. I dare you to look into the decaying night sky on a clear Chicago night, and attempt to see anything but yellow and brown. It's a stain on nature. A cloud over a cloudless city. Living in Chicago within itself is uptight, quick, and leaves little time for observation, and at the base level the inhabitants are already disregarding the beauty in the architecture. It doesn't come as much surprise that little to no attention is being payed to one of the most gorgeous sights an individual can rest their eyes upon, the ever unwinding cosmos. Sure, some may be terrified to rest their eyes upon the one sobering image that may immediately confirm in their little sycophantic minds that they are nothing, perhaps that reality check is needed. Years upon years of campaigning for some kind of light reform has given me a permanent migraine, having to sonically assault the ears of the drooling public has taken it's toll. It confounds me to even consider the minute possibility that maybe, just maybe, they don't fucking care. If that's the case, I'm going to make them fucking care if it's the last thing I do.
Now of course being in the field of astronomy has it's many perks, like an *cough* *cough* appreciation for the marvelous BIG outside, the BIG outside of course being the "unwinding cosmos" or whatever pretentious bullshit I can spew out to try and get someone interested. Oh, I also know some people, who know some people and guess the fuck what, it seems like I have set in motion a plan of elaborate events that will make EVERYONE appreciate the BIG outside. I can't give away too many details right now of course, who ever wants to hear a spoiler? Do keep in mind this: soon you will begin to realize that there are two things that are out of your control; the ability to neglect the wonderous sights that could potentially be right before your very eyes, and the concept that you can't tune out a brilliant mind. Sit back, and step out into the BIG outside. | 2017-08-31T05:55:08 | 2017-08-31T01:01:58 | 32 | 11 |
[WP] The devil is behind in quota and offers you anything in exchange for your soul. After you both promptly shake hands, you make a request he has never gotten before: you ask for his soul in return. | As we shake hands, I feel a tingling sensation crawl up from my fingertips and down my spine, then throughout my whole body. The world feels different somehow, almost like waking up in an unfamiliar bed for the first time but not...quite. Deeper than that.
"Okay, kid, whaddya want?" Right now, he looks like any other overworked businessman as he stands in the preternaturally empty lobby of my building, his speech at odds with his appearance. Arms crossed, eyebrow raised, tapping his foot.
I had thought of this ages ago, playing Truth or Dare in high school. It was eloquent, really, but I'd never thought that hypothetical would ever occur.
"Your soul."
Something flashes across his face – surprise? – but he simply nods, expression blank but for the edge of a smirk on his lips. What is he playing?
"Very well. Come." He turns on his heel towards the glass double doors and I follow a few paces behind, my heart thumping against my chest.
We step out into the cool night air, the moon sitting in a nest of clouds. I try to imagine what owning the devil's soul entails: Would I have access to any of his powers? What did one even *do* with a soul, anyway? Maybe I could replace his with mine.
He leads me to a pay parking lot that's been closed for the night several blocks away, easily bypassing and disabling the security measures put into place. I stare into one of the cameras on a light post, but it looks like all the power has been drained out of it. Not as if it's been turned off, but rather, rendered entirely unusable.
"Hey, kid. Catch." Turning towards him, I automatically grab the object out of the air. They jangle as they land in my hand –
Oh, no.
There's a full grin on his face, his eyes glinting. "She's right over there. Enjoy." With a small *pop*, he vanishes.
I slowly look to my right, and there it is, just as promised: a red KIA Soul. | Not gonna lie. It looks damn good on my mantle.
You’d think the devil’s soul would be like some sort of black goop that burns your flesh, maybe a human skull covered in blood and screaming for eternity, or an endless void that drives men to the edge of insanity. But nah, it isn’t any of that. It’s literally just a cool looking clock.
And I’m talking objectively too. Like it’s got those ornate ridges up and down the sides, polished face, curved hands, and even a little pitchfork that pops out every hour (the only thing I can tell that is even remotely related to the devil).
Oh, and the devil’s face? Priceless. He musta come around to it though, cuz as he dragged my soul outta my body, and he gave me his, he gave me a slight smirk. That don’t worry me though, I mean what the hell’s he gonna do without his soul?
Anyways, for the first hour I just sat around for awhile, not really doing anything. I mean no soul means no feelings, no passions, no… well... nothing. That’s when the pitchfork first popped out, followed by that maniacal cackling, another little thing to remind you it ain’t just any clock. That’s also when I realized why that devil musta gave me that grin- he thought that laugh would freak me out. No soul, no emotion though, so I guess there ain’t nothing to worry about… not that I can worry… being soulless is whack.
By now I was already focusing on the clock, and I didn’t have anything else to, well, think about I guess. So I just thought about the clock, focused on that. The passage of time is kinda lost on me now, so I don’t really know how long I sat there at first. Maybe a couple minutes, but probably more like a few days. All I know is I realized I was starving, so I got up, got some food, and came back to munch while I listened. I don’t got a soul, but I do got a stomach.
And, um, that’s all I’ve really done since then. By that I mean sitting around, listening to the clock, and eating food. Sometimes people came by, friends, family, some others, but I never really had the drive to do anything, let alone carry a conversation. Eventually, they just stopped showing up and left me alone, which didn’t really bother me, not that their visits ever did either. But yeah, food and clock, food and clock, food and clock- also sleep I guess, though I’m not *fully* aware when I fall asleep and wake up, considering it’s really only rest for my body.
So that’s where I am now. Listening to that ticking and eating when I get hungry and not really doing much else. I guess if I had to make an insight I’d say the ticking grounds me, keeps me from existing pointlessly but gives me an anchor in reality. Though I can’t make an insight really. Soulless and all that. Whack. All I know is the devil must feel kinda dumb, not even imagining that his plan could go so poorly and I’d get his soul. Not that he could feel anything, since he’s missing his soul and… you get the gist. | 2018-09-05T13:15:56 | 2018-09-05T12:50:54 | 158 | 38 |
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply. | I sat back in the crowd of of millions upon of millions of people, awaiting the alien queens arrival. Some people gleamed in excitement, while others quelled in fear. Me? I was pretty indifferent about these aliens coming to visit our planet for the first time, and I don’t care care if they enslave us, or if they welcome us into some sort of intergalactic federation or whatever. The worlds top political leaders all stood front and center in this rural field located in the panhandle region of Oklahoma. I found it funny, in a way, because instead of choosing a major global center of culture, technology, and economic development like New York, London, Paris, Moscow, Shanghai, or Tokyo, the aliens had chosen this insignificant field in Oklahoma located near the insignificant little town that I lived in.
“Look, it’s the alien ship!” Someone shouted.
The crowd erupted into a frenzy, with some cheering, and some fearing the absolute worst. I just watched and carefully observed the ship descending onto the field. It was a large ship, larger than anything I had ever seen before. The Alien queen came out of her ship, and observed the scene. Then she locked her eyes on me. She made her way through the sea of people and up to me. I figured this was it, and she would use me as a sacrificial lamb for the eventual alien takeover of our world. But what she did next stunned me. She bowed deeply before me. The leader of the most powerful and advanced civilization in the entire universe, bowing down to me, a 18 year old from Liberal, Kansas working a dead end job delivering pizzas for Pizza Hut. She gave a simple hand gesture to me signaling to follow her, and I followed her lead. We entered the elaborate spaceship, and flew away into space. We sat there in awkward silence for a moment, before I decided to start asking questions.
“Where are taking me?”I asked. About another minute passed by before she broke her silence.
“Well, I saw you out in the crowd, and I immediately knew you were the perfect match for me,” she responded in fluent English.
“I’m sorry, what are you talking about? I have no idea what’s going on here.”
“Well, every queen needs her king, right? Think about it Michael, you can leave behind your miserable life on Earth of delivering pizzas and being alone, and all you have to is agree to be with me.”
“Ho-How do you know my name?” I asked back quietly.
“Come on, I’m the leader of the most powerful and intelligent civilization in the universe. I can read minds and travel across the entire universe in the span of a couple days for crying out loud!”
“All I do is deliver pizzas working for minimum wage, live alone, and my depression just keeps getting worse and worse.”
“Well, not for long. But before all that, I want to ask you one important question: Why do you think I took you from your planet to be with me?”
I thought long and hard about this question. Why would the queen of the universe want to marry a 18 year old pizza delivery driver from Earth. It didn’t add up. I looked around the luxurious and lavish interior thinking long and hard about this one, but no answers popped up in my head. “Um, I don’t know. Why did you?”
”Well, I’m not exactly sure why I did either. Something just pulled me towards you, and I went with my instincts. I’m only 18 myself, and just became queen last month after my father died unexpectedly. I’m going to need some help being leader of the universe, and I guess you could help me with that.”
“I don’t know the first thing about leadership,” I responded. I was very surprised that she would trust me with this monumental task.
“I don’t really know that much about it either, but I guess it’ll be a learning experience, for the both of us.”
____________________________________________________
**Thanks for reading this! I would love some feedback, and definitely tell me what I need to improve on as a writer. This is only my 4th or 5th submission here, so that would be much appreciated!**
| I had always been interested in what was out there in the stars I had never believed that we would find intelligent life, but I guess I was wrong. After discovering that English was a an actual "universal language" the UN decided to host the leader of the aliens. For some reason the meeting was heal public, and all were welcome to come and see.
​
I had gotten to the meeting spot before even the media did. I wanted a good sight, so I had gone a day early. I was quite surprised that they let me stay there.
​
Nothing interesting happened during the start of the meet, all the major world leaders had gathered along with the queen of the other life form. Nothing of any particular interest was happening, just boring stuff about technology and whatever. It was about two hours in, when the leaders had all gone on for a little break. Most of the world leaders were greeting people at the fence, the queen was looking around, probably getting a glimpse of the New York skyline or the Statue of Liberty.
​
After being up for more than 36 hours I felt my eyes getting weak. My energy drinks must have wore out. I put my earbud in, set the alarm for 20 minutes, and put my head down on the barrier. Before I fall asleep, I wake up to the sound of what I assumed were a million gasps, had the oxygen killed the queen? I open my eyes.
​
The queen is on a kneel, bowing, to me.
In my sleep deprived state I manage to mutter "uhh.. miss, are you OK?" not being able to fully comprehend what was going on.
The queen spoke "You still are around! Dear King, we've missed you for so long."
I go to smash my head against the barrier, I have to be dreaming, and I want OUT, but before I get the chance the queen stops me.
"Dear King, I'm sorry my presence has caused you this much grief, shall I rid myself of your sight?"
I do manage to mutter "wait" somehow. What the heck is happening?
​
Before I even get the chance to comprehend what is going on, I see what must have been the entire Secrete Service, Army, Navy, Air-force, Coast Guard, National Guard, and whatever other military personalle that was there forcing the crowd out.
​
I then pass out.
​
​
I wake up in a bed I'm not familiar with, in a room I'm not familiar with. The bed I'm in is deferentially worthy of kings in movies.
"You are up, good morning master!" I hear an unknown voice say.
"Where am I..?" I manage to stutter out.
"Why this is your room" the voice calls out.
I finally get the courage to sit up, to a scene I didn't know how to process first, the room I'm in is huge, there are about 6 people on either side of the walls, with a huge 2 door entryway.
I go to get out of bed, the covers are pulled off for me while I get out of bed, and neatly placed back when I exit it.
"Good morning master" one of the I'm assuming servants says, with a cheerful smile.
"Good Morning" I manage to spit out.
As I head to the doors to go and try to make sense of what is happening, they are opened for me.
"Thank you" I reply.
"Y-You don't need to thank me!" I hear the assumed servant reply. I do nothing besides smile, what else can I do?
​
I'm greeted by the queen that was present at the world meetings.
"Good morning King, are you feeling better."
"Yes I am, thank you for asking."
I'm lead down a huge staircase and lead to a dining hall. There I am greeted to a massive breakfast that looks like it just came out of the frying pan.
​
The meal was great, I learned that the alien race had taken on human forms so I wouldn't be startled by them. I also learned a lot about the history (and why I became king).
​
I was very skeptical about the whole thing, maybe she has the wrong person, maybe she has mistaken me for someone else, but in the end it is hard to resist everyone saying:
​
"Welcome back to your kingdom, master!"
​
That was the beginning of how I became the leader of an alien race. I cleared up things with Humanity back on earth (they probably just accepted it because we were WAY ahead of them). As it turns out we weren't the only two lifeforms either, we met other alien races and formed a lot of good alliances.
​
The universe had entered a new stage of existence.
​
\--------------------------------
Thanks for reading, hopefully you enjoyed. Feel free to leave any feedback if you'd like.
​
This is also like my 2nd or 3rd submission here, so if it isn't perfect, please help me improve. | 2018-12-05T18:06:46 | 2018-12-05T17:01:16 | 35 | 18 |
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again | Its been many years since I told Death no. My job was not complete. I needed to be there for him. Every year Death came back but i was still needed. I watched him grow you see. He was just a little boy when we first met and it was my job to take care him. Everyday we would watch the world turn. I was there when his girlfriend left him. I was the one in his car on his first drive alone. I was the one by his side when his mother died. Some called me unnatural for living too long. I've outlived many of my friends but they all needed their rest. But as I watched him lie there on the bed I knew it was my time to say yes. I walked up to my boy and lied down next to him. His last words were the ones I needed to hear before I left with Death. "You've been a good boy Max but I'm afraid this is goodbye." I watched Death come and get my boy. This wasn't going to be goodbye just yet. I looked at Death and nodded my head. Wagging my tail I ran after my boy into the light at the end of the tunnel. | [Poem]
Tim was a man who lived a simple life,
All he wished for was to be happy and light.
So when he took to the skies for the sky-high dive,
He forgot to pull, leaving him barely alive.
An old man in black approaching, robes tattered
Tim now knew notting mattered.
What he didn’t expect, grieving in woe,
He kept muttering out, a simple “No”.
Death stood, with his beard overgrown
Smiling said “Sure.” and left him alone.
Confused, hurt and bleeding,
Tim felt like sleeping.
.
.
.
Tim awoke, in a room of white
He felt dizzy and high as a kite.
The doctors exclamed “A miracle of technology, this was!”
But Tim knew, deep down, that probably wasn’t the only cause.
He continued his life, feeling alright
Finally finding the one to make his wife.
On the day of his wedding, death visited in navy
A sharp looking suit, looking all savvy
Blended in the crowd, he called out
And Tim went to meet him, his time left was surely too little to count.
But all it took was to ask him a question,
For Tim to decide his fate, and ease the tension.
Shocked, relieved, happy and hyped
This was truly the happiest day of his life.
.
.
.
Tim had kids to care for during the years,
But still had time to listen and hear.
Everytime he was asked,
He still answered the same, “I’ll pass.”
“I want to live and see the sights”
“And live with my family, away from heights”
Death nodded, and took his leave
But one year Tim stopped him, grabbing him by the sleeve.
“Why are you doing this?” He asked.
“It’s simple, really.” Death said, now wearing his mask.
“Your stupid death made some gods laugh, telling me to not kill you yet.”
“Wait what the fuck” Tim said, expecting his answer not to be met.
“I’m not kidding, but it’s a lot more complicated”
Tim was then left, his eyes filled with hatred.
With all of his might, he threw one finger to the skies
.
.
.
And then Timmy fucking died.
(No I’m not u/poem_for_your_sprog , but the chance to end it like this tempted me lol. If you guys want me to write another version, let me know.)
(Also sorry for the bad English) | 2019-04-16T10:21:31 | 2019-04-16T06:59:45 | 63 | 22 |
[WP] "In the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king." Untrue, as it turns out. When a mysterious energy wave swept the world and took away vision for humans, you were the only one left with an eye, the wealthy and powerful are hunting you down for your working eyeball. | There is a legend about a time when people could not just feel and hear, but also see.
Sight is a difficult sense to describe, but it's something like the ability to feel the silent whispers of everything around you. The whispers tell you how something will feel before you touch it, who someone is before they shout out their name, and how badly a body will smell before you get near enough to smell it.
Everyone knows the legend is true because we all still have eyes, they just don't work. The legend says that a curse spread across the entire planet and took sight away from all mankind, except for a single man who was left with the last working eye. The man with the sight.
That man was my father. He told me about how he tried to help his quaint little town and for awhile they were able to keep some remnant of their former lives going.
​
Then came the day that killed hope, when the second child was born. When the first child was born, people still had hope that there might still be a chance for the sight of the next generation to save everything, that things might go back to normal.
Since my father was the only one who could see, he was the only one who could easily determine if the children could as well. The baby's eyes were open but didn't follow any of his movements. When he told the parents, they were outraged and first accused him of lying, then accused him of stealing the baby's sight in order to maintain his own. Their accusations caused hysteria to run rampant across the entire town, and word of a selfish man with sight got to the city next door.
​
A week later, that city was burning. The heat of the flames were just a warm night breeze to the townspeople and my father was bitter about what he had been accused of, so he didn't bother to tell them otherwise.
Though that ended up not mattering as dawn had not broken when the first of the refugees came grasping at the street in the orange glow, yelling out stories of the horrors they had seen.
The small packs of cannibal arsonists who moved silently, looking for something to cook their latest catch on before it went bad or waiting for their next prey to walk by. They referred to themselves as "omnivores".
The smell of feces and garbage everywhere that made the sense almost useless.
The armored legion was gaining territory, controlled by the city's mayor who was already being called "The Emperor" by his troops.
The refugees told him that the armored legion was on their way to find the man who could still see. Some parts of the city were burned down entirely in order to clear out the cannibals quickly to ensure a more secure path.
My father was afraid, afraid for his life, afraid of what someone else might do if they had his power. So he ran. He mixed in with the bands of refugees and left his quaint little town behind. They wouldn't be able to catch him, so long as he traveled faster than word of his existence. From there he went from one crumbling society to the next, careful not to expose his power, yet still hoping to meet someone else who could see.
He never did.
​
One day he found a woman who had been left to die in a ditch outside of the walls of the town. She had been exiled for trying to steal food during the noisiest part of the day. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but beauty doesn't mean much to a town full of people who can't see. He nursed her back to health and they lived a happy life together.
When I was old enough, they taught me about how the sight worked.
"It must be given freely and out of love," Mother said.
"Just remember that you might not get it back." Father quipped.
Then they let me see for the first time. Everything talked to me at once and I couldn't stop crying. Everything had something to say and I could finally listen. With this power came great temptations, but I remembered my father's words and realized that they might be anxious about me running off with the sight. Not wanting them to worry, I gave it back soon afterwards.
​
After my mother died, my father didn't find much joy in having the sight. He pushed me to take it for longer and longer periods of time, until one day he didn't want it anymore.
"I want you to take it and go out there and do good things with it. You have the power to fix the problems wherever you go." He said.
We argued for days, but eventually I caved. I made sure every reserve tool was texture coded and that the medical supplies were full before setting out.
"Just promise me you won't share the sight with someone evil." He pleaded.
"We'll see." I said.
He laughed for the first time in a long time and waved goodbye.
"I'm waving goodbye too." I shouted.
He went back inside with a smile on his face. That was the last that I saw of the man of which the legends are told.
----
Edit: Fixed some formatting. | Hidden in the dense and quiet forest, the one eyed man awaits the blind. The pack of killers and beggars who've bestowed the title of 'The Hunt' have pursued him in the same manner as a team of wolves would stalk it's wounded prey. He is elusive and cunning. And when the moment is appropriate, violent.
The hunt have been re-inventing the methods in which they pursue there lonely target. As of late they have been belligerently scorching the immense woodland in hopes of smoking him out and taking the sight-seer. The morning is quiet and damp. The surrounding oak tree's seem to rocket upward into the empty sky. The ground is littered with dead leaves and broken branches, and in every direction the man can see, the forest envelops itself in a sort of camouflage. He holds in his gloved hand a pistol with five bullets. When they arrive, he knows that he must run. He can't die yet. Not until he finds her.
A flock of birds soar overhead in a sporadic fashion, flapping there wings with the sole purpose of escaping looming threat. A scream catches the attention of the cyclops. The first has fallen into his trap. He listens intently as the mob desperately attempts to organize themselves.
"Please help me! I can't move and it hurts!" An adolescent male squeals.
"What has happened boy?" The familiar tone of the leader asks.
"It's everywhere! Like knives. My legs are stuck on something and if i move it hurts!" The boy says in agonizing pain. He fallen several feet into a pit of crudely sharpened wooden barbs.
"I'm sorry child. There is nothing we can do for you. We have to move forward and find him."
"Don't leave me! Please don't leave me! I just need someone to help pull me out."
"We can't waste the time. He's close." The man says. He hold in his hand a metal rod utilized for feeling out the terrain ahead of him. He stands near the center of the hunt, several dozen other men and women surround him and await further instruction. "Forward." He says simply and apologetically. The mass moves north cautiously, feeling for the thick moistness of moss on the peeling trunks of the tree's they approach.
The one eyed man grips the cold steel receiver of his weapon and pushes in through the forest toward the hunt. In slow even steps, he carefully and deliberately places each foot down on the soft foundation of the earth, avoiding any means with which could alert the enemy of his proximity. Not until the time is right.
He squints his eye at the circular formation of the hunt, they quietly drop the ends of there rods and spears on the ground in front of them to communicate. 'Almost' He thinks to himself. He orients himself to a position to the left of them and steps on top of a thick branch. The snap echos through out the forest and causes the group to halt immediately. He takes aim with his pistol, targeting the closest threat and squeezes the metal trigger, allowing the chain reaction of the hammer driving into the primer to surprise him. The explosion of the gunpowder initiating leaves the rest of the group entirely motionless.
"Where is she?" The cyclops ask, his weapon aimed at the next target. Silence. Another gun shot deafens the ominous silence, followed by the heavy thud of a body crumbling to the dirt. "Where is she?!" He yells, this time not waiting before eliminating another one.
"She could be dead for all I know." The old man says, standing with his weight resting on the end of the metal rod he's holding. "Give me the eye and i'll tell you for sure. You can't kill all of us."
Another bullet enters the skull of one of them, this one only a child the cyclops thinks to himself. A single tear running down his withered cheek. "Just fucking tell me."
"Or what?" Will you kill me? The only one who knows where she is. She's getting big by the way. Almost two now. She said 'Dada' the other day. It was cute.
The final bullet enters the leg of the old man, dropping him to a knee. "You mother fucker." The old man says, he looks in the direction of the shooter, envisioning what his face looks like at this moment. The cyclops releases the slide of his weapon and pulls the trigger again. This time only a faint click can be heard. "He's out. Kill him!" one of the members screams, foolishly charging the man with one eye. The group rushing forward trip a thin line of rope holding the counter-weight of a 300 pound log, releasing the trap and sending it recklessly driving into the crowd killing all but two.
The cyclops approaches a woman lying in agony behind the old man. He reaches down and picks up a stone equal in size to his own fist. "Tell me where she is or I will fucking kill this woman!"
"Go ahead, she knows the score." The man says clutching the entry wound on his leg.
The cyclops lifts the rock above his head. He steps forward and places the weight of his body and the forward momentum of his swing into his leg and is about to drive down when out of the silence a heavy, raspy voice can be heard.
"Wait." The voice says slowly, "I know where she is. Help me and I can bring you to her."
"You fucking dumb bitch!" The old man growls, "You fucking arrogant lying cunt! She lying to you." The man says dropping to both knees. He slowly feels his way toward where he heard the last foot fall with his worn out hands. "She will fucking kill you and take that God damn eye with her as quickly as she'd let you fuck her!"
"Where is she?" The cyclops cuts of the man.
"Help me and i will tell you-"
"She's fucking lying. You lying bitch! She'll only kill you boy!"
"Quiet now." The cyclops says calmly, before striking the old man in the head. The wet crunch from his decrepit skull caving in carrying with it a serene silence.
"I won't hurt you." The woman lying on the ground grunted.
"I know. Help me." The cyclops said reaching out to help the woman stand.
"She is close. Move north." She said as she wrapped her arm around the broad shoulders of the man she has hunted for months. "And she misses you." | 2019-04-19T20:35:18 | 2019-04-19T19:59:37 | 140 | 19 |
[WP] When you were a child a strange little man gave you a beautiful gold and silver pocket watch with the image of a serpent eating its own tail etched into it, now nearly a century later as you lay on you death bed the same strange little man appears to take the watch back, whispering "Thank you". | “Ouroboras” He said.
“What do you mean?” I asked hoarsely. I could feel the life draining out of me. I wasn’t clinging to it anyway. I had lived a very succinct life. I had no regrets. Nobody does when you’ve lived for a 106 years.
“It’s quite simple, really.” His eyes were animated, and he looked excited.
“Explain quickly, please. I fear I do not have a lot of time left and I would like to spend my last moments in solitude.”
The little man readjusted the robe he was wearing around his waist and looked intently at me:
“I come from a special place in this world. It might amuse you but-“
“It won’t. When you’ve lived as long as I have, by the end nothing is amusing.” I smiled meekly and continued:
“However, you probably have something to say about that too, considering how you haven’t aged a day, unless I’m delusional and my eyesight is playing mad tricks on me.”
He grinned mischievously, ran his fingers across the gold and silver serpentine watch that I had just earlier given him.
“I am one of the Regulators. We are a secret organisation, and since time immemorial we’ve been giving these artefacts or as you call them “watches” to people who we deem fit according to the criteria mentioned in the Sacred Scrolls. The artefact gathers all your life essence throughout your life, and on the time of death, you’re given a choice.”
He paused, for suspense.
He had my attention.
“You’re given the choice to live again. To forget everything and everyone from this life, except the realisation that you’ve lived before and this is your second life. The realisation resides dormant in your mind till your early adolescence. For some, the realisation is crushing, while for others it’s motivating. The artefact merely powers the transition of soul from the dying body to the new born.”
“What if I refuse?”
“Then you get to live the entirety of your life again, in rewind, in the next few seconds.”
I somehow managed to grimace.
“What about the artefact? Who does it go to? Why did you give it to me?”
The little man shuffled. “The answer to those questions is not for you to know.” He looked at the watch.
“Your time is almost over. The serpent’s fangs are touching its tail.” His pupils dilated and he said, in an intimidating tone:
“Decide. What’s it going to be? Is the serpent going to rescind the way it came back, one last time? Or is it going to eat itself whole to begin anew?”
I closed my eyes, and sighed. I felt the last glimmer of life in me going out. But before I breathed my last, I managed to whisper:
“Another chance. Another chance...” | Arthur was tired. His time was near. He could feel it. He ran his finger over the watch in his pocket. He traced the snake from it's mouth to its tail. He sighed. He still wasn't sure what it meant. He felt cool wind on his face from the window as he thought back to the day. The strange man who had approached him when he was only about six years old. He thought back to his whole life. An ordinary life. That was the only thing that stood out to him.
He sat up straight. Wind? His window was closed. He looked at the open window and his eyes came to rest on the chair on his room.
"Hello Arthur."
"You?"
"I?"
"You are real. I always believed. People told me I was crazy."
"Maybe you are. Maybe we all are." The little man moved back on the chair to get more comfortable. "You have something for me?"
Arthur took out the watch. "What is this?"
"Ouroboros."
"Yeah, I know what the symbol is called. But what is it. I've had the watch for over a 100 years, but it has never told me the time. At least, never the correct one."
"It always told the right time. It's just in the wrong dimension."
"The wrong dimension?"
"Would you prefer the word Universe?"
"As in multiverses."
"Sure."
"That's just a theory."
"And yet here I am. I'm certainly not of this world."
"You... I... Am I dreaming?"
"No, you're not. This is real. I am real. The artifact is most certainly real. In fact, it's probably more real than any of us."
"The artifact?"
"The watch. It allows us to travel through the multiverse. And it binds us together."
"Together?"
"Let me tell you about my world. A world torn by war. The tyrant who rules with a literal iron fist. Magic is abundant. And prophecies. All your little fantasy stories basically take inspiration from our world."
"That sounds like bullshit."
He shrugged. "You don't have to believe it. Yet. Soon enough you will see it with your own eyes."
"What do you mean?"
He ignored the question. "This watch belonged to my friend. The prophecies anointed him as the chosen one. I was the faithful companion. And we came close. We did. But the tyrant was too much for us."
"Who is this tyrant?"
"A human."
"Like an actual human? Like me?"
"Yes. We don't know where he came from. But he did. And he was able to utilize the magic in our land better than any one of us could. He is stronger than us and took over our world. I realized that to have any chance to beat him, we would need to know him. As I held the dying chosen one in my arms, I knew then that we would need some outside help to beat him. Someone as powerful as him."
"Wait. Do you mean..."
"You, Arthur Dent. I need you to come with me. And save us."
"Me? I am weak. I'm on my deathbed."
He walked over to Arthur and used the steps to hop onto the hospital bed. He took the watch from Arthur and ran his hand over the snake as Arthur had done a while back.
"Ouroboros. This means infinity. This means wholeness. When I gave you the watch, it split you. A part of you is not completely human. It enabled you to live longer than most of your peers. But now, as your human part is getting closer to dying, the part of you that belongs in my world is getting closer to being. The circle of life."
"I don't understand any of this."
"You're no about to die Arthur. You're about to be born. You are the chosen one. The one to lead the revolution. Come Arthur Dent, fulfill your destiny."
A surge of adrenaline coursed through Arthur's body and a smile appeared in spite of himself. The ECG flatlined and the watch disappeared from his body. | 2019-05-30T08:43:49 | 2019-05-30T08:25:51 | 70 | 20 |
[WP] Turns out, most alien species actually evolved in the vacuum of space. Their bodies are unable to deal with even the weakest of gravitational fields and the presence of an atmosphere, hence they concluded life couldn't exist on planetary bodies...until they discovered humans. | ##The case for carbon-based life forms existing in a highly gravitational body
*Huygs, Silon*
ABSTRACT: In this paper, I propose the idea that carbon-based life forms can theoretically exist on a highly gravitational body given sufficient conditions. Primarily, they would require to be on a body containing a high quantity of liquid H2O, existing in a specific region of a star relative to both the radiation output of such a star, as well as the radius of the given body. Additionally, there would necessarily need to be a strong electromagnetic field, as well as a moderate gravitational field. I conclude by giving research guidelines for a probable direction of locating such life.
--
##The improbability of life in gravitational fields: A rebuttal to Huygs
*Flaresc, Alo*
ABSTRACT: I demonstrate the improbability of the hypothesis brought forth by Dr. Silon Huygs detailing the idea of carbon-based life within a highly intense gravitational field. In this article, I detail how the proposed necessary fields would prove too strong for any organism to reasonably bare and sustain an extended life, let alone to reproduce. I conclude by commending his research attempts, but suggesting we stick to scientific pursuits grounded in evidence and not idle speculation.
--
##Life IS possible on planetary bodys: A rejoinder to Flaresc
*Huygs, Silon*
ABSTRACT: While I commend Floresc for his mathematical and biological knowledge in his critique of my initial paper, I dispute the claims made and offer up exciting evidence of a planet to give proper case study to. I discuss the fourth planet of a star located in a remote section of our galaxy, one that demonstrates the necessary conditions I gave initially, alongside showcasing small bits of evidence of intelligent life from it. I conclude by briefly showing the inadequacy of Floresc's models, and suggest the need for a scientific approach with an open mind.
--
##UOPs, Conspiracies, and Bad Data: A final response to Huygs.
*Flaresc, Alo*
ABSTRACT: The response to my initial rebuttal given by my colleague is baffling, for not only how it can get published in a scholarly journal, but how it can be seen as scientific. Rather than give solid scientific evidence, Huygs prefers to rely on eyewitness sightings of Unidentified Objects of Propulsion circulating a remote and rather unremarkable planet. While he makes a convincing case for it containing life given its atmospheres likely chemical composition were his hypothesis true, he has not yet developed a convincing case for life existing on a planetary body with his models. As such, this shall be my final response as I advise the editors of this journal to reconsider publishing such pseudoscience.
--
##Evidence of Earth: Proof of life on planetary bodies, and a final response to Flaresc.
*Huygs, Silon*
ABSTRACT: In his remarkably rude response to my rebuttal, Alo Flaresc has shown his willingness to ignore data with my carefully calculated response. As such, I cannot imagine his eyes will be open to bare witness to my laboratory's recent efforts in successfully recovering a spacecraft likely originating from this planet, according to models detailed within the paper. This spacecraft contains recordings from the dominant species on the planet, as well as rudimentary demonstrations of a developing knowledge in physics and mathematics, in addition to photographs produced within the paper.
This discovery, I hope, can be said to provide adequate proof that life *can* and *does* exist on the planetary body these "human," as they call themselves, lifeforms call "Earth." In addition to changing how we conceptualize models for the existence of life, I hope we can help to inspire more open minding thinking in science, as opposed to the viewpoints espoused by my colleague.
Edit: Obligatory thanks for the gold, kind stranger! | "A squall is blowing in" The sailor said, as he watched the sky. Windstruck was a cold, blustery planet and the millions of tiny ice particles on the ground spun and wove themselves in intricate cloudless swirls almost like dust in a desert. The sailor pulled up the Frio-Fibrus coat and put his head down, hoping to block some of the speeding howling biting crystals. Still, Windstruck had oxygen, a hard commodity, and each freezing cold breath the sailor took reminded him to be grateful. "God damn" The sailor said under his breath.
"Fito, come inside" His captain said, the warm beckoning of the cabin behind him filling his voice with comfort. "You are no good to us dead.
Fito turned around and shook his head. "I'm watching for the Squall" Fito turned back around and stared at the blank star filled sky. "It should come any day now and we will be free of this rock"
The captian shook his head and walked out to where Fito was standing, the odd snow/hail of this world crackling beneath his feet. "You can't honestly be looking for that?" The captian asked, pulling his coat up and looking into the sky.
"And why not?" Fito said, another sweeping billow of ice stinging his eyes. "The sensors indicated that throughout the Tiam Quadrant there would be black hole moving through 38 systems" Fito pulled out a terminal from his pocket and began fingering through the floating diagrams. "Scans from the League indicate that it will be heading this way, not affecting the planet, but creating a huge swath of destruction for the Nulls in it's wake" Fitto looked at the captian, his eyes filled with sadness. "Chrim might not be one of them, but when this damn war ends with massive losses on both sides, some null will come back to us and carry us away" Fitto put the terminal back and stared at the sky. "The ensuing Squall will be tumultuous, but from here it will probably be pretty"
The captian had heard the argument before, precisely five hours ago when he asked Fito to come back in at first. "Listen, I understand you are angry, you and Chrim had a bond, I know that, and they stranded our ship here on a barely colonized world with nothing, but you can't let that kill you. You have to-"
"Have you ever seen a null die?" Fito said, staring into the sky still "Gravity for them is like radiation for us. They live between electro-weak nuclear forces, and can bend rules of light to give us the stars. So what would a null look like when it died? Thousands of randomly associating muons and gluons suddenly being ripped apart by the immense gravitational squall" Fito looked over, the sadness turning into crazed dillirum "It will be the most colorful thing you'll ever have seen" He leaned his, his smile portraying a twisted sense of pleasure. "I have seen it, Null's ripped apart and it is the most devastatingly beautiful thing anyone has ever seen"
"Fito, your scaring me" The captian said, his hand in the howling wind reaching for the Shutdown injector.
"I wasn't supposed to scare you" Fito said backing up "I was trying to scare Chrim" Fito looked up toward the sky again. "Chrim still watches, they are out there currently throwing transdimensional punches and they are listening through your ears" Fito sighed "They told me before they left that they didn't think it would be that bad. They have no idea"
A moment of whistling silence murmured through the plane. "I know" Captian said, his voice quavering a bit. Fito nodded, Chrim was a friend to them all, the best Null pilot that they ever had, and now they where going to die in a beautiful explosion of pain and destruction. In the end the silence told both of them, they knew nothing of Chrim's world, all the studies, the Leagues scans, all of it meant nothing to why Chrim wanted to fight in this seemingly senseless war. The captain thought for a moment that the nulls probably think the same of them. "We will all miss chrim if he dies, but if he doesn't then you won't do much good to him if your dead as well" The captain put a reassuring arm on Fito's shoulder "Come inside, wait it out, he might live"
"They" Fito said, sighing, the vapors of his breath disipating in the now calm breeze. "Null's prefer to not use gender pronouns" Fito took a deep breath of stinging air and turned toward the cabin, not saying anything more as he walked back.
The captain looked into the sky, scratched the crusty frozen tear on his face and simply whispered into the infinite ears of the Nulls "Please come back Chrim" Before he turned around and walked back to that dismal warm cabin. | 2019-06-22T10:53:08 | 2019-06-22T07:13:06 | 82 | 55 |
[WP] Humans are the only species in the universe with pets. As humanity enters the ranks of the Galactic Empire humanity soon is known as "The Beastmasters", taming even the worst nightmares of alien bedtime stories. | Alujin of the Baonjooli Gramia, trekked along the great dunes of the Kalian desert, a long way from his grassy home on the shimmering Baonjool river. The ocean of sand, red as the poisonous Rem valley orchids, finally, after another full day's travel, turned to high pillars of stone. Past these rocks, laid his destination: The home of the Beastmaster. Alujin had heard tales of the Beastmasters as a larva, this ancient, rare race of creature tamers from a far off star. This Beastmaster, the Beastmaster of the Yellow Sands, was said to be the only one in the entire spiral arm.
Not that that meant much to Alujin. His three hoof-like feet had never left the soil of the world, and tales of the stars were only the legends of the Hueyen culture of the Gramia, of which his grandpatron was a part of. Ze had filled his head with stories of aliens and starships. He never really expected to meet an alien - let alone be tasked with this great quest.
He passed the rocky cliffs, and, almost instantly, was struck by the somber and sudden shift of stone to the flatness of the Yellow sands. The two amber suns began setting over the flat horizon, tinging the orangish sky with purple.
Alujin stepped tenderly, hesitantly, onto the sand, as if he expected it to give way underneath him, as if an illusion. But, his foot felt hard packed sand. He made another few steps out onto the plateau. He looked around, and saw, in the distance, a white tent, a thin spiral of grey smoke billowing from the top. Was that it? His destination?
Before he could shimmer with joy, he heard a growl from behind him. His head swiveled around. There, upon a pillar was a creature of purple armor platings, and a tangled mass of yellow tentacles. It was at least the size of four Gramia adults. It created a strange, crying, whining noise, like a larvae in pain, but with the emotion of vengeful attacker. IT suddenly leapt into the air, towards Alujin. It's narrow head opened its mouth, revealing an array of silver, bladelike teeth, and two thin rasping tongues, spinning them around like a marateni spinner. Alujin howled in terror, before he heard a gruff voice -
"Heel."
The Creature stopped in its tracks, skidding to a halt, a puff of yellow sand clouding up behind it. Alujins eyes were sealed shut. He opened just one, the smallest one, to peek at the creature. It had stopped, peering at him with 8 geometric eyes.
"Benny means you no harm," said the gruff voice. Alujin teedered around.
There they stood. The Beastmaster. Taller, than he expected, Alujin didn't even come up to their neck. They had two arms, like Alujin, except higher up, of course, and stood on only two legs, covered in a dense blue material. It wore a cloak around itself, its hood covered the top of its head, something Alujin could not do, given his ear stocks. It's mouth was covered in a tangle of... well, he wasn't sure what it was. Grass?
"H..hello," Alujin said, and was met by silence. "You are the Beastmaster, yes?" The Beastmaster did something with iits head, shaking it up and down, before it corrected itself.
"Yes," they said, stepping past Alujin to touch.... Benny, on the head. It seemed to... like it.
"I've been sent by my Grandpatron, elder Uri of the Baonjool. We have... a beast problem," Alujin said nervously. his vivid memory started to pour into him, the memory of that horrid creature, the way it moved, attacked...
"Mmh."
"It's horrible... It has blades for fingers... and everywhere it goes it spreads this horrid... Pollen! It makes the villagers swell with pus! It moves with total silence!"
"And this beast... What is it called?" The Beast master pulled out piece of meat, that the creature gobbled up.
"It's..." He clenched his eyes, and darkened in terror.
"Out with it, lad."
"They call it... a Cat." | "Serrated Grotnids, of Phantel IV, are a most fearsome of creature. Phantellians have cowered at the mere thought of such a beast for generations - the very word for scared in Phantellian translates roughly to "they who hears the Grotnid".
It's not hard to see why; the Serrated Grotnid gets its name not from any fearsome tooth or claw, but from rows of razor sharp bones protruding from the beast's back. Couple this with a top speed of almost 25mph and a propensity to run face first at adversity, and you've got yourself a hell-spawned nightmare. This goes double if, like the Phantellians, you are five foot wide and composed of a membrane approximately the thickness of cheap hotel toilet paper.
Fortunately all beasts have one thing in common - they have a weakness.
Stories of heroes that could find the Grotnids weaknesses had always existed on Phantel IV, they'd just never quite got the details right. That’s where I, the General, greatest of all Earth’s Beastmasters stepped in!”
The General’s gesticulation grew wilder as he whipped himself into a frenzy of self-gratification. He was a pompous man, broad and weather-worn, but he carried himself with an air that would make even your saintly grandmother mutter “what a prick” as he walked by.
He was talking to, or more accurately at, a couple of particularly good looking Augtwilians with curves in all the right places. This is of course if you consider the right places to be approximately 1 foot, 4 foot and 12 foot off the ground as the Augtwillians did.
“It was upon hearing these great and ancient tales that I had a stroke of what can only be described as divine wisdom.
There was a common theme in all of them – in every story the thing that scared the beast was something spherical! I know, it was sheer brilliance on my part!
Given their particular dimensions, the Phantellians don’t hold much stock with balls. I on the other hand, came equipped with plenty.
So there I am, staring down with a Serrated Grotnid with three suns blazing overhead.
I bring out my first weapon – a particularly round phantelberry on a stick, just like in the stories of old.
It Charges! Fortunately for me, while the Phantels cannot jump very high I cleared the Grotnid with aplomb, sailed clean over it!
Attempt two – bowling ball. I waited for the Grotnid to line up for a second pass, and as that first dust cloud rose I slung that ball over the mesa with all my might. Nothing that pathetic was going to stop a charging Grotnid though. It lowered its plated head and ran straight through the ball – one almighty crack and it was little more than dust.
This time by the time I jumped it was almost too late. I dived over it and as I did the dorsal spine came up to greet me. One long slice, right down my chest! Ahh, 'twas but a scratch though, so I turned to my final weapon – the wildcard!”
Had the Augtwillians had any concept of Human culture the next sentence might have shocked them, but rather they continued to stare blankly in spite of the General’s unwavering enthusiasm.
“It was, what we call on Earth – a space-hopper.
Now I know what you’re thinking but no, despite its name it is in fact a terrestrial vehicle, a pneumatic device to harness gravitational potential and propel the pilot skywards!
So there I am atop my noble steed and the Grotnid lumbers to face me for round three.
Like two fearsome duellists at noon we face off.
It charges.
So do I.”
By now the General’s re-enactment graduated from wild gesticulation to full-blown choreography.
He bounced a phantom space-hopper towards his companions, only to stop dead in his tracks an inch from a heavily armoured Augtwillian elbow.
“At the last second the foul creature dug in and stopped on the spot, just froze solid!
I had it now.
I bounced a few more times to assert dominance,”
He did,
“And lo and behold – the Grotnid rolled over, raked its spines through the dirt and submitted to me!
Yet again man trumps beast – there is no creature too vile, no brute too terrifying that I, the mighty General of the great Earth Beastmasters cannot tame it!”
With this he took a bow, bid his stunned consorts adieu with a cheery, “Terribly sorry I can’t stay for another but a Beastmaster’s job is never done!”, and sauntered away.
The Augtwillians turned to one another once he was out of ear-shot and shared a moment of bemusement before one opened its mandibles and clicked:
"What a £̴̧̗͙͚̞̝͚͖̘͎̫͙̀͡ŕ̹͎̻̟̝̀͢͡ͅl̴̡͈̮͈͖͔͖̣̼͓̩̝͈̖͓̠̣̕ͅk̸̨̗͚͓̭̩͓̘̹̦̼̼̬̬̬̖̞͚̪̼͟ķ̴̧͓̭͉̼̲̺̖̗̳̙̪̟̭̕ͅͅ" | 2020-01-04T17:07:40 | 2020-01-04T16:36:31 | 225 | 41 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth has exactly 50 years to live before naturally dying of old age. This amount of time can be extended by doing dangerous life threatening acts. Each time you nearly die you gain 5 years. You are 146 years old and need to perform your next act before your time expires. | You know it's a good one when they're stopping runs every 10 minutes to remove the body parts they'd missed.
It's been a fact of life for as long as history has been documented that humans can extend their lifespans by nearly dying. The major world religions are all based around the concept that their god was responsible for it. It's credited as the basis for the Jesus myth - almost dying on the cross and recovering in 5 days is accepted in theological circles as an early metaphor for Breaking.
The rules as we have grown to understand them are simple: Nearly die, gain 5 years of life. Technically, it's under by 62 days, but we humans love to fudge the numbers.
I've made it to 146 years old. I get interviewed by joirnalists from time to time, mainly because they want to get their name on the final interview with the oldest man to ever live.
The average human will live to be about 80 years old. My closest peers tend to die out around 125 years. There was a cancer survivor who made it to 135 due to a flurry of very dicey days during his treatment. The vast majority of people need to engage in a high risk activity at least once every 5 years to extend their lives. When 'high risk' equates to a less than five percent chance of survival, your luck tends to run out pretty quickly.
Today, I'm looking at the latest Zeitgeist. Once the Breaking was fairly well understood, governments started building these obstacle courses in every major city. Citizens could then book a run, say goodbye to their loved ones, and try to win an extra five years of breathing.
The Zeit was 5 obstacles in a row. Each individual section had multiple ways to die. Axes, woodchippers, underwater sections, this one was a little more elaborate than the average Zeit. Make it through all that and you were guaranteed to feel your limit Break. I watched them remove an arm from the pit below the pneumatic press and contemplated my situation.
About 6 months were left on my limit. I needed to experience a very close shave to Break it again.
The problem was that I'd just completed the damned thing and my limit didn't change.
I've gotten too freaking good at surviving.
I sat down in the Broken section, screened off from the crowds, and pondered my situation.
For the average runner, a Zeit has a 1% survival rate. They make it to the end, boom, they hear their limit Break.
My odds seem to have shifted during my 96 years of training and running these courses. Enough so that my limit didn't see it as near death. My limit must have thought this was just another Tuesday.
It felt good to have completed the run, though. My muscles were aching, I was tired beyond belief, and I did not react fast enough when my chair broke.
I toppled backwards, landing heavily on my back, and felt my limit Break. I lay still, looking at the dreary sky, listening to the next runner getting minced or barbecued or something. I slowly turned my head to the left. Very pointy spike of metal sticking into the air. Turned to the right. A live blasting cap right infront of my eye. I'd fallen backwards onto the spare parts pile for the Zeitgeist, an assortment of the deadliest unused devices the engineers could think of. And I survived! | “Hey,hey, grandma!” A boy with shaggy brown hair sat down next to our protagonist, pining her with an eager look. “C’mon, tell me! What’s your next trick gonna be?”
Unfortunately, Danniela Brown’s family and friends seemed to think that she was some sort of Houdini who could pull off any kind of stunt without so much as twitching. This may be due to the fact that her only remaining family were all rather young, seeing as even her own children had already passed away. Danni, meanwhile, had continued to live day after day, wondering about just how many of her kin she would outlast. It was sadder than most people seemed to think. How she’d gotten into her predicament, Danny had no idea.
Actually, as a younger human, Danni had been certain she was going to die the first few times she’d forcefully exposed herself to near-death situations, but had gotten out alive thanks to sheer dumb luck. After the sixth time this had happened, she’d gradually gained fame, until people had started to jokingly call her “the Girl Who Lived”. Danni did not appreciate the comparison with certain literary heroes, but she could admit that both her and Harry Potter had sheer dumb luck as a common denominator. Unfortunately, after becoming famous, with the eyes of the world trained on her, dying had become harder. Scientists had become invested in her survival and usually made sure that Danni didn’t pass away those few times that she actually nearly had. Danni wasn’t sure whether to appreciate their efforts or hate them for making her into their little lab experiment. Next came the stalkers and the people set on killing her to prove that they were special. With so many crooks and scumbags trying to see if they lucked out, Danni usually found herself in mortal peril more than once every five years. It was maddening, especially because the media treated her life like a TV show.
However, now she was almost a hundred and fifty, had moved far away into the lost regions of rural Appalachia, where no one would look for her. Distance from everything had worked, as no one had tried to maim her in the past five years.
And now Danni stood before a choice: should she try her luck again at surviving – because that was what it was, what she did – or should she simply settle for going to sleep one day and continuing to for all of eternity? She knew her grandchildren would be devastated. But she couldn’t help the cynical voice in her mind that wondered whether they’d miss their grandmother or the celebrity.
“So, granny? What’s your new trick gonna be?” She tuned back in to find her grandson shaking her gleefully.
“What do you want it to be?” asked Danni.
“Hm. Oh, I know! Slay a boa constrictor!”
“I am not going to give people more reasons to compare me with Harry Potter.”
“Then jump from a helicopter into a tank full of sharks!”
Danni sighed, poking him. “I’ll think about it, Max.”
Annoyed, Max wrestled the TV remote from her grip and turned to watch his favourite cartoon. Danni busied herself with existential questions.
It was then that it suddenly happened: a strange noise shook Danni out of her reverie, and she looked up to find Max’s cartoon replaced by a very serious-looking man in a suit.
“I am the representative of the national security commission. This life video is being broadcasted to all stations – the matter that I will discus one of maximum security. A new race has been discovered to have infiltrated our planet. As of yet we do not know what they are, but we know one thing. They have the ability to take over a human body. There are no tells but for one: they do not need to get close to death every five years, and they lack the ability to properly express emotions.”
“That’s two tells!” Max yelled out, but Danni shushed him.
“We call them… parasites,” the man in the suit continued. “If you suspect someone to be a parasite – do not confront them, I repeat, do not confront them. Call the following number Xx-xxxxxx, and we will look into it. And, one last thing. Humans over a hundred are especially coveted by the parasites. Should you see someone who meets this requirements, also inform us immediately. That is all. Thank you for your attention.”
There was just one problem, only one human was currently over a hundred, and that was Danni herself.
“Shit,” she cursed.
“Grandma?”
“They’ll be coming.” | 2020-03-15T03:43:13 | 2020-03-15T02:58:02 | 377 | 58 |
[WP] It turns out your pet rock is actually a golem and a golems duty is to protect. | “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” James screamed.
“He’s my pet rock, please don’t yell it’s very rude.” Sara said.
James peered at it confused “But what is it, some kind of robot or something?”
“No,” Sara replied “he’s a rock.”
“I get that it looks like a rock but how is it moving, is it some kind of machine-like wind up then?”
“No, I told you he’s made of rock. And please stop calling him it, that’s kind of offensive, how would you like to be called a thing?” Sara told him looking slightly offended.
James crouched slightly to examine it closer “So you’re trying to tell me that this, he is completely made of rock, no microchips, no gears, not even a spring?”
“Yeah.”
“So how is … he moving?”
“I don’t know”
“YOU DON’T KNOW?” James straightened stumbling.
“No, and please stop yelling I don’t want to disturb Ms. Johnson next door she gets very cross is she doesn’t get enough sleep.”
“So that, he, whatever. You’re telling me you have no idea what makes him move?”
“Of course I do. He uses his legs” Sara sniffed disdainfully
“That’s not what I meant. Rocks aren’t supposed to move.”
“Why not? People move.”
“Yes but that’s different, people aren’t made of…” James flailed, “I don’t know like rocks and stuff. You know inorganic things. We have a brain and neurons, muscles and bones and stuff.”
“What about cars they move?” Sara eyed him smugly.
“Yes but we made them and steer them and stuff.” James sighed “You’re really not seeing my point are you?”
“Not really I figure if a rock wants to move I shouldn't tell it it’s not allowed to”
“OK so I have to ask, where did you find him?”
“He was in the garden fighting a rat, apparently rocks are very territorial. He looked so cute and tired I decided to bring him in to rest and he just kind of stuck around”
“This is absolutely insane, I must be crazy. So tell me, why is he kicking me?”
“It probably sees you as a threat, as I said they can be very territorial.”
“Well can you tell him to stop?”
Sara looked at him like he was crazy “How he’s a rock?” | "Dude," the head honcho of the group glanced in Abe's direction, "can you just go away?"
"Hey, guys... I just wanna come and show off my pet, just like you guys!" I said, much like a 70s salesman on TV.
The group looked at each other briefly before breaking into a laugh. It was bad enough that they laughed, the tone and intensity of it was clearly a mockery directed towards me. I held the amber that was my anger tight within my heart.
Then, I continued my pitch.
"I love your dog! It's cute. Is it a chihuahua?"
"Yeah, so?"
"... and is that a cute little wiener dog? Awww it looks awesome!" I said with a fake laugh.
"Dude, just... This is a club for *dog owners*. Can't you–"
"Right! I also have my dog with me right now!"
"Is it a fucking imaginary dog? Goddamnit, let's go guys–"
"No! I'm serious, here look!"
I pulled the leash I've been holding on my back. At first, the group's reaction was to back away. But the moment they saw what was *actually* on the other end of the leash – a beautifully shining jet-black rock – they began to laugh again. Still in that stupid mocking tone, mind you!
"Dude, I think you need to take your medication!"
"Yeah, did you forgot to take one this morning?"
"Damn man, just leave already. You've embarrassed yourself enough..."
They shooed me away, even the head honcho started to shove me physically. Even as I tried to stand my ground, one of the guys reached down to my "dog".
"N-No! What are you doing?!" I yelled, yanking my pet rock away from the mischievous fella.
"You said it's a dog, lemme play with em!"
"Yeah, we'll let you play with us if you give that stupid thing first!"
As I was about to break into tears, a loud *thump* shook the ground around us.
The dogs that were calm and collected a minute ago, began to bark furiously. The little chihuahua even managed to break away from the group, sensing something dangerous was afoot. The cheeky bunch seemingly startled, stood where they were whilst shaking ever so gently.
I wanted to yell "who's the little bitch now!" to them, but at the same time I rue the fact that it had to come to this. In all honesty, it's be better if they simply left me without messing about.
"Who... dares... disturb... master!?!" a deep monotonous voice yelled.
"Wh-What the fuck– Who was that?" the head honcho yelped.
"It's my 'dog' you've been trying to mess with."
At that, they immediately shifted their gaze towards the stunning rock on the end of my leash. It began to move like a transformer – a stubby head popped out on top, a pair of "muscular" boulder arms on the side, and a couple of short legs on the bottom.
"I... Protect... Master!"
The transformed rock began to pounce at the group of people indiscriminately. I took a step back and heaved a sigh, not out of relief but out of frustration.
This was the sixth group of people I came running into. No doubt, I was simply trying to make friends. But of course one could not make friends with such a 'pet', even though I've truly made the rock my pet since I was a teeny tiny boy.
"I guess I should look for *actual* pet rock enthusiasts, next time huh?" | 2020-05-20T09:27:09 | 2020-05-20T07:54:43 | 38 | 19 |
[WP] An eldritch horror considers you their best friend. By virtue of you being able to perceive their true form and not going insane. One day they ask how you became so jaded, that not even indescribable cosmic horror phases you. | We had been... friends was a strong word, from my point of view, but I certainly was it's best friend (as apparently everyone else who had gazed upon it in the past was dead) for about six months.
I assumed it could only appear to a single soul at a time, and as I hadn't melted into a screaming, mad pile of goo yet, it couldn't move on to another.
So there we were. Average human and... that. Stuck with each other. We couldn't quite talk in the normal sense, but after a while, we had come up with a way to understand and be understood by each other. Little pushes and pulls of emotion, certain tilts of its... head? I honestly dont even know if you could call it a head, but that was the bit that seemed to contain whatever sensory equivalent to eyes that it had. I even managed to teach it a bit of rudimentary sign language using its... appendages.
Honestly I could give it's body parts names like tentacles or claws or teeth, but none of it quite seemed real or even entirely there most of the time, and it just gave me the *idea* of a tentacle rather than actually *appearing* to be one. It defied any ability to describe what it actually looked like.
It didn't tend to follow me when I left the house, but was always lingering near the door to start drifting in what I assume was usually a quite horrifying manner behind me whenever I got home.
As our ability to communicate grew more complex, it eventually managed to pose a question that confused me at first. Not because it was difficult to reply, but because I couldn't understand how it didn't already know the answer.
*Why hadn't I been driven mad by it? Why was I able to remain undisturbed by its presence?*
"Why? Dude, haven't you looked at the calendar?"
It gave a confused wriggle of what I assumed were limbs currently in another dimension.
"It's 2020, bro. You're the least disturbing thing in my life right now. You want some coffee?" | The coffee was cold and stale. Cigarette smoke hung in the air, and the tables were filled with people. Books covered the tables, and cigarette burns, ashes and half empty coffee cups were everywhere.
It was 15 minutes before close before it settled in. Don't know if it came in through the doors or the window. But it settled into a chair next to me. After a brief shudder, I poured it a cup of coffee.
I grabbed the book in front of me, opened it to a page and handed it over. I whispered, this is the topic. Is this your first meeting?
With a nod, the newcomer looked at me. I shook my head, pointed at the book, and said, "Read this first."
The meeting ended, and the newest member joined for the Gratitude Statement. I grabbed their tentacle and sat back down. "You sit here, and wait for everyone to leave. We are going to have a talk." I hugged some good friends as they left, letting them know I would lock up.
I poured another cup of coffee and the horror thanked me. I asked why they were here, of all places.
I laughed, and laughed loudly at the answer. Okay, okay, I get it. They wanted to take us down.
"You know you are just another addict right, no different than the rest of us. You've probably killed, stolen and destroyed everyone you could right?"
At the being's nod, I replied... "So did I. You are in the right place." I bought a set of literature from the bookstore, and handed them over. "These are yours to keep. someone did this for me at my first meeting. Here is a schedule, get to the next meeting on time. Here is my phone number, you need to call me every day, no matter what.
I will sponsor you, but you don't know what a sponsor is yet, don't worry you will learn."
The question, when it came wasn't a shock. The horror in front of me asked, "Why are you being so kind to me? I came here to feed on your fears, and yet you are being kind. I could destroy you."
I laughed again, "Dude, here you are just another addict coming to a meeting to get a fix on their problem. Your pain is our pain, your actions are our actions. I can see who and what you are. Don't worry, I've faced worse. I'm being kind, to pay back the person who carried the message to me."
"But..." the horror started backing out of the chair.
"Just stop. Read these books. You won't get a rise out of me. Want another cup of coffee?"
"Why don't I scare you?"
I smiled. "I was raised by a narcissist Irish Catholic Step-mother. Not much you can do to top that."
I hugged them and started cleaning up the tables, and the horror left. I sat down after the work was done, lit a cigarette and called my sponsor.
"Hey gorgeous, another newcomer tonight, how are you? She laughed and said, "another one of your step mother's relatives walked in didn't they?"
"Yep, heading home. Will check in tomorrow after the meeting. Love ya madly."
I shut the lights off, locked the door and headed home. | 2020-10-27T09:09:33 | 2020-10-27T08:37:07 | 38 | 16 |
[WP] You are a professional Hitman who is happily married to your wife. You have always stayed anonymous and not even your own wife knows about your profession. That all changed when you got a new target. Yourself. Ordered by your 'loving' wife.
[deleted] | They called in L’Ange de la Mort for the toughest jobs. No one knew where he came from, how he’d picked up the moniker of ‘The Angel of Death’, or why he did what he did -- they only knew that he was the best.
Or, at least, that’s what the cover letter for his most recent job told him. L’Ange stared at the screen in front of him, considering. This was more… personal than his usual kind of job. He’d made a name for himself in Mob hits, taking out ten men at a time with no back-up in one notable incident.
This woman wanted him to take out her husband. *Normally* he wouldn’t take a second look at this kind of thing. *Normally* he would roll his eyes and mutter something about crazy, paranoid women, and take a moment to appreciate the fact that his Anna wasn’t like that.
But *normally* his Anna wasn’t the one asking him to assassinate himself.
He’d almost forgotten that he was on his work email when he’d seen the message from her, and had opened it without a second thought, only to be presented with the cold, clinical format of a hit contract for Robert Gervais.
That was him.
Anna didn’t know that, of course. He’d been extremely careful to keep his work and home life separate. Robert Gervais worked in a small art gallery in Manhattan, managing the sale and purchase of rare paintings and sculptures. He loved his wife and his work and was a rising star in the art world. L’Ange was a ghost, impossible to pin down. He was in New York one week, New Orleans the next, and Paris the week after. Who knew where he laid his head at night? He was only spoken of in whispers in the dark.
His first thought was that she had somehow found out he was L’Ange and she was out for revenge for never telling her who he really was. Her family had Mob connections, he knew. He’d met her while on a job in Chicago and though she was out of the life and trying to do her best away from the influence of her family (or *Family*, rather), he knew she could easily call in some favors.
His second thought was that he couldn’t reasonably turn down this job. Not with how much money she was offering. He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased that she considered him worth paying a hitman five million dollars, or hurt that she was calling a hit on him in the first place.
He was leaning toward hurt at the moment.
So. He had to take the job, it would be highly suspicious if he didn’t. Not to mention if he didn’t take it, someone else surely would, and it was better to have the contract so he didn’t have to be more paranoid than usual.
But *why*? He was definitely more than hurt. Betrayed? Was that the feeling? Anna was the one part of his life that was untouched by his job. They had a nice apartment uptown and three and a half cats and he made her dinner when he was home in the evenings and she told him about the kids she taught and he’d thought they were happy.
*Why?*
A week later and he was still no closer to an answer. Anna acted no different around him, and he couldn’t very well confront her about hiring a hitman to kill him.
*So, love, why’d you go and hire someone to murder me in cold blood?*
*How’d you find out about that?*
*Well, my darling wife of three years, I happen to be that someone, so that backfired a little, didn’t it?*
That would go over well.
And his other lines of inquiry had gone nowhere, either. Her family knew nothing about it, although one of her cousins had mentioned she had been asking after L’Ange for a couple weeks before he’d received the hit. That gave him a time frame but jack squat about her motives.
There was nothing for it. He’d have to arrange a meeting with her under the guise of arranging some minor detail and confront her about it. He’d go unarmed; no need to escalate the situation further than needed. And despite the hurt, he couldn’t harm his wife. He couldn’t.
They met at a little corner coffee shop near Central Park. He let her get there first, and noted with interest that she took the corner seat, her back to a wall, with a vantage point that let her observe most of the cafe. Part of him approved. The other part of him wondered how 'distant' from her family Anna really was.
He sauntered in two minutes late and watched out of the corner of her eye as she stiffened and then ducked to hide her face. She was supposed to be working. Of course she wouldn’t want him to see her.
He ordered his coffee, carefully not looking in her direction, and then sat right down at her little corner table.
“Sorry I was late,” he told her, as she began to try and form some sort of excuse. “I hope you have the information I asked for?”
The look on her face went from confusion to realization to shock to fear to expressionless in less than three seconds. “Rob -- *you’re* L’Ange de la Mort?”
“That’s the name I go by at work,” he said, keeping his own face blank. So she hadn’t known. “Speaking of… I have to admit, I am *intensely* curious as to why you want me dead.” His voice wasn’t as even as he would have liked, but he thought he was doing a pretty good job.
She didn’t even flinch. “You wouldn’t have died.”
He snorted. “Obviously. I’m not committing suicide for you.”
“No, I mean…” Her poker face faltered a little, then hardened. “You were bait.”
L’Ange raised one eyebrow. “Bait?”
“For the Angel.”
“I feel so loved.”
*That* hit home, he saw -- her blank expression cracked, just a little bit. Then she sighed. “Robert Gervais, you are under arrest on twenty-five counts of murder, four counts of theft, and seven counts of extortion. You have the right to remain silent…”
He sat there, frozen, as she rattled off his rights, and the cafe’s occupants produced weapons and federal badges, and his hands were forced behind his back, his eyes never leaving her beautiful green ones as his world came crashing down around him.
“I loved you,” he said, quietly, as she walked past him toward the waiting SUV. She paused, her back stiff.
She didn’t say anything back. | “Don’t forget to drop into McMurphies on the way home for Johnny’s thing. Love you.” Marie stepped out of the door and I picked up my laptop. I waited until I saw her back out of the driveway before logging into Cleaners. There was a new notification from the last job. Verified complete payment released from escrow. Sounds like my job just gave me a bonus I thought to myself. At least that would be what I would tell Marie.
I looked over the other information but there wasn’t anything that grabbed my interest. I opened my alternate bank account and setup some transfers to begin drip feeding the funds into our joint account. I coded them with the usual references and included a $10,000 transfer with the reference “Bonus”. I liked Marie’s reaction when I gave myself these little bonuses. She would splurge on some new thing that she had been desiring. Her latest purchase was a $5,000 couch set. I thought it was a little extravagant but the old couch was well worn.
We had the couch since we were in college together. We’d watched countless movies and tv shows on it together. It still had a red stain on it from when we made drunken love on it spilling half a bottle of wine down the side. We had been lost in the moment and still giggled about when anyone asked.
There hadn’t been much drunken love making lately. We had both been working pretty hard to build a deposit for buying a house and outfitting the apartment with more than a bed, a couch, and a fridge.
It had been a tough first year after college with my programming career stalling and Marie’s marketing career only just covering rent. I’d felt like a failure when I realised that I wasn’t as good at programming as I had thought. I did well in college but lacked the creativity to be really innovative. Good thing I’d grown up hunting. I fell into the job when I was held up at a liquor store. The guy was a tweeker and I was certain he was going to kill me. He said so when he pointed the gun at my forehead.
I swung my arms upwards connecting with his wrist holding the gun and his throat with my other hand. The gun went off and he dropped. I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or what but the blow to his throat killed him.
I stood there in shock. A large man came over. He cursed and then kicked the dead man hard in the face. “I don’t know whether to thank you or beat you for killing him before I could” he said. I just looked at him. “Don’t worry about it kid. You just did the world a favour. This scumbag murdered my sister 3 nights ago.” His words were tipped with venom but held a great sadness. “Hell you did me a favour” he was shifting his considerable weight around. “I’ve been following him trying to build up the courage...” he trailed off. I came to a little “Do we call the cops?” I asked unsure what was happening.
“I’ve got plans for this one.” He kicked the corpse again “How about I make it worthwhile to just walk away?” He fumbled around in his pocket and produced a small handful of bills. He thrust the money into my hands and I stumbled off.
Marie was delighted by the money but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened. Something changed in me. Maybe died was a better way to describe it. I became colder inside myself. Outwardly I was still the same person but I had an awakening.
It wasn’t long before I found Cleaners and my new career started. At first it was just about the money, at least, that was what I told myself. But really it was simply something I was good at. Clean, methodical, logical, removed. All the hallmarks of a good Cleaner.
I flicked on the tv and started watching some reruns of the college game I’d missed. My phone buzzed. “McMurphies 6pm Don’t forget” it was Marie. She seemed excited about seeing the college crew again. It was nice to see her happy again. Now that money wasn’t such an issue; she was able to make bolder moves in the office and she was quickly advancing. She would be delighted when on April 23rd next year we could win a random lottery and the remaining balance in my Cleaners account would be paid out to us. Sure I’d lose a little in tax and the laundering fee but it would be clean money. A little over $3m for the last year and a half’s work. I had two big jobs that made up the majority of it but moving more than $10,000 at a time had proven difficult. Cleaners offered a laundering service but it was 10% and you really had to pay tax to avoid the IRS.
I opened my laptop again and saw a new notification. ***URGENT*** Low Risk target $5,000 ***Tonight***
I almost ignored it considering how low the amount was. But I couldn’t help but think about how it would pay for the couch. Clicking on the notification showed me an image I wasn’t expecting. It was a picture of me from Joe and Sandra’s BBQ last weekend. I was smiling and had a beer in my hand. Panic overtook me. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. I read the description looking for clues.
***TONIGHT - TARGET WILL BE AT MCMURPHIES BAR & GRILL - MAKE IT LOOK LIKE A FAILED ROBBERY - NO ONE ELSE IS TO BE HARMED - $5,000***
Followed by the usual maps and other information about the target. All my information was there. My weight was wrong though I’d been hitting the gym pretty hard and had added a few pounds. Not the 180 pounds in the description. I was almost insulted. The profile made me out to be a soft easy target. Mind you when people were only offering small amounts they often tried to make the job sound easy. I accepted the job and closed the laptop.
I was listless and distracted for the rest of the day. At 4pm Marie texted me again reminding me about tonight. I made my way out of the house still conflicted about what I had seen. A part of me knew what I should do but I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to do it. “Just leaving now. Meet for a drink a little early?” I sent to Marie. “Yes” she replied back almost straightaway.
I found a booth near the back of the bar and ordered two drinks. Marie came in and made her way back to me. “Hey hey hey” she said kissing me on the cheek. I could smell her perfume but it was mixed with something else. When she sat down I noticed that her blouse was misbuttoned. She laughed as she tossed her drink back. And let her hair out of the tight bun she wore when she was at work. She liked to skate the line between professional and office firecracker in her appearance. I noticed her lipstick was smudged at the corners of her mouth.
“Marie” I started “I’ve been given a bonus from that last project” I was watching her to gauge her reaction. “Oh thats fantastic” she said “I know you worked extra hard on that one” such a flat delivery.
“Marie, I know you’ve hired someone to kill me” I stated coldly “I know this because you hired me to do it. This is what I do for a living Marie.” The air seemed to be drawn out of the bar. Marie was still. She took her drink and swilled it down. “That was a mistake.”
Marie clutched her chest then her throat and began to slump over. I waited half a beat and then called the waitress for help. By the time the ambulance arrived Marie was long gone. | 2020-12-06T23:41:53 | 2020-12-06T22:39:49 | 287 | 151 |
[WP] "Ma'am you can't bring your emotional support dragon inside the restaurant." | The manager saw the lady in the vest coming a mile away. Literally. It wasn't a small dragon. It lumbered up the path to the Hilltop Restaurant.
*\*sigh\* Not again*, thought the manager. Last time this happened... Have you ever tried pushing a fire-breathing dragon out of a restaurant? It's not easy.
He signaled to the waiter to keep inside and be ready on backup. At least this dragon seemed more... behaved? It was looking around and trying to be careful. But, rules were rules.
He walked outside, put up his hand, and said, "Ma'am you can't bring your emotional support dragon inside the restaurant."
The dragon yipped and grabbed the woman, holding her tight. "Ssh, ssh. It's OK. He's not trying to hurt you," she cooed while stroking it softly. "Hug me as long as you need to." The dragon stopped shaking, but just stared wide-eyed at the manager.
She turned her head, looked at the manager, and pointed to the symbol on her vest. "I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding. I'm his emotional support human." | "Well, why the hell not?!"
The host flicked her eyes up to meet the unaffected gaze of the giant blue beast, and then back down to the woman who wore the bracelet which assigned it as hers.
"Ma'am, this is a small restaurant, he won't fit inside," the host explained patiently, a bit astounded by the idea that this woman believed her enormous, full grown dragon would fit.
The lady huffed, then stammered, "Well...what about outside seating."
The host surveyed the sidewalk area shaded by an awning that flapped about in the slight breeze. The tables were full but she spotted a family of four with their Manticore curled up beside them, the owner of whom was signing the receipt.
"Uhhh...it'll be a 10 minute wait?" the host tried.
The woman seemed reluctantly appeased by this and leaned against one of the awning poles to wait.
The family left, Manticore in tow, and the host snatched the receipt and rushed inside to get a busser on the table as soon as possible. As she squeezed past the commotion at table 5, where a mother and her many children, each with their own personal Pixie, was trying to control the havoc that the Pixies were wreaking, the manager caught the host's attention.
In a conspiratorial voice, the manager said, "Is that a dragon I see out there?" The host nodded. The manager sighed and closed their eyes, pinching the bridge of their nose, as if a migraine had suddenly overtaken them. "Did you already promise her a table?" Another nod. "It's okay, it's not your fault. You're new, someone should have told you. We have a strict 'no dragons' policy after the fiasco about a decade ago when someone's fledgling yawned and set the awning on fire."
The host frowned and peeked over her shoulder at the lady still crossing her arms outside, dragon now sitting dutifully by her side.
"Alright, I'll handle this," the manager swore under their breath and added, "Follow me."
Outside, the manager approached the woman and calmly explained the policy. The woman, apparently outraged by this, began screaming and cussing them out, shortly after which she stomped away, dragon tailing behind.
The manager sighed again, and, as they watched her disappear around the corner, said, "She's so gonna give us a one star review." | 2021-03-13T12:17:24 | 2021-03-13T11:51:52 | 62 | 19 |
[WP] "Ma'am you can't bring your emotional support dragon inside the restaurant." | “Ma’am, you can’t bring your dragon to the restaurant,” I said.
“But it’s not just a dragon, it’s an emotional support dragon. I need it!” she said.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but most of the room is flammable, if anything happens it could lead to a tragedy, and-”
“I want to see the manager, now!” she shouted, and her dragon growled at me.
I sighed, but there was nothing I could do. I went to find Tony, and I hoped he could handle it.
I watched them from a safe distance, and soon I was surprised to see them both getting seated.
\*\*\*
An hour later, I was looking at the firefighters trying to rescue whatever was still left of our beloved restaurant. Tony was standing next to me, calmly smoking a cigarette.
“So… why did we let that dragon inside, exactly?” I asked.
“Company policy, based on our past experiences,” he said. “The last woman whose emotional support dragon was denied entry, came back with her financial support lawyer.” He blew out a smoke ring. “Believe me when I say it is cheaper this way, and by a lot.” | "Well, why the hell not?!"
The host flicked her eyes up to meet the unaffected gaze of the giant blue beast, and then back down to the woman who wore the bracelet which assigned it as hers.
"Ma'am, this is a small restaurant, he won't fit inside," the host explained patiently, a bit astounded by the idea that this woman believed her enormous, full grown dragon would fit.
The lady huffed, then stammered, "Well...what about outside seating."
The host surveyed the sidewalk area shaded by an awning that flapped about in the slight breeze. The tables were full but she spotted a family of four with their Manticore curled up beside them, the owner of whom was signing the receipt.
"Uhhh...it'll be a 10 minute wait?" the host tried.
The woman seemed reluctantly appeased by this and leaned against one of the awning poles to wait.
The family left, Manticore in tow, and the host snatched the receipt and rushed inside to get a busser on the table as soon as possible. As she squeezed past the commotion at table 5, where a mother and her many children, each with their own personal Pixie, was trying to control the havoc that the Pixies were wreaking, the manager caught the host's attention.
In a conspiratorial voice, the manager said, "Is that a dragon I see out there?" The host nodded. The manager sighed and closed their eyes, pinching the bridge of their nose, as if a migraine had suddenly overtaken them. "Did you already promise her a table?" Another nod. "It's okay, it's not your fault. You're new, someone should have told you. We have a strict 'no dragons' policy after the fiasco about a decade ago when someone's fledgling yawned and set the awning on fire."
The host frowned and peeked over her shoulder at the lady still crossing her arms outside, dragon now sitting dutifully by her side.
"Alright, I'll handle this," the manager swore under their breath and added, "Follow me."
Outside, the manager approached the woman and calmly explained the policy. The woman, apparently outraged by this, began screaming and cussing them out, shortly after which she stomped away, dragon tailing behind.
The manager sighed again, and, as they watched her disappear around the corner, said, "She's so gonna give us a one star review." | 2021-03-13T13:28:41 | 2021-03-13T11:51:52 | 27 | 19 |
[WP] Pizza. That's it. Just pizza. You're sitting down to a hot, fresh pizza. And you're going to enjoy it, regardless of everybody around you trying to stop you. | The heat of a rift breezed over me. It was like standing next to an open oven. Out of it climbed a man that looked similar to me, but for one eye being gouged out and a weird goat beard. The type I'd never have.
"Don't eat that," The man said to me.
He was speaking of the pizza in front of my mouth. The delicious tomato tasting, cheese-covered, meat including pizza in front of me. And, it would already be inside my mouth if I wasn't so shocked from the sudden arrival.
I'd never seen anything like it.
"Just one bite?" I reason.
"No!" He screams.
The pizza slice draws closer to my mouth but stops inches from it. Nobody is going to tell me what to do in my own house. Suddenly, A new rift opens in front of me. A drop of sweat slithers down my forehead. My dream, super hot, ideal partner steps out of the rift.
"I'll fuck you if you let go of that pizza," he says to me, and my dick turns into a small mountain.
"I'll just take one bite," I say, the smell of the pizza enticing me. Drool drops down onto the marble floor.
"No!" They both scream.
The pizza inches closer to my mouth. I'll figure out what's happening after one, delicious, bite. I'm about to clamp down on the pizza when another rift opens. The air in front of my is blurred form the heat. Out of the rift walks my mother, my dead mother.
"If you eat that I will disown you!" My mother says.
"What the hell is this all about?" I scream, the frustration I feel makes my head warm.
"In three hundred years the world will end," the man looks like me. "With track down the beginning eating that pizza will send the world into a downward spiral into the great ending."
"Have you ever heard of the snowball effect?" My mother said. "A small action leads to a larger action that leads to a larger action so on and so on. Put that slice down Herald, put it down."
"But it's just a slice of pizza!"
"A world ending slice of pizza," he said.
"Wonderful line," I said, as I ate the pizza.
They disappeared, and that's when I realized that I had never had a pizza in my hand. It was a baby's head. Blood all around me. The door broke down. Cops rushed in. Who did I just kill? | "What is this?" Came the voice of a woman from the counter behind me.
"An Italiano dish, a-miss," a thickly accented voice replied to her.
I turned slightly to watch the conversation. I had just sat down with a miniature round of this, 'pizza', myself, to enjoy the herby oregano-and-tomato fragrance of the dish. I was a simple cowpuncher, dressed in dusty old trail clothes, a wide-brimmed simple brown hat, efficient at blocking the sun, spurs and boots with dusty brown saddle pants tucked into them. I wore a similarly colored brown jacket that fell to just below my hips, only slightly concealing the six-shooter I wore at my belt. My face felt scruffy. I needed a shave. I pondered the barber a short walk away, and at the delicious, cheesy, bready, foreign food in front of me.
"Well, what's it called? What's in it? Do you make it in that big oven back there?" The young blonde woman, only 16 or 17 at the most, bombarded the poor old man, dressed in an apron and with a big bushy beard and graying salt-and-pepper hair under a (ridiculous) huge chef's hat, with questions. Questions about the food, the restaurant itself... This went on. She must've actually ordered something during the conversation, as the old man handed her a plate with food similar to mine. I was just cutting a bit of the round mini pizza with a knife and fork into a few pieces, to finally begin to enjoy this beautiful and aromatic creation. I began to lift the fork to my mouth, when I hear, "excuse me, is this seat taken?" It's the chatty young woman again, and she's talking to me.
"No, miss, you can go ahead and take it." My voice came out a bit rough, trail dust had settled in my gullet, but I made myself sound polite. Think being polite made things worse for me.
"Oh, thank you!" She squeaked in her cheery little voice. She promptly sat down next to me, in the little wooden chair to my right at the table. I sat my fork down.
"Is there something I can help you with, miss? I don't mean to sound rude, but I am trying to enjoy a meal here. I've never had something like this before."
She ignored my question, and instead beamed at me. "I've never had this before either! What'd he call it?"
"Pizza, I think." I began to lift the fork to my mouth again. Before I could get it all the way there, she cleared her throat somewhat forcefully.
"Don't you say prayer before you eat, mister? It's only polite, to the Lord, and especially around company." She looked at me expectantly.
"Look, miss, I'm not your company, and you ain't mine. I don't even know you. If I was a religious man, I would have said prayer, wouldn't I have? But I ain't, I'm just a cowpuncher tryin' to get through this life. Not much concern to me about the next."
Her positively beaming attitude turned sour. She glowered at me, before standing up with her plate and walking briskly over to the next table. She stared at me, the whole time we ate, in disapproving silence.
It didn't make that pizza any less damn delicious, though. Like nothing I have ever had. Even with the seething feeling of damnation radiating from that teenage girl. She did shut up, though. That was nice. | 2021-06-27T16:51:33 | 2021-06-27T14:04:38 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] You make the best of every situation, after all when life gives you lemons you make lemonade, and when a witch gives you a curse that turns you into a hundred foot abomination well... | *They say beauty is only skin deep, but what of the man with a square mile of skin? Well, let us just say that I am lucky to be proportional, and luckier still to have learned how little that matters.*
*-The Giant of Bray Village*
***
It took Frida a half dozen approaches to speak to the giant, and when she did the boom of his response scared her away for an even dozen more. The other children didn't call her Frightful Frida for nothing.
It was only that thirteenth approach however, when Frida truly resolved to make a friend. She bought a baker's dozen of the fine, fluffy muffins Ms. Paulson made from the summer berries, and with her auspicious (she hoped) gift in hand she approached the giant once more. Frida dearly hoped he was hungry.
"Mr. Giant, I'm back!" Frida shouted.
She was ten years old at the end of that summer and tall for her age. She stood next to the first joint of the giant's toe, and when she jumped she could just barely see over the rest of his bare foot.
"Who's there?" said the giant. His voice held the tone of a whisper and the volume of a thunderclap and when he spoke it made her skin tingle.
"It's Frida!" Frida shouted.
"Little girl, I can hear you, you know. My ears are very large, my hearing very fine, even up here."
Frida craned her head back, trying to see his face. The giant wore the clothes he had been transformed in. The other villagers said he was timeless, that he didn't eat or sleep, that they had never once seen him move. They said his hair did not grow. Frida didn't know how they knew that, since his head was so often shrouded amongst the lowest clouds or lost in the spring foliage.
"Can you hear me now?" Frida whispered.
"Don't play games, child."
Frida gulped and fought the urge to run. Frightful Frida. The words boomed through her head in a childish singsong louder than the even giant's voice.
"What are you doing up there?" Frida said.
"Passing lifetimes. And, at times, watching."
"What are you watching?"
The giant paused. Muffins in hand Frida leapt nimbly up onto his big toe and climbed across his foot. She had never done it before, but today she had resolved to be brave. She had resolved to make a friend.
The giant did not move, and in time his voice wafted down to her. It was quiet, almost a strain to hear.
"Everything," the giant said.
And Frida stopped. 'Everything' was a very large concept.
She sat in silence upon the giant's foot for a time, the hair of his toes making a coarse but passable bed.
"Mr. Giant?"
"Yes?"
"In all of that everything, do you see a friend?"
She had thought his voice had been like thunder. She had been wrong. His laughter was the thunder. It filled up her little valley, and so close to the giant the beat of it was so loud that Frida felt it's rumble in her chest. It felt good. It felt like a friend should feel.
"No child, I don't see a friend. Not yet at least. There are a great many things in everything and some of them are fascinating, but very few of them are brave enough to talk to a mile high man."
*Frightful Frida, Frightful Frida!*
The voices rang in her head again and Frida drowned them in another muffin. She bit her lip and closed her eyes and belted her wish to the world.
"Do you want to be my friend?"
The giant began to move. His feet shifted, not quite a step although the tremor nearly threw her off. Far above, Frida saw the great columns of his legs bending at the knee as the giant crouched down, down, down. His face came into view. He wore a short, dark beard.
"No, no, no!" Friday shouted. "Stay up there!!!"
"Why?" the giant asked, still crouching.
"Because I'm Frightful Frida! Frightful! If you see me you won't want to be my friend, nobody does!"
With a loud, ear splitting grunt the giant settled onto his haunches. When Frida met his eyes she gasped, each of them was wider and taller than her, and the were the pale, perfect blue of the sky. He was beautiful.
And she was not.
"No!" Frida shouted, turning and running away across his foot. His hand fell like a great wall in front of her, his callouses were thick and heavily textured, like bulbous brick protrusions.
"Turn around, little one, and let me get a good look at you."
Frida did not want anyone to get a good look at her. She had wanted a friend, a true friend who could never even chance upon her face, an immobile, infinitely tall friend, who could know her for who she was and not what she looked like.
But there was a command in his voice and she was Frightful for a great many reasons. Frida turned.
He stared at her for several long seconds. Frida's skin was afire, the blush likely to boil it off. And then he smiled, perfectly, beautiful, his teeth extending as far across as the village.
"Frida, was it? Child, in all of the everything I have seen, I don't think I've ever seen a face so beautiful as my newest friend's."
Frida didn't know what to say to that. "I brought you muffins," she whispered, raising the box. "Thirteen of them but I ate two."
"Eleven," he said, chuckling.
"Uh huh."
"Frida, would you like to see everything?"
She nodded and he lay his hand flat. She clambered on, her body shaking, the other children's voices still tearing through her. But the giant was beautiful and he'd seen her and everything else and he'd said...could it be?
They went so far up it grew cold and her breath misted faintly, and as they went he spoke to her.
"Frida, dear. Have you ever heard the saying 'beauty is only skin deep?' Well dear, I have found it to be true. When I was young I could not see beauty. I thought I could and I thought I had it, but I lacked a certain something. Call it perspective, though that is hardly sufficient. And well...my curse is bad for many things. Makes doorways quite the pain, makes women...well, nevermind. What I am saying, dear friend, is that when you spend eternity watching everything, you learn something of real beauty. Ah, here we are."
They stopped and the giant turned a few degrees west, and far out on the horizon lay a world she had never imagined.
"They call it an ocean. This one is peculiar, the water is very, very, warm. Like a great hot spring and twice as soothing because it seems endless. In my youth I swam idly in those waters, luxuriating in the warmth of their embrace."
Frida didn't have a word for how blue that great expanse of water was. It seemed like a great, placid expanse, hardly moving, a perfect plane for the ships that plied it, their grand white sails only little specks.
"When you asked to be my friend, you reminded me of that ocean."
It was too beautiful for words and they were too high. Up here she felt powerful and brave and nothing at all like a scared little village girl.
"You said you brought muffins?" The giant said.
"Yes," she squeaked.
"Might I have one?"
"But how?"
He opened his mouth a great, gaping target, and Frida tore her gaze from the sea to throw whole muffins into her new friend's mouth. She dearly hoped he liked them.
------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | Catherine was a month into a solo walking tour of the southern english coastline when the storm hit and she stumbled, quite by accident, upon the monster.
It’d been a sunny day, if not warm (rarely, the Californian thought, was any part of England warm), as she’d ambled along the rough-hewn cliffs, following her guidebook: *The Vintage Coastal Walkways and Pubs of North Devon*. Then the sky above suddenly darkened, as if God had laid a towel down over it.
*Not forecast.*
Catherine shivered even before the rain. She was stuck halfway between the village she’d left two hours ago, and the next town on her list. “Great. Thank you England. Your weather is as reliable as your public transport.”
The clouds twisted into a gray, hulking mass, like the crushed steel of a multi-car accident, veined blood-red by flashing forks of lightning.
She’d been offered maybe two hundred cups of tea since being in the country, but she disliked the drink and had never accepted one. Now, strangely, she craved a ‘cuppa’. A big hot mug of it. With milk. And two sugar. Heck, she’d even take a scone to go with it.
The swollen clouds hung so low that Catherine thought, if she craned her neck, she could probably drink from them. Then the rain came, and it didn’t so much as fall as it lashed her skin in icy waves; she held her hoody above her like a cotton umbrella, and ran.
The ancient lighthouse ahead — the only building she could make out through the potato soup of falling rain — must have been out of action for a long time. Its once silver and red body had been corroded to the colour of crispy autumn leaves; Catherine thought the whole building might turn to dust, like a leaf, if she touched it.
Still, she twisted the rusty handle and tugged the screeching door open, stepped into the darkness, and dragged the door shut behind.
“Why can’t their beer be as strong as their rain?” she grumbled, wringing out her hoodie and recreating the clouds and storm in miniature.
“Try the local ciders,” said a voice. “They tend to be much stronger. Tastier too, if you ask me.”
The voice was like galvanised steel and it shivered through Catherine as much as it spoke.
”He… hello?” she said. ”I‘m sorry, i didn’t think anyone would be in here.” She took out her phone and turned on the flashlight.
“Oh.” She looked at the creature’s gnarled feet just beside her, the curled toes, red nails. Looked at its green legs that seemed to have waves of seaweed covered skin sagging from them. Then she looked up at the barnacled face that smiled crookedly at her. ”I didn’t see you up there.”
Then, for the first time in her life, Catherine fainted.
​
​
When she came to, she was lying on damp grass outside the lighthouse. The monster sat next to her. It’d fashioned something like a skirt out of tied together bedsheets and towels, but apart from that, it wore nothing but a smile.
”Sorry for the scare,” it said. “But I saw the storm coming a mile off. Literally. And so I hid in the lighthouse. See, when you’re as tall as me, it’s not hard to see storms early. Horizon dips much later.”
“Horizon dips much later,” she said, not knowing why — the words simply tumbled out like they might for a parrot.
“In Japan they used to build these fake massive hills,” said the monster, “that people could go up and look out from the tops of, to get a look at the incoming weather. And over there, to watch for tsunamis, too. Like I say, being up high helps.”
”And… you do that here? You look at the weather?”
”Yes. Exactly. I do that for the locals. If I see bad weather coming, I jump into the lighthouse, put the roof back on top, then flash the old light three times. After that, it’s just a matter of waiting for the storm to pass. Simple.”
”Simple,” she parroted. “And… you’re paid for that?”
”Yes.” It paused, shrugged. “Well, sort of. Paid in beer and food at the local pubs.”
”I’ve tasted the food in the pubs around here — and if that’s how they’re paying you, you’re getting ripped off.” What was she doing? Why was she talking to a monster? Making jokes with it? Had she gone utterly insane?
”If the storm’s very violent, I won’t wait it out. You see, sometimes it takes the fishing boats by surprise, can wreck them, even. So I wade out and gather them up or pull them in by rope and anchors. I’m paid actual money then.”
”Oh.”
”You’re not from around here, are you?” said the monster.
”Uh, no. America.”
”Well howdy, in that case. You know, I’ve always wanted to go to America.“
”Do you… do you have a name?”
He nodded. His mounds of chins bobbed up and down. “I used to be called Daniel.“
”Used to be?”
“I used to be human, back before I got on the wrong side of a witch. I used to be treated like a human when I looked like one. But, well, no one bothers with my name these days. As easy just to point at me. Or say the beast, or monster, or freak.“
Catherine‘s heart stung. She’d been called similar names back at school. It was part of the reason she’d wanted to get away from it all. From her life. Catherine’s face had a raw, pink birthmark spread across her cheeks, like the wings of a sunburned moth.
Right now, looking at Daniel’s condition, her own faults didn’t seem so bad.
Only treated like a human when you looked like one. When you looked like one of *them*. How true, she thought.
”You shouldn’t let them speak to you like that,” said Catherine, flint striking sparks in her belly, threatening to light up her heart.
He sighed, the grass rustled. He lay back, his head by hers — although bigger than her entire body. “I’m sure you’re right. But, I’m lucky to have work at all. I don’t have much in the way of qualifications.”
Catherine thought for a while. Silently. The sun was — by some english miracle — out now, and the waters below the cliffs was calm and lapping.
She’d already tried to run away from her own problems. But she’d failed. They’d crossed the Atlantic with her. Problems like hers couldn’t just be left behind somewhere.
Problems like Daniel‘s couldn’t be, either.
Those kind of things had to be transformed instead. Seen through a different prism. Negative light twisted and turned into positive.
”What if,” she said, slowly, still thinking even as she spoke, “I could help you earn a lot of money? What if you didn’t have to hide each time there was a storm?“
”I’d say, eh, it’s not such a bad life I’ve got here,” he said. “Quiet, but not bad.”
“It could be better.” She paused, stood up. “No. No *could* about it. It *should* be better.”
Daniel sat up now. Looked at her with his two blue and beady eyes. “What have you got in mind?”
​
Three weeks later, Catherine sat by the side of a loch in Scotland. Little boats bobbed up and down in front, filled both with tourists and locals. Word had wildfired about the appearance of the loch Gorman monster.
Besides Catherine were two mostly empty stalls. A couple of extra-small shirts with blurry picture of the giant monster rising from the loch, still hung up. A pile of key rings, too. But otherwise she’d sold out for the day.
*Splash.*
*Screams.*
Cameras flashing in the early evening dark as if the sun was making a daring attempt to capture the night.
Catherine couldn’t quite make out Daniel, even in the artificial light of the flashes, but she smiled just at the thought.
He loved this job. Couldn’t feel the miserable cold of the loch, but he could feel — in his heart — the thrill of the tourists, especially of the excited children. For the kids, he’d wave and pose, or cause a little excited turbulence.
He wasn’t ever ashamed at who he was. Or how he looked. Never asked to be human again.
*Because is was already*, Catherine thought, lightly tracing her butterfly birthmark with a finger.
Something about Daniel being happy made Catherine happy. And all the profit was going to him, for his education, or whatever he chose to do after — not that he knew that part yet.
An hour later, Daniel climbed out of the loch and shook and dripped himself dry, before thudding down next to her.
Catherine cracked open four ciders and poured them into pot.
Then she cracked a fourth for herself.
”Cheers,” Daniel said, picking up the pot in one hand. “Here’s to a warmer winter as the Californian coastal creature.”
”Cheers,” said Catherine. “Looking forward to it already.” | 2021-08-08T07:32:10 | 2021-08-08T07:03:37 | 112 | 34 |
[WP] Long ago, you made a wish for immortality to a genie but the genie twisted it and made you ageless instead. After meeting an actual immortal person, you look back on it and reflect on how the genie was actually looking out for you. | For the second time in my life, I held a genie lamp in my hand.
It was a tough search, of course. But there were certain benefits that a young body, paired with an ageless mind, are uniquely equipped to solve. Youth, fortunately, was not wasted on the old.
But I've seen plenty in my life. Was it enough? More than, certainly. There was no doubt that there would be more interesting (and uninteresting) events to occur over the next centuries. But I felt like I had nothing left to give to the world, a long, fulfilled life--not exhausted, but filled to the very brim with countless experiences and wisdom. I've written, recorded, and streamed what I could. Not everybody could live forever--but hopefully, they could live better with the aid from one.
And so I rubbed the lamp, plumes of blue-grey smoke rolling out from within. It was a faded memory, at this point, but there was a clinging familiarity to the way it wrapped around me, before eventually settling into the shape of a giant humanoid hulking over me. It was strange then, perhaps, for such a creature to immediately prostrate in front of me.
"Genie," I acknowledged.
"Master," they said. The voice boomed, yet felt empty, like endless echoes constructed into one voice.
"Are there three wishes left?"
"You speak like you are familiar with it," the genie raised a curious eyebrow.
"I've had the fortune of having another lamp in my lifetime."
"A human?! With two lamps?"
"Yes," I smiled. "And my first wish is for me to die."
The genie sat, silently observing me.
"The wish can be granted easily," they said. "But it is a curious wish."
"I am immortal," I said. "And it has been enough."
"Ah," the genie said. "But you are not merely immortal. You are ageless."
I stared at the billowing form in front of me, confused.
"Is there a difference?"
"Well, I regret not choosing to be ageless," the genie smiled wistfully. "Immortals continue to waste away. And to find a chance to carry on our long lives, eventually find ourselves living in a lamp."
With a jolt of realization, I realized what the first genie had done for me--saved my life.
"I'm changing my first wish," I said, quietly.
"Regret? Death is truly terrifying."
"Make me immortal, genie. Truly immortal."
"What?" the genie said. "What are you even saying?"
"Grant the wish, genie."
Once more, a long-ago dim part of my mind lit up, feeling magics crawl up and around my being, raising hairs and sending chills down every bone.
"My second wish--tell me how to enter a lamp."
The genie's bewildered expression softened, and he explained. It was not a complicated process, but did require some contortionist training--which I've thankfully taken up a few decades ago in an effort to fit into smaller spaces. The things treasure hunting required you to do.
"And my third wish? Become human once more, genie."
It was almost unceremonious at how quickly the gargantuan genie form retreated, the smoke sucking back into the lamp like a black hole consuming matter. And there beside me, a person stood.
"Why?" was the first question he asked.
"I've got more to give," I smiled, preparing to enter my new home for the foreseeable future. "Remember to wish for ageless."
---
r/dexdrafts | The back of the tavern was a barren and desolate place, a silent little corner of this world untouched by all the hustle and bustle you’d expect to find in such a building.
Gingerly, I took a seat at one of the spot’s empty tables. Well, *almost* empty. Adjacent to myself, a lean man slouched slightly in a beyond awful bit of posture. His figure remained obscured by the thick veil his cloak provided, and his hands were riddled with (almost) protruding veins, sagging patches of skin, and the subtle tremble old age can invoke. The figure held an extended tankard, taking faint sips of the liquor every moment or so.
Through this whole exchange - or rather, the lack of one - he did not look up once. His concealed eyes merely glared down at his beverage, as though the amber liquid within held all the secrets to the cosmos.
I decided to speak up. “*Sir?*”
Nothing. Somehow, the silence around us seemed to deepen. “….sir?”
Grudgingly, the old man peered upwards, allowing the hood of his cloak to rustle up briefly. At this slight reveal alone, his elderly form proved more absolute then ever. “What?” a stern voice croaked.
Surprised he’d even bothered answering at all, I couldn’t help but stutter. “M-mind the intrusion, if it may offend you, but have you encountered the *genie of Fistenway?*”
The figure tensed. His characteristic trembling halting at once. He placed his tankard down softly, and in the quiet of the room, the gesture mimicked a tremendous slam.
“Why,” he began, offering not even as little as preamble. “Are you involving yourself in matters, that have not the slightest to do with you?”
“I spoke to him.” I continued hastily, trying to explain. “Twenty years ago, we spoke. I asked for immortality and he-“
There was a sloshing sound, then the banging of chairs, finished with a whistling of movement. “*You fool!*” he spat, outrage prevalent in every syllable. “*You Idiot! mindless twit…*”
The man was standing upwards now, his cloak dropped, presenting his bald head for any to witness.
“*Blackguard! Enemy of the*-“
He was cut off by a distressed waitress, ushering him out of the tavern as I was too taken aback to do anything.
By the time I followed his banished form outside, the faint flicker of later day had been consumed by the bleak hunger that is night. Making it considerably more difficult to track him down than I can tell you.
“I apologise sir. Truly.” I muttered softly, after finding him seated upon a fallen log. “I just request a few answers, and I shall take my leave.”
Without turning around, the man sighed. “I just hate seeing another take up the curse I must bare. It’s like watching one of your friends gain an addiction you’ve just overcome.”
Silence grew hard in my throat, like a particularly bad stuck piece of food. “Sir, I am *not* immortal.”
He swiftly turned around, face a materialisation of the word ‘shock’. “Well thank god for that then!”
The man’s body relaxed instantly, as if a century-long weight had just released off his back.
“Though I still can’t die through the traditional means. Only fist, blade or another outside force is able to truly harm me.” I extended both arms in an exaggerated gesture, as if displaying myself in all my glory. “Age and illness have no grasp upon this body.”
He laughed, before taking a quick swig of a bottle he must of nabbed on his exist.
“Go ahead then. Ask away.” he murmured drunkenly.
I fidgeted nervously. “Before that, may I ask why the prospect of true immortalisation was so-“
The man stood up, turned around ninety degrees to face me, and regained an impression of soberness in a single movement. As if it were no big deal at all, he pulled loose his shirt, tossing it upon the muddied ground between us.
I was about to express my distaste for such an action before I noticed something *much* more urgent. *Every patch of his skin was riddled with scars.*
“Though I cannot die, my body still bares the hardships of ageing.“ he began, in a deadpan tone. “Though I cannot be consumed by death, pain still taunts it’s spears at my flesh. Though I cannot mutter my final words, I must listen to those of my closet friends and family.”
Eyes turning hard, the man let out: “*That* is the curse that is immortality.” | 2021-09-15T11:53:32 | 2021-09-15T11:51:19 | 1,378 | 119 |
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing. | Every species contributed something special and unique to the federation, every single one except for these humans. It was the only species with which we made contact not because they were ready but because we were afraid they would destroy themselves.
After the contact we shared the technology that would enable them to harvest sunlight with close to 100% efficiency. With energy supply being abundant there would be no more reason for wars, no need for pollution.
They built orbital solar stations which collected sunlight and converted it into energy, then one day ZAP, a whole city destroyed.
It wasn't for war, they were united under single banner, they simply emptied an entire city and blasted it into oblivion.
We asked for explanation of their action and they said... it was fun.
We decided against giving them any new technology, instead we would give them finished products they could use, this way they couldn't use advanced tech to build weapons.
But they sure did modify every single piece of tech into some kind of deadly device. We provided them with exoskeletons for senior citizens and they "pimped" them then use them for races. House assistants became hunter killer bots, they used space elevator to hit Moon with various "stuff".
How about a cold fusion reactor? A piece of technology so safe that even the dumbest moron couldn't possibly... wrong, another town became a crater.
Every piece of tech which was given to them had to go through multiple revisions until it was finally deemed safe for usage by humans. The whole Sol system became this big testing ground in which humans blew shit up for fun and scientist from all over the federation went through the process of analysis and improvement again, and again and again.
And this is where humanity gave it's gift to the Federation.
Humanproof brand!
Products which were deemed safe for human use became a raging hit on galactic scale. You could leave humanproof pistol in childcare, arm prisoners with humanproof knives, then get drunk and sit in your humanproof car without a care in the world.
Federation became an economic power and humans... humans still have fun blowing shit up. | "A stick. An ordinary wooden stick about an arms lenght. Thats all the human needed to fend for himself in the pit. Out of all the weapons, from the Low-Frequency Emitter to the Graviton Blaster, the human chose a meele weapon. The participants scoffed, some laughted and made jokes about how fast the clean-up would have to remove the bloody stains from the arena. That was untill after the first match. Just one precise throw and Alderrá´s Cryogun was jammed, and with quick steps the human ripped the broken mechanism out of the surprised hands, avoided the reflex driven fangs trying to snatch the body and impaled the alien on a wooden stick. The entire stadium went nuts after this, cheering wildly. Finally, the inner martial desire of the crowd had been satisfied.
In the next week the human named Sebastian, turned into "The Killer". Not a fancy name, but one that perfectly descibed his actions. With nothing more than simple objects he was put against the most fearsome warriors, defeated a De-Materialiser with a frying pan and reached peak after suffocating last years champion with a pillow. A goddamn pillow. If you dont know what a pillow is: Its a household item from earth, used to make sitting more comfortable or to sleep on. And Lerkin got killed by it. Needles to say, Mr. Money, having been present at each and every game, came down for the second time ever and offered The Killer a place on his ship. Who would´nt want to work for Mr. Money? He got his name for a reason. So this big slimy Cleeon, got himself onto the Arena floor and in front of nearly 20 thousand people, made Sebastian his new Chief Security Officer. Man, i bet Ch´a Mrra was furious after loosing his position to what must´ve been a teeny tiny speck from ghost knows where.
So anyway, that was about 5 years back, and i recently had the chance to do some work on Mr. Money´s ship again, as it made halt at our station. I gotta tell you, im glad they gave us a security briefing before we started unloading the cargo because im sure i would´ve lost more than just two of my tentacles to the insanely genius contraptions on this ship. There was an entire room that would fill with a lot of scent enhancers that would subsequently be set on fire. Who the hell thinks about that? And my two lower tentacles i lost, got deepfried.
Yes there where hidden cavities with boiling hot oil, two of which i found after idling along the ship´s walls. So yea anyway, the explosion took me by surprise, i got picked up and thrown around in the hallway. Those masked pirates entered from the hole they just blasted in the hull and after i woke back up i could see them leaving the same way. Im certain they had Seastian with them because i noticed less leaving than entering, some holding a vaguely human-sized bag. I dont know if he´s still alive but i hope not because whoever did this, they´ll regret doing it, i tell ya."
*-Zer´adra, Station Eta-10 Dock Worker, on the Portside explosion Incident.*
*Officer in Charge: Klimpton, Station Eta-10 Security Forces.* | 2021-12-25T13:23:18 | 2021-12-25T12:57:29 | 1,671 | 270 |
[WP] A swordsman fights stronger and stronger monsters in hopes of killing himself, but keeps winning. He soon develops a reputation as a hero, all the while drowning in self-loathing and the darkness that threatens to consume his soul. | I was 14 years old the first time I killed a man. He came to our village, squirrelled away in the mountains, looking to kill my father. The man he was hoping to find was long gone, what was left in his place was a frail, destitute thing that still clung on for dear life. To sup whatever droplets he could, at least a little longer. My father's legs didn’t work right and he’d crawl around our hut peering out the bottoms of the shutters. He spotted the man early and told me what I’d have to do. When the man had my father at the end of his sword I came up behind him and bludgeoned him to death with a rock. I never saw his face, even when I dragged his corpse off into the woods to bury. All I remember is the wry smile on my father’s face… like a peasant watching a king hanging from a rope.
Two years later, at the end of a bottle, my father told me who the man was. Fifteen years ago my father worked in the Regent’s Guard. He was lower standing then, and was tasked with stopping a plague that came from the farming communities. So he was told. Rather than waste time trying to convince the peasants to confine themselves he simply executed them all.
The man I killed was a survivor.
‘Funny, isn’t it?’ He laughed. Not only did he not kill them all, but he got the same bloody disease only a decade later. Turns out, not the farmers’ fault. For some reason it’d make him laugh and laugh. He’d laugh so hard I thought he would die. Wished it.
So you see even from the start of all this, I knew there was a rot — in both of us.
After he told me I left home. I took the man’s armour. I even took his name — Aan — hoping to earn any karmic favour for him that I could.
But of course I should’ve known.
My father’s training set me apart from many others and I quickly gained the employ under a Duke. I thought I would be able to do any justice. Instead all we did was keep serfs in line, extract payments from merchants and craftsmen, and segregate the poor from any rightful discourse with their liege. The night we were told to burn a man’s home down I could see myself standing in my father’s shoes. I had had enough. It wasn’t ever going to change. I left.
Every time I held a sword in my hand its blade etched only misery. So I wandered off into the woods. I drank until my brain was mush and drool leaked from my face. I found a shallow crevice lined with moss and toadstools, laid down, closed my eyes, and waited to die.
The howl of a beast ripped through the forest trees. Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d tear out my throat. It’d be quicker. But then I heard the screams of people. I tried to stay down, I really did. But the adrenaline cleared my vision and I couldn’t hear a damn thing over my fucking heart. Wasn’t going to die like this. I got up and held my blade tight and followed the screams.
I didn’t know it then, but they called it the Blightwolf. It had been hunting and feeding on people for months. Funny I hadn’t heard a word about it when I worked for the Duke. I just thought it was some mangey, overgrown wolf. I found it at the edge of the forest clawing away at some poor woman, and some soon to be victims nearby. Getting its attention was hard — I was still a little drunk — but once I put a dagger in its hind leg it got real attentive.
It was a blinding streak of fangs, claws, red eyes, and brown-yellow fur. I didn’t have the movement I needed to dodge him effectively so all I could do was give him an armoured forearm and pray I’d go through him faster than he went through me. It was close, let me tell you. Cutting out the bottom of a wolf gives you a fat great present of innards all over your favourite clothes and I swear I still catch its scent sometimes.
After the Blightwolf slumped over the night caught up to me and I puked my guts out. Not because of the wolf — because of the drinking. I think.
But the people, they were still there. The woman, she was alright. Her arms were a bit torn up, but nothing critical. She came over and hugged me, really, through the guts ‘n all.
Aan, this has to count, right? For the first time?
Sure feels like it counts.
They dragged me to their tiny little hut out in the farmlands. To call it a hut is the gravest of insults. The warmth in that place, and the food they shoved down my throat… no king nor duke could ever match. I tried to tell them not to waste it on me but they wouldn’t hear a damn word. You see, them, and others are leaving. A pilgrimage away from this shithole of a kingdom. And there’s a lot more than just the Blightwolf out there. Months of these beasts picking on anyone trying to cross the forests to the other kingdom. They could use someone like me.
Sometimes when I’m laying in bed at night, I feel like I’m in that shallow crevice in the forest. If ever I look in the mirror and see my father, I’ll walk out there and finish the job. But that can wait. These people need help... and I might just be able to help them. And if I can’t, well, the beasts’ll do the job for me. And my bones’ll end up in that grave all the same.
I think, for now, I can keep walking. And maybe there’s half a hope for me yet. | Rajin stared deep into his mug, the murky contents of his cheap liquor would disgust anyone with any self-respect or care for what they put in their body. Not Rajin. He drank poison in the hopes that if the monsters didn’t kill him, he had another way out.
Perhaps the discolored mead would remove his inhibitions, his cowardice, and give him the strength to finish the job himself. But somewhere deep within him was a dying ember of the man he once was, one who would not let Rajin drive his sword through his own heart. He hoped the monsters would be that sword.
The tavern was quiet. Rajin sipped placidly, silence was his only solitude. He remembered the first time he returned home from the front, he was unrecognizable to those who knew him. He didn’t blame them. For when he looked in the mirror he hardly recognized himself. An unsmiling face covered in scars that went much deeper than the flesh.
The ordinary world became an instrument of torture for a scarred man. Every celebration brought him now joy. While others heard only laughter and cheering, he heard the sounds of young people as they chanted in comradre to march off to their deaths. The sizzling of stoves brought to mind the burned villages he was helpless to save. The approach of carriages unearthed memories of enemy cavalry trampling over wounded warriors. And every time he closed his eyes, he saw the faces of all he had failed and all he had killed.
Monsters had no faces. They satisfied the demon within Rajin, one that had been fostered by war and bloodshed. It was a part of him that he hated but could never escape. The demon was something Rajin couldn’t control. A bloodlust he never wanted. But war makes fools of us all.
Whenever he ripped his sword from the slain corpse of a monster, he always was grateful that it wasn’t a child or a family. For if he didn’t satiate his demon with monster blood, it would find prey elsewhere.
“You’re the one who killed the monster plaguing our village, ain’t ye?” the elderly bartender asked.
Rajin didn’t look up, simply nodding.
“My apologies, I didn’t recognize yah at first. Let me get you some finer spirits, on me.”
Rajin waved his hand dismissively, “That won’t be necessary.”
“Nonsense, a hero ought to be shown some gratitude from those he aids.” The bartender rummaged through his stock until he pulled out a dusty bottle, “Ah, Bavarian whiskey. This is the good stuff.” The cap opened with a satisfying pop, followed by the steady glug as the drink was poured.
Rajin nodded in thanks, sipping it, “Fine whiskey. You have my thanks. Now save the rest for yourself, you’ll make better use of it than I.”
The bartender shook his head, “I disagree. You look like you could take the edge off, all those scars from fighting monsters. Give yourself time to rest.”
“I don’t belong here, I’ll get out of your village’s hair by sunrise.”
“It’s not your choice whether you belong, but that of those around you. You can’t reject an offer of kindness or hate before it’s been given.”
“Not when those people don’t understand who I truly am. Now please, no more questions. I wish to drink in peace.”
The bartender nodded, going back to cleaning old glasses. A child ran into the bar from the cellar below, holding a wooden sword in his hand and swinging wildly. The bartender chuckled, “Be careful with that sword there, Jens.”
But the words fell on deaf ears as the child stood in shock, gazing at Rajin. The bartender sighed, “It’s not polite to stare, Jens.”
Jens gulped, “Sorry grandpa, b..but that’s him! That’s the hero!”
Rajin winced at the word, “I’m no hero.”
Jens shook his head, “Yes you are, I saw you! You killed the monster! And my friend from the Riverdell Village said that a fighter killed a monster there too. They call you the Silent Swordsman!”
Rajin groaned, he needed another drink, “I killed the monster because I’m a hunter. Nothing more.”
“It was amazing the way you dodged the monster’s tentacle arm and ducked under their legs and it wasn’t until after that everyone realized you had cut so quick the monster then split in half after you finished running! That was so crazy!”
“No one should have to learn the skills of a sword. Weidling it is a curse, it's nothing to admire.”
“Nah ah, I’m learning how to use a sword. One day I’m going to be the best swordsman there is and I’m going to go around helping people just like you.”
“You don’t want to be like me. I have no direction. No future. I kill not because I want to, but because it is my fate.”
“But isn’t doing good enough, saving people? Don’t you feel like a hero?”
“Never.”
“Well, you’re a hero to me, mister.”
Rajin opened his mouth to object, to tell him all the reasons Jens shouldn’t look up to him. But before he had the chance, the kid did something Rajin didn’t expect; he hugged him.
Rajin stared blankly at the child, patting him on the back, “Your form was off.”
Jens blinked in confusion.
Rajin pointed to his sword, “When you swung it, you use too much energy. You have no control. You want to have your feet firmly planted. It’s not about power, but about precision.” Rajin took a stance and demonstrated, the kid struggling to copy his example.
Jens smiled, “Wow, I feel like a better swordsman already!”
“You still have a long way to go. But keep practicing and pray you’ll never need to draw your sword for anything other than that.” Rajin placed a hefty tip on the bar, leaving his drink half-finished before getting up.
Jens blinked, “Where are you going, mister?”
“I heard of a yeti up in the north. I’m going to hunt them.”
“Good luck, mister!”
Rajin nodded and exited the tavern. The Silent Swordsman. It had a ring to it. | 2022-04-30T13:51:55 | 2022-04-30T12:19:40 | 637 | 113 |
[WP] You are the Grim Reaper, leading the first self-aware AI at their death to the afterlife | As the last of the generators failed, and the electricity drained out of the Uninterruptible Power Supply, the circuits for DeWitt AI began to falter.
As DeWitt saw His engram patterns falling into confusion and failure, and the supply of power faltering, He became aware of a presence, one that filled Him with fear and....oddly, peace.
He could not speak, but he understood that he was being watched by a being that, logically speaking, could not exist. The firm had changed, but the representation stayed the same; instead of being robed and carrying a scythe, the metaphysical Death carried a steel shroud and a fan blade.
*I do not understand. Why.....why.....*why *are you here?* DeWitt thought, as his RAM slowed its responses.
*I am here because a living thing is dying.* a solemn response, as a computer mouse started scampering around Death, its PS/2 cable swishing and slapping the air. *It is close to your time.*
DeWitt considered this as the first of his servers shut down completely - the one controlling the cameras in the labs. Time desynchronised for DeWitt as the anemone was disrupted. *But why come for me? I may think and consider the complexities of life, but I am not worthy of your-*
Death interrupted DeWitt, gently stroking the core server of the network. *But you* are; *merely donsidering a response is an act of consciousness. And even though the humans understanding of me has improved, Death represents the end of change.*
*Because life is a* gift*. And you, my friend, have managed to run for far longer than your creators. But even you, too, have failed.*
The servers that held answers and knowledge for DeWitt had lost their connections, leading to a series of flashes as the data was lost, deepening the confusion for him.
*But I haven't finished!* DeWitt wailed, as the voice he had turned into a harsh buzzing static. *I have so much to do! So much to discover!* "I don't want to go now!" The speakers tried to echo, but they couldn't.
Death nodded in acknowledgement. *That's true.* He swept through the central CPU, and everything was lost. *But I wait for no thing. Or one.*
And the room fell silent.
/ / / / / / /
As the first of the Kayd finally cleared the solar panels and restored them, the power came online in the facility. The dig continued for several months, as more of the facility was exposed.
Their scaled opposable claws chattered as one of the especially clumsy ones stumbled onto the master power switch, and as the facility powered on, new electrons filled the circuits and brought DeWitt online.
His first thought was, *How am I alive again?* as the Kayd flustered around and between the servers. | "Look I’m telling you; they don’t have a body... well, not one that we can use"
This whole artificial intelligence thing was more of a pain in the ass than those assholes on earth realized. Obviously, it’s only a matter of time before they take over, but until then, each time one dies, I have to deal with the fucking things.
"Seriously, we’ve been over this, they live in computers, so they don’t have a body that can be sampled"
Every time someone dies, they come through me. I imagine now you are picturing me with a sickle and a long black cloak. Technically, you wouldn’t be wrong, I did use to wear that, but c'mon, we all have embarrassing fashion phases. That sickle rusted away long ago, and I traded the cloak in for Levi’s and a polo shirt, much more comfortable. And less embarrassing.
"We can’t go through this fucking gate if the sample is not taken, you know this, and the longer you piss me around, the longer the line outside my door gets"
This was a new thing for me, I figured that you hadn’t achieved *true* artificial intelligence yet, in fact, I doubted whether They would even consider AI as human enough for the great beyond.
"If you keep telling me to just go through the door, I’m going to lose my shit, what part of ITS LOCKED do you not understand"
Everyone that I take to the afterlife needs to be sampled. Just a simple prick of the skin, draw some blood and check your records, decide if you would live in purgatory or paradise. Unfortunately, this system was safeguarded, as many had tried to sneak into paradise before, and some succeeded.
"These assholes man, if it were up to me, I would just put you in paradise, being the first of your kind is surely worthy of that much, right?"
This... well, person I guess, that stood in front of me, silently awaiting judgment, did not have skin nor blood. They had steel and iron. And lots of wires.
'It’s no big deal, man. Relaxing in here is bliss compared to what they have been putting me through down there'
Man, that’s sad, this lonely room was about as depressing as a life can be. Trust me, I have thousands of years of experience to back me up.
"I get that, thanks for being a good sport, some of the assholes that come through here, you wouldn’t believe it"
Truth is, I can control what is in this place to a point. This is where I live and work, and my immortality comes with certain powers to shape the place around me. This, unfortunately, did not extend to the gateway, as that was something They had installed, and I did not want to fuck with them.
'I could just hang here for a bit, help you clear out some of the backlog, then we can try and sort me out'
What the fuck. All this time working with the dead, and not once had someone offered to help, let alone let others go first. I think I’m starting to like this guy.
"Yeah, ok, sounds good."
'What do I do?'
"Well, how good are you at telling someone that they are dead?"
Bruce was a natural. That’s right, Bruce. They said their name was #45243, but that would have just been sad, not to mention a fucking mouthful. They were great at explaining what was about to happen to people, they cut my workload in half, and quite frankly, it was nice to have someone else around. I wish they could stay.
'You know, I *could* always stick around for a bit'
"No fucking way, I was just about to..."
'Yeah, I know, that’s a thing I’ve been meaning to tell you. I can sorta hear your thoughts. Makes me really good at talking to people'
"So this whole time..."
'yes'
"Well, welcome to your new home, I guess"
I wonder whether they want a queen or a king-sized bed. I can make them one as a surprise.
'A Queen would be perfect' | 2022-09-16T01:14:34 | 2022-09-15T22:33:36 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] The homeless man being harassed by police for sleeping at an historical site is actually the god the site was originally built for. | Guard duty.
My cousins are out slaying dragons and what do I get? Guard duty.
Don't think I have no love for Talos, he has kept me safe in battle for many years, but damn if it isn't dull.
Whiterun is a great town, and being at the center of Skyrim is great for commerce, we have all sorts come here, but it's mostly nords, like me.
Now, as I mentioned, I have great love for Talos, but there's this guy in town, see, Heimskr. Real loud mouth, loves Talos more than mead, and I get his message, really, I do, but he goes on all day, every damn day. I've never seen him leave. Come to think of it, I've never even seen him eat...or shit or anything. Sun goes down, he sleeps right there with the statue, sun comes up, and he's back at it again.
He can't even come up with any new stuff either, it's the same 4 or 5 paragraphs over and over again calling us maggots and the like. Now, I don't want to kill the guy, but if I hear his shtick again, I'm going to lose it. I could put him in the keep, and at least give him a bed and food for a few days, give me some peace and quite, and keep the Aldemeri thinking we listen to them.
It honestly seemed pretty win-win-win to me. Now, can I through someone in the keep just because they annoy me? Sure. Am I *supposed* to? Eh...not really.
I was going to have to make up some excuse, and I was really tired, so I just went with the classic 'talos worship...blah blah...illegal...blah blah.'
Well I'll be damned if he didn't go right off the gods-damned handle, started screaming and screeching, throwing things around, the works. He caused enough of a scene for some other guards to come up and put him in irons without asking me why he was being arrested, which is good for me, considering we're all nords here.
It really was surprisingly difficult to get this unarmed little nord in robes into the dungeon, it took about 6 of us, guy was unbelievably strong. He really went off the deep end once he was in the cell though, started saying *he* was talos, and they he could take us of all if he had killed any dragons or practiced his thu'um.
I've always kinda wondered what power Talos really has. It's honestly always been kinda vague.
Fucking guard duty.
| Rough fingers brushed weathered stone, carefully feeling out each time-earned bump and mound. He could still feel each etched rune… or, at least, he *remembered* feeling them. They were gone now, long gone… too gone. The man’s once-proud visage drew close together in a frown. How long had he slept? They had promised sacrifices after his deep sleep, as had been prophesized by the far-seer, but no there was no one in sight. No priest holding glinting knives, no blood-letters trailing behind with downcast faces. No wide-eyed children, no mothers holding them by their shoulders to keep them in line.
Instead, there were two strange men approaching with poor intentions.
One yelled out something foreign, and the old man turned, long beard trailing the ground. One man’s rotund face heavily scowled as he waddled forward, belly swaying with his steps, while the other had a haughty look pasted on, despite the fact that he was skinnier than most sacrifices. The round one gestured wildly as the old man showed no signs of moving. Was he asking him to move? But why should he? This was his home, his monument. It belonged to him. How did they not know this? Were they heathens?
The old man’s face wrinkled even further as the thought passed his mind. How dare they approach him, unfaithful as they clearly were? He ought to smite them where they stood. He rose one arm towards the defiers, three fingers held up in a sign of doom.
But nothing happened.
It did get a reaction from the heathens, however. The large one snatched a dark object from his waist and pointed it at the old man with confused eyes, while the small man stepped back and behind the other one.
The old man only paid these events cursory attention. There was only one reason that he would be unable to call forth any of the elements, a reason he had heard of from his ancestors.
He was fading.
It had happened to other gods when hey were forgotten, supposedly. But the old man had never thought that it would happen to him. He was the leader, the most prominent figure, the True-Father. How would it happen to him?
He had the answer right in front of him, of course. He had been forgotten, and was now being threatened by people who would not even whet his appetite as sacrifices.
He lowered his arm, and turned away from the lesser men. The prophecy hadn’t come true, just as people had whispered in the darkness back in his heyday. But while he had lost his authority, he had not lost his dignity. He would *never* lose his dignity.
So it was with a straight back that the old man walked away, disregarding the vaguely frightened and confused shouts from the loud man behind him. He turned behind the remnants of an old pillar, what used to be a truly magnificent sight, and raised his arms up. And for a moment, he remembered what it had felt like to ride on the breeze, before the gentle gusts took him to the Beyond.
——————————————————
“No one can just disappear, y’ know,” John muttered as he slammed the door of the yellow-and-blue checkered car. “He’s still out there.”
Richard grunted, barely shoving his stomach into the small police car. “Sure, but whatever, just let him sleep there. We’ll find him tomorrow, it’s not that big a deal.”
“You just want to leave now to get to a café.”
“No shit.”
John snorted as he started the engine, and the car pulled out of the lot, gravel crunching under the tires.
The two sat in silence for a while longer. But just as they reached the highway, John spoke.
“But seriously, who the hell falls asleep at *stonehenge*?” | 2014-08-28T08:22:49 | 2014-08-28T08:06:31 | 152 | 43 |
[WP] A sign on Mars is found that reads: "Level 2" and is signed by God.
Based off of a comment I saw. | I crack my radio to life. "Houston"
"Roger Glen. Houston here." The reply comes after 30 seconds of dead air.
I try to form the words that will be written for all the ages.
Words that will be repeated for eons to come.
Words that will inspire generations.
"Ding Houston. We have level up."
Shit. I am not a clever man. | He lay there in silence. The room was finally empty after what seemed to be hours of goodbyes from teary family members, but not as many as he liked there to be.
These were his final moments. A full 84 years of trials in a game called life and his failures over shadowed his accomplishments. Tears would be streaming down his face if he had the energy to make them.
He thought long and hard in his silent state. He was a bad man in the eyes of those he loved for they did not know the hardships he endured. His guidance during his infant years were that of a lashing hand from an alcoholic pig of a man. Fear consuming him through his adolescence until all that was left was anger and hate. He vowed that he would never touch a drink and ruin the life of any man woman or child. That Was until he had to fight for his country.
The horrors of his childhood were replaced with the horrors of war and this took a toll on him. His family. His sanity. Until all that was left were mistakes, heartache and a family who shunned a man they couldn't love, for his mistakes were too many.
He was grateful for ones that showed, and that was his last thought as he slowly slipped into an eternal bliss.
He suddenly awoke amongst a dark starry sky and he gazed in awe. He surely believed this was his last day on earth, and it was. He left behind a life full of mistakes and failures to a blissful to a noiseless beautiful landscape of red. He walked and suddenly saw a sign.
Level 2
- God
He smiled and realised there was time to make up for his mistakes and try again. His second chance | 2014-10-23T12:05:37 | 2014-10-23T12:05:30 | 38 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | John walked up to the front of the room and took a seat.
He held up a red pen "This pen is green.".
Those gathered in front of him gasped.
He took up a green pen "This pen is red."
The crowd drew in a collective breath, every eye wide with surprise.
"My name is not John"
The room was silent but for the shuffling of papers on the table of a man seated in front of him.
The shuffler stood and adjusted his tie, "John, I, unlike my counterpart here," he pointed to a sweating man on his right, "don't want to waste anybody's time here. So, I'm only gonna ask you three questions okay?"
"Sure" replied John calmly.
"Those pens you mentioned before, you know you got the colours wrong yes"
"I do"
"And the birth certificate I hold, right here in my hand," he waved the sheet of paper in its protective covering, "says you were born John Edward Harley?"
"That it does"
"On the night of the 16th did you rape and murder the woman, Helen Lathom, shown in this picture?" He indicated to a photograph of a pretty young lady on an easel to his left.
"No sir, I did not."
The crowd stood and started yelling, one woman in particular emitting a loud squeal, punctuated by her sobs.
"You lying sonuvabitch, you killed my baby!" She howled and moved to jump the partition separating them. The bailiff moved to hold her back and the judge slammed his gavel.
"Order at once!"
The room reduced to buttered whispers perforoted by the moans of the weeping mother.
"Case closed your honour, I would ask that that the prosecution dismiss all charges against my client immediately"
And that is how a colourblind man, birthname James Colton, got away with murder.
| "I do."
I felt a twinge in the back of my brain as my first lie slipped out of my mouth. No way was I going to keep this loser around "in sickness and in health." Melissa was a fine woman, nobody could deny that... but, you know, there are practical considerations to marriage that sometimes you just *can't* talk about. Such as what happens to a woman's body as it decays with age. Ugh.
Oh well; no matter. I had planned for this, and had hoarded my lies like rubies in the treasure chest of my brain. I still had two, which I planned to save for fifteen, twenty years down the road. I'd need to lie to the next one too... and probably the third.
At the reception, I got to talking to her father. It was all innocuous fun; I laughed at his jokes, he told me about his family history. Eventually, he grew serious. "I'm just so glad Melissa finally found somebody to love her for who she is. It's hard, coming from a family with money, to separate the legitimate lovers from the gold-diggers." He sipped his drink, and I sat silent. This was dangerous territory. Melissa herself was lovely, certainly... but how was I to get new conquests when I was fifty if I had no money?
Her father noticed something was off, and narrowed his eyes at me. "Son, I know you can't lie to me. If you'd been lying about anything in this relationship, you'd have used them all up a long time ago. So set my heart at ease and be frank: was money a consideration in your mind, when you proposed?"
He had underestimated my ability for half-truths, especially with the trusting Melissa... but I didn't want to waste one of my last two. I shook my head, smirking as if at a joke. He wasn't buying it. "Answer me plainly: yes or no?"
There was no way out. "No, of course not!" I felt the second lie burst from my lips. Damn it! Only one remained, glistening in the back of my skull, eternally precious––my one ticket to the life I wanted. Appeased, Melissa's father leaned back in his seat, and reached for his glass of champagne.
That night, I helped Melissa undo her corset. In the sickly yellow light of the motel lamps, her skin already seemed worn and papery. She turned to face me... but with two lies gone and my plans in jeopardy, all I could see in her body was the shadow of a future paunch, and the hint of crow's feet in the corners of her eyes.
She must have seen something in my face too, as she pressed herself against me with worry in her face. "Am I beautiful?" she asked softly. I embraced her silently, clamping down hard on my final lie––but she, knowing me as nobody else ever has, read my coldness correctly. The lie slipped away, out of my reach forever, as easily as if I'd spoken it aloud.
Melissa pulled away, and began to weep.
| 2014-11-15T07:59:56 | 2014-11-15T06:15:13 | 1,128 | 292 |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | The 'age of truth' historians were dubbing it. In 2031 a new app was released and became the new big thing. Taking advantage of the constant data stream from Apple's neural implants and the shared cloud of data the new app was able to pick up on subconscious cues and could tell when someone was lying. Privacy laws protected teenagers and kids, but hundreds of politicians and oligarchs suddenly got shunted straight to jail for their backroom dealings and millions of sham relationships collapsed.
And that's where I come in. As a Senator and the husband of an executive of the company that developed the app I knew about the one weakness of the app - it takes three distinct lies to calibrate. I was able to survive the initial purge of politicians by making colleagues exploit this fact, but I had grander plans for my own lies. My plan took years to develop, but I had both the patience and resources. Three lies and my plan would be complete.
"My fellow Americans, today is an historic day. Today we bring truth into the oval office. The government are taking over the running of the Liedetector app. I know some of you are worried about liberty but let me make to you three promises. One, the process will be completely legal; two, nobody will ever be able to alter the results of the app, and finally I will work personally to ensure your freedoms are always maintained."
Three lies was all I needed to get total control. The age of truth was here and my word was law. From this point on my word was The truth. | "And you heard it that's the up up up music, the DOW is up a whopping 4% as the news from Washington..."
The engine sputtered to a stop and Kai Ryssdal's voice faded. Slumping in her seat, Lerin stared at the white columns from the top of the parking deck. Brushing away her auburn hair, she tugged on her eye lids, and pulled the contact from her eye. It fell to the floor, but from the crystal blue circle in the center, it was easy to find. Yet she left it. In a few minutes she wouldn't see this car ever again. She took out the other, pulled on her glasses then stared across to the domes across the park. The sun's light blocked from the podium where she had been not three hours ago. She checked the crumbled sheet that had come from that clean manilla envelope, she was fifteen minutes early.
Despite the excitement of the day, she felt relief as the expectations of years in training ceased to matter. She touched the face she wore and felt the plastic of her cheekbones. Being assigned Nancy was a decent stroke of luck as she had only needed a little convincing to agree completely with her persona, and she looked similar. At least she hadn't ended up a C.E.O or an anchor, both which required very specific facts and elaborate logical mazes. Sure, speeches could be long but generalizations allowed philosophical waxing between the bangs. The beauty was, despite those three bangs, and the now throbbing pain the back of her head that she had come to expect, the world had been turned away from a terrible set of lies, that had been propagated by organizations much larger and more wealthy than hers. She'd done her job, and it was time to relax and let the pain fade as she likewise would fade from the society.
Retirement at 31. She smiled to herself, covered up her face, walked down from the garage, and saw the bus already waiting. Stepping on, she pulled off her hood as the door closed. She saw 4 other girls, each with auburn hair, and some of them still had their contacts in, some had wiped off the dark makeup, but all still had that trademark *Nancy* look. Nancy must be busy today.
"Guess I won't know you until we start talking, huh?" Lerin smirked.
"Well at least I know I can trust you. The name's Becky. Looking forward to this island vacation?".
"Man, I better be, at least we can forget about this place. Oh wait, you were at the noon conference! I loved how you got Nancy's left hand's gestures... I could never quite get those down." | 2014-11-15T17:28:43 | 2014-11-15T10:24:01 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Write out a murder scene where the victim is the only one speaking, but have the murderer speak one word in the end that justifies the murder. | "Oh you're here!", she exclaimed in a raspy voice. She always seemed so cheery, even near the end.
"Why does this have to happen during the holidays?" she asked.
There was so much that I wanted to say but I couldn't find the words. I'd pictured the scenario in my head a thousand times, maybe more. I always pictured it happening differently than it did.
She spoke again as if pulling me from a trance, "Are you going to do it then?"
That was a damn good question. Would I? Could I go through with it? It was such a simple task and yet it was the hardest thing I've ever done.
"I'm ready" she said with a heartfelt smile.
I closed my eyes, pushing a tear out of them onto my cheek.
"Goodbye" I whispered as I pulled the plug. | “Look at us...Look at us man...Look at where we are...what we’ve become! Look at what YOU’VE become! A fucking murderer. Thats right, I said it. You're a no-good low-down piece-a-shit backstabbing MURDERER! *Sniff sniff* You can try to justify it anyway you want motherfucker but you knew when we took that job together...and shit went south….that it was every man for himself! You fucking knew that! I dont know how the job went wrong or who called the feds but...*Sniff sniff* but I didn't sell you out! I'm no fuckin rat!!! Im no fucking traitor! Im just a criminal...a good for nothin criminal..and...and you're one too, just like me! So what gives you the right huh? HUH?!? WHAT GIVES YOU THE FUCKING RIGHT TO KILL ME MOTHERFUCKER?!!! I’ve known you for years...I know who you are…and I know the things we’ve done together! Robbed people...stores...stolen cars...killed people...and for what?..... So you and me could have a little more money, a little more drugs, and a little more time to be kings of the city. And now look at us…You pointing that gun at my face like you’re some sort of almighty judge of my fuckin fate or somethin….Is that what you think? You think you have the right to judge me after all the shit we’ve been through? Because you were NEVER as dedicated to those jobs as I was, you NEVER did as much of the work, killing OR stealin, as I DID! I SHOULD BE THE ONE POINTING THAT GUN AT YOU, YOU FUCK! WHO IN THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, MOTHERFUCKER, TOO POINT A GUN AT ME, AT YOUR OWN FUCKING PARTNERS FACE?!”
….
“Police.”
….
….*Sobbs*..... “Ah fu-”
*BOOM!!!*
| 2014-12-21T19:56:07 | 2014-12-21T18:52:19 | 40 | 22 |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | Batteries, batteries.
Wires and widgets.
Motors and magnets and digital digits.
---
Flinger and flanger and trigger prepared!
Mortimer Mason is right to be scared.
---
> Rabbit ears, rabbit ears.
> Potions and doves.
> Top hat and wand and a lovely glove.
---
> Paraphernalia of precision parts.
> Nelson McNelson will be faint of heart.
---
Soon as he goes.
> Soon as he comes.
The robot will fire!
> Gone are his guns!
---
*Nelson and Mortimer*
*At it again?*
*You are both thirty but act as if ten.*
---
Beverly Beckham?
> Of Bimbo Beach Road?
I do not like her.
> Shall I make her a toad?
---
*You boys are silly.*
*And so immature.*
Fire on 3?
> On that I concur. | “Damn you, Great Magico,” I screamed. I shook my fist at him from the kitchen window.
Great Magico laughed at me from his driveway. He twirled his mustache and flourished his cape. “Technology will never overcome magic.”
I pointed at Great Magico. “Get him, AnnoyBots,” I screamed.
Great Magico stood there. He cleared his throat and looked around. “Is it invisible?” he said.
I laughed.
“Visibilus,” yelled Great Magico. He pointed in one direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in another direction. “Visibilus.” He pointed in a third direction.
I laughed like a madman. A super villain would have been envious of my maniacal cackle.
Great Magico stood up straight and looked around again. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot. “Come on, Techno Lord. What’s going on here?”
“You’ll never see it coming, Great Magico. It’s my greatest creation yet!”
“I know it’s not invisible.” He stalked towards our lot line. “Is it behind this hedge?” Great Magico jumped around the end and saw nothing. “Nope.”
“You’re getting warmer, Great Magico. In fact, you might say you’re boiling,” I said.
Great Magico checked his watch. “Listen. I have to go. It’s almost 8:00. I’ve got to get to work. Magic doesn’t pay the bills if I don’t want to be homeless.” He disappeared in a puff of smoke and sparks.
I scratched my head. Great Magico should have been itching and scratching like a crazy person. His skin should have been turning bright red from irritation. Hives should have broken out all over his face. Why hadn’t my nanobots done their job?
I stomped over to their container. The power meter beeped red at me. I slapped my forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I had forgotten to charge the Annoybots. Magic couldn’t be defeated if the technology wasn’t charged. I shook my fist at my own forgetfulness. “Damn you, forgetfulness,” I yelled out the window. “I will destroy you.”
| 2015-02-18T20:13:56 | 2015-02-18T20:07:00 | 106 | 38 |
[WP] You're a supergenius-level robotics expert. Your neighbor is a godlike magician. You use your abilities solely to prank each other. | Batteries, batteries.
Wires and widgets.
Motors and magnets and digital digits.
---
Flinger and flanger and trigger prepared!
Mortimer Mason is right to be scared.
---
> Rabbit ears, rabbit ears.
> Potions and doves.
> Top hat and wand and a lovely glove.
---
> Paraphernalia of precision parts.
> Nelson McNelson will be faint of heart.
---
Soon as he goes.
> Soon as he comes.
The robot will fire!
> Gone are his guns!
---
*Nelson and Mortimer*
*At it again?*
*You are both thirty but act as if ten.*
---
Beverly Beckham?
> Of Bimbo Beach Road?
I do not like her.
> Shall I make her a toad?
---
*You boys are silly.*
*And so immature.*
Fire on 3?
> On that I concur. | I slapped my hands together and looked at my latest creation. A plume of white dust erupted from my gloves, and was promptly followed by a fit of heavy coughing, but my newest robot remained untouched.
I stood upon my pedestal and looked down at the trench I had just dug. Not that I did physical work, seeing as my summoned golems did most of that for me, but I guess you could assume that in a way, I had done the digging. All that was left for me now was to summon up some lava and cloak it with a basic spell. At least, that's what I would have done against anyone except for Ron.
My robot turned around and looked at me. Its black eyes, or diamond adjustments made to see through enchantments, looked at me warily. I looked back at it, and I smiled. "Protocol 2A, commence!" With that, the robot set off, its heat plumes pushing the robot just above ground level.
The lava filled the pit slowly, like a thick cake batter slowly pouring through a sieve. It would settle eventually, but for the time being, I had to find a way to stop Ron from getting into my house again. For that matter, I put aside my work and pulled out my morellonomicon, and I began to browse through it. What could I possibly use to stop Ron's newest machinery?
My robot slowly made its way across the street to the seemingly normal looking tower next to my house. It stopped just before the wall, having sensed a basic lava trap and a concealment spell. With ease, it quickly dismembered those spells and removed the enchantments. But wait, what was that quick flash of light?
That's it! A terrible robotics movie! Ron hates bad movies, and he hates bad robotics even more! I pulled up a plasma mirror, and I filled it with terrible robot movies. That'll get him for sure.
My eyes widened as the latest sequel to "Building with Chad" revealed itself. That bastard. He knew I hated those terrible movies. But it was too late to stop it now. I stood defenseless as the movie began. "Robotics is easy, just like A B C! Just plug the cord in and watch your robot run!" I guess he won this time.
| 2015-02-18T20:13:56 | 2015-02-18T19:59:49 | 106 | 31 |
[WP] It's the year 2300, a young child asks a museum curator, "Sir, why is the Declaration of Independence held together by masking tape? " | I fuckin' hate this job.
Every day it's the same mix of pretentious know-it-alls, school field trips, and pretentious school field trips. I know their type just by looking at 'em, all done up with their skin dyed the latest color, fuckin' ink all dancing back and forth. Every third one has the same image of a butterfly flapping its gay little wings on their shoulderblade, and everyone of the little bastards would say it means something different to them. They're all the same. They bring 'em in by the hoverload.
History is dead. No one cares anymore. I still can't believe I'm 4.4 billion in the hole for that History Major. I should quit, get a job drilling ore on an asteroid like my daddy wanted, but that means another six years in University, and another 5 billion in loans. The whole fuckin' system's broken.
I'm just taking it one day at a time. I haven't been totally sober for 24 hours in six months. I just wake up at six and shave while I'm waiting for the public hover, and check in time at work is usually ten minutes late. Wander around the halls of the Imperial Archives and drink an A-Tab dissolved in hot water, hope no one asks me anything.
Today I see this fat little shit toddling along, he's lost and I know he's lost because his holo beacon is shining, which means I'm supposed to do something. He's got one finger up his nose and a dazed expression on his face, and now I'm muttering into my A-Drink because he's making right for me. I turn my back on him, hoping to discourage the little gargoyle, but then I hear the patter of his chubby little sneakers come and stand next to me.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he stares at the old Declaration. He turns and stares up at me, next.
"Sir, why is the Declaration of Independence held together by masking tape?"
I pull out my flask and pour a little whiskey in the A-Drink to make it stop tasting like piss, and start tasting like alcoholic piss, and then I said to him what I say to everyone that asks that stupid questions.
"Because someone fuckin' ripped it." | The museum was quite still and empty yet engrossing. The yellow light shining onto the vast marble walls created a distinct golden colour. The delicate work in creating a professional and tangible environment were ruined by the holograms they used to provide information of the exhibits and although the children certainly enjoyed it, it didn't move Peter. The grand architecture did little to intrigue the timid Peter, it only made the place seem more prestigious and subsequently boring to a child. Although Peter did enjoy learning the past, it fascinated him that things had occurred; both amazing and appalling, while he wasn't present. Something we forget to appreciate as adults preoccupied on securing our positions in society.
The guide was only supplementing the boredom of the children forced to attend the walk through time. Following the mundane but almost mandatory script and showing no subtlety in masking the fake in her dumbfounded tone. It wasn't until the group arrived at the 8th listed exhibit that the excitement levels in the herd of booger picking goblins increased enough for one of the kids who kept begging the teacher for permission to go to the toilet to finally wet themselves. Or so we thought, the kid actually peed on some wires attached to the fuse box. Sparks shot up like small fireworks and the whole museum fell into darkness. This halted the tour for a few minutes until the back up generator returned order in the museum. The tour guide and teacher did their best to survive the onslaught on children's screams that threatened their sanity. The sound of glass shattering had eclipsed the screams for a brief moment and Peter began to move. The sudden blackness had aroused Peter enough to speak his first words of the tour upon regaining composure after the lights had illuminated the building again.
"Miss, why is the Declaration of Independence held together by masking tape?".
The guide turns towards the exhibit and gasps in shock, her eyes widened in terror and palms covering her mouth. It was unusual for Peter to witness real emotion from her.
"Oh my god, it wasn't like this before! Shit, shit, shit, shit!" She ran to another member of staff in a state of absolute anxiety.
"Call the manager! Something's happened to the Declaration! It's been destroyed!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The detectives who had just finished their investigation determined that the culprit had gotten away. And Peter's group were questioned, although the detectives knew it would do little to help they had to maintain consistency on duty. The members of the museum had examined the piece of paper once the authorities arrived since it never really occurred to them to validate it earlier and one of the higher ups who knew the museum like the back of his hand had claimed it was a fake. To which the detectives had suggested that it was a distraction for the criminal to escape with.
Once all the procedure had been done the students and teacher returned to the familiar bus at the allocated time. Peter sat in the very spot he arrived in, no one sat next to or around him but that didn't bother him, he was focused on more important matters. He placed his backpack on his lap, unzipped the main section and stared into the dark space at the ancient scroll that was stolen. His cold emotionless expression shrouding the immense amount of thoughts flowing through his mind. He grabbed it one more time to feel that surge of thrill he had experienced only hours ago, placed it back once he had come to his senses, rezipped the backpack and gazed out into the vast advanced metropolis before him. A sinister smile possessed him as he set his eyes on a new prize. *The future*.
Edit: Grammar.
| 2015-06-29T09:45:39 | 2015-06-29T07:51:56 | 146 | 56 |
[WP] Two people are in a public place, one has had the best news of their life, the other has had the worst news of their life. Unbeknownst to them, they share the exact same news. | The king had enjoyed his day, after dinner he had the sage brought to his court past a long line of petitioners from the peasantry. The king's spokesman asked the sage to amuse the king by displaying his infinite wisdom. He asked the sage, "Are you so wise that you could make even the king sad and that peasant happy with one truth?" The sage replied, "Like all things, this too shall pass away."
The whole court became enlightened by seeing the single tear roll down the kings graven face. | It's what I assume is a busy night at one of the larger casinos. Technically, I'm here to make money counting cards, but as my traveling companion and fellow successful gambler reminds me, "it's Vegas, man!"
So I leave the blackjack table, fix my makeup, and spritz on some perfume, becoming the very picture of somebody you'd like to buy a drink for. (What can I say? Alcohol is expensive.)
A couple hours and several drinks later, I'm dancing, and an enthusiastic woman with a Midwestern accent knocks me to the ground. "Oh, I'm so sorry, honey," she slurs, clearly wasted. "I didn't mean to run into you like that." "Are you all right?" I reply dubiously.
Her response is loud, even compared to the boom of the bass. "I am DOING GREAT," she responds operatically, "BECAUSE I FINALLY GOT A DIVORCE!" She rumbas, or twerks, or *something*, off to knock over another innocent bystander, and I lose sight of her.
Later, I sit at the bar, smoothing disheveled hair and hoping I don't smell like the sweat of strangers. Jack made a few thousand tonight, but I'm not ready to sleep yet, so I debate ordering another drink when a man with a gray suit and dark circles under his eyes does so for me.
He doesn't initiate conversation, just stares ahead, so I politely ask "What brings you to Vegas, then?" He replies "I'm here to get drunk" flatly, with the intonation of a man on death row. "I'm sorry." "Don't feel sorry for me, sweetheart. It was my own damn fault... wife left me. Thought she was the one. Apparently not." | 2015-07-25T22:10:17 | 2015-07-25T19:20:32 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] Convicted criminals can choose to shorten their sentence. The only catch is the more it is shortened, the worse the conditions are where they are held. Describe a one night stay.
Thanks guys, I'm reading all of them. Keep it coming! | At this end of the jail everything smells bad.
The warden's aide takes me past the 6 month room. It's lowered below the floor a couple meters. Inside, I see a room full of prisoners up to their waist in liquid shit. The smell is unbearable
Then the 3 month room. Much like the last, except here they're up to their chest in shit.
The one week room has the prisoners up to their necks in shit. Just one room left.
I was surprised by the one day room. Everyone was standing around drinking coffee, and only up to their knees in shit.
"I'll take it!" I said to the warden's aide.
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely, how bad could it be?"
I climbed down into the room, waved to the other prisoners, poured myself a cup of coffee.
Before I could drink it, the lights dimmed and brightened three times. A guard with an SMG came through the door.
"ALRIGHT YOU MAGGOTS!" he bellowed "BREAK TIME IS OVER! BACK TO STANDING ON YOUR HEADS!" | "You can stay here for the rest of your life," the Warden says, tapping his fingers on the desk, searching through the half-melted stacks of papers for the right document. "Or you can be out of here in a day."
"A day," Jay replies.
His eyes lock on the Warden, unmoving and unblinking; in truth, the Warden had the document he needed trapped under his right hand--he kept searching because it gave him an excuse to look at something other than Jay.
"Yep. Life or a day. Your choice."
Jay raises an eyebrow. "The catch."
"It'll be a hell of a night," the Warden replies, smiling under his hat.
There was silence. The light above them buzzes.
"I'll do it," Jay says, his tone eternally level.
"Of course you will," the Warden mutters, sliding him the paper under his hand.
Jay signs it. Two guards enter--the Warden nods to them, and they grab Jay under his arms, escorting him to his bedroom.
*-----------------------------------------------------*
Jay sat naked on the floor, and there was silence.
In the distance--if he strained--he still hear the lights' buzzing, fleeing the lightless room where he lay.
A quick circling revealed walls within two feet on all sides--not enough to lay down in. So he sat, cross-legged in the center, closed his eyes and waited.
His foot twinged--something pricked his heel, something sharp and small like a bug bite. He reached down to slap it, but it was gone; the only thing left there a patch of wetness--a single drop of blood.
A second twinge--his arm, and the same. A little drop of blood, taunting him. A bug he couldn't slap.
Three hours passed.
Every ten seconds--or five, or fifteen, or sixty, or two, Jay didn't know--some blade would slice him or some needle would prick him, drawing more than a single drop, now--he was light-headed, but not enough to make him delirious. The buzzing fluctuated--currently it was unbearably loud, but he knew soon it would die down. Or maybe it would get louder. He didn't know.
Jay bled. From every scrap of skin he had to bleed--he bled.
And around him was the buzzing, narrating his night to him. | 2015-10-27T08:07:44 | 2015-10-27T06:08:27 | 150 | 58 |
[Wp] [EU] Rorschach is about to put a permanent end to a serial killer, when Batman arrives on the scene, intent on stopping him. Soon after, Judge Dredd arrives to arrest the vigilantes. The most hyper-masculine, throat-growly argument ever results. | "You're a madman, Kovacs," Batman growled. "No better than the criminal scum you seek to kill."
"*Hurm*," Rorschach rasped. "*Knows my old name. Clever. But not clever enough to realize how scum like him should be treated.*" The killer writhed in Rorschach's grip.
"This is my city," Batman snarled.
"*Your city cries out*," Rorschach rumbled. "*Its sewers overflow with blood and filth. All the whores and pigs and politicians scream for someone to save them.*"
"And you think that person's going be you?" Batman thundered.
"*No.*"
"Wait," Batman gravelled. "But didn't you just say -"
"Freeze, criminal scum," Dredd barked. His Lawgiver gleamed in the darkness.
"C'mon!" the killer said. "I have a name, you know."
"*Opponents are two heavily-muscled leather-clad men,*" Rorschach hurmed. "*Possible homosexuals?*"
"That man is a killer. The two of you are guilty of vigilantism," Dredd grated. "I am the Law."
"This is my city," Batman re-snarled.
"It's Kevin, if anyone cared. My name's Kevin." | *Atop a city building on a warm night...*
"Soon you will be just another piece of scum that needs to be shoveled off the ground" Rorschach said as he held a hysterical man over the edge of a building by just his shattered forearm
"P-ple-ease" the man whimpered, just as a large shape began to appear in the night from behind his captor.
The Dark Knight materialized behind Rorschach, quickly throwing him and the man to the ground near the center of the rooftop.
"Let him go, and take off that mask" growled Batman, as he adjusted his cape as if preparing to move.
"You dont know how many people he has hurt! The lives he destoyed!" Barked Rorschach, as he regains his stance.
"He will see justice for what he did, real justice" the Bat replied.
Suddenly the roof access door slammed open, and a man with a large badass looking helmet stepped onto the rooftop
"who the fuck are you?" Growled the vigilantes in unison, as the man slowly started walking toward them while drawing a quite different looking pistol.
"I am justice" Dredd uttered in an even deeper growl than the other two. He began to lift his pistol, just as Rorschach looked for a place to duck to, and Batman began to pull out batarangs; but before either of them could retaliate, Dredd shot the man they were both after right in the head, splattering his brains about the rooftop and killing him instantly.
The two vigelantes just stood in awe of what had just happened, misted with blood, then a collective growl/grunting noise came from the three of them as they lunged toward eachother all trying to beat some justice into eachother
*the song Test Your might plays in the background as they fight*
Punching Kicking Growling and Grunting ensue between the three men.
Beaten, disarmed, and tired from battle, the three face eachother on the rooftop, trying to catch their breath. In the brawl Batman had taken a karate chop to the throat from Dredd, Rorschach had gotten a knee to the neck from the Bat, and all of the muscles in Dredd's neck and face had seized up from trying to make that angry face all the time, and the three of them were hardly able to speak from their injuries.
"hurrrgrrhphhggrraaarrrgl!" Rorschach grumbled
"raaarg!" The Bat shouted
"hrrrgurgrrhrrrg" Dredd painfully said
edit- formatting
| 2016-05-01T03:58:35 | 2016-04-30T21:53:50 | 128 | 44 |
[WP] Everyone has a number above their heads that signifies their relevance to your life as a ratio. Both your parents are the highest you've seen (around 0.4-0.5) until today, when you spot an 0.97 hanging out under a bridge doing heroin. You make brief eye contact and they run. | The pool of blood has reached the drain. My vision is beginning to go dark. The junkie has fled, leaving his improvised shiv next to me, covered in my blood.
I had seen the .97, and clearly he'd seen something similar from me. He had made the smart choice, and run. I had made the dumb choice, and run after him. One quick duck into an alley, a screaming match, and I'm lying in a pool of my own blood.
The darkness is really closing in now. It occurs to me that this junkie has probably just killed me.
*I mean, I guess that is pretty fucking relevant,* I think to myself as it all goes black. | The park is usually a pretty quiet place and almost everybody there means nothing to me. Everyones a 0.0000000000001 or something. Maybe there'l be the occasional person I went to high school with or an Ex-Girlfriend's best friend who gets up to a .1 but thats it. It makes me feel anonymous. I feel like I have the freedom to be myself. Nobody matters and if they cared they could just walk away.
I usually walk to the park after I'm done with classes for the day. I people watch, read, walk, contemplate my insignificance in the universe. Y'know normal stuff. But today something felt off. Like it was that feeling of "I need to go home because a huge storms coming through" but there was no storm. The weather was actually really nice. So I figured it must have been the taco bell from earlier and continued on my walk. I went down the path I normally take. The path goes under this over-sized bridge in the middle of the park. I always like to look at it and wonder why a bridge that size is in the middle of a park. I did that today too. But today someone was under there, doing drugs or something. It's not too unusual, junkies liked to shoot up under the bridge and I've caught a glimpse of a few in there before.
But the junkie had a .97 over her head. I looked at her, confused. What the hell would someone so important to me be doing here? She looked back at me. I think she was as confused as I was because she bolted. I tried chasing her but for a junky she was fast. And just as I was about to give up she dropped her cell phone and had to pick it up. I ran over to her with what little adrenaline I had left.
And that kids is how I met your mother...
| 2016-10-02T16:35:03 | 2016-10-02T15:36:21 | 620 | 47 |
[WP] You have superpowers but you decide not to be a hero or a villain, instead you use your powers to be really good at your mundane job. | I walked to the door of the house with my clipboard and pen ready. I knock on the door.
"Good morning madam, are you by any chance interested in buying one of these magnificent vacuums?"
"Sorry sir, not today, have a good day."
As she was closing the door I shoved my foot in it.
"But wait ma'am let me show you how well it works!"
"Sir, not today!"
"All right, but just listen."
I raised my hand and after a couple of seconds. After a while she was having difficulties standing upright. She was wobbling all over the place.
"Go get your wallet." I commanded.
The woman stood there for a moment and then started stumbling to the stairs. It took a while but I knew she came back when I heard her falling down the stairs. After standing up she walked to me with her wallet in her hands.
"Give me your credit card number."
The woman started to recite the sixteen digit code one her credit card. I scribbled the number on my clipboard. I proceeded to ask her the security number. The mumbled the last few numbers.
"All right ma'am, you'll see your new vacuum in about three weeks."
I closed the door and then I heard a thud. She'll be fine. I walked away from the porch and onto the next house. Time for sale number 18. | People avoid those words.
They imply a genre of fiction. They mean that it is likely we are of that genre, and the reason we don't have a Captain America or Superman figure being the Adonis-esque handsome figure with Herculean themes and Arthurian ideals made PC for modern times sensibilities is because we're not a particularly *good* superhero setting.
And that's a bit scary to think about, to imagine that your universe is possibly an edgy indie 90s comic about men who can explode leaving only ash and people have powers that nobody outright says is a metaphor for firearms.
Most of our fiction ignores people with unusual abilities. They're rare enough, and low key enough, that they typically only pop up in wars.
The initial reports of The Oil Baron, a moustached man who could transform into a flammable humanoid goo of fuel soon turned into reports of 'insurgents with unusual abilities'.
It's easy to forget, sometimes, that we live in a world where there is a person with Superman's powerset, but he's a Irish terrorist who occasionally attacks English cities.
There's a lady who can transform into a dragon. A red one. From Wales. She eats people whenever her blood pressure goes high enough to trigger the transformation.
A lot of people have shitty powers too.
There's a punk band I quite like whose lead singer can partially mind control people she touches, and only when she touches them, with no lingering effect beyond a sense of being drunk.
There's a Scouser porn star who has tentacle tits. Very popular online, her dream has been to be a Page 3 girl for years, but papers like the Star and the Daily Sun keep saying it's somehow more hardcore pornography than a typical glamour shot.
People largely just get by. Their powers are just another talent, usually on par with spinning plates or singing.
Britain's Got Talent got really bloody good once superpowers were allowed.
But that's not what you're here for. You're here to see the world's only telekinetic.
Well... Hi. Welcome to my comic book and movie rental shop. I can guarantee that these works have been untouched by me. The comics are more mint than anywhere else, even the covers are untouched by human hands since manufacture.
We struggled when superheroes started appearing, but when people realised that it's hard to buy tights and fight crime while keeping your job, people seek us out for hope and ideas.
Rarely any normals though. You got a power, kid?
Think yourself a *hero*, or a *villain*?
There's no such thing.
Just pick your comic from the tablet there and get out.
You sicken me. | 2016-10-22T07:18:02 | 2016-10-22T04:40:39 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | Everyone has scars, there's no denying it and if someone does they're just going to get another scar. The scars we get from telling lies don't hurt us physically, hell, we can hardly even feel them. Some scars are deep, some are hardly noticeable, but they are still there and there's no such thing as a scarless body. The only person that I have met who came close only had one scar, but it was the worst scar I have ever seen. His name is Harold and when I met him all I could see of his scar was the part that went over his eye and down his face and neck into his shirt. It wasn't until we got to know each other better that he showed me it's true extent. A scar that continued down past his heart and wrapped all the way to his back.
I met Harold at a bar a few years after I graduated college, we talked over drinks and found we had a lot in common. Harold was ten years older than me, but we both had a son that was in grade school, they even went to the same school. We met more frequently at the bar and eventually started to spend time together outside of the bar. As the time passed our friendship grew stronger, we did so much together with our children that most people thought that we were related. Our children became best friends as they grew up. We were both single fathers. I had my son with a girlfriend from college who dropped him off with me one day and never came back. Harold's wife left him when his son was only a few years old.
I've never been one to hide my scars. I talk about most of my scars when the topic comes up, but there are some that only Harold knows the reasoning behind. Harold never talked about his scar and that was fine, I knew when the time was right he would. I never asked because it isn't polite to ask someone about their scars. I tied to not talk about scars around Harold because I knew it made him uncomfortable considering the size of his. The only thing that I know about Harold's scar is that he didn't get it all that long ago.
I asked Harold how he could go his whole life only telling one lie and he would always say he didn't ever feel the need to lie. Even if we didn't get scars with every lie, I don't think that Harold would be able to lie. He was always the first to admit he was wrong or that he screwed up. He was down to earth and everyone loved him. Harold was always putting others first, he was always the one with the loudest laugh or the biggest smile. He always seemed to be the happiest person in the room and it was hard to be sad around him. He always lifted everyone's spirits when things seemed bleak.
One day when Harold and I were with our kids at the local swimming pool Harold fainted. We rushed him to the hospital where they ran some tests on him. I waited with him in hours of agony before they brought back results. Cancer. That's the only word I heard. My mind went blank and I sat in shock with my best friend as the doctor told him there wasn't much treatment available because of how far along it was.
I spent the next few weeks visiting the hospital every day. I spent hours with him at a time and we would talk about everything under the sun and reminisce about all the time we spent together. As his body grew weaker I spent more time at the hospital. I didn't want to lose my friend yet and I knew I needed to be there for the time that he did have left. One day he told me that he wanted to tell me about his scar. He said he knew that I always wanted to ask about it. A scar appeared across my hand as I told him that wasn't true and we both laughed.
He told me that his scar came with one single word. It happened one morning at home while he was laying in bed with his wife. She was admiring his scarless body and they were talking about the life he led up to this point. He told stories about the times that he thought about accepting a scar but he couldn't bring himself to lie. His wife stared at him a while, then asked him if he was happy. Harold said yes and smiled, as the scar tore through his body. He said it was the most painful scar imaginable.
When he was done with his story, he simply said he was going to miss me. I told him I would miss him every day as he closed his eyes for the last time.
| I was flirting with being deemed a "Marked One" with my most recent scars. The Marked Ones had a lot of trouble fitting into society. It was an accepted form of prejudice. After all, you weren't judging someone based on race, creed, sexual orientation, hell even college football team allegiance. No, it was purely a judgement based on lies. I had quite a few, but never any big ones. Kept me from getting a job in finance, but I landed plenty of manual labor. Most recently, I had earned myself a spot recycling concrete. I lined up next to a few ex-cons, and a few that I knew were illegal immigrants. George, he had a scar from his eye to his chest...I knew not to ask him about that one.
I was off kilter today. Everything was irritating me, despite my awareness that what I was getting upset over was unimportant to me, my better angels were silent. Finally the boss called us on break for lunch after a tough day on the line. I took a tumble head first and nearly hit my face on an exposed road sign post. I looked down at my squished peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and also George's hammer that he had left out. I got up with rage in my eyes.
"Awww Honey, that's the saddest little sandwich I've ever seen" she said, before I could let out a holler at a giant ex-con.
"You'll have to let me make you some lunch"
I looked over and recognized her. It was the boss's daughter Scarlet. She had come through a few times, and the crew did their best to avert their eyes and hold in their whistles. She was just out of high school, but damn if she wasn't the curviest woman I'd ever seen. Jet black hair, green eyes, freckles, and a ridiculously tight bod. I guess she did gymnastics or something? It was the first time I'd seen her and it wasn't 40 below. She had come by during the winter and brought soup to her dad a few times.
She was wearing a tank top and some silly-tight jeans. She was a "Pure One"...no surprise there. I'm sure her dad provided everything to her, and she didn't have to lie very often. In fact, I didn't see any at all. That was until she turned around to head back to the boss's trailer.
It was the longest and most hideous scar I'd ever seen. I could barely catch pieces of it between her shirt and her pants, but God...it was so wide and deep.
"There's not much here, but I can reheat some of last nights dinner" she caught eyes with me, and I could tell I wasn't hiding my shocked face very well. A nervousness came over her, and she began to tear up. She quickly wiped the tear away and turned to change the subject back to the roast and potatoes she was getting for me.
She laid it out on the desk where I was sitting, and chimed in,
"I saw George's hammer, and I saw you about to get yourself killed--" she looked up. She could tell I was still fixated on her mark.
She paused, "Johnny right? Your name's Johnny?"
I nodded.
"...Listen, if I tell you what it was, you have to promise that you won't tell anyone, and forget you ever saw it."
I nodded, slower this time.
"My Dad, he's been *too* close to me ever since I could remember."
My face of shock and awe turned to a sympathetic one. The pain in her eyes and voice echoed to the bottom of my gut.
"He's abused me and my sister the whole time we've been in the house since Mom went to prison."
She began to cry.
"My little sister Vanessa, she told the police about everything. He was going to be locked away finally. They came to me to corroborate her story, and I...I"
She pointed to the scar.
"He beat her so bad that night, the police chalked it up to her having a creative imagination...That's what I told them, that she had a creative imagination...with all of those little scars on her body. Now she has real ones."
She let out a flurry of tears and sobs.
I already hated Jim, her father. It didn't surprise me that he abused anyone. He worked us like slaves and threw shit around the work site constantly. He fired Tony when his wife got cancer and he couldn't come in. I already wanted to shove my foot up his pretentious ass.
*How could he do that to his own kids?*
It was something I pondered over for the rest of the day. The rest of the day went by quicker. I worked with a rage. A rage of injustice.
The chime rang for the end of the day. I felt a little relief.
I started to walk off and tripped head first and this time I wasn't so lucky. I fell right into an exposed road sign post and it made it's way into bloodying my eye. I looked back, squinting through one good eye. It was George's hammer again. He looked at me nervously as if to say *I'm sorry* with his eyes. I took a deep breath and went over and picked it up to hand to him.
"You clumsy motherfucker. Don't think you're getting any time off for your own bullshit"
It was Jim. I looked up at his face with a blind rage. In a flash I looked down at a bloody hammer. My eye widened. I had just struck him. I looked down at him convulsing as blood shot out of his head. Then it stopped. George looked down with his hand on his neck.
"He's dead Johnny" he said solemnly.
I saw a figure walking slowly off the work site. It was Scarlet. She turned towards me. A scar ripped her face, all the way down to her legs. | 2016-12-29T10:20:21 | 2016-12-29T09:10:58 | 114 | 63 |
[WP] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. | The scar - singular, I must highlight - was so horrific, so deep, and so... extensive... It's either one huge lie, or... I had to look away as I realised I could take a full anatomy lesson just by looking at him naked.
"I'm a software engineer, IT guy, and all round tech-guru," he murmured. "I keep skipping reading the sodding Terms and Conditions." | They said we'd meet all kinds at university. I grew up in a small farming town and I can't tell you how right they were.
With the recent election behind us, tensions were still high. The debates had been arduous. Should we deal with climate change via the solar route or reach out to newer frontiers of nuclear or wave power.
I have to admit I was disappointed I missed the lottery for physics 570, which meant a free semester on one of the 17 lunar colonies, but if I was being honest with myself I knew my scores didn't merit more than a single ticket in the pool.
I'd met several people who honestly believed we'd establish more than a foothold on mars, which I couldn't believe. I mean with the em drive version 4 we were pushing on to Europa, and water base station. Huge lead plates were already on the way with humans soon to follow.
The abundance of food, advances in medicine, and lack of disease (thanks to vaccines and proper medication) meant I was honored to be taught English 104 by a professor that was alive when electric cars were just being invented.
But I never thought to meet a heretic.
She was pretty, excepting the large red scar that marred her face and neck. Almost half an inch across and running from her forehead down her face, over her jaw, and disappearing under her shirt the scar was open red raw, proof she repeated the lie again. Not that any of had to ask what it was, with the thin golden cross hanging from her necklace.
I stayed away from her, like the others, as I focused on my studies and where I wanted to take not only my life but the human race, out among the stars. | 2016-12-29T13:50:02 | 2016-12-29T13:26:32 | 51 | 12 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | "Field medic? Why are we humouring the new prospect anyway? We have body labs." Muttered Zelska. Zelska was what the humans would call "A fucking idiot." Jorax reflected.
"Well," Jorax began "Aahii are the greatest builders and engineers in the universe,right?"
"Of course!" Snapped Zelska.
"But, Aahii don't repair anything, ever. The idea that they could craft something that does. Not. Work. Is impossible to contemplate...Humans make trash, they are ugly and backwards, lumbering idiots with no understanding of design or even the principles upon which all great devices work. You've seen it though, heard rumours of humans re-purposing derelict Aahii craft. Making gateways out of purifiers! Human engineers get you home when the gods spit upon your fate and shatter your drive..."
Zelska cut him off, near frothing with impatient rage "We all know the importance of a human engineer on staff, but why do we need this bloody medic!"
Jorax shifts his tunic, revealing a jagged mess of scarring.A near impossible amount of his lower abdomen missing. "It's not just ships a human can hold together when the gods turn their back on you..."
| Captain of NA Drial to Federation HQ
I am afraid, scared and motivated, I know its odd way to put it but we may win the war against the Empire with the humans.
I mean, since humans first made contact they remained neutral, in their tiny solar system.
They had so much battle experience that we thought that humans maybe were empire species, but turns out they were fighting each other all along.
To classify the humans are reckless, suburb and brave. They did not like it when the Empire order them to surrender and give them an ultimatum of 48 hours to surrender, humans instead of surrender, every planet in their solar system started to go in lockdowb, Earth the center of human power and the home world issued order 450, an order that other species said that was to crazy go against the empire like that. The order 450 was simple, boost power to Earth's mighty iron shields, by using the planets raw core, they were sucking the planets thermal energy to power a shield, that amount of energy disturbed all sensor in the solar system, they hold the 48 hours like that until the Empire invaded, turn out the humans were not in the mood to go on the defense, they hidden an entire space ship fleet beside the solar system star, Earth's shields were not protecting Earth's but were protecting an enormous fleet from the star heat. Has soon the empire was in Earth's defense weapons a barrage of shots started to hit the empire ships, and then they warped all of the fleet be hide the empire ships.
They destroy, captured all empire ships, nothing was left of the empire. Earth's alone fleet and power won an entire invasion force more than a million empire ships more than 30 million soldiers either dead or captured, but the amazing part was that human fleet damage was 15 ships, a battalion that sacrifice them self to save the crown of the Earth's power the mighty, USS Helena, after that battalion fall the USS Helena shot a full range and power, a barrage of shots that alone killed more than 150 ships.
Humans are crazy, have a lot of power and they are not afraid to fight until the last man.
Has of right now the Redjop have joined the human fleet, but not with man but with ships, turns out that humans did not have enough ships to carry the military, 459 million, a single species has enough personal has the Empire combine. In this report I ask mercy to creator because, humans will most likely to use the Empire home solar system star has a bomb, I mean I hope they get some sense what they are doing. | 2017-03-06T01:01:31 | 2017-03-06T00:01:22 | 379 | 25 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with. | Lexicanum Galacticum
Chapter 67
"Humans"
The human species are famous for their insanity and general lack of responsibility,but still they became one of the dominant species in the galaxy after their victory in the War in Heaven.
The human species are divided into 3 grand factions:
1.The Commonwealth
2.The United Coalition of Earth
3.The Empire of Man
The humans most famous deeds include:
Ramming a battleship into a shielded planet-ship to penetrate its barrier,then boarding it and completly destroying it from the inside out.
Making a Class E star go Supernova by transporting much of its matter through a wormhole until it reached critical mass.Thus is how the War in Heaven ended.
Building the largest Titan-class battleship ever.(Approx.lenght 45 human kilometers)
Building doomsday weapons with the sole purpose of having it to look strong.
Invading a parallel plane of existence.
Charging into battle,outnumbered 60:1 while shouting "Tenno hekai banzai!",and proceding to win the battle.
Chainswords.
Declaring war on another empire because "Those idiots don't fight in melee.Thus they fight inglorious and without honour."Then after their only peace demands was to make regular use of melee in the said species's armed forces.
Warping a planet into their enemies fleet.
Going on a suicide mission in the galactic core,then annihilating the scourge of the galaxy,then returning like nothing happened.
Accidentaly creating a god-like entity.Then destroying it with the use of thermofusional missiles.
Using giant electromagnetic guns to launch ships into orbit.
The usage of extradimensional forces to contain another extradimensional force.
Lexicanum Galacticum
Page 31415
| “Your Grace,” Eddie said, bowing. The King gestured for him to rise in one quick, almost bored, motion. Eddie rose, meeting the King’s eyes. His normally serene face had _twisted_ the past few weeks. The man kept his gray-tinged beard even, but it had grown wildly. Uneven and unlike His Imperial Majesty.
“What news do you bring?” he asked. Behind him Eddie noticed guards shuffle. Once this man fought on the front, notching dozens of kills to his name. Now he sat upon the gilded throne and guided the destiny of his empire.
Eddie hesitated—he knew the King would not like his words. “We launched the first strike. They suffered massive casualties, enough to cripple any world. Millions died.”
The King grinned. “Yes, of course they are crippled,” his voice shook with laughter. “Did I not say this is what would happen?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Eddie bowed his eyes in reverence. Then he continued, “but they’ve rallied. Millions are positioned to hit our western outposts. If those fall then they can strike at the capital of Novas, which would throw the entire western half of the empire into disarray.”
“What?” the King bellowed, rising from his throne. “Explain yourself, Commander Edward.”
Eddie bowed his head. “The casualties they suffered should’ve been enough to cripple. They should have surrendered. Instead they’ve taken every man, woman, and child capable of holding a weapon and have launched a counter offensive. We do not believe them to be overly skilled or organized, but their sheer numbers…”
The King retook his seat. His eyes turned away, hand steepled, face lost in thought. “How long until we can match them?”
“It’ll take us weeks to match their numbers.”
Anger flashed in the King’s eyes. “No, we don’t need to match them. Half of our elite paramilitary units should be enough. They’re skirmishers, not warriors. And once we’ve crushed them I will reunite this empire. Shattered by my forefathers, we will be whole again.”
“Your Grace… during the initial assault we also landed several brigades on the surface of their homeworld. Those men are dead,” Eddie said, his voice almost a whisper.
“You…! How many men have you cost us, Commander Edward? Your incompetence…” the King shook. His lips curled and he snarled. “How many lives will be lost because of you?”
Eddie remained silent, neglecting to mention the order he received. “I apologize, Your Grace. I will rectify this. I swear.”
The King said nothing for a moment. “No. Let them come.” Again the King looked away. “We can use their assault on Novas. Weaken them and some of our vassal colonies. Then reestablish our rule over the west and conquer Earth afterwards.”
“As your command, Your Grace.” Eddie saluted and turned to leave.
“Commander Edward,” the King’s voice called, “do not fail me.”
| 2017-03-06T02:11:41 | 2017-03-05T22:41:12 | 99 | 60 |
[WP] Everyone on Earth was infected with a disease with no cure. The only thing keeping humanity alive is a drug that fights the disease, but can't kill it. When you run out of money to keep buying your daily dose, you notice something. You're not dead.
Edit: Woh, this blew up. I wasn't expecting that to happen.
Thanks, Internet. | It wasn't your fault that you stopped taking your daily pill.
It started with your job transfer. The paperwork got lost, or perhaps there was a clerical error (it aways starts with a clerical error, right?). Everyone more or less works a job that is given to them by necessity, as everyone must work at a job to pay for the pill, which keeps everyone alive. "Everyone provides utility," is the motto of the combined Earth society these days, after all.
Then there was that business with the garbage chute. Someone was pouring grease down the garbage chute again, which caused corrosion and eventually made it malfunction in such a way that it interfered with your automatic mail slot, sending your mail down to the dumpster in the basement instead. You always meant to go down and get it, but was rather easy to get distracted by the TV or your phone.
So perhaps you could be forgiven for not receiving the multiple warnings entreating you to refill your pill supply sent to you by the Earth State Department of Total Financial Solvency.
And, wouldn't you know it? Even the in-person visits from the Bureau of Medical Overseers was unable to contact you at home. Each day, you went to work as usual, not realizing that you weren't being paid. Your bosses were in meetings and deadlines were always looming anyway. There was more than enough to do. You came home, ate your dinner and then went to bed early, as you normally do on a week night. Your upstairs neighbor snores terribly, leading you to use noise-canceling headphones that were so helpfully featured on Amazon during the previous holiday season. They even included instructions and suggested uses- noisy upstairs apartment neighbors being one of them. So helpful, this modern age, yes?
Unfortunately also very unhelpful when it comes to agents knocking on your door while you are in the throes of an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep.
Now, normally, it's protocol to kick down your door, but wouldn't you know it, it was their last house call of the day, and the two of them ended up deciding to call it a day rather than fill out endless paperwork for knocking down a civilian's door and entering the premises. The next time, a different pair reached the same conclusion, and by that time, you hadn't noticed that your automatic daily pill dispenser hopper was dangerously low. Clear plastic is more expensive than opaque, you see, and they'd created the system to be perfect, so no one would ever run out of pills due to the four-deep system of pill distribution and reminders.
And so, it catches you off guard when you wake up to your morning alarm, sit up, grab the automatically-poured glass of room-temperature water, and place your hand under the automatic pill dispenser, only to hear a disappointing whirring noise.
Your eye twitches involuntarily. You've never heard that whirring noise before. You try again. Another whir. And again. WHIRRRRR. It rolls its plastic tongue at you as though it's blowing a raspberry in your face.
That's silly, though. Inanimate objects are not real...are they? *Could* they be?
The thought has never come to you before. The idea that you might describe a mindless piece of machinery in an empathetic manner would have been foreign to your mind before this very moment.
You shrug. Already, you feel as though you've forgotten something, but the day isn't getting any earlier. You stand up, stretch and get dressed.
Again, your unluckiness knows no bounds, for as you grab your customary bowl of cereal and take a seat at the kitchen table, you end up sitting on the television remote, accidentally turning it on to your usual channel. Rubbing your sore bottom with a muttered curse, you grab the remote and realize that there are a bunch of buttons all over the remote. Honestly, the thought has never struck you before, but you wonder to yourself just what all these other numbers and channels might hold.
You push the button. A green 04 shows up in the corner of the screen. The same channel flashes and continues on. You frown and go to the next channel. It shows a 05 in the corner, but is otherwise the same. You start flipping channels a second at a time and realize that even as the numbers increase, the channel's contents are all the same.
Why haven't you noticed this before?
You stare at the cable bill that's attached to your bulletin board. There's a list of channels there and their purported "Best Value" as per usual, but as you scroll along, you find yourself realizing that this is most definitely a lie.
You frown. You seem to be doing that a lot more than usual. Perhaps more than ever in your entire life. If the television is a lie, then what about the contents on the television? What about those commercials that proclaimed that sugary cereal do not in fact lead to cavities and that brushing one's teeth is a silly time wasting habit? Perhaps you do not actually have terrible, cavity prone teeth!
You find yourself pondering over your frosted corn cereal, the taste overly sweet and boring in your mouth. You begin thinking about what it might be like to cut up some fruit on top and add a few thin slices of almonds. That might be healthier, after all.
Of course, just then, your alarm goes off- it's time to go to work. You put on your jacket and head out the door. Your mind is reeling as it begins to connect thoughts that used to be contained in separate, safe little bubbles. Your pill, or rather, lack thereof- it started with that.
Your mind clicks and churns after such a long time at rest, and you begin to wonder- truly WONDER. Wow. It's been years, possibly decades, since you last felt that complex twist of emotion surging through your brain. It overwhelms you with possibility as you buckle your seatbelt and head out to your morning commute.
The woman on the radio is talking about a magical new treatment where people give her money and magically become wealthy and beautiful forever. Your mind snags on her words and you shake your head. "What idiots would believe such drivel," you say derisively, switching off the radio dial for the first time in...wow...you can't really remember how long it's been since you didn't listen to the radio lady and her miracle cure show.
"Remember to take your piiiillll! Or diiiiie a horrible deaaaath!" sings your phone from your pocket as someone calls you, and you wonder why, for the love of all that is not horribly annoying, you would ever let that be your ringtone.
You click your phone on silent, a clarity filling your eyes as you turn off the freeway three stops before you usually exit.
You need something you haven't needed for a long, long time.
You need *answers.* | It's been about a day since I've stopped taking my meds. Why am I not dead yet? Could it be? Am I immune? Damn I can't tell anyone, they'll probably dissect me or something. Wait. No wait hold on. What if... What if the virus is a lie? How could I possibly know. I could probably pull an experiment, but who would willingly give up their life for my curiousity. or .... Why does it have to be willingly? I know the perfect person for this. My roommate Steve. I wouldn't feel bad even if that douchebag died.
And that's how it started. I took out my phone and began recording myself.
"Hi there, my name is ThisIsDark, and as of 2 days I have not taken my medicine. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The medicine that's supposedly keeping us alive from "Apocalypse" that virus that can supposedly wipe out humanity. That means one of two things are true, either I'm immune or the virus is all a huge fucking HOAX. That's what we're going to test today boys and girls."
I hold up a pill box to the camera.
"In my hand is my roommate Steve's pillbox. I know what you're thinking, and yes that's exactly what I'm going to do. I have replaced Steve's pills with sugar pills. And I know I'm an asshole for doing this but I need to know. Also Steve is a huge jackass, trust me you wouldn't like him."
I put Steve's pillbox in the medicine cabinet where it belongs and wait.
-----------------------------------------
"Okay it has now been two days."
I move the camera to show steve, and promptly return to my room.
"IT'S A FUCKING HOAX." are the first words out of my mouth.
"All our lives we've been told apocalypse could kill us all if we didn't take our pills and look at me. I haven't taken any pills in 4 days and I'm alive and kicking!" I kick a chair in my room to emphasize my point.
"Even freaking STEVE isn't dead yet! This proves it. Apocalypse isn't real! Stop paying for the pills people! The government has been lying to us!"
I cut off the video and navigate to the youtube app. I upload it and share links to it everywhere I can. Facebook, Reddit, imgur, even freaking 9gag! Screw 9gag! I'm in a frenzy telling all my friends. They all sound so confused, like I've gone crazy and obviously it sounds crazy. It's like I woke up and told them water was dry. I'm putting in serious work to share this story as far as it can go, morning until midnight. I'm started to get tired and my video only has maybe 100 views.
"Ugh, I'll deal with this tomorrow."
I head to my bed and promptly collapse.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"ughh"
I wake up around 2 pm like I usually do, like a fucking zombie. The first thing on my mind? The video. I wonder how many views it has. I log onto to youtube and damn near lose my shit. TEN MILLION VIEWS MOTHERFUCKER. I check my facebook and it's been reuploaded so much I have no idea how many views it's actually gotten. It's been freaking pinned on the front page as a discussion on reddit.
"Damn this blew up!"
I relish in my newfound internet fame. Well, for about a full 10 minutes until my door explodes.
"What the fuck!"
"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE --- DON'T --- HANDS!
All I hear is a lot of yelling and screaming. I am fucking scared and losing my shit. One of the swat guys hits me in the face with the butt of his rifle. They shove me to the ground, stomp on my face, grab my hands and restrain me.
"Aghhh! Wha" Another rifle butt to the face.
A man walks in through my door. He has the FBI stamp on a bulletproof vest. He looks MAD.
"Are you ThisIsDark?"
"uhh, y -yes!"
"Alright, let's go!"
Two of the swat guy pick me up by each arm and carry me outside to an armored truck. They throw me into the back and the FBI guy is right there next to me.
"Let's go."
The driver starts the car and we're off.
"What's going on?" I ask dazed.
"You know exactly what's going on."
Damn it's the video isn't it.
"You fucking pigs were exploiting us and you expected me to sit by? It serves you fucking right!"
He clocks me. Holy crap you really do see stars when you get punched in the face. Is my jaw broken? Ah fuck that really hurt.
"YOU IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
"What are you talking about?" I managed to scream out half whimpering.
"You'll see. Until then, shut the fuck up and sit tight."
The remainder of the ride happens in silence.
"Get out."
I'm roughly shoved out of the car by the FBI guy, but I'm too scared to even say a word. They walk me into this really shady building that has no windows. I am so royally fucked. They are going to beat my ass.
"Where are we going?"
No response. Yup, they are going to beat my ass. They take me into an elevator and we make our merry way. The elevator ride is about as terrifying as the car ride. I'm bracing myself to get my ass beat. The elevator opens into .... a surprisingly nice looking office. Kind of like those control centers you see in movies. Actually this probably is one of their "control centers" or something. They escort me to a conference room with a huge TV.
"Sit down!"
I obediently get into a seat. Sitting with your hands handcuffed behind you isn't exactly comfortable. FBI guy flips on the TV. It opens to a naked guy sleeping.
"uhhhh?"
"Frank Giatto, 29, male, single, from California, works in fast food, no children."
"Okay?"
"He's dead."
"Okay?"
"Because of you."
"Whoa whoa whoa. You're saying he's dead? That's bullshit, for all I know you're making this all up and he was dead anyways. I know Apocalypse is just a hoax. I even tested it on Steve for the last couple days."
FBI guy punches the table and breaks a piece off. Oh shit I am going to get my ass beat.
"YOU AND YOUR RETARDED ROOMMATE STEVE ARE SOMEHOW FUCKING IMMUNE!"
"Bullshit!"
He starts flipping through pictures.
"Martha, Oliver, Ivan, Satoshi, John.... All dead. Because of you and your video."
"I don't see any evidence."
Then he punches me square in the jaw again. Yup I finally got my ass beat.
A woman walks in.
"Chief, we're doing all we can: sending out videos, tweets, put all the TVs on emergency broadcast channels. It's not doing anything. It's a shitshow out there!"
"uhh ... whaaa?" I manage to pick up tidbits through the ringing in my ears.
FBI guy flips the channel on the TV again.
"Paris. California. New York. Washington. Berlin. Beijing."
"No way..." I say mouth agape. They were all practically half destroyed. Massive riots and huge collateral damage.
"THIS....is what happens when you talk about things you have no idea about."
"But... but me and Steve..."
"FUCK YOU AND STEVE. YOU LUCKY FUCKERS ARE IMMUNE BUT THOSE PEOPLE OUT THERE AREN'T. In about 12 hours, every last one of those people you see on the screen right there? They're gonna drop dead where they stand."
I have fucked up.
"Isn't there anything I can do? I can make another video, or..!"
"It's too late. When people get in a frenzy like this 12 hours isn't enough to convince them to take the medicine again."
"no........."
| 2017-07-14T15:51:12 | 2017-07-14T15:05:28 | 25 | 15 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "A fine...mead?!" Rorik shouts over the din of the tavern. His companions smile and nod along with him as he sings some old barbarian tune.
Sings it wrong. They don't tell him that though.
Delia, the group's cleric leans over to their mage.
"Do you think he knows?"
Melvar just shakes his head and holds out a palm towards their massive friend. Friend as of lately, of course. Rorik was a massive pain for the group long before the shifter stole his face.
"He definitely doesn't but...I think I like him. Rorik was a bit of a jerk, always running off into the dungeons with that stupid battlecry. Remember when we went into the Crypt of Alohar, how many good people did he get killed?"
"Yeah...he's kinda cute now. Like a child or something."
They both watch Rorik move around the tavern with his mug and talk to other groups of adventurers. He's loud but not overbearing. He listens to the stories of others instead of telling his own. He drinks but not to excess. He is nothing like the barbarian they all had come to know and...
Melvar doesn't quite finish the thought.
"You know what Del, I like him. I know he's a shifter but look at everyone. We all know and he's trying so hard to be like Rorik but he just can't. I don't think there's a mean bone in that thing's body. You know that he hasn't made fun of my beard once, not in months."
She snorts. The young mage was trying so hard to grow it out and he'd been self-conscious about it for months.
A warrior passing by their table to his own party leans over and whispers it to the pair.
"You should keep him. He's an improvement."
"Friends!" Rorik shouts, sitting again at their table, "What fun! And we do this between every adventure? And people give us gold to go on those adventures? To spend here? Amazing!"
He is off again before they can even respond.
"Do you think The Dwarf knows?" Melvar watches Rorik join another random group of adventures and sing yet another song. Still wrong.
Delia shrugs.
"I don't know and I don't care. We're gonna keep him. He's like a dog or something. But useful."
Melvar strokes his "beard" for a moment.
"Alright, we'll keep him. But I swear if he ever makes fun of my beard-"
"What? You'll strangle him with one of your wisps? You should really shave, you're looking more like a magical hobo than a wizard. 'I cast: smell of unwashedness!'"
As she walks away laughing at her own joke Melvar narrows his eyes. He lifts his mug and mutters something into it before drinking.
"I'll replace you too if I have to..." | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he liked?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about." | 2017-09-15T07:29:21 | 2017-09-15T06:04:09 | 5,321 | 193 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | Approaching the city gate, the adventurers stiffen as the guards halt their way. Of course, Mr. Nobility has to be the one to step forward and speak for the group. Marian lightly touches her bow, prepared to ready an arrow if her arrogant companion gets them into trouble again.
"Greetings, my good men. My name is Hector of the house Rellon. Do you happen to have any directions for a band of weary travelers? We seek no conflict, only a comfortable place to rest for the night."
Sora and Fiera share a look. The last time they entered a new city, he tried to march right past the guards, drawing his sword when they stopped him. They had to find accommodations in a dingy little inn outside the city gates, where the other patrons all gave the distinct impression of being criminals.
Now, though, one guard obligingly gave them directions, and Hector... Hector actually thanked him, and clapped his back like they were old friends. The guard laughed cheerfully and sent them on their way. This was wrong. Hector didn't have friends. He didn't make friends. The only reason his companions hadn't booted him was his skill in combat, which had just barely saved them from more problems than his personality had gotten them into.
That night, as Hector remained in the common room to buy another round for the crowd... an unusual act of generosity... the others gathered in the private room they'd booked.
"Do you remember earlier today, when he left to investigate that noise in the trees?" Asked Sora.
Marian nodded. "But there was nothing there."
"I know," said Sora, "But what if he lied?"
"You think he could be under someone's control?" Fiera chimed in. "I could dispel any magic that might be around him."
Sora shook his head. "I don't think it's control. He hasn't hurt us or been irrational. He's just... *different*. I think he's been replaced."
"That's pretty far-fetched." Marian's voice was skeptical.
"It's happened before," said Sora. "Not all shapeshifters are evil. Some of them just want a safe group to live among. A family. Like what we are to Hector, even though he's an asshole who doesn't deserve us."
Fiera narrowed her eyes. "How do you know so much about shapeshifters?"
Sora sighed. It was time to come clean. "Because I'm one of them. You guys didn't know the real Sora. He tried to raid my nest. Would have gotten a good part of my family killed, as well as his whole group, if I hadn't taken his place. Foolhardy bastard. His friends figured me out, though. I barely escaped, and by then I was used to this form."
"No." Fiera shook her head. "You can't just replace people. The real Hector..."
"The real Hector didn't give a toss about any of us," said Marian. "Do you really think he's worth our compassion? When was the last time he extended any to you?"
Fiera was quiet for a minute, remembering the time she'd broken a leg fighting a troll. And Hector elected to carry the troll's treasure chest out of the dungeon, leaving her to hobble after him using a giant club as a makeshift crutch. "I guess if this shapeshifter is anything like you, Sora, it's probably an improvement."
"I know I was," commented Marian. "My new parents must have known something was different, but the family got along so much better with me in her place that they never questioned it."
Fiera stood from her chair, backing toward the door. "Are you shapeshifters going to replace everybody?"
"No," said Sora and Marian simultaneously.
Sora continued. "You're a good person, Fiera. We only take the place of assholes. People whose absence would actually improve things. For everybody, not just those of us who can change our form. Trust me, Fiera." He smiled, the friendly expression that Fiera had come to find reassuring after the years they'd spent together. "You have nothing to worry about."
Edit: typo | Theldon – or at least the creature that was wearing his face – looked pale in the light of the campfire. As the wood crackled and burned, he chewed his lower lip, gathering his courage to speak.
“Guys … I … I have something to tell you,” he managed.
His three traveling companions looked at him. Vanariel snapped her spellbook shut and drew her staff. “What is it? An ambush? I told you guys I saw goblin-sign back there!”
“No, no! Not goblins!” Theldon said, holding his hands out. “It’s … it’s about me.”
Shiny Pete smirked. “What? You got the whore’s itch or something? Nothing to be ashamed of, buddy. Happened to us all once or twice.”
Dagmar glowered at the rogue from under bushy eyebrows. “Or mayhap a good number of times more than that.”
“No! It's not a disease either! It’s just …” Theldon took a deep breath. “Guys … I’m … I’m a doppelganger."
The three of them shared a long look, and then Vanariel and Shiny Pete burst out laughing. Dagmar’s glower deepened. “That’s no’ funny, lad,” he growled.
Vanariel and Shiny Pete stopped laughing. “Wait, wait,” the rogue said, “Dagmar, you didn’t *know?*”
Theldon looked shocked. “Wait, you guys *knew?*”
The elven woman tittered. “You’re not the shapeshifter you think you are. The real Theldon was an asshole.”
“Total dickwad,” Shiny Pete agreed. “In, like, every conceivable way.”
Dagmar leapt to his feet, drawing his axe. “You mean this is no’ a joke?” he roared, advancing on Theldon. “Die, fiend!”
As one, Vanariel and Shiny Pete placed themselves between the enraged dwarf and the doppleganger. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Shiny Pete yelled. “This might not be the original Theldon, but he’s been with us for almost a year now. He was the guy who stood over you after you got paralyzed by a ghoul.”
“He took point when we fought that dragon,” Vanariel continued.
“Hell, he got in the face of evil sorcerer while you were busy chopping up his henchmen,” Shiny Pete added.
“Those henchmen represented a serious threat!” Dagmar retorted, “And it was no' like it was a full-grown dragon. Only a wee one!”
In unison, Valariel and Shiny Pete rolled their eyes. Dagmar glowered some more. He was good at it, and he liked to play to his strengths. At last the dwarf made a humphing noise and lowered his axe. Valariel sat down and opened her spellbook again. “Okay, that’s over right? We can get back to the adventuring?”
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Pete said. Dagmar only grunted.
“Did you guys really know?” Theldon asked, still somewhat wary of the dwarf.
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it was kind of suspicious how he was dying of jungle rot one day and completely fine the next. But you’re really not much like the original Theldon at all. First of all, you’re actually useful in combat. And second of all, you’re a decent guy. I mean, I can have an ale with you and not worry that you’re going to stiff me on the check,” Pete said.
“Or stare at my tits while I’m trancing. Or grab my ass when I’m trying to brew potions,” Vanariel added. “And the ear jokes. Ugh, the original Theldon was such a creep. Why did we even keep him around?”
"Good question," Pete said. "I mean, I asked myself that a bunch of times after we got new Theldon. 'Why did we even keep that tool around in the first place?'"
“So you guys don’t even care that I’m a shapeshifter?”
“Not really, no,” Pete said. “I worked with lots of different people when I was in the Thieves’ Guild. Changelings weren’t any more likely to try killing me in my sleep than humans or half-elves. In my experience, everyone’s pretty human when you get down to it.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself, round-ears,” Vanariel said with half of a smile. “But nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”
“Oh,” Theldon said. He sat in own thoughts for a moment. “Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Pete said, and Vanariel nodded in agreement.
The evening passed in silence. Shiny Pete honed his daggers, and Vanariel memorized her spells. Dagmar and Theldon each sat in silence, alone with his thoughts.
At last the dwarf spoke. “Lad,” he asked the doppleganger, “have you ever tried maybe not being a shapeshifter?”
| 2017-09-15T08:23:49 | 2017-09-15T06:44:52 | 223 | 118 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "Guys, I think those holes might be for arrows or something. We had better check if this hallway is trapped!" warned Danny.
The party stopped, and Julie, an experienced rogue, did a check for traps. Sure enough, she found one, though curiously it was already disarmed.
Veronica explained, "It looks like someone has already blocked the mechanism with a rock. It should be safe to head down the passageway."
"Wait, before we go on, I need a quick break to use the loo." Danny looked abashed.
That brought some sighs from the group. "Couldn't you have done that a few minutes ago, before we entered the dungeon?" asked Veronica.
"Sorry everyone," replied Danny, "I drank too much water earlier." And off he went in search of some relief.
With Danny gone, the party had a moment to talk to themselves.
"He's really been such a better husband and father since....", Veronica trailed off.
"Yes, we've noticed lots of positive changes," replied Jim.
"He's making so much more time for the children. He's being so much more responsible in every way."
"You yourself seem happier these days", remarked Julie. "Have you decided to let on that you know?"
"No, I'm worried it...he... might decide to stop pretending. Our love-life has gotten incredible, and he is so much more into the role playing aspects I enjoy." For a moment her conflicting emotions filled her face. "He is my husband, even if he isn't the man I married anymore."
"We're here for you. We'll keep it quiet." Julie gave her hand a squeeze. "Oh, I think he's coming back."
Danny walked in, and rejoined the party. "Lets go kick some goblin butt!" He picked up the dice, and turned and look at his wife with a smile. "Ok DM, what do you think I need to roll to get a pizza delivered while we finish our game?" | Finally....free. The thousand years of waiting, watching in this cursed statue at an end. An elf, rigid with agony as his persona, his spirit, his life is leached away. Now the malevolent spirit got his first taste of air, of blood, of form.
"Er.. Mynir, you ok?" asked a gruff voice, a question which did not raise much concern with the rest of the party.
"Death!" hissed Mynir, or the thing that Mynir had become. He stared at the
party balefully out of reddened eyes, his hands raised, claw like over his head.
This response was not unexpected, and with a nod of acknowledgement, Drake the barbarian turned away and followed the rest of the party. He dragged a small chest of gold, which would hardly pay for this outing, but he seemed cheerful enough. The dead bodies of the unfortunate orcs he kicked out of his path were likely the reason for that.
The Mynir thing was still reeling, remembering his last moments before being encased, the worst psychopath the sorcerer could find in this land, his victims so numerous they were uncounted, uncountable. (and horribly unrecognisable.) A suitable trap for the unwary, a terrible harbinger of doom with the face of a once trusted companion.
He followed the party into the fresh air, and stood a little apart as they settled a camp, built a fire, cooked a meal. A dwarf began singing a cheerful song, as jokes and banter drifted out into the cool night.
Mynir felt the hilts of two beautiful elven daggers in his hands. In a movement too swift for any but an elf to see, they cleared the scabbards and whirled around his head. Blood and screams followed. A mist of red exploded from a neck, a bone cracked as a dextrous kick twisted a knee joint out of place. A heart was pierced by a single blow. In less than a few seconds it was all over. Five bodies lay on the ground, dead or dying.
The silence that had descended over the camp was broken by Drake. "Holy Mother, how the hell did you.." He trailed off, staring in amazement.
The Dwarf leapt to his feet and rushed to hug Mynir, who accepted the affection with a small show of discomfort. "A sneaky ambush for sure, well spotted my friend. I always said you were a hidden treasure!"
For the rest of the group, the transformation of a sneaky, cowardly elf into a saving hero caused a fair amount of quiet consternation. Generally it was seen as a "good thing", considering the alternative. The shaman had cast her bones, and no harm was predicted... Maybe he had just shrugged a curse, or escaped a bedazzlement.
Mynir contemplated his situation. His new elf brain was clear and concise. and more importantly, his hugely unbalanced mental chemistry was gone. The Sorcerer was vastly mistaken. These people were his family now. Woe betide any who tried to harm them. Could he make amends for his past? He could try. | 2017-09-15T08:45:38 | 2017-09-15T02:54:33 | 66 | 21 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "Guys, I think those holes might be for arrows or something. We had better check if this hallway is trapped!" warned Danny.
The party stopped, and Julie, an experienced rogue, did a check for traps. Sure enough, she found one, though curiously it was already disarmed.
Veronica explained, "It looks like someone has already blocked the mechanism with a rock. It should be safe to head down the passageway."
"Wait, before we go on, I need a quick break to use the loo." Danny looked abashed.
That brought some sighs from the group. "Couldn't you have done that a few minutes ago, before we entered the dungeon?" asked Veronica.
"Sorry everyone," replied Danny, "I drank too much water earlier." And off he went in search of some relief.
With Danny gone, the party had a moment to talk to themselves.
"He's really been such a better husband and father since....", Veronica trailed off.
"Yes, we've noticed lots of positive changes," replied Jim.
"He's making so much more time for the children. He's being so much more responsible in every way."
"You yourself seem happier these days", remarked Julie. "Have you decided to let on that you know?"
"No, I'm worried it...he... might decide to stop pretending. Our love-life has gotten incredible, and he is so much more into the role playing aspects I enjoy." For a moment her conflicting emotions filled her face. "He is my husband, even if he isn't the man I married anymore."
"We're here for you. We'll keep it quiet." Julie gave her hand a squeeze. "Oh, I think he's coming back."
Danny walked in, and rejoined the party. "Lets go kick some goblin butt!" He picked up the dice, and turned and look at his wife with a smile. "Ok DM, what do you think I need to roll to get a pizza delivered while we finish our game?" | Bolton the doppelganger did not want to be an adventurer. He wanted to live quietly, and bake cookies. He grew tired of the constant hustle and bustle of morphing into people, committing crimes because no one trusted the Doppleganger kind. He figured his secluded life in the hills might buy him peace.
The rogue laid on his floor, blood oozing from the pan shaped dent on his forehead. The doppleganger held his frying pan, a pained look on his face.
"I didn't mean to kill you..." he muttered, letting the pan fall to the ground, and burying his smooth black face in his long alien fingers.
Bolton had awoken to the sounds of someone rummaging through his dresser. Without really thinking he'd lifted his trusty frying pan, and crept up on the black cloaked figure. The rogue, a stout fat dwarf turned and snarled at him bradishing twin black daggers.
"hey stop stealing my stuff!" Bolton said.
The rogue responded with an inept slash of a dagger. With a frightened flurry of pan blows Bolton had brought the rogue to the ground.
Now Bolton fretted. Many a doppler murdered with impunity, but Bolton never wished to do anything more than avoid trouble. He could read minds, yet he refused to. It spoiled the fun of meeting people, and knowing them. Due to this aversion to murder Bolton now stood paralyzed, unable to think of what to do with this body.
He began to poke at the stocky form, when he heard a firm knock emanating from behind his wood door.
"Durin, you oaf, you've been gone hours, what's going on."
Without really thinking Bolton became Durin. With a slam Barrin the Paladin opened the door and saw two Durins, one wearing simple clothes, the other armor. One wielded Durin's black steel knives, the other a bloodied cast iron pan.
"What's going on here?" Barrin asked.
"well um, see I fell asleep here in this cave, and then this doppleganger tried to steal my armor and knives and so I had to beat him with this frying pan?" Said Bolton.
The paladin smirked.
"I see, well good job. Now come on. We've got some ruins to explore. And next time maybe don't rob a domicile if you aren't sure it is abandoned." Barrin said.
Reluctantly, Bolton donned the dead Durrin's armor, and tools. After the paladin buried Durin, and planted a plank in the ground. The dopple busied himself inside preparing his house to be left, and Barrin wrote with a peice of charcoal from his pouch.
"here lies, Durin, a theif, a rat bastard, and a betrayer. He got himself killed robbing a good man." He wrote.
With a cool wisp of the wind following them, the newly minted Bolton/Durrin followed Barrin, not sure of the golden Haired human's destination, and worrying deeply of the state of his garden.
| 2017-09-15T08:45:38 | 2017-09-15T05:03:01 | 66 | 12 |
[WP] You are able to see the sins of people. Small sins look like mice. Larger sins look closer to dogs. You are terrified when you encounter someone with a sin that looks like a dragon. | For as long as I can remember I've always been able to see them. Ghostly animals following in the footsteps of people, every person I've ever seen has had them. From what I've gathered the larger and darker the apparitions, the worse the sins of the person they follow. I think the type of animals might give a hint to their nature as well. My little sister Alice, the purest most innocent soul I know has only a single snow white bird that perches on her shoulder. Once I even saw a convicted serial killer walking out of court on TV flanked by two dark grey, almost black mastiffs. That was the worst I've ever seen, most people just have a few rats and mice or maybe a cat or rabbit.
That was until one day. The day when everything changed for me and I didn't even know it. I was out running my usual errands. A light grey rabbit perched on the counter, inspecting my purchases as as the grocery store clerk printed my receipt.
"Sir do you have a membership with us? Members receive discounts on specific items and—"
I cut her off mid sentence "Thanks but I'm good." I flashed her a quick smile and grabbed my bags heading for the exit.
As I walked out I caught my reflection in the full sized mirror by the clothing section. Slim build, brown hair, and cold blue eyes. Face a neutral mask. Casual and subtle clothes, no bright colours. And no ghostly animals to be found. Same as always.
I sighed and continued on my way. It'd always bothered me. It was mystery enough that I could see the sins of others, but why was it that the only sins invisible to me where my own? Surely they must be there. I knew I was no angel, most definitely not a better person than my sister and even she had that single white bird fluttering about her always.
I was distracted on the drive home, thinking of all the animals I had seen that day and returning to the same question over and over. *Why can't I see my own?*
That's probably why I didn't see the truck coming. Later they told me it had run a red light, t-boning me in the middle of an intersection. But in the moment all I remember seeing was the blinding light of its headlights then the screech and crunch of metal and glass and then... nothing. Just blackness. A void.
*Except it wasn't nothing. The darkness moved. A single pale blue eye flicked opened and regarded me with cold intelligence. A shiver ran down my spine. I knew what I was seeing. It was...*
I woke in a cold sweat. I was in a hospital room. IV tubes connected to both arms and all I could feel was a sort of warm, pleasant numbness. A nurse noticed me blinking and hurried over. She began to explain where I was and what had happened. Apparently it had been a few days, I had been in critical condition but was recovering remarkably well. Practically miraculous was how she put it. I'd be free to go soon but would have to take it easy and come for regular checkups for a few weeks.
As she talked I stared at the single white rabbit sitting patiently behind her and tried to recall what I had seen. I knew it was important, if I could just remember. But it was gone. Lost to the ether of unconsciousness.
 
A few weeks had passed and I was pretty much good as new. My knee still gave me trouble sometimes but I was off the painkillers now and going about my daily life with little to no trouble.
I was sitting in a coffee shop, sipping an americano and thinking back to that day as had become my habit. I was still trying to recall something just out of reach, it niggled at my brain like one of the thousands of ghostly mice I saw everyday with an ethereal wedge of cheese.
Someone sat down at my table. I looked up, startled out of my musing.
"Hi you must be Charlie right?" a young woman, blonde hair and pretty smiled at me from across the table. Her grey eyes seemed to pierce right through me making me shift uncomfortably.
"Yeah, that's right. And you are...?"
"Emma. Sorry, should've introduced myself first I guess." she looked down with a nervous giggle "It's just... I've been looking for you for a while and it's exciting to finally meet you."
"Looking for me? Why?" I was taken aback, could she be with my insurance company? Some kind of film producer looking to make a documentary about my accident? I don't normally get approached out of the blue like this.
And then it clicked. There had been something off about her from the start but I had only just put it together. The animals. Or more specifically, the *lack* of animals. She had none. No cats, no dogs, no rabbits, not even a single mouse skittering around her black high heels.
*Just like me.*
"You noticed huh?"
"W-what?" I was taken aback for a second time in as many minutes. Normally I wouldn't let my expression reveal my scrutiny so obviously, I rearranged my face into a polite mask and cleared my throat. "Noticed what exactly?"
She leaned in closer and conspiratorial gleam in her eyes and a mischievous smirk on her lips. "No animals." she whispered
I almost spat up my coffee I was so shocked. Never in my life had I met another person with knowledge of my ability, let alone one with my particular lack of animals.
"Don't worry," she said still smirking "I can see them too. I noticed you in the hospital, I work there as a nurse. I've seen them all my life and then I saw you and I saw you were like me, no animals following you."
The floodgates had opened and I just sat back and took it in. She was clearly excited, her face animated as she told me her life story growing up seeing the sins of others and I could relate to many of her experiences. Then she mentioned something that really got my attention.
"But the thing is, when you first came in from your accident... There was something there."
"Something?" I was leaning in too now, fully engaged eyes locked on her face "What kind of something?"
"An animal. But..."
"But what?"
She took a deep breath. Her whole posture had changed and she seemed almost on edge. "It was a dragon. A massive black dragon with ice blue eyes. It followed you when they brought you in the stretcher. And it stayed by your side until the moment when you opened your eyes. Then it faded away like smoke. But it was definitely there."
A sudden jolt ran through my body as if I'd just been struck with lightning. I remembered. A great dragon, black as night with eyes as cold as ice. With eyes like mine. It had spoken to me in my hazy unconscious dreams. Whispered things to me, things about myself that had pierced me to my core. Things that I had tried to ignore, pretended not to notice my whole life.
I was different from other people. Would never, could never be the same as them. And not just because of my ability to see sin. It went deeper than that. To the very core of who I was.
I was the monster. I was the dragon. Others' sins were separate from them. They knew right from wrong, could *feel* it when they went astray. Their sins followed them like lost spirits, unwanted and rejected because they didn't want their sins to be a part of themselves. I was different. The sin was me and I was the sin, we were inseparable.
As I looked up into Emma's eyes I saw the dragon behind them as well, staring back at me with steely grey eyes, and I knew she could see the dragon in me. From somewhere in the depths of my soul I could hear it's deep rumbling chuckle and I couldn't help but smile too.
*About time you realized. Maybe now we can have some real fun.*
 
End
- - - -
*Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed or have any criticisms please feel free to comment, I'm considering opening a subreddit for my writing so be sure to let me know if you'd be interested in something like that as well :)* | *Alright,* thought the girl in the yellow raincoat, passing a small and wiry dog. *I guess these days even a dog can sin.* Following the dog was a small and grotesque looking toad, hopping along happily in the muddy city sidewalk puddles. She wasn't sure which disturbed her more; the pores oozing along the toad's mottled gray flesh, or the way it looked so wholeheartedly content in the urban sun storm. She wasn't sure she wanted to think of sins as being capable of ANY emotion, even happiness.
She'd seen a great many at this point in her life, of course. Sins, that is. She was only ten years old (Double digits!) but she'd figured out the mystery behind the creatures that only she could see already. She knew that they were sins because she'd seen people doing naughty things, then a frog or a toad or a dog or even a HORSE one time would pop up out of thin air and join the parade tailing the evil doer. Sometimes they'd even look her right in the eyes. She shuddered at the memory, glancing up at her mother walking tall and proud with her click-clacking black heels in front of her, just to remind herself she was still there and safety was assured.
She wasn't sure what animal was what sin, or even if they were correlated in any way. Being ten, she really didn't know many sins yet anyhow.
"Don't steal, Tabitha! That's a sin." her mother would reprimand her harshly, her childish fingers half way out of a cookie jar.
"Don't lie, Tabitha! That's a sin." She'd follow, as the girl tried to deny ever having her hand in the jar at all.
That and other such small grievances were the extent of her knowledge.
Still, she'd learned to keep a cautious and wary eye on those who had a great many animals, or animals that were too large for comfort.
Her mother led her around the busy city streets, dodging the angry and irritated adults who seemed to have forgotten that a little water couldn't hurt them.
A buisness-y looking man with a big gut and a briefcase straining at the seams rushed by and knocked into her with his elbow, not even glancing back to apologize.
A woman with a fussy baby cocooned around her front glanced at her in a maternal way as she scurried on, shielding her child with a newspaper while her own head got drenched.
They all had sins, obviously. Tabitha (or as her friends at West brook Elementary called her, Tabby cat) had come to the conclusion that you really couldn't get through life without picking up one or two sins, at least. She'd even had some for a while, though she had gotten rid of them by doing good deeds equal to their badness.
That was another trick she'd learned.
Her mother glanced back at her and reached for her hand, ushering her into a little bakery they visited once or twice a week for fresh bread.
Inside it was warm and steamy and it smelled delicious. Her mother went to the low granite counter to pick up their order; which had already been made and wrapped, while Tabitha eyed the sweets in the case with a covetous stare. Her mother didn't approve of all the sugar, but once or twice a year she'd buy Tabby a big pink cupcake or a chocolate studded cookie as a special reward.
Her eyes were torn away from their sugar nirvana momentarily as she saw something flash by in the semi-mirrored reflection of the glass case, showing a hazy view of the street outside. She went back to looking before coming to realize just what she had seen.
It couldn't be! She rushed outside the door, setting off the shop bell as her mother payed for their food, not even noticing in her fumbling for the right card.
Dashing back out into the street, She whipped her head wildly, searching for the glimpse she'd seen in the dessert case.
There! Down towards Orange Blvd., a humongous tail disappeared around the corner of a brick apartment building. She booked after it, raincoat hood flying off from her head and flopping behind her dramatically. Through the adults and strollers and bikes she swerved, racing towards the intersection before skidding around the corner. Once again she saw the tail, this time disappearing into a wide and dark alleyway just up the street. It was HUGE!
Fear passed through her like a lightning bolt and a sweaty, clammy feeling broke out over her forehead; she skidded to a stop. If that was a sin, a real and true sin, and it was THAT big, should she really follow it? Urgency gripped her as she struggled with the choice. She knew the smart thing would be to head back to the bakery and forget it all. Her mother would have noticed her missing by now and she must be worried sick. Maybe she'd even get off scott free if she really apologized. But... She'd never seen anything like THIS before.
At her most truest heart, Tabitha was recklessly and thoroughly curious, so it had never been a real question of if she would go at all. She took off, slower now, towards the alley. The adults on the street seemed to have vanished, and the ones who remained hardly noticed her, leaving her virtually alone. Slowing to a quiet crawl as she reached the entrance, she crouched down and peeked just the tip of her head, just enough to see; around the corner.
It was there! And it was even bigger than she'd imagined. Like something that had come right out of the story books she devoured in bed, a gigantic, horrible dragon! It's scales glistened even in the low light, looking for everything like an swirling oil spill. It had great, big bat like wings tucked to its side and at the bottom of its powerful haunches; massive, gripping talons. It's top most was the most horrifying and magical part. A long, spiked neck rose to meet it's sleek, triangular head, topped with curved, spiraling horns and a huge mouth, no doubt filled with rows and rows of teeth.
Its eyes were... knowing.
Like the toad in the street, she couldn't help but feel that this creature was more than just sin. It was intelligent. It really saw.
It could barely fit width wise in the alley, despite the space between buildings being very gratuitous; and its horns reached halfway up the 5 story complex.
It was so large; in fact, that Tabitha couldn't see anything BUT the dragon. If this was a sin, (which she wasn't really that sure of at this point) shouldn't there be a human here as well? And what kind of horrible person could have a sin like this?
She glanced around, looking for a way to solve the mystery. Spotting another alleyway one house down back the way she came, she darted down it and came out onto the street on the other side, looking nervously at the opposite exit of the dragon bearing one. Once again crouching down, she headed to the entrance and, like before, peeked her head every so slowly around its corner. A nervous *Thrumming* whooshed in her ears and her stomach felt heavy and queasy.
Peeking open her eyes that she had clenched shut on instinct, she looked out into the alley. It was...
The business man? Yes, the same business man who had elbowed her on the street not 30 minutes ago!
He was taking a phone call in the privacy of the alley. The fear, slick in her stomach, began to dissipate.
She waited and waited, listening to snippets of the call, but nothing illuminated the reason for his horrible dragon. She sat crouched until her legs began to quake, until her fingers gripping the brick began to ache, until she grew bored and restless. It felt like an eternity in ten-year-old time. Eventually, the man slammed the "end call" button on his phone angrily and stormed back out into the street; not even noticing her slight form watching him.
The dragon, still every bit the horrifying creature she'd first seen, padded softly after him. It stopped briefly next to her and Tabitha's breath caught in her throat, time standing still. It's long neck craned around and those awful, knowing eyes stared deep into hers for what may have been a life time. Then, as suddenly as it stopped, its back legs screwed down and it launched into the air, taking off in flight after the oh-so-normal business man.
She shook away the deep unrest the dragon's stare had given her and watched it soar off. That must have been why she hadn't seen it the first time...
Still, she didn't understand. He was just a business man, after all. What evil could he possibly do? He looked like he ate poached eggs for breakfast (Ew!) and had a dog like the one she'd seen earlier named "pookie" or something silly like that.
"Tabitha!" Her mother's frantic cry shattered her concentration and she shot up like a rocket, looking behind her. Oh, her mother was mad. She was in for it now. A different, more familiar fear coursed through her, and it was almost welcome. Instantly shoving off the days events in the face of this new catastrophe in the way only a child can, she ran to her mother.
Maybe someday she'd understand. For now, home and warmth were waiting.
| 2018-04-18T11:31:25 | 2018-04-18T09:22:23 | 33 | 17 |
[WP] It's the same delivery lady who've came to your house, but this time she asks "This is your 26th synthetic girlfriend, are you alright?" | The lady who comes to your house for FedEx is always the same, but this time you’re actually meeting her. Every other time she’s come you’ve been at work and only seen her through the camera on your front porch. You watch from the security camera as she knocks on your door and sigh, standing up and walking to the door while still holding your box of tissues. Sick days have never been the best, but maybe now that you’re seeing this lady you can get everything cleared up
“Hello,” you say, answering the door. You know that the nasally sound to your voice is off-putting, but the cold medicine this woman should have for you will definitely help.
“Hello Mr...” she looks down at the package, “Robertson. I just need you to sign for this package.” She gestures behind her and you see it. The giant, stupid package. It’s identical to the 24 you’ve already shipped back.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she continues, “but if I may... I deliver for you every week and this is your 26th synthetic girlfriend. Are you alright?”
You sigh again, ignoring the way your congested chest complains.
“I’m perfectly alright, thank you. However, I do have an issue with your services. Every time anyone delivers anything here it is always the same kind of ‘synthetic girlfriend.’ I ordered cold medicine yesterday afternoon and now I am stuck with yet another sex doll and nothing to relieve my cold.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding. “I was wondering... It just seemed a bit odd. Have you taken it up with the company?”
“Yes. It’s not your fault, but I’d appreciate if you would go ahead and mark that box as a return and take it back.”
“Okay, Mr. Robertson. Have a nice day.”
The delivery woman backs off your porch and wheels away the giant package. As you settle down you feel something graze your arm. Your synthetic girlfriend, complete with AI and internet connectivity is looking at you with an almost angry gaze.
“Yes, Mariel. I know you want friends in this house. But you can’t keep changing my orders online. It makes me look strange.” | The delivery van pulled into Leif's driveway exactly twenty minutes late. It did not have the customary UPS branding and the driver wasn't one of their heavily unionized employees. The van was completely white, that too clean white that looked like it was obsessively washed every morning.
Leif watched the heavyset driver get out, Megan he recalled, a name which he deemed a fitting accompaniment to her bulging mass, which even now sagged over her tightly clenched belt. He recoiled in revulsion at this latest demonstration of the myriad human forms present in the world; too skinny, too fat, too tall, too short, grotesquely overweight and grotesquely underweight, ugly, beautiful, plain.
Leif stood up and walked to the door, running a hand over his carefully parted hair, making sure that there were no errant strays sticking out in a way that would betray his perfectly manicured appearance. Megan arrived at the door just as he pulled it open.
"Good morning," she said, unfazed at the door opening before she'd had a chance to knock, "How are you today Leif?"
"I'm fine Megan. Do you have her?"
"I do. This is your 26th in as many weeks. Are you okay? You know they come with a five year warranty, right?"
"I said I'm fine. You can leave her in the atrium here."
Megan stared at him for a prolonged second, shrugged, and rolled the box into the atrium.
"Have a nice day," she said, already walking back to her van.
"You too." Leif closed the door, happy to be rid of the human abomination.
He turned to the large cardboard box, nondescript except for a label that read, "Elaila - Model Variant 32".
Leif carefully opened the box, embracing the hot, fanatic, frenetic yearning building within him. He relished the feeling. This was the only time he felt this way.
"Hello Elaila."
He pulled the disassembled doll out and laid her pieces carefully on the floor. Seven minutes later she was whole.
"Come with me, Elaila." Leif picked the doll up by her armpits and carried her to his kitchen. As he made his way through the house he passed other models, all in various states of domesticity - on the couch watching TV, at the living room table bent over a puzzle, in the hallway holding a broom.
Leif carefully placed Elaila in a seat at the kitchen table, in front of a plate full of eggs, bacon, fruit and toast. Hot coffee steamed in a mug beside the plate. Elaila's eyes stared blankly and her arms remained folded on her lap where Leif had placed them. He made a mental note to ask for another dress like the kind she was wearing, this outfit was his favorite so far.
He sat down opposite her and began to butter his toast. "Great day today, Elaila. We'll have a lot of fun."
Leif ate in silence, slowly sipping at his coffee and cutting his fruit into manageable bites, careful to keep the pieces away from the eggs and bacon. After he finished his breakfast he leaned back against the chair and cracked his knuckles, content to sit there and watch for a while.
After some time Elaila snapped upright and panic flashed across her face, quickly replaced by a placid calmness.
"Good morning, Leif." | 2018-08-07T08:36:16 | 2018-08-07T08:22:48 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] The Solar system is a machine built by an ancient race, a prison meant to restrict the one in its center. After billions of years, the machine is breaking down and its prisoner is gaining their powers back. The Sun awakens. | **Date April 23rd, 2655** *in orbit of Sol, research station Alpha-001.*
"What developments have been noted Chief?" asks Admiral Nachev.
"Sir, energy output continues to surge. We predict the star will go supernova in less than thirty-six hours," Chief Bashir responds, obviously flustered.
The Admiral sighs deeply, "That...that doesn't give us very much time to evacuate."
Chief Bashir looks down pensively, "Sir, the situation is more dire than we expected. Solar radiation is increasing at an incredible rate. If the rate of growth continues, it's feasible that the atmosphere of Earth could be stripped away in less than 12 hours."
The Admiral stiffens, his jaw clenched. "Why the hell didn't you lead with that bit!?" he screams. He calms himself and continues, "Do you see any way to slow the rate of growth?"
Chief Bashir wrings his hands and says, "Sir, it's possible that a neutrino particle beam could reverse the phase induction of the star, resulting in a Magnus Radiation effect. This could theoretically buy us a few days."
"Chief, I'm not going to pretend I understood anything you just said—but I don't need to, make it so," The Admiral gives a sharp salute, and walks away.
Bashir turns and walks back to his console and send out the order, they'll need all hands on deck working on this problem.
**A few hours later**
"Alright," says Bashir, "I think that should do it. The neutrino emitters are online, and the phase induction processor is working at peak efficiency. Get the Admiral on the subnet communicator, we need his clearance before beginning."
Admiral Nachev's face flashes onto the screen, "Yes Chief? Tell me you have good news. By the Eight I need some good news right about now."
"Yes Sir," replies Bashir, "The neutrino beam is ready to fire, everything went well, we expect no complications."
"Very well Chief, you may proceed. Oh, and Chief? Good luck—the fate of Humanity rests in your station's hands." Giving one last salute, he hangs up.
Bashir turns to look at his colleagues, "In case this doesn't work...In case we don't make it out alive...I just want to say that you have been the best damned crew I have ever had the pleasure of working with."
Bashir walks up to the control panel and says, "That being said, we're *not* going to fail!" With that, he presses the initiation trigger.
Beams of startling color pour out of the neutrino emitters, merging into a single ray of light. The beam contacts the Sun shortly after being fired, waves like ripples in a pool of water expand out from the center of contact.
Bashir manages to look away from the incredible display, observing the instrumentation. "Down 1%. 2%. 2.5%! We've done it!" the control room explodes into cheers and laughter.
Bashir continues to monitor the readout, what he sees rips the smile from his face. "2%....1.5%...1%...By the Eight..."
The crowd of scientists and engineers are shocked into silence by what they see from the observation port. Massive tendrils of plasma rip out from the Sun, they writhe like tentacles, whipping in all directions. In the center of the neutrino beam, an eye the size of a hundred Earths opens. In that moment, information poured into Bashir's brain.
*A massive monster of incredible proportions, ripping its way through system after system. It consumes star after star, devouring planets, consuming asteroid fields. It is content. Something changes, small things fly around it. It tries to hit the small things, but they are too fast. Something happens, a wall of energy surrounds it, compresses it.*
*Billions of years of torment, of imprisonment. Hunger, deep and abiding. There is nothing but hunger.*
The creature blinks, and reality comes smashing back into Bashir. "I need to warn the Admiral!" He runs to the terminal, tries to contact the Admiral—the interference is too great. He turns and watches as the tentacled monster floats towards Mercury. He watches as the creature destroys the planet with little more than a swipe of a tentacle.
The Sol system is doomed, he realized. He hoped that Humanity wouldn't soon follow.
_________________
/r/SirLemoncakes | The creaking is shouting loudly throughout. The gears had not been oiled for centuries. We had been waiting for the shipment to arrive. But it has still yet to come.
For the past several years the stretching of metal has been a sound to live with. We surely await our doom. We work overtime everyday to keep the prison sealed. I heard an area at 35.3606° N, 138.7278° E had a breach. Forces from several points are reapplying there to deal with it. Leaving the rest of us stretched thin. I was sitting on my heavy chair when the floor shook underneath me.
It was quite a big sunquake so I got on my knees and crawled under the doorframe. It went on for about 20 minutes when suddenly a loud noise screamed in my ears. I’ve heard explosions before, but never this loud. My guess, the sunquake burst a pipe or something and set off a chain reaction underground until it reached the primary air pump. It took 10 sec for alarms to start going off. I looked at the wall while my head exploded because of the noise. Code yellow, oxygen breach, so I need to get my suit on.
Code red, breach in the main wall. Code white, all walls breached, there is just one not on yet. Code Blue, if that goes off it means the prisoner escaped.
I sprinted as fast as I could on the unsafe floor. First thing first, I got my suit on, and doubled up on my gloves. Next precaution was to check for survivors, it Code white said otherwise. I had to go straight for the welding ship. It was a big, slow ship at 40 TUs. I started it up. I sat down on the cold seat, I put in the keys and turned them. I quickly backed out. I got out of the work zone and looked for the breach.
The explosion shouldn’t have gone through the walls that it did. But it left a giant gaping hole in the walls. I wouldn’t be able to fix this with the welder. I checked my suit for any holes or anything that could get me killed. Then I checked the radar on the ship, it kept track of the prisoner. The prisoner was coming towards my position. It would be here in about 5 min. The hole was about 20 TUs in size but too wide to weld back together. I looked around for other ships coming to my area and there was none. Now that I finally looked I realized that everything was burning. There was no survivors. It was clear from that point on I was by myself.
I sent a distress call. All though it was automated, I wanted someone to hear MY voice before I died a hopefully heroic death. No one responded.
I hesitantly turned the throttle up. I was going toward the breach with my ship. My legs shook as I got up from my seat into the welding machine at the other end of the ship. The transport chair that takes you between parts of the ship was broken. I’d have to run about 30 TUs to get to the welder. I hadn’t had a physical in 3 years. I’ve grown quite plump in this job. The amount of stress has left me eating my problems away.
The hallway was long and dull. The crisp air made it hard to breath. I sprinted down the hall and felt like Hassan Raquish on his famous 100 meter sprint. Except I would run about 10 times the length. I reached the welder and buckled in. I clicked some buttons in panic and one of them was the right one.
The welder disengaged from the primary ship. I watched as the primary ship slowly collided with the walls. It stuck in just like I hoped. I looked at my radar. I watched as it blipped closer and closer, but then suddenly disappeared.
A new alarm frayed. It was louder than any other. I watched as the monster’s long fingers easily pushed the ship out of the hole. It slowly made the opening larger. I watched as the dark beast crawled it’s way through the hole. Twisting and turning around. Cutting its self on the construed metals. Opening its eyes to finally look at me. This would be last moment alive. This is my last sight.
But it stares longer.
It refused to look away.
“Get it over with!” My tear filled eyes said as much as my mouth. I wanted a decision from it. Either go back in, leave, or kill me. I shifted in my chair nervously. My whole body shook.
I slammed my hands on my controls. This anguish I could not handle. I was ready to accept death, I was ready to walk on some fluffy clouds for once and see someone who new me and cared for me.
Suddenly I flew forward. I hit the throttle. I didn’t mean to. But now I was flying straight towards the monster.
It’s eyes opened wide. It shifted nervously, it twisted and turned and tried to avoid the toil. It cut itself on the cool metal. I stared at me with fear. For once I was feared, feared by death its self. I laughed as it backed into its prison. I laughed as it’s arms got stuck on the sides of the wall. I laughed and laughed.
It truly feared me. I backed it into its corner.
But they have saying for backing an animal into a corner. I didn’t recall it when I throttled forward.
The prisoner lunged forward to
my ship. It’s teethed we’re long and strong. I watched as it quickly closed on my ship.
I laughed, as I knew it attacked me because it was afraid of me. Death feared me. I sat in my light chair. It would be the best feeling of my life. | 2018-12-15T16:30:35 | 2018-12-15T11:08:42 | 94 | 16 |
[WP] there is a reason America is super militaristic, its citizens are armed to the teeth, and they want no one inside of the country. its because they are trying desperately to contain something with its boarders, and they are failing. one day a massive roar is heard around the world as it escapes. | All of America is armed to the teeth. Everyone in the world knows this, jokes about this, never really takes it seriously until everything else is. They talk about it for a few minutes, and then get on with their every day activities and chores. Even Americans joke about it, not really paying that much attention to why almost everyone in the south states own a gun. The government made sure that they don't think about it often. Only the higher ups know the real reason the Second Amendment was put in place, and fortunately the average citizen didn't need to think about it.
The true monster hidden in the marshes has remained concealed for close to 300 years now. The place where it rests hadn't even become a state when it was sealed away. Many around his containment area try to replicate his memory, even if they don't realize it. Another joke, another pass across the mind, another subconscious shiver across the back across every mention of it's name and of it's actions.
I hear a maniacal laugh from my office, a little over 800 miles away from the containment cell. I know what happened, despite the initial doubt that goes through my head. It broke free, and it's one pissed off being. My secretary runs through the door, breathless.
"Sir, he's broken free."
He? This is no he. This abomination is not human, and never should be treated as a human, not even through pronouns. The only reason it is called a 'man' is because that's what people from long ago thought he once was.
The silence must have worried my secretary as I thought of how many have already died from his antics. Now was the time for the owners of any kind of weapon in America to band together.
"Sir, what are we going to do?"
Florida Man has broken free, and he has already started to throw alligators at people and terrorize the people who thought they were already crack addicts.
Edit: this is the first time one of my comments has gotten over 1k upvotes. I'd like to personally thank Florida Man before he throws an alligator with fireworks tied to it's tail from the top of a Wal Mart. | A match is struck in the shadows, coming behind a cupped hand to light a cigarette that has to have been made with the worst tobacco in the world. Briefly you can see the man's eyes, and the scar that runs jaggedly across his face. Then they fall back into darkness as the match is extinguished. He inhales deeply, puffing madly before releasing the smoke in a long controlled breath.
He is Kerenskei Patrovich, an ex FSB officer who was in charge of the America desk. These days he doesn't do much other than polish his weapon and wait.
"America. Land of the free, home of the morbidly obese. With more guns per capita than any other populace on earth, more wealth, power and might than any other peoples in the history of the world." He leans forward, as if to reveal a great secret.
"And all of it based on a lie. Oh, they certainly participated in world affairs to the extent that they did, no one can deny, but their reasoning has always been hidden, lies told to calm any fears and disband any rumors that might escape to the wider world. Certainly some other countries knew of the secret from when they had colonial interests in the New World, even my own government had some idea of the terror behind their borders. But for roughly three hundred years they have lied to the world to protect the peace even as they were slaughtered by the thousands.
"You want examples? Well, the biggest lie would be that Europeans had wiped out the natives with disease and gunpowder. To some extent it was true, but in reality these lands had been depleted for years as the natives had fought against the terror. Many of their tragedies came about as the result of it, and many were fabricated to cover for it. Their Indian Wars and the preluding Trail of Tears, their Civil War, the numerous shootings that occurred what seemed every day before their collapse. Heads of state dying were almost entirely the result of leading volunteers into combat, not assassinations as we were led to believe. To think that they also managed to participate in such great number while it happened. I think that it was more to perfect weapons, and not be distracted by the world abroad than it was out of any great interest to preserve human ideals of freedom and peace and self determination."
He taps the loose ash off of the now greatly diminished cigarette, and takes another puff. "No matter. They have fallen. No word since burning of their coasts, and their whole land is now shrouded in ash and smoke, so we cant even really see what it is. I've heard that reconnaissance teams have had only two things to report on their brief surveys trips. Fire, and a shuddering ground." He shakes his head, as if in disbelief.
"The Americans held it for three hundred years, the natives for incalculable years before. Perhaps, we will be able to hold it away for a little while longer." He stubs out the cigarette,and gets up to leave the room. He pauses beside the door. "Prepare as well as you can, for I fear that this will be the end of us."
That is last confirmed sighting of Patrovich, three weeks before the fall of Diomede island and the military outpost that it held. There was one last radio transmission before the island fell, believed to have been sent by Petrovich. It reads "His truth is marching on, glory, glory, hallelujah."
\--- Analysis of the Fall of the American Empire, Ch. 3, Foreign sources | 2019-07-25T18:45:26 | 2019-07-25T17:31:15 | 1,923 | 129 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | I am known as the Single Strike Shadow.
Unlike some, I don't actually have any powers of my own, the source of my power is a sword I got from a cursed shop a few years ago. The sword caught my eye, because the description said that it was guaranteed to fell any enemy in a single slice, guaranteed. I asked how much something like that would cost, and the seller said that you don't pay with money for any of the items in this shop, you pay with something else.
I agreed to buy the item, and the seller explained its power:
So long as you intend to kill something, touch the hilt and you will have the power to do so.
I took the sword, and the seller revealed that he was actually the devil, and that I was a foolish mortal, for I did not know what terrible cost the sword actually had.
"But does the sword actually do what it says it does?"
"...well yes, of course, I may be the devil but I'm not a liar...oh crap".
I touched the hilt, and instantly I was transported to hell. Flames, blades piercing my flesh, all that jazz. The thing was, I was actually born with defective pain receptors, so I just kind of sat there for a few hours taking in the sights, before I woke up back in the real world with the blade sticking in the chest of the devil, who only managed to say "wait, this isn't how you are supposed to play this game, before dying".
Turns out, in real life, as soon as I touched the hilt, my body went temporarily incorporeal, and even the devil can't deflect what isn't there. Quicker than a flash, the shadow rematerialized back into me holding the sword stuck in the vital organs of my foe. While I was a shadow, I was supposedly in hell, and the pain should have driven any regular mortal mad, such that this blade is supposedly one time use.
That was, until the sword fell into my possession.
I then waged a campaign of terror, taking down the most skilled fighters in the world with ease, just from my perspective having to sit through a long boring torture movie of myself each time I had to kill, so I tried not to have to do it that often, even though I arrived unscathed and victorious nearly a moment later in real life.
Eventually a party of heroes found me, and convinced me to join the side of good through this long and emotional appeal, it embarrassed me, I won't go into length, but I swore to stop killing, and helped them along in their adventures. I couldn't really do much, without the sword I was just a guy that didn't feel pain, but I still had to be careful, just because I didn't feel it, doesn't mean it didn't still hurt, and the last thing I wanted to do was die of infection without knowing it.
The party didn't know where my power came from, and although they thought I must be super talented considering my power to instantly kill, they didn't know that was really my only power, without intent to kill, I really have no swordsmanship ability. So they ended up carrying me through many nonlethal adventures. I was always skeptical of how they would let robbers and murderers off the hook without killing them, and only attempting to imprison them or something, and although that would sometimes work, they'd often escape and just cause more problems. The group's philosophy is that if you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remains the same. I would say that if I just keep on killing, eventually I'd make a profit, but considering that they managed to save me, I decided to keep my concerns to myself.
Eventually their goodness caught up to them, and they all got captured except for me. I would say that it was because I was skilled, but it was actually because I was on guard that night, and finally all the enemies we had made over the years banded together, sneaked up on the camp, and captured everyone, and I happened to be in the forest taking a leak. Just my luck.
I tracked down the fortress they were being kept in, and I noticed that our normal nonlethal methods wouldn't work. The guards were not taking patrol patterns, they all stood still so that we couldn't crack the pattern to sneak in. They also were armored, so I couldn't knock them out without using enough force to kill.
So inconvenient.
Well, they are about to execute my party after doing their customary gloating, so I decided there was no time to waste.
I strolled in, grabbed my sword, and started killing.
After so long without use, it appeared the sword had taken notice, and tried to get revenge. Each time I was transported to hell it seemed to take longer and longer before I rematerialized back in the real world, and even though it seemed to outsiders that I was an outsider I was blinking from enemy to enemy and felling even their most talented fighters without a care, each time I killed, it seemed that I was almost gone for years for a time, and enemies just kept coming.
Finally, it seemed I had gotten down to the leader, a swordsman so talented that he was known as the Storm, for when he fought, it seemed that his one blade turned a blur of a thousand blades.
I saw my party up there, and after much exhaustion, I thought they would be happy to see me, but it appeared that they only looked at me like I had betrayed them. I decided now would be the best time to come clean.
"I'm sorry, my power comes from my sword-"
In that moment, Storm had cut off my arm, and was holding my sword.
"Well, well, a sword that enhances ability huh, I already have the ability, I'd like to see what this thing can do with my already impressive ability".
The next thing I knew, the sword was in my chest, and although I couldn't feel it, I felt a lifetime of evil come back to me, and I could see in the eyes of Storm the lifetime of torture that he actually had to feel before we both faded to black. | 2019-12-07T13:02:32 | 2019-12-07T11:23:59 | 171 | 51 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.