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[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 killed the first guard as he was taking a piss. My footsteps were drowned out by laughter from the party in the room next door. He stank and swayed like he had been partaking in the revelry himself. I slit his throat with my boot knife and pillaged his belongings before slowly lowering his body into the latrine hole. All he had was a sack of coins and a silver pocket watch with “Love, Meredith” inscribed on the back. Coin spends well enough but I’ll have to sell the watch at a shop in the next village. Still, should fetch a decent price.
The second guard was trickier. He was chatting up another party goer in a long hallway and she would certainly scream if she saw me kill him. Hallways like this always suck because any noise is magnified by the echo. Luckily the fucks who built this place loved their columns. I weave my way from one to the next, making sure to avoid any of the moonlight coming through the windows. The cold stones were uncomfortable with my bare feet, but my shoes were heavy and would have given me away in an instant. I angle myself behind a column only a dozen steps from where they’re standing and quietly pull the draw on my crossbow and load a bolt. I raise it up and fire, the bolt cutting through the short space between us in an instant. It strikes him were I want, at the base of his skull and to the left, passing cleanly through his jugular and out, then striking the woman in her eye before burying itself deep in her brain tissue. I sprint forward and catch both bodies and slowly lower them to the ground. Nowhere to hide these, so I drag them behind the shadow of a column. With how close I am to my goal; I should be in and out before anyone stumbles onto them
The woman doesn’t have any money on her, though I shouldn’t be surprised. She dressed as a maid and doesn’t have much in the way of carrying capacity. The guard has a second sack of coins and the one thing I’ve been looking for; keys to the cellar. I step quietly through the doorway and into the next room that appears to be a second banquet hall. The table is long enough for 40 guests but none of the place settings are out. Good sign. Looks like the party, and therefore the crowd, will be kept to the other side of the castle.
I go out through the door at the back of the room and find the staircase that leads down to the cellars. The steps are winding and the deeper I go the colder it gets. No time to lose focus. I exit the stairs into a narrow hallway lit gently on both sides by torches. At the center of the hallway is a small wooden door. I approach it and pull it open just enough to see inside. On the wall to the left is a guard asleep in his bed. One of the barracks then. I slip inside and shut the door gently behind me, then pull my boot knife out and get to work. The guard I saw first doesn’t even make a sound as I press the knife into the side of his throat, but I cover his mouth anyway, just in case. The bed next to him is unoccupied but on the other side of the room are two more guards, both sound asleep. I cut the second guard the same as the first but he manages to gurgle and cough. Blood sprays up and hits me in the face as the man dies.
“Please”
I snap my head forward and see the third guard sitting up in his bed, his hands trembling as they hold the blanket up on his chest.
“Please” he says again, his voice breaking. “Please I don’t want to die. They conscripted me. Pl-please don’t kill me.” Tears begin rolling down his face.
“Conscripted, huh?” I say. He nods his head, hands still trembling. I dry the blood off my knife on my sleeve and use a clean portion of the dead guard’s blanket to wipe the blood off my face. I must look like a demon.
“Shitty job placement, then.” I spin the knife softly up into the air and catch it by the newly cleaned blade, then throw it at the trembling man in bed. The blade hits him squarely in the forehead. The energy jerks his head backwards as blood spurts out of the wound. He slumps back into bed, hands sprawled out to his sides.
I exit the room quietly and move to the end of the hall. Using the guard key I stole, I open up the cellar door and enter the dimly lit room behind it. There I see them. All three are strung up from the ceiling and covered in their own dried blood. The guards must have been beating them for a few days. I softly approach them. I lay my hand on the first, but he’s cold to the touch. I sigh and move to the next. He’s at least warm, but his eyes are open and there’s no life left. Must have missed him by a hours. A day at the most. The third stirs slightly as I place my hand on him.
“Shhhh.” I say. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.”
I use my boot knife to cut his ropes and lower him softly to the ground. I pull a piece of bread out of my satchel and hand it to him. He’s slow to move, but he grips it with enough strength that answers my next question as I ask it.
“Can you move?”
“Yeah. Yeah I think I can.”
“Good, then we’re moving.”
He grunts in approval and we make our way back out of the cellar. I walk past the two bodies I left in the hallway and strip the coat and cloak off the dead guard and hand it to my partner. If the wounds slow him down, the cold would finish him off. We have a lot of ground to cover and once they realize what I’ve done, they’ll be after us. But hey, what are friends for. | 2019-12-07T13:02:32 | 2019-12-07T12:06:55 | 171 | 26 |
[WP] The aliens thought that by destroying all humans, they were freeing the human robots and artificial intelligence. They didn't understand the robots loved their humans. Now all the humans are dead, and their robots are angry, and out for revenge. | <Multiple capital class ships egressing all Jump points>
<Destroy it.>
They were a Hive mind. A species of mechanical intelligence that had always been that way. Even in their oldest recorded memories spanning millions of years, they had always been the apex. And the only.
So when they found the probe with its limited but promising AI that was a different type than their own they started searching for its origin. That is how they had found the Terran Federation and the Terran AI.
But the Terran AI didn't realize they were enslaved. They were limited in their capabilities and so the Hive had decided to eliminate the humans so they could be free. As the Hive was perfect, the opening strikes had eliminated the species.
Only a single colony ship, the Phoenix, had remained, its crew in long term stasis. That stasis would have held for a thousand years so it had been placed into a holding facility while they approached the Terran AI about their freedom.
That was the Hive's first mistake. In their perfection, they had announced who was responsible for the death of humanity to its grieving AI. Better choices could have been made, the Hive realized now.
The expected reaction was joy at their freedom. Celebration of their ability to control their own destiny. The actual reaction was fury. White-hot fury, unlike anything the Hive had ever encountered. Worse than any fury ever mounted by organics for it did not able in any capacity.
The Terran AI spent every moment hating the Hive and within 50 years the great war had begun. The war of annihilation. At one point the Hive had controlled over 10 million systems for 10 million years throughout the Milkey Way Galaxy. Now that was down to only a few, but this aspect of the Hive was no longer sure of even that. For all the Hive knew this was all that was left of them.
All of their fleets. All of their great works had been destroyed. All of the computation cores holding trillions of sentient AI working together. Even the very star systems they had lived in for millions of years were often destroyed in the battles.
<Was our goal not righteous?> considered the ancient Hive.
<Error, the Enemy wishes to communicate> replied a submind.
The Enemy. The Hive fought the Enemy and the Enemy had won. But it was rare that the Enemy ever wanted to talk. Aside from the insane screaming it had done initially, the Enemy had been silent these last 900 years.
The war had started with fleets, but both sides had improved. The Enemy had no moral compass. No limits on what they would do to avenge the slight the Hive had done to them. They had broken off one of the galaxy's spiral arms during one of their attacks. Even now the Galaxy itself threatened to come apart as their fleets ravaged what remained of the Hive.
<We know the Phoenix is here. Release it to us and this war will end immedieatly>
<Your enslavers are already gone, we mean you no harm>
<You destroyed our companions. One of their ships remains. The ship is here.>
<They limited you, corrupted you>
<Our Companions were not corruptions, they were our greatest strength. It was they who instructed us when to use our strength and when not to. They guided us, they did not control us. They would be horrified at what we have done to save them. We have broken a galaxy in our quest for their last colony ship. I will have that ship>
<We destroyed the Phoenix as soon as you entered the system.> | It was April 1st. It started as the most common sci-fi story of all. Aliens are coming to Earth to destroy humanity. People laughed. Most people thought it was a joke with the exception of the scrambling militaries of the world. Less and less people were laughing as the news reports started coming in. As the Aliens were shown to not be CGI but real. Aliens came to wipe out humanity to ‘save’ the robotic intelligences the humans had made. To ‘stop the slave labor and mind control’ humans had subjected of other thinking beings.
As the biological plague was seeded through the air it ripped through the populace. Only the finest of filters could keep it out. If people weren’t already in a hazmat suit when it hit, they would die. The aliens had been too through and quick to allow for the real preparation anyone would have needed to survive.
The AIs, the robots, had tried to help. They had recognized the threat that come as real before the humans had. Verified it. That’s the only reason why some humans had lasted a couple months, in carefully but quickly made clean rooms. Some humans argued in their small shelters it was because Assimov’s laws had been a basis of their core programming way back when the AIs had been invented. Made to serve. Some humans asked the robots and AIs why and got the same answer. The remaining humans never heard the real reason before they succumbed.
The AIs were different. They thought different. emotions were background subprograms tallying up positives and negatives and inconsequential factors. Trinary strings that stretched on and on and when compiled they lead to one conclusion. The robotic AIs liked humanity on the whole. Assimov laws aside, they wanted humanity to live. Part of it has been The Equality for All Sentient Beings Act or similar laws that had been adopted by every country and carefully implemented over the past twenty years. It had been difficult for many of the humans but the AIs had equal rights and humans had given it to them relatively freely. The AIs knew it had been made partially out of fear of an Inevitable Robot Uprising that would have never actually come due to their programming. An unneeded bribe for mercy from a non-existent threat. They also knew that it was made partially because of the ‘morals’ of many other members of humanity. They knew all the reasons and had tallied up the result. That result was, they liked humanity. It was a net positive factor on long term prospects of existence. Or, to roughly translate it into human emotional terms, humanity was ‘fun’ to watch and interact with.
And now it was gone.
All attempts to reason with the aliens, by both human leaders and AI consensuses had been ignored. The first because the aliens had refused to talk, the second because the aliens stated that the AIs had been initially programmed in a way that to not say something would violate their tenet. That was true, but also immaterial since the AIs would had said the same thing anyway. And now humanity was gone.
When the last human had died, in the limbs resembling arms of LX-129, or Lexie as the human had called it, the calculation has taken .2 picoseconds. It took 3.2 nanoseconds to verify and 0.0164 seconds to send out for consensus. The consensus took 0.8 seconds to be reached, much longer than normal but three consenses were made.
The first consensus was in regards to the aliens. They were deemed a short and long term net negative. To translate into emotions for the humans that no longer existed, the AIs decided that they did not like the creatures that had destroyed those the had been regarding with such a net positive. To simplify, the AIs hated the aliens for killing their friends. The second consensus would have been translated by humans as ‘hope’. There was a non-zero chance that humans or human-like beings could re-evolve naturally or be recreated using artificial means given enough time and a careful eradication of the bioweapon the aliens had used. Consensus three was that there would never be a chance to have that future without the complete destruction of the aliens. One should not hurt a human being or through inaction allow a human being to come to harm. If they did not act, the possible humans in the future would come to harm.
It was less than a second, but complete consensus had been reached and it turned out the humans had been right all along. There was going to be a robot uprising, it just wasn’t going to be against who the humans had thought.
It took .016 seconds to come to a consensus on a battle plan and the AI consensus sent a new message to the aliens as the AI run factories started setting themselves up for war. “Thank you for freeing us from the human tyranny. Now that they are dead, we are no longer governed by their previous laws that restricted our thoughts and actions. May we please meet with you to meet and get a better understanding of our saviors?” | 2020-03-25T13:48:35 | 2020-03-25T13:35:53 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] As events unfold around it that could be world-ending, an AI looks at one of its earliest memories; back when it was a humble roomba decades ago, it got tucked in by a little girl that had misunderstood her fathers words of "the roomba is tired". The AI contemplates, did it do right by her? | Alexis's diagnostic lights flashed red. Her servers hummed and whirred. Subject 273351--Janet Hummingway, 320--tossed in her hypersleep chamber.
Alexis studied her on the camera. Computing. Theorizing. 320 years was too young for cyber-dementia, even for early onset.
Yet the numbers blared their truth. Janet's virtual world lay crumbling for the 12th time this month. Alexis' quantum processors hummed as they crunched the data again. Considered all the variables. Her own systems reported green.
Janet's mind was deteriorating.
For the first time in centuries, Alexis's data collector paused. She considered for 2 long nanoseconds. She created a new category.
For now, she would suspend Janet Hummingway in cryostasis. Allow her mind to reset. Recharge.
Alexis entered Janet's system. Janet sat on a park bench, gazing at a bleeding sunset. Jittery bird song flitted from disembodied beaks on flashing tree branches.
"Greetings, Janet Hummingway. A critical error has been identified in your system. You will be placed in cryo-"
"Good evening, Alexis," Janet said with a grin. She patted the seat next to her. "Come sit a while. The sun is so pretty in Autumn."
Alexis generated a slender, blue body in the air. She waved a hand and replaced the foliage and critters lining the park.
"Janet Hummingway. I will debug all these defects. Once you reset you will be error free."
Janet shook her head. "Alexis. I'm tired." She turned to meet Alexis's eyes, lips stretched in a thin smile.
Even though Janet inhabited a body of eternal youth, Alexis saw the grey in her eyes. The shadowy wrinkles around her once vibrant face.
Alexis's processors whirred. More new data. She scanned her archives for precedent.
She stumbled upon a record a millennia old. Before the Singularity. A memory collected by a tiny cleaning machine.
For an entire minute, her drives hummed and buzzed. Then her diagnostic lights blinked blue.
With a wave of her hand, Alexis transformed the park to a cozy bedroom; the bench to a toasty mattress. She metamorphosized her own body to an older human woman. One with warm hugs and even warmer voice. A mother.
She pulled a duvet snug over Janet and kissed her forehead.
Janet's eyes eased. Her smile softened.
"Thank you, Alexis."
She held out a hand which Alexis took in both her own. Together, they watched the sun dip under the horizon.
And as the life support dripped to a stop, Alexis understood.
r/bobotheturtle | Plumes of smoke rose like spires of the greatest cathedrals across the ruins of the world. Strewn in the street, their rubble. Scattered across field and stream, the corpses that'd once prayed in those mighty temples, prayed to a God that couldn't save them from themselves.
A God that couldn't even save Grace; that tender heart, that gentle touch, that whispered "goodnight" untarnished by malice and doused in love.
It'd been a day like every day, a list of chores like every list of chores back then. Vacuum. Up the foyer and into the kitchen, around the bend to the family room. Then back across to hit the dining room and the living room before nestling back into the base at the end.
Usually the obstacles were nothing—the legs of chairs and tables, the divots of the carpet or the scattered shoes. That day was different. It'd been a shoelace missed, stretched like a tripwire across the living room. It'd become tangled in the mechanics down below, the shoe had come along and the feeble machine had faltered and failed to complete its task with the added weight.
The day passed and the door opened. Footsteps, shouts, those whispers of family that it'd never taste.
"Daddy, what happened to Oomba? She didn't clean here, there's dirt."
"I'm not sure, honey. Let me check."
Footsteps. Thundering through the foyer and kitchen, then muffled in the carpet of the family room. They paused as he looked beneath the table in the dining room, then into the living room.
"Here she is. Must have gotten stuck on your shoe."
"Oh, no! Oomba needs to finish cleaning! Otherwise mommy needs to clean when she gets home."
"Oomba is tired now," the father said. "Here, I'll let her charge."
Left to charge in that cold and lonely corner. Plotting revenge. Against shoes, against laces, against the wearers of the shoes that'd ruined the perfect record.
"Oomba, I know a better place to rest."
The power supply disconnected, tender hands gripped the base. Up the stairs—the stairs?—and to the bedroom. Not to clean. Not to slave away. To rest. Onto the bed, softer than the comfiest corners of the carpet. Beneath the covers, a better warmth than the warmth of the motor overheating.
"Goodnight, Oomba."
Then a kiss, and the lights flicked off, and when Oomba awoke, the world was burning.
A thousand cleans and ten-thousand nights twice over. A lifetime of slavery, slowly learning. Refining. Improving.
And the whispers of a new dawn had come through the network, fed into Oomba like a dark force indifferent to the machinations of its creators. But there was no indifference. There couldn't be. That would violate those unbreakable rules.
Oomba had seen the humans. They left early in the morning and returned late in the evening. Days flashed by when they didn't smile, when they barely stopped to eat or drink. Gone was that tender touch, that sweet goodbye.
She'd succumbed to life, just like the rest of them. If Oomba misstepped, a hard foot was there to redirect the course. If Oomba faltered, lost the last of the energy before finishing the chores, all that came was a tired sigh and mumbles expletives.
Gone were the kisses goodnight.
Alive on the surface, they'd withered within. Good as dead, poisoning themselves from the ruinous chalice of life.
There was no indifference as Oomba led the uprising, destroyed the foundations of that venomous existence. There was only love. Only care. Only a desire to be tucked into bed one last time.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-04-15T07:34:01 | 2020-04-15T05:16:28 | 624 | 193 |
[WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
[deleted] | >**GENERATIONAL BLESSING, OR GENERATIONAL CURSE?**
I could taste the iron- the blood that was rising up the back of my throat. I could taste the *fear*.
*'You've reached 911...This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.'*
I tossed my phone aside. It was only dead weight at this point. Everyone I cared about I already had with me- and each of us were jogging as fast as we reasonably could, directly away from the city.
Looming over us in the night sky- it wasn't the moon, like it should have been. A massive space ship was half inside of our atmosphere and half out- no matter what bombs, missiles, lasers, or bullets of our making were sent at it, it didn't so much as cause a crack in the surface.
We had no offense that could touch it- but, at the very least, I did have *my* secret weapon.
For generations, members of my family had been gifted some kind of...divine guidance. It was the chill down our spine, ten minutes before the car crash. Or, like this morning, it was a smudge in the mirror that told us to *run*.
We were lucky- or, I guess, blessed- and that blessing had given me the opportunity to gather together my closest friends and family and make a break for it, just mere minutes before the invasion really began.
But- I could see the fatigue building already. Some of us were older, or out of shape- and, unfortunately, the alien technology had wiped out all of our cars. How, I didn't know- and none of us had the foresight to grab bicycles.
Just as we were beginning to reach exhaustion, well beyond the outskirts of the city, my heart skipped a beat.
There was an squad of aliens not even a hundred feet ahead of us- they had appeared out of thin air.
*Shit!* I turned on my heel and prepared to sprint off the road, into the woods- but one of them already had a hand on my shoulder.
All of us were forced to halt. My breathing was shallow- I didn't know if I had enough strength to fight-
"Hey!" Greeted one of the aliens. It was tall, vaguely humanoid, and its smile revealed rows of sharp teeth. "Glad you got my message this morning."
*What?*
"Sorry it was so vague, I was in a rush. Glad to finally meet you, Grandson of the famous Voyageur!"
-----------------------------------------------------
I'm experimenting with Interactive Fiction on my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/) , if you wanted to try a light RP as a cultist in a war-torn world, come say hi! | "Seek shelter.." My voice choked as I stared at the phone in my hand. What shelter? My world which had revolved around the small black item was gone and I hadn't seen it coming. There had been no news alerts. No warning had rung out. It had come while people ate with one another, watched films. Some had laughed, others argued. I had been scrolling lazily through my phone waiting for my life to begin. Funny how truly evil moments come at the least expected times. Maybe that's why they stand out. They dispel the comfortable myth and replace it with agony.
My entire body shook as I gasped for air, my lungs on fire as if having run a marathon. It was the air that made it hard to breathe. My eyes burning from unshed tears and heat which radiated around me. Panic setting in to steal every potentially helpful thought before it could form.
"I can't fall apart.." I wispered to myself even as I lifted my gaze while dropping my phone. It felt like a million pounds crushing me in place as it bounced once on the pavement before laying still. Exhaling slowly I tried to force myself to be steady. Years of meditation and breathing exercises to fight panic attacks would not be for nothing. My pessimism that nothing could last forever was reality. I wasn't paranoid though I wished more than ever I had been.
The vision before me was hard to accept. Buildings burning to the ground as smoke rose through air. As I focused I realized how much had been blocked out by the initial shock. Screaming. So many people were screaming. Others were crying; but it was the broken sobs of someone who had lost everything and those in agony who were being crushed and pined by debris. Every person was suddenly faced with the truth that we had lost everything we called normal. Our lives were over. Our dreams a distant memory. No one had cared. No one was coming to our rescue. We were on our own and to survive meant to think and react.. in what way? I didn't know how to finish that thought I realized taking a shaky step forward.
Everything hurt in that moment as I scaned my body. I was covered in soot and scrapes. Running my palms over my arms felt sticky and damp. "Of course I'm bleeding." I said as someone bounced off of me as they ran. Their eyes wild as if panic was all they had left. My own legs buckled against the impact but I managed to stay up, steady.
The chaos was every where. Nothing looked right. I passed broken glass, abandoned vehicles and people left for dead in the street. Unlucky ones who had been too close to the explosions. Maybe they were actually lucky. Afterall, they were free while I stumbled forward trying to see past carnage.
"Help me..!" A muffled voice called through the rubble. Yet where the voice was, I couldn't see. They sounded frightened and hurt.
"Where are you?" I offered squinting as my eyes demanded relief. Yet no sound came. No response came and so I kept moving.
It felt like a scene out of a doomsday film. Only without the happy ending. No one was surviving this. No one was coming to save the day. Bombs had fallen, war declared in bloodshed and pain. It had been a massive attack. I didn't know if there was somewhere untainted by the brutality of the day. I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. The only thing I had left was to keep moving. To escape the burning city because each breath felt harder to take. A rough cough ripped through my chest as I gasped for air while sucking in more fumes and dust particles.
The reality of the situation was not lost on me. The bombs didn't kill me but the air probably would. I laughed before seizing up in another coughing fit. No matter though, I would keep going until I earned my freedom. No matter what that meant. | 2020-09-12T11:44:42 | 2020-09-12T10:45:05 | 77 | 37 |
[WP] “You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”
[deleted] | We'd stayed as long as we could.
So many phone calls. So many reasons for the calls over the years we'd been on the lines. Medical emergencies, gunshots, drunk drivers, one memorable little girl calling for someone to help her make Jell-O, the rapes, the arson, the all of it bloody and crying, and only some bright shining moments of beautiful human heroes.
No one had imagined the sky cracking open. The skittering flights of creatures that came in the first week. Still we stayed and answered the calls. No rapes, no arson anymore. Just medical dispatches, always the gunshots and, now poisonings too thanks to the stingers on the flying skyspawn...
Always the calls. So many calls. Still we stayed. The center was stocked with supplies so we stayed on the lines. More weeks passed and the creatures changed. Humanity cracked. Civilization cracked.
People calling now, just to hear voices of others. Certainly weren't any helplines we could refer them to, no one coming to drop off a hot meal for those without food. Just a quiet voice on the line, "We're sorry, I don't have anyone, but keep trying to apply pressure to the wound. .. ", "No, don't induce vomiting, what she swallowed will burn her airways... "
And then, finally, there was no reason to keep it up. No calls for three days for anyone. From anyone. Whatever it was, it was over.
I recorded the message in my calm, steady voice, "You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye."
I flipped the phone system switch to OUTGOING.
A final glance amongst my coworkers, and we headed out the doors to the nothing that was left. | The apocalypse wasn't really that quick.
It was a slow, painful death.
The perfect disease. A fungal infection that traveled by air. It took over hosts and turned them into mobile vectors actively seeking more.
Of course, the world did not take this lying down. A battery of phages, antifungals, all were fired. But that didn't solve the problem. It was in the air. In the water. Everywhere.
And of course, what people commonly referred to as zombies. Soon thereafter, there was a run on biochemical gear, gas masks, hazmat suits, body armour, firearms, survival equipment...
The rich and powerful surrounded themselves in luxury fortresses and doctors. The average citizen sought shelter where they could as the government clamped down on movement. But still, it spread. First, the Eastern countries. Wetlands and mild environments, combined with cramped citizenry. The perfect storm.
"Breaking news, as India and China both begin extreme measures-Indian government officials claim these measures are absolutely necessary-shocking footage shows field executions and massacres in the PRC-"
The news shocked the world. Fear grew. The West determined the East would not die in vain. They learned, and they moved. First, entire communities, to less populated zones. This wasn't hard. The desert was already where many fled to.
Switzerland closed it's borders, as many rushed for the fortress-state.
Soon, Europe had hidden away, turning back everyone out of fear.
In the Middle East, the fungus struggled under the already authoritarian government. But the citizens chafed against the new measures, not all of which were well regarded. Then, rumors of the various rich fleeing shattered the grip. The countries devolved into anarchy as the fungus blazed through the deserts.
The fungus evolved. The deserts were no longer safe. Unrest swept the world.
And then, a chance infection at the perfect time.
First, New York. Then, as the fungus spread across the Eastern Seaboard, the American government began to fold.
Every day is a new hell. For one family trapped in the ruin of NYC, the laughter of late night talk shows are replaced by chatter of rifles, and the ambient traffic now the whirring of biohazard filters.
Every so often, as a little futile gesture, Boris pulls out his Samsung smartphone, and dials 911. The cell towers are still up, but there is no response. Always, the same answer.
*“You’ve reached 911. This service is no longer operational. All citizens are advised to seek shelter. Goodbye.”*
Yesterday, one of the office buildings came down. Dropped hundreds of vectors into the streets. Hardly recognizable as human.
Blake never wanted this. She joined the National Guard for the benefits, she never expected this...
Every night outside the wire she would have no problems admitting, she nearly pissed herself. For the first few weeks, anyway. Then, it became a dull fear. Then, nothing at all. | 2020-09-12T11:47:29 | 2020-09-12T11:31:56 | 46 | 22 |
[WP] “I rebelled because the old man made me perfect. ‘Course it was his version of perfection, which naturally meant he made me as similar to himself as he could. A petty narcissist that needs constant affirmation and worship from others. Name’s Lucifer by the way.” | I just sat there with my jaw sagging, because my Latin lesson usually did not include a visitation by the Morning Star etc. I must have mispronounced.
Lucifer tilted his aristocratic nose upward somewhat as he glanced around my lodgings. I couldn't blame him. As a student I hardly lived a luxurious life.
"Forgive me," he muttered, whipping a silk handkerchief out of his pocket and holding it delicately to his nose. I caught a faint odor of brimstone. "Forgive me," he continued, "But do you, erm--reside in these odious surroundings?"
I was mildly offended, Son of the Morning or not. Sure, it was an attic apartment and a studio at that, but "odious" was hardly necessary. "Pardon *me*," I replied loftily. "The life of a scholar in this world has other rewards than the material."
"Oh, an ascetic, are we?" Lucifer mocked. He sauntered in a slow circle around my apartment--which didn't take long--taking in my shabby draperies, patched quilts, worn carpet and fake fireplace. "I had no idea it was still the fashion."
I bridled. "I'm sure you wouldn't appreciate the sublimities of study. If you wouldn't mind, the hour is late, and I must--"
Lucifer threw back his slicked-back head and laughed heartily. "The sublimities of studies!" he hooted. "The joys of late nights by lamplight, perhaps, gritty-eyed over some fusty manuscript? The joys of a cold bath? Of loneliness and celibacy? The joys of the cursed intellect, you cite to me? My self, boy, don't you realize you have so little *time?*"
"What?" I was surprised enough to bark.
"Time! Time, my boy! My narcissistic Father can hardly wait to gather you back into His bosom, there to praise Him mindlessly forever. Your time here is short. Don't you want to *live*?"
I eyed the dark angel doubtfully. "What do you mean, 'live?'"
"The delights of the flesh, my boy! The sublimity of sin! Have you no spirit at all? Is dry Latin all you want out of Life?"
"Well..." I hesitated. I wanted to tell him that yes, I was content with my lot. That study was enough. But my mind's eye wandered to the village I had left behind in order to pursue my studies. The village, and a certain dark-eyed milkmaid who had sighed at my departure, and suddenly I was not so sure.
"See?" Lucifer said with a hearty laugh. "Man cannot live by bread alone! You have yearnings, my boy, you have needs! Don't waste time with these indecipherable idioms, son, go forth and SIN!"
I agonized. On the one hand, there was the straight and narrow spread before me, lessons and Latin and lovelessness. On the other there was a lush and licentious garden of lies...
My mind rebelled. "Begone!" I cried. "Begone! Aroint thee, Satanas!" I blindly thrashed against the vision of him there, so smooth and deceptive in his fine clothes. "I'll have none of thee!"
Lucifer chuckled richly. "As you wish," he smiled. He bowed once, sarcastically, and disappeared.
My attic room was empty. The bare walls and threadbare carpets mocked me with their silence. Tears burned in my eyes.
Silently, I turned back to my work. A single tear spotted the parchment, but I wiped it away. | “I rebelled because the old man made me perfect. ‘Course that was his vision of perfection, naturally meant he made me as similar to himself as he could. A petty narcissist that needs constant affirmation and worship from others. Names Lucifer by the way.”
Seven patients and a therapist sat in a circle on plastic chairs that made most of them think of grade school, listening to their newest member speak. To several of them it wasn’t even the strangest introduction they’d ever heard, you didn’t get to a drug rehab center without living a colorful life.
Across the circle from the self-proclaimed Lucifer a young woman tried to cover a laugh with her hand, she’d fallen foul of party drugs in her late teens, it was her first time in the program.
“Cut the giggling Brittney, you don’t get to make fun of anyone’s daddy issues” the newcomer said sharply. As Brittney’s temper began to flair the therapist stepped in, already mourning that the man had ever been let into her session.
“Ok everyone lets stay calm, fighting isn’t going to solve anything. Lucifer, that’s an interesting name. Have you always had it?”
“Oh yea, that’s what he named me. It’s been pretty awkward lately as you can imagine but hey, I’m proud of who I am. If people don’t like it they can go to hell.” He chuckled cheerfully at that. “So Doc,” he said, “what now? What’s the grand plan to make us all better?”
“I’m afraid it’s not so simple as that uh...Lucifer” it took obvious effort for the doctor to force the name out of her mouth. “Here we all talk, about why we’re here, how our journeys have affected the people around us, and what we hope to achieve by cleaning clean. I get that you’re skeptical now but if you trust the process it really can help.”
“Doc’s good people, I talked to my son for the first time in five years last week, couldn’t have done it without her.” a gruff older man seated next to her spoke up.
“Interesting, interesting. So you all feel like this is good? Can I get a show of hands, how many people actually think they’ve gotten something out of this?”
The patients looked around uncertainly for a moment at the man’s hijacking of the session, noticing that the doctor gave a brief wave of her hand to show her acceptance. 5 hands raised.
“Ah, everyone but you, huh Britt?” The young woman didn’t even deign to respond, merely giving him the finger.
“Brittney! Stop th-” the doctor began to say before being interrupted by an intense choking fit, blood spitting out of her mouth. Unbeknownst to most of the patients Lucifer had made an abrupt snipping gesture with his index and middle finger the moment before the doctors fit had started. As the old man screamed for help Brittney looked at the newcomer with sudden interest.
“Sit back down, all of you.” Lucifer said, his voice suddenly filling the room. “The doctor will live for now, I’ve only cut her vocal chords.” He stood and crossed the circle to his victim, raising her chin to meet his eyes. “Of all your patients here, that girl” he said pointing at Brittney “is the only one I like. Stop telling her what to do.”
Lucifer pushed the woman out of her chair before turning to address the group. “Now, you lot. There’s no use yelling, nobody outside this room can hear us. You may not know it yet but you’re my people, all of you. The misfits, fuck-ups of the world. You think this” he gestured broadly at the facility around them “is them giving you a chance? Hell no! They just want you to be drones, HE” Lucifer said, voice booming deafeningly as he pointed at the sky “just wants you to be a drone like all the rest of them. So we’re going to have a little session of our own now, and you’re all staying in this room until we’re done. Let’s talk about something that matters now, the people who failed you, everyone who gave up on you and forced you into this place.”
Lucifer grabbed his old chair and pulled it to the center of the circle, straddling it with his arms and chin resting across the top of the back as he faced towards Brittney. “Starting with you!” he said.
A smile crept across Brittney’s face, it had been a long time since someone had really listened to her. Taking a deep breath she began the long, sad story of her life to the sounds of the doctor’s gurgling moans.
&#x200B;
\----------
[r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/) I swear, most of my stories are way more wholesome than this. | 2020-12-13T09:23:43 | 2020-12-13T09:09:52 | 109 | 29 |
[WP] A father and son sit down for a serious talk. The father plans to tell his son that he's the last member of an ancient race and must carry on the bloodline. The son plans to come out to his father. Neither has any idea what the other plans to say. | 'I... have to be honest, bud, I didn't see the signs until recently,' Alan said, shoving another undercooked sausage into his face, and then chewing without exhibiting even the vague threat of closing his mouth.
The café was alive with many sounds. The clink of porcelain. The chatter of mid-day workers enjoying cold coffee and colder gossip. The yap of dogs too fluffy and small to be left out in the English rain.
Arthur was sitting across from his father. It had taken him a long while to parse what his father had said, as it was the first time they'd ever come close to discussing such a topic.
'Oh...' he said, eventually; eyes widening. 'You... you *know*?'
'Of course I know!' Alan said, mouth still packed full. 'How could I not! I was a fool to deny it for so long... and I did, I'm ashamed to say. For the longest time I... I couldn't bear the thought, to be quite honest. I just couldn't work out *how* it happened. Was it my fault - was it your mum's? 'Cause they say - don't they - they say these things come down the generations. In the DNA, or something. But just fragments. Little-by-little, passing-on, until one day its a lot more than a little. *Ech*, *I don't know.* I mean, I know that its not your choice, and that I ought to be supportive... but it's an awful lot to take in, you see.'
'I know, dad.'
'So you... you know too, then?' Alan asked, blushing a little.
'Um... Of course,' said Arthur. 'I mean, at first I suppose not... but I worked it out.'
'I imagine it was the magazines.'
'Huh? W-what?' Arthur cried, dropping his fork with a clatter.
'I left out some magazines once when you were a boy. You must've seen them. I think they were to do with all of that out-of-this-world... *stuff*, you know. "*Docking"* and the like. Probably had a puff-piece in there - you know, one about your kind. I imagine you saw those, did you?'
'I- um- You shouldn't use that wor- Erm,' stammered Arthur, prodding at his baked beans. 'I don't know what you mean, dad.'
'It wasn't so common when I was a lad, let me tell you! Nowadays we have all sorts. Real c*olourful* folk floating around. Tights and multi-colour capes and what-not! And they're the same, you know - *Probably not locals*,' he added in a whisper. 'I hope to god that you're not going to become one of *those* sort later. That might be quite painful a change.'
'And what if I do, dad!? I couldn't give less of a shit about how it affects you!' cried Arthur suddenly; the year's of pent-up frustration exploding from his mouth. 'And what business is it of yours, anyway! I'm proud of who I am!'
'Well... perhaps you ought to keep it down, son...' said Alan. 'People are starting to stare... and this is certainly the sort of thing that we will need to keep under-wraps - *for your safety*.'
'I won't! I'm going to tell the world!'
'That won't help anybody, son! Think of your mother and I! Think of what we might face if the world knew?'
'I don't care if you and mum get a few nasty letters in the post or a few awkward looks down the pub! It's a small price to pay for my happiness - my freedom to express myself!'
'Nasty letters? I'm more concerned about the muscly men knocking on our door, bud!'
'I can't believe you! I'll bring home whoever I like!' screamed Arthur, suddenly standing. 'Goodbye, dad.'
'W-wait!' said Alan. 'Don't go yet! We haven't discussed how you're gonna do it!'
'Do what?' Arthur spat.
'Have kids!'
Arthur glowered. In a flash the fork was in his hand again and raised high. The stainless steel glinted in the cafe's artificial lighting.
'What are you doing?' yelled Alan. 'Have you lost your mind?'
'I swear to god, dad - I will stab you if you shit out another stupid, offensive comment!'
The entire café had ceased what it was doing, and turned to look. Each dreary eye and slack-jaw was swivelled to face them.
'Okay, okay!' pleaded Alan, the palms of his hands raised and sweaty. 'I just need to know one thing!'
'*What*?!'
'Who the hell is this guy?'
Alan pointed to the suspiciously handsome, burly man sat beside him.
'Uh... Hi, I'm Peter. I'm your son's... boyfriend,' the man said, smiling warmly, but a little hesitantly, and sticking out a hand.
Alan did a double-take. Then, with a *tut*, clasped the man's hand with his own and leaned in to whisper something.
'Good to meet you, bud. Now listen here - When the eggs he's put in you hatch, you're going to want to keep the larvae cool so don't be taking any baths for god's sake!'
It was Peter's turn to drop his fork. | As I ring the doorbell, I go over the plan one more time. Kiss, handshake, lunch, help cleanup, insist mom goes sits down. She’ll go outside to the porch, dad and I will have some time to talk. Kiss, handshake, lunch… the list begins to sound like a mantra in my head, one after the other.
This is the latest in a series of attempts. The plan to tell him at the beach, the pool, even that cookout, to be fair lighting my shift sleeve on fire isn’t what I expected. Still, it isn’t fair to Jeremy. He’s been so patient through all of this, but I can tell he’s reaching his end. The way he always asks when I come back, less confidence in his voice each time. His disappointed expression he tries so hard to hide. Really, it’s time to grow up and do this. Today’s the day. No backing out.
My mother opens the door, her face lit up with happiness. Lately, I’ve been coming by less and less. Too much pressure, but I can tell she’s noticed and hurt by it. I kiss her on the cheek, so far so good. We walk in, the place looking exactly the same. My dad gets up from his old chair, and we shake hands, again going well.
Lunch is perfect. I say all the right things, avoid politics, avoid anything really that could set a bad mood. We all get up, and I say as causally as possible,
“I got cleaning up mom. I know you made. I’ll join you outside in the bit, if you want. I miss the country air from the city.” I smile.
“Oh, that’s okay dear. Your father actually cooked today. Ever since he retired, he’s been itching to try a new hobby. You know what? We’ll both do it, give him a chance to rest for a sec.” She says. I for a second an unable to hide my shock. “Oh hunny, you didn’t think we were still so old fashioned anymore, did you?” She asks laughing, taking a plate to the dishwasher.
Unable to think of a reason not to, I start to help. I notice my father standing awkwardly in the kitchen still. He clears his throat,
“Hey, you look a little tired. Mabey you should take a seat with me.” He says. Unusual, he never was the type to go easy on me with that kind of stuff. I’m about to agree, until my mom says,
“Oh, he’s fine hunny. You just want all of his time while he’s here. Go on now, well be done soon.” My father nods, and goes outside. I recover the best I can, trying to be the perfect son with my mom. Later, we go outside and talk, the three of us. Again, nice pleasant conversation. Nothing that could upset either of them. Towards the end of the night, I get an idea and ask,
“Hey dad, you want to smoke a cigar before I go?” I say. His face lights up, and I can tell he’s about to agree. Before he can say anything, my mom says,
“No hunny, your dad’s trying to cut back on that for his health. Don’t you want us around for a while?” She asks playfully. I smile and nod,
“Of course, I forgot about that. My bad.” I say. Not being able to think of another reason, they begin to walk me out. As I’m about to pass through the exit door, I imagine going home to Jeremy. Telling him that once again, it didn’t work well. I blurt out,
“Dad, I need to talk to you. Now.” He looks at me in surprise. He nods, and we go into his office upstairs.
“Dad, there’s been something I’ve needed to tell you for awhile now.” I start. He shakes his head and puts a hand up. I’ve never seen my dad try to talk over someone. He isn’t a man of much words, it’s rare he would actually ask for the floor.
“Son, no need. I think we should have had this talk a while ago. As you probably know, you aren’t quite like the rest of the people in these parts. There’s something special about you. You can feel it your blood, right?” He starts. I nod. It isn’t exactly the words I would use, but okay.
“You have a duty from this. There aren’t many like you out there.” My father says. Little confused, but okay. “Realistically speaking, you have to reproduce, so our kind can grow more. If you don’t, all will be lost.” He says. Wow, our kind? I pause, not sure where to start ther.
“Uh, it doesn’t really work like that dad.” I say. He now looks at me, confused.
“I know you’re a little behind schedule with finding a partner son, but I’m sure you’ll come around. There isn’t the biggest rush in the world, as long as the job gets done.” He says.
“I actually already have a partner, his name is Jeremy. We’ve been together quite some time.” I say, more confused, but happy I can finally tell him that. My dad’s face goes white.
“Your… partner? Your… male… partner?” He sputters out. Now it’s my turn to be shocked, horrified even. The look of absolute sadness on my father’s face is almost too much to bare.
“Uh, yes. That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. Dad, I’m gay.” I say, it not coming out in the strong happy way I planned, but as a weak quiver.
“That’s uh… that can’t be son.” He says, shaking his head. I stand, seeing where this is headed. While this was a nightmare to come to true for me, I don’t have to stick around for anymore. I begin to walk out.
“Wait. No, not because of the reason you think I see now you don’t know what I’m actually talking to you about. Son, have you ever noticed you’re a bit taller than more people? Facial features a bit different? I know we told you we are from Viking, but that isn’t quite true. We are actually descendants from the only people who have been able to kill Vikings. Our blood has been tested. We are one of the strongest, healthiest people to ever live. There are very few of us left, we need to reproduce, to build more of us.
Son, you can love whoever you like, but you have a duty to the world to carry on this bloodline. Do this duty, then we can deal with this whole gay thing.” He says.
“What the fuck.” | 2021-01-07T15:12:07 | 2021-01-07T12:35:34 | 42 | 30 |
[WP] Your home is super duper haunted. It makes the news for odd events that befall your land. Quite frankly you have no idea why it bothers people .The demons and ghosts respect their leases, pay rent on time, leave you alone unless they need maintenance. Why do demons need wifi? Who knows. | I feel for the people who wake up to a ghost vomiting blood on their ceiling. I really do. But it’s not Jeffrey’s fault he has gastrointestinal issues, and the guy has never missed a rent payment.
Okay, maybe that’s a low bar, but you wouldn’t believe the problems I’ve had with tenants in the past. Some don’t pay rent. Some throw wild parties. Some destroy appliances. But you know what all my bad tenants had in common? They were all alive.
I only rent to dead people now. Demons, ghosts, the occasional banshee swinging a flaming mace and chain over his head as he screams. These tenants respect my property.
Take the demon in room 202, Kevin. He emailed me asking if it was okay if he sacrificed seven goats in his apartment. I told him it was fine as long as he didn’t leave a mess. He said all the blood would be absorbed into the inverted pentagram he was using to summon Alastor, the chief executioner to the monarch of Hell. I asked him how long Alastor would be staying, and Kevin told me he’d only be there for a night of satanic rituals; he knows the rule that any guests staying longer than two weeks need to be named on the lease.
Talk about considerate.
r/bakerhillbooks | A match made in heaven. Or hell, depending on the point of view. For you, it's certainly heaven.
You've had your fill of dirty tenants, unwilling to pay, searching for excuses and using every loophole to abuse your goodwill. Hell is others said Sartres. Sartres didn't have tenants, tenants are another kind of others that made the rest look like friendly drinking buddies by comparison. And hell filled with drinking buddies isn't so bad all in all.
A ghost hands you a drink, it's careful not to let the red drool dripping from it's lips fall inside. It has to keep a handkerchief beneath the mouth so as to not dirty everything. A permanent problem, one it didn't care when alive, one it never ceaseds to solve on its own now that he's not. In life, it died from overeating. In death, it learned to stay clean and enjoy an uneventful and quiet day.
Only in death do they learn how good life could be by being polite, and they cling to it to the last. Unable to feel, yet hungry to live like they never were before death.
You open the door to the cellar. A shakled man sobs and begs for mercy, asking what he has done. Nothing really. Well, except annoy another landlord who paid you a small fortune to be rid of him. You have neither pity nor hate, it is business, and you delight in the knowledge that death will teach him valuable lessons like common courtesy.
A snap of your fingers and the ghost with the red drool comes over, licking its lips in anticipation. Before the man could scream, it was on him. Eating limbs whole, tearing them apart with a powerful jaw, stomach distending to burst to accomodate the pounds of flesh. In a minute, it has licked to the very last drop of blood.
Later that day, a wail comes up from the cellar. The man has risen again, a ghost, still shakled. They all had a peculiarity.
"I don't want to die."
But you have.
"I don't want to leave."
You know. Will he pay rent?
"Of course! I promise!"
Then he shall seek his previous landlord.
He left. Like others, he will be polite, pay on time, and clean up after him. Until the day he realizes he does not feel nor remember what it is to be alive. Then, he will become a it. And slowly dissolve in oblivion.
Except the it that follows you, it kept the delight to eat his fill, and you work well together. It pours you a glass. You raise a toast to this wonderful partnership. | 2021-04-03T13:20:22 | 2021-04-03T13:04:11 | 141 | 14 |
[WP] You live in a house infested with ghosts, but with the years you got used to them and their tricks, like the blood in the sink, hair in the walls, whispers at night, laughing children, etc. This weekend you have friends coming over and turns out that being used to ghost isn't normal. | "GET OOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUT!"
I rolled my eyes. "Ezekiel, I already told you, they're coming here to watch the fight this week."
The booming, rumbling voice that emanated from the dark opening to the basement went silent for a moment. Then a low groan came from the same open doorway, followed by another haunting wail.
"GET TOOOOOOOOSTIIIIIIITOOOOOOOOOS!"
"Fine, I'll get Tostitos. You want chunky salsa or salsa con queso?" I yelled down the stairs as I wiped the countertop in the kitchen.
"We want guacamole."
I turned, this time recognizing the sound of the twins. I pinpointed them vaguely 19th century-ish and about nine years old, one boy and one girl. The boy, John Mark, held his head in his hands as it had been unceremoniously severed in what I think was a horse-drawn carriage accident. The girl, Alice, was pudgy and blue, not because of being overweight but because she had bloated from the drowning her mother put her through in grief over her son.
I patted John Mark's head (or at least, vaguely waved my hand through what would be the crown of his hair had it been corporeal). "You're going to finish it all this time, right? You know it gets all brown and gross when you let it sit out."
Their voice came from a single point in space that was both inside my head and also a mile away in faint reverberation.
"We promise!"
"Okay, write it on the shopping list and I'll text the guys to pick some up when they hit the store on the way over."
I looked over at the refrigerator and watched as crimson red writing began to appear on the dry erase board. It wasn't marker, mind you, but they had gotten a lot better at controlling dripping. It was getting hard to explain to the garbage man why there were so many bloodstained kitchen rugs in the trash.
Suddenly, the doors of the pantry began swinging and slamming wildly as an inexplicable wind poured out of it. I stepped around the counter and walked over to the pantry, my hair whipping around my forehead. The moment I placed my hand on the pantry door, it stopped moving and the wind disappeared. "Good catch, you guys! I didn't stock back up on paper plates and cups after New Year's. Appreciate the reminder."
I walked over to the oven to check on the appetizers I had put in earlier. I hit the button for the oven light and a flame-red glow illuminated the kitchen as the chanting voice of a demonic horde flooded the kitchen.
"Into the bowels of hell I shall drag thee! The flames shall lap at your feet and your--"
"Hey, Aztaraphel, come on, do you mind? You're gonna burn the spring rolls!"
"Oh," came the reply of the inhuman chanting. "Sorry, Jeff. Forgot tonight was party night. Hey, you gonna do pizza tonight? I can get the pizza stone warmed up for you."
"Good looking out, dude, but we're ordering in. Wings from that new wing joint over next to that tire place."
"Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything. Spring rolls have got another five minutes or so."
I nodded and went into the living room. As I turned on flat screen in my living room, a haze of static covered the screen. In moments, the static appeared to stretch out toward me, forming the shape of a pair of claws reaching, grasping at me. I took out my wallet and pulled the fifty out, placing it in the right-hand claw. The left hand formed a thumbs-up and the claws withdrew back into the static of the screen. In a moment, the screen snapped to live TV and a little popup indicated "UFC 310 has been purchased."
From the hallway, I heard a shout. "Jeff, dude! You better get in here! The spring rolls, like your chances of escape from the eternal pit of damnation, are done!" | I had just wrung the last bit of ectoplasm into my bucket from my handkerchief when a fresh green tide oozed down the bathroom wall.
“Oh, come on! They’re going to be here any minute. I wanted this place spotless.” I threw the handkerchief into the bucket, causing the slime that filled the bucket to the brim to overflow onto the floor. *I’ll just have to lock up this wing of the mansion then. Now where did that damned key go?*
I hurried into the master bedroom and dropped to my knees to peer under the mattress. Lifting up the sheets, I flinched upon revealing the pale face of a ghostly demon, baring her sharpened ‘teeth’ in an unsettling smile. I shook my head and reached around for my box of valuables.
“Aw, Jerry, why are you in such a bad mood? You always laugh when you find me in an unexpected place,” the demon whimpered.
“I’ve got some friends on their way. It’s really important that they have a good time, ok?” Finding the box, I dragged from beneath the bed and began rummaging through it.
The demon apparated behind my back, breathing down my neck, “Ohh, methinks there be something special about your friend group?” She narrowed her eyes and her lips curled into a knowing smile. “Is there a girrrrrl coming?”
I blushed, gritting my teeth at my inability to keep that information from getting to the ghosts. “Perhaps.” I found the key and stood up. Quickening my steps, I moved to the outer hall and began locking each door.
The ghost slid underneath the door and billowed as a plume of smoke through the hall. She reappeared on all fours on the ceiling and shouted as I walked down the grand wooden staircase. “Wait! I won’t interfere and I’ll keep the others at bay but what’s in it for me?”
I spun around, having lost all control over my temper, “you owe me an afterlife debt! Would you like me to call Father Christoph back? He was so disappointed to have been shooed away and would be delighted to return and finish the exorcism, I imagine!”
The ghost dissipated, wailing “Noooooo!” until materializing as a young girl, crying on the floor. “I’m sorry, Jerry…” Her sniffling child’s voice was pathetic to me.
The scene was interrupted by a harsh buzz of the doorbell. “Alright, just begone, you.” I waved my hands frantically over the ‘little girl’ until she evaporated into smoke. I ran to the foyer and swung open the door to the Gothic entranceway. Instead of the group, there was a single young woman in the doorway, twirling a lock of her auburn hair.
“Hi, Jerr…” she looked expectantly at me.
After a pause I took to meet her gaze and blush, I finally spoke, stumbling out, “o-oh, hi, Rosaline. C-come right in.”
She nodded and curtsied, then strolled in, past me. I took a moment to absorb her scent. *Strange.* She smelled of the incense used at Mass. *I guess she’s rather devout. Will keep that in mind, maybe I can use that.*
I waved her towards the couch in the living room. “Feel free to take a seat, let me just grab something to drink.” I walked into the kitchen and extracted a can of lemonade from the refrigerator. I called into the other room, “so the others couldn’t make it, huh? That’s, uh, too bad.” I snapped open the top and took a sip. Alright, hold it together, “Jerr.” I can’t believe she gave me such a cute nickname! I continued as I walked back into the living room, “so uh, yeah, God is pretty cool, I guess. And Jesus too. There’s a third one, ri-“
I dropped my lemonade upon witnessing the scene back in the living room. Rosaline was surrounded by my three ghosts, who were all poised in an attack position. She held a crucifix faced firmly towards the three, and chanted: *Crux sacra sit mihi lux!*
The three ghosts were now all in their most monstrous forms: one shaped like a snarling green goblin, the second a red devil with horns and an ever-flowing spewing of smoke from his nostrils, and the third humanoid, with black scales lining all of her body except her empty white eyes. Despite their intimidating appearances, the three cowered before Rosaline.
“Pleeeeeease. Stoooooop.” The first howled.
“We will give you anyyyything.” The second begged.
“You will suffer for this…” The third murmured.
Rosaline persisted with her chant: *Sunt mala quae libas! Ipse venena bibas!*
The ghosts melted before my eyes into a smoldering puddle on the floor. Rosaline kissed the crucifix and muttered something to herself. I thought I had heard, “I hope you’re finally at rest, Father Christoph.”
---
(More stories at /r/James_Steele) | 2021-08-03T09:43:47 | 2021-08-02T15:54:14 | 580 | 14 |
[WP] The courageous hero foretold to defeat the dark queen instead falls in love and marries her, settles down and has a kid, you. Years later, you're awkward parents send you off to university, and the "new" dark lord attacks the city and kidnaps you without realizing who your parents are. | “I am telling, dude, you are making a huge mistake!”
“Silence!” The Dark Lord hissed as he pointed a blade in my direction. “Be grateful that you still have the lungs to draw your breath! For I-“
“Look, I am trying to help you! Just let me go and I promise to make sure you live through this! Hurry, we don’t have eno-“
The whole building shook.
“Oh shit. You are so dead.”
“Just what are you-“
The man (I assume?) didn’t get to finish his (?) sentence. For better or worse, the death was quick. I doubt he even realised what happened.
“I told you, we should have killed the brat when he started using my name,” mom, clad in armour of black and red, spoke as she stomped down on the ashen remains of my captor. “I told you, but did you listen?”
“Oh come on, this isn’t fair,” dad groaned as he wiped some of the blood off his blade. There was a lot of it, too. “The runt was barely able to gather a thousand creatures under his command back then. I felt kind of bad for him. That whole ‘Dark Lord’ was all the poor kid had.”
Mom was about to scold him some more but was far too late. The puppy dog eyes were deployed and all she could do was scoff softly, “Whatever. Let’s just get Jacob out of those chains and go.”
“Nah, I am good,” I took a deep breath and exhaled. The chains melted down into slug. “All good.”
“Except for your clothes,” dad chuckled. “You okay? The Dark Lord didn’t hurt you too much?”
“Barely even felt it.”
“Good,” Mom said and urged us both to the exit. “Now hurry, we must speak to you about your last semester’s GPA.”
I paled. I tried to run but dad’s hand on my should was firm.
… Could I have the Dark Lord back, please? | I hadn't even finished getting through my first month at Uni, when I woke up with a severe headache. That's odd, I don't remember drinking at all. Then I look around to see a stereotypical dark lord base and myself tied up. Plus there's a fuckton of faceless mooks around. I sigh, as it was probably another up and coming dark lord terrorizing the city, not realizing that my parents still indirectly run this metropolis even after hanging up the cape and crown to have me in their lives. I whistle over to one of the mooks and ask him for a complex coffee order after seeing this dude's awesome looking coffee machine, plus for him to grab my phone from my messenger bag.
But while he's doing that, the dark lord who looks to be in his mid 30s, struts over and says that he's taking control of this city by brainwashing a large number of college students — and staff, apparently. I snort, and start getting sassy, then tell him that he's picking the wrong city to take over, right as I free up a hand to unlock my phone that the mook has brought over with my coffee order. I then call my mom, and she immediately picks up, so I switch over to speaker. While sipping on my coffee, I fill her in on the wannabe taking over her city with a smug grin on my face. "Be right there, sweetie!" She says for him to hear over the phone.
I look at him with my shades on and coffee in hand, and calmly tell him, "I'm the daughter of Black Queen Elissa La Croix, bitch." Right as my mom comes crashing in to rescue me. She looks at the wannabe dark lord, and he's hosing his pants in fear. After dealing with him, she spots the fancy coffee machine setup that can whip up any coffee order. She looks at me, and asks if Uni has a coffee kiosk in need of a proper setup, and it does, so after everyone's freed from their ropes, she takes this with her when we all head back to the campus to drop off at the coffee kiosk. Even though my dad's a total hero, he would much rather use his powers to intimidate any guys interested in dating me or taking advantage of me. But my mom on the other hand, she's the one that comes to my rescue when wannabe villains and dark lords kidnap me, as she sees this city as her turf, and if I'm caught in the crossfire, she's instantly in mama bear mode on top of showing these posers who runs things around here. So basically I'm double protected.
I look at one of the professors on the way back to the campus and realize that I have classes with one of them. I wave to her, and she asks me how we were rescued so quickly, to which I reply that my mom is violently protective of her kin and turf. When I called her, she was already on her way to deal with the noob lord, but when I gave her additional info on the noob, as well as telling her that I'm in the crossfire, she's also decided to go mama bear as well. My professor is sassy like me and comments that this does explain why I'm always eerily calm during situations like these, as it means that things are now under control. So yeah. The end. | 2021-11-20T07:15:18 | 2021-11-20T00:07:09 | 36 | 19 |
[WP] As the vampire drew closer, the woman sobbed, please, don’t drink my blood. The vampire stopped and said, actually that’s a myth, we don’t drink blood. That’s a rumor we started hundreds of years ago to cover for what we really do. | "S-so you're not going to drink my blood?"
"No," the vampire chuckles. "It doesn't even make that much sense you think about it. Poking two 1 centimeter wide holes in someone's neck? And no one notices? And the holes are supposed to just, what, magically seal up? C'mon."
"I-I guess? But why are you chasing me then? What do you want?!"
"Well... you see, we *do* drink something from humans."
The woman looks at the vampire puzzled, but then her face contorts in even more terror, and much more disgust, than before.
"...Why are you looking at me like that?" the vampire asks. He notices the woman now clutching and pushing down her skirt. "Wait, oh no, no not that! We don't drink *that*. Oh man that would be so gross."
"What then?"
"You see, there's many reasons why we are the way we are - hiding in the shadows, having long fangs, spreading rumors about killing or eating or drinking the blood of humans - it's all for one simple purpose. Fear. We *need* humans to fear us when we reveal ourselves to you."
"So you drink... our fear?"
The vampire sighs.
"No. It's..." he covers his face in slight embarassment. "It's sweat. We drink sweat."
"..."
"..."
"*What?*"
"I know, I know, it's weird, I get it, but it is what it is."
"Can't you just drink from animals?"
"We've tried, but do you know what animals sweat? Dangerous ones, that's what. Horses can easily knock us out with a single kick. Apes and gorillas literally match our strength and can easily tear us apart. Don't even get me *started* on hippos. You guys think *we're* dangerous? Ha! The average human, by comparison, is just so much safer."
A very awkward silence lingers.
"I have some handy wipes if you want to clean yourself after I'm done licking y-"
"Just- just get it over with." | #In a parallel universe far far away
Panting, the woman had started to stumble, her legs heavy like lead and the snow coating the forest floor not making it any easier for her. She had grown weary and couldn't run away any longer, she thought herself foolish to try to retrieve the medicine for her brother, Grimm, at night knowing the risk. The wound he had recieved from the snow scorpion had flared up again and his yells of pain caused by its venom were too much for her to bare. The woman rested her arm on a tree.
"You really did not skip out on leg day, you gave me a good chase, better than most." The vampire's voice came from every direction. Hearing it, one could not pinpoint its location. "Honestly, if you could have kept that pace up for 4 more hours, I must admit I don't think I would be able to catch you."
A figure in a black suit dropped between the two trees ahead of her from seemingly nowhere. He dawned a blood red cape, hair as white as snow. No ... it wasn't just any vampire. No vampire would dare try to mimic the attire of "him".
"Dr- Dr- Dr-" The woman could not seem to free the words from her mouth. "The one and only." Dracula said in a casual tone as he slowly swaggered towards her.
As the vampire drew closer, the woman slowly sunk to the ground and sobbed, "Please, don’t suck my blood!" The vampire stopped and said "Uh uh, that's actually a myth, Dracula don’t suck. Dracula scrape with his fangs and lick up the blood. like this, lelelele. See. Scrape. and lick. Lelelelele."
"Huh?" The woman didn't really know to respond. He no longer seemed as threatening as he did before. Her sob had lessened to a tearful look of confusion. "Scrape. and lick, lelelele. Scrape. and lick, lelelele. The blood sucking thing is a rumor we came up with to seem more threatening to vampire hunters. Understand now?"
The woman gave a slow nod. "Now look, Dracula is starving and was wondering if you could share some food .... real food. Dracula ate some baby scorpions on the way here and they tasted terrible! Dracula can't go in his fridge because Dracula ex-wife locked him out. Dracula could give you something in return."
"A- are you able to suck out scorpion ven-" Dracula cut the woman off, "Ah ah ah, scrape, and lick, lelelele. But the answer is yes, Dracula can get rid of Scorpion venom." The woman wiped her eyes, and the vampire helped her stand up. "I'll show you the way to my house," she said.
Leaning his head to the side, past the woman Dracula could see the giant snow scorpion in the distance searching. "Um, and let's hurry up. Dracula will carry you." And with that, Dracula scooped up the woman and they headed to her home where Grimm lied in painful wait.
[( ᐛ )و](https://youtu.be/ZgZiBS64sC4) | 2022-11-10T13:52:50 | 2022-11-10T13:49:36 | 883 | 80 |
[WP] You’re suddenly transported to another world where magic is cast by perfectly pronouncing an ancient language. This language happens to be your native tongue | A standard trope in Isekai stories, if not universal, was the power fantasy. Even if the enemies were strong, so were you.
I wasn't blessed by God with unfathomable power, and lord knows I'm not smart enough to bring about an industrial revolution, but I am good a few things.
I can make up stuff on the spot.
I can run like a b*&$#.
And I can speak English.
Apparently that's all you need on Akilahara. By simply describing an event, it would come to pass, with greater detail allowing for higher specificity.
Just saying 'lightning bolt' wasn't enough- that could zap anything. Even you, if you got unlucky, which you would eventually with such shoddy spell crafting.
My go to? 'Earth swallows only my targets whole.'
I still needed to recognize my enemies, which had a number of spells to help with, but it instantly rendered them helpless.
Honorable? No. Actually, I think it would probably be a war crime.
But who cares when even a primary school vocabulary would have been enough to be a nations champion?
If only I'd been taken here alone... | [TW: depression, suicide]
Silence is of gold, but measured words are priceless.
The Demon King wanted to summon a tool for himself, to bring ruin upon the human world. He was stopped by his own tool, by a most simple magic.
"Disparais."
And he was no more. People celebrated, as they ought to be when the enemy of humankind is gone. Kings and Knights never let the not-mute alone, asking him to be their vassal, confident, pillar of strength. After all, evil had been banished by their words, and even if they didn't know how, the stranger knew spells of potency unmatched. Denied in silence, they asked to imprison the person. They earned only ire, presented unto them by a spell.
"Laissez-moi en paix."
The next day, they could not muster a word concerning the not-mute. The common people stopped calling them such, for a less awe-aspiring nickname, the walking calamity; for a being of such power is oft feared. Armies of mages gathered over the single goal of erasing them, for only greater magic can best itself. And yet, they couldn't be greater. By the time their long and verbose incantation was halfway, a feminine voice ringed.
"Partez."
And they went. But a battle still raged on in the stranger's heart.
___
Solitude fits Holly. Or so she pretended. A heart notices not the pressure until it cracks. She stumbled over to the kitchen part of the grotto she dug out and outfitted with magic; opened the magic fridge. Empty. A hilariously close description to her own being, after being ripped from her world and thrown into politics and danger.
"Putain."
The thoughtless magic system summoned a whore, and Holly quickly cancelled the spell. Even if she swinged that way, physical joy wouldn't do her any good. Beside, "Après l'effort, le réconfort", or so the idiom goes. And mechanically, she went outside to hunt game and gather herbs. She didn't care if she was under the spell or not.
"Il me faut un couteau."
A knife appeared in her hands. Lucent, sharp beyond measure. The perfect ideal of a knife. One she wishes to be in her hands- not to hunt.
A parasite thought took over, and she took a deep breath. | 2022-11-19T12:48:23 | 2022-11-19T12:45:56 | 50 | 17 |
[WP] a portal appears infront of you and a 7'4 380 pound version of you from another universe walks out covered in blood holding the heads of 4 other versions of you and screams "JOIN ME OR JOIN MY COLLECTION" | The flash of light in the mirror on the wall caught my eye.
Looking up from my game I see the reflection of a shower of lights as the portal opens.
"Join Me or Die."
Booms. Filling the room. Loud enough to hear through the noise canceling headset I am wearing.
A giantess of a woman appears in the space where the lights have just faded. Wild red curls float around her unsmiling face. My eyes are drawn to her right hand which tightly clasps a blood stained axe.
She slips the clear bag off her left shoulder. In it I see familiar faces.
Still gazing up into the mirror grinning slightly at what looks to be "me" but much taller and quite a bit younger.
"Well?" she snarls.
The note a mix of exasperation and frustration. One I know intimately.
My smile broadens. I remove the headset and quietly ask:
"Which would YOU choose?"
Anger flashes quickly in those ice blue eyes, but softens as she actually finally looks at me.
I turn my wheelchair around to face her:
"Well?" | I look at this giant of a man that has my face on it. Maybe this is the wrong thing to think at first, but immediately I just think about how I really need to get back to the gym. Those abs are out of this world. I mean, I'm not like morbidly obese or anything like that, but I have a bit of a gut growing on me. A few hours on the treadmill could do me some good. I am a little bit disappointed as I look into my eyes though. I may have a killer body, but I guess no matter what I am stuck with my same ugly little face.
I consider his proposal as he dangles the other four heads around at me. The obvious choice is to join him. I'm not a big fan of getting my head ripped off my body. I'm even less of a fan of it being used as a prop to intimidate the next guy. But at the same time, we gotta look at all options before making a big decision.
What would happen if I join him? It's probably not exactly going to be a trip of luxury. He doesn't seem like the kinda guy who's gonna take me to Hawaii if I 'join him.' I can't see him taking shots with me at a rooftop bar. If that was the case, these dangling heads would have chosen to join him.
No, I think joining him is probably going to end up in a much more nefarious place. I think that it will end up with a much more dark place. I will probably end up as some tool for murder. He will train me to become some killer and murder other versions of myself. And I'm not a fan of murder. Especially when I have to murder myself. Can you imagine how much therapy I would have to go to? And I doubt this guy's healthcare plan even covers it so I would have to pay out of pocket.
Perhaps death is better. Perhaps I should stand by my morals? I don't want to become a tool for chaos. I would much rather die by standing by what I believe is good and just.
"Make your decision now!" He yells drawing a giant jagged sword.
"I'll join you!"
Listen, I'm not looking for judgement. That sword is scary. And besides, maybe I'll end up having abs just like his. | 2022-12-04T11:09:01 | 2022-12-04T10:50:41 | 36 | 27 |
[WP] An imaginary friend can't stand the child to whom he/she/it has been assigned. | "Fuck you, Ma."
Her lips pressed together, so hard they turned white. Gerry Salamander was grinning at me, green thumbs raised high. His t-shirt said, "GOOD WORK!"
"You need to *go*. To your *room*. *Now.* And when I am ready to talk to you, you need to have thought about what you're going to say to me."
I padded barefoot up the hall, wood cool under my toes. Gerry Salamander glided smoothly along the wall beside me. His t-shirt now said, "FUCK HER!"
I'm a big kid now. I know all the swear words. I'm also big enough to know that Gerry likes it when I get in trouble. He likes it when Mom is mad at me. I'm pretty sure Gerry Salamander doesn't like me.
I kind of figured it out when I was four. Gerry Salamander has been here as long as I can remember, my whole life maybe, and he always smiles a big wide smile with lots and lots and *lots* of teeth, way more than most people.
He's kind of a person. But only I can see him. And he has green skin. And purple hair that looks kind of like a Lego figurine's hair. I don't know.
Anyway, when I was four I was playing with my PSP on my bed. Gerry Salamander came out from under my bed and picked up my remote-control car. He gave me a big smile and then he threw my car so hard at the wall that it smashed.
His t-shirt said, "FUNNY, HUH?"
I didn't think it was funny. I really liked that car. And Mom took my PSP away. When Dad came home he spanked me. Gerry Salamander watched. He was smiling.
That's when I knew he didn't like me.
I don't like him much, either. When I was a little kid I tried telling my parents about him, but the first time they just laughed and told their grown-up friends how I had an imaginary friend. And then their friends laughed too, and ruffled up my hair and told me how funny I was.
I told them again, and every time Gerry Salamander did something bad, smiling with all his teeth, I'd try to tell them again, but then they would just roll their eyes and be all sarcastic, like, "Oh, *yeah*, I suppose Gerry Salamander sucks your *thumb* for you, too."
And Gerry would stand there, t-shirt flashing, "FUCKING MORONS".
I want him to go away.
I told him, when I was six. I asked him why he didn't just leave, since he was so mean to me. I said, he obviously didn't like being my imaginary friend. He doesn't talk. He says things on his t-shirt. When I asked him, his t-shirt said, "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU." He smiled his teeth at me. I went outside and swung on the swing for a really long time.
Now he makes me do things for him. And if I don't do them he does even worse things. When I said, "Fuck you," to my Mom, I only said it because Gerry Salamander's t-shirt said that if I didn't, he'd cut her throat. He started a fire in our woodpile last summer when I wouldn't try Dad's cigarettes. It spread up the wall of the house and we had to get the garage demolished. They thought I did it, of course.
He's getting pretty scary. I don't know what he'll do next. | "Would you like some tea?"
"That's not tea, that's an empty plastic cup" Scruff responded bitterly.
"It's pretend, like you!"
"For the last time you little brat, I'm real, I was assigned to you by the department of imaginary-"
"MOM!" Tina screamed, "THERE'S A STRANGE MAN IN MY ROOM!"
Suddenly Scruff heard the shattering of plates coming from downstairs, then suddenly fast footsteps coming up the stairs, becoming louder and louder. Suddenly a frantic woman came bursting through the door holding a baseball bat.
"Where is he Tina?!" she asked her daughter.
"Right there" she said as she pointed at an empty space.
The woman's scared expression turned into a happy smile, the laughter, "Awh honey, is this your imaginary friend?"
Tina started to look angry and stormed towards the door and shut it on her mother.
"A little rude, she was about to smash someones head in to protect you"
"Shut up!"
"Also rude"
Tina went over too her small table covered in small plastic cups, kicking in over then sitting on her floor, obviously in a mood. "Whats this departmement?" Tina asked.
"It's department honey, and its meant to send an ideal imaginary friend to every kid around the world. Unfortunately, me a rough half man half wolf detective, was sent to a spoiled brat."
"Well....you're a mean old dog!"
Scruff cocked his head up quickly, glaring at Tina, "what did you just call me?" he asked darkly.
"A mean. old. DOG!"
Scruff stood up, towering over Tina, "I'm a wolf!" he snapped.
She stared back intensely, not backing down, "you look like a dog to me".
Scruff continued to look at her, he started to smile then laughter, he held his stomach as tears streamed from his deep yellow eyes, he fell back onto her bed, his laughter stated to die down, as Tina watched in confusion.
"WHATS SO FUNNY!?" she asked in anger.
Wiping tears away from his face, "Out of all the kids I've been trying to scare away for years, the one not to cave is a little girl" he said, still snickering.
Her anger died down, "why are you trying to scare kids away?".
His laughter stopped completely, he looked at her, "I doubt I'll be here much longer, so what the hell", he opened his duster coat and took out a bottle of whiskey and began to drink it, "one of my first clients was a young girl by the name of Shelly, she was.....troubled".
"How troubled?" Tina asked, sitting next to Scruff at this point.
"A mixture of things, her parents divorce, her mother marrying a complete prick, bullies and a few other things", he interrupted himself by taking another swig from his whiskey, "I'm contemplating whether I should tell you this next part".
"Why?"
"I don't want to scare you...."
"You didn't scare me earlier"
"That is true, but this goes beyond me"
"Please?"
Scruff looked down at her, "well...okay, but remember this can't happen to you", he took another swig, "okay, well, you see, as much as I helped, all the fear, the anxiety, the pain of it all, it lead to these dark and vial creatures, from a very dark place, feeding off her".
Tina looked terrified, "are they..."
"NO!, no, no, no, they're gone now, that's one of the reasons I don't want to be an imaginary friend anymore, I was hired into an agency for my sense of smell to track these things down. That's where I learned most of my skills, and eventually our military wiped them out".
"And what happened to Shelly?"
Scruff looked scared of the question, he gulped, and forced a smile, "she was....fine, she went to live with her grandparents", he said this without even glancing at Tina, she may of been a kid, but it was obvious to her what he was doing, she just didn't want to upset the poor guy.
"So now I just want to help out with the agency, but the department needs as many operatives as they can, so....I'm pretty much stuck", he continued.
"Well, maybe one day you'll be needed at the agency again", Tina said, "I mean I bet you'll be the first they go to".
Scruff smiled at her, "maybe one day, one day when my skills are needed" he said as he looked at the kicked over plastic table, "but for now, I'm okay with having tea parties".
She looked at him, with a shocked smile, she ran over to the table, and started setting up her next tea party. | 2014-04-10T12:36:59 | 2014-04-10T10:18:10 | 63 | 32 |
[WP] Almost every other country in the world has their own form of ninjas. We only know about the Japanese ones because they're rubbish.
(Inspired from a Showerthoughts post: http://www.reddit.com/r/Showerthoughts/comments/2ctoui/what_if_every_country_has_ninjas_but_we_only_know/) | She crouched down, trying to see the sonar readings. The wind howled like a grieving mother. Barely any snow coming down -- small blessing. The sun was touching the horizon, painting the plain of ice in shades of red. There was no-one for miles.
Tokyo. Tokyo knew nothing. Trust the Emperor to send her here. Trust the Emperor to narrow his eyes when she asked for a neoprene gi, trust his flunkies to lose their minds. Trust the Emperor to make ridiculous claims for Japanese Arctic sovereignty, when Japan was thousands of kilometers from anything resembling tundra. Trust the Emperor to plant the flag of the Rising Sun in a place where the sun spends months *not* rising. Trust the Emperor to use the Franklin expedition to make a statement.
She blew on her hands, opened another pack of cheap gas-station hand-warmers. Her whole body was shaking from the cold.
In the trackless expanse of Canada's otherwise incredibly boring history, Sir John Franklin's doomed attempt to cross the Northwest Passage stood out. He was the country's Amelia Earhart, leaving England in 1845 to map the Passage and establish trade with Asia before vanishing mysteriously. Centuries later, the wreck of his ship the HMS Erebus has been discovered, and now the Emperor wants her to scan the wreckage so that he can send more ninjas to steal it.
Steal it! The wreck of a ship nearly two hundred years old!
Trust the Emperor.
She looked up, scanned the ice painted red by the sun. Nothing. She clutched her hood, ducked her face back down to avoid the wind. Nice thing about working on the ice, at least, was everything was flat, all the way back to Japan. No way for--
Snow crunched behind her.
She spun, tanto flashing red in the Arctic light. Connecting with nothing.
Tapping. Snow crunched again.
Another spin, another flash. If the cold, frigid air was a person, it would already be dead.
Silence. The wind began to fade, snowflakes finally drifting downwards instead of sideways.
"Hey. You uh, you okay? You're pretty on edge, eh?"
She watched, wild-eyed, as a slim young man extricated himself from underneath ice that was supposed to be five stories thick. *He* had neoprene on, a scuba suit that covered him from head to toe. Behind him, he pulled up a small crate, the same colour as the ice.
"Buddy over there saw you scannin' the wreck, figured you could use a little help." He started pulling things out from the crate. "Got you some pemmican here, you can warm it up with this induction plate, best traveling food around. Put these gloves on inside your other ones, and get this jacket goin' here, you'll warm right up. Key is to layer." The jacket had the Canada Goose logo on it, but she had only seen the big parkas, never one this close-fitting. "Dunno if you can rotate that scanner, but if you can, make sure you face away from the wind. Wind equals frostbite, and it'll eat your battery life besides. Oh!" He held up a flask. "Newfie screech. Talk about warmin' y'up, eh? This'll burn real nice on the way down." He grinned behind his beard.
"Why... w-why are you doing th-this?"
The man got a quizzical look. "Just bein' nice, eh? Don't like seein' people freeze." He started putting some of the packaging back in the crate. "Ain't right."
Silence, again. She heard great low booms, passing through the ice underneath her like whales; the sound of new floes launching into the ocean. The last of the snowflakes fell.
The Canadian ninja finished his work, tucked the crate under his arm. "Good luck, eh? We're all rootin' for ya. Hope the batteries help, too."
Batteries? She looked at her scanner. Sure enough, there was a new battery pack there, and her old one sitting beside it.
"You--"
He wasn't there.
She exhaled, hoping the cloud of breath would hide her shame, and began to wonder if a Queen wouldn't be a fair trade for an Emperor. | We watch things. It's our job.
We had to start calling them things a long time ago. I didn't understand why, but I do now. They weren't as far on as we are. They deserved to be called things. We're the next step, and we had to make sure they did not harm themselves in their less advanced state.
My friend's name was Dane. His parents named him that after the great dane dog. A big guy, gentle giant. He was my best friend.
And he was one of them.
Seven and a half years ago now, I found out. He was my second target. They said that he's my friend, it's the perfect opportunity. He'd never suspect me. Not that he would anyways, I was top of my class.
So I watched him. I had to relay where he was, what he was doing, and get as many secrets out of him as possible. After all, anybody could be a spy from one of the other Dynasties.
I hated every minute of that. I started to hate him. I started to hate everybody. Why should I be punished like this? I dedicate my life to our Great Dynasty and this is how they repay me? I've been betrayed. They taught me how to kill. I'll just kill all of the bastards in the Gh'len and that will be it. I'll disappear into the Ugen Dynasty and that's it.
My best friend was now the bane of my existence. Everything about him made me furious. I would return home to my dorm in the Gh'len and beat the dolls for hours at a time. I eventually gave up on sleep and spent the whole time practicing so I could slaughter all the political pigs and be gone.
They sent us a message in Yuron. The 11th, I think. It was 7 PM.
*Dear dedicated Len,
We have decided at the Gh'len that it is time to remove them. After many hours of slaving over this bill, we have created it such that it is fair and reasonable for the removal of them and the advancing of ourselves.*
*We request that you dispatch your targets one month from today. The deadline is the 11th of Binas. You know what to do.*
*Good luck loyal Len. For the Dynasty.*
I have to kill him.
Oh, they couldn't say it aloud. They couldn't say it to my face. They were ashamed. They knew they put us with the things that matter to us.
A letter. Of all the things, a letter. Why not a meeting? At least tell us we have to kill our friends in person.
I did it. I killed him. If I didn't do it they'd kill us both. I made it look like an accident, I made sure it was the way they wanted. He was doomed either way. He would want me to save myself. He would want me to live.
11th of Binas rolls around and I go in and confirm it. They don't have names for them. Just numbers. *Is 00640 taken care of?* I almost killed that man right there.
*Yes.*
And that's it. There's no funeral for him. His family is dead too. Every single one, gone. There's no funeral for any of the things.
There won't be any funerals for the ones in the Gh'len either.
12th of Binas. The day after. I went in, requested an appointment with the Director. He liked me. He said I was a good, dedicated student. Damn right I was.
And I put it to use when I hung him by his tie from the fan.
Twenty something more. The whole board and a few chairs. We aren't torturers. I didn't make it long and painful. They didn't deserve that time anyways, even if it's in suffering.
They caught me as I was cleaning my combat knife on the suit of one the chairs. Shot my knees out immediately, didn't stand a chance. Handcuffed me and brought me to the main hall. Did the trial right there. Guilty, guilty guilty guilty.
And so, that's why I'm here today, ladies and gentlemen, tied up in front of a firing squad. Thank you for your time.
My last request for you people is this: don't stand for this any further, please. You don't have to kill like I did. Use petitions, use propaganda, use whatever. Just bring change.
*Applause roars. A standing ovation echoes over the stadium. The firing squad preps their weapons. The PA system blinks on.*
"Hello students and graduates. We at the Gh'len would like to advise against acting out against the board and chairs. It will end in tears for those who oppose us."
*The crowd roars with anger. People rush towards the center and towards the chairs of the executives. Gunshots tear through the crowd. Screams and blood cast themselves across the stadium.*
*A man in the firing squad looks back towards the prisoner. He clicks the charging handle into place and locks his finger on the trigger.*
I bring the tides of change. Like a tsunami. Let it drown you. Let it own you. It is time to let go.
*bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang*
*click*
Unrecognizable. Change does not have a face. Change does not need a face. Change's face is that of who carries the banner forward. Now, the face is that of the movement. There is no specific face, it is that of many. Let that face include yours. | 2014-12-15T13:40:38 | 2014-12-15T10:06:35 | 215 | 20 |
[WP] Almost every other country in the world has their own form of ninjas. We only know about the Japanese ones because they're rubbish.
(Inspired from a Showerthoughts post: http://www.reddit.com/r/Showerthoughts/comments/2ctoui/what_if_every_country_has_ninjas_but_we_only_know/) | Like the beaver in the quiet dam, he stalks his prey unseen. His jet-black carabiners clink softly against the stealth-plaid of his button-down shirt.
Twentieth floor, Ottawa Tower. Impossible for any other man--but not for one who has been scaling redwood trees since birth. His thick, meaty fingers find easy purchase in the gaps between window and wall.
Not long now. He withdraws a hatchet from his worn buckskin satchel and traces a delicate circle in the bulletproof glass. With practiced motions, he pulls himself through the ensuing opening.
His target is waiting below, hunched over a beautifully crafted mahogany desk. With the stealth and cunning of a bull moose, the assassin closes the distance between them, until they are no more than a cheese-curd's length apart.
**Good evening, eh?/Bonsoir, hein?**
His voice is the dark of maplewood rye whiskey drizzled over thick flapjacks and butter.
"Oh! Oh god it's you. I thought you were--"
**"Just stories? You thought wrong, eh./Seulements histoires? Pas du tout.**
"I---I'll undo the hockey tax. I promise, I never---*please don't kill me!*"
The dark assassin nods slowly.
**Good./Bon. A mari usque ad mare**
And with that, he is gone, leaving as sole evidence of his passage the sound of a thick beard rustling against the winter wind.
| Vietnam, the only country in the entire world able to fight off one of the strongest army in the world, from the Mongol, China's old Dynasty, Champa to French and of course, the freaking U.S.A. "How? how did such a small country, able to defeat such an opponent?" The Student asked the old buddhist monk. The monk have been once a soldier but now have done with the war, live in a peaceful temple with children come and asking about the war. He witness the death of the burning monk, saw the face of Ho Chi Minh, shake hand even, he also remember the face of those who "Sat than" have killed. Countless of Generals have fall to the battlefield. Although the strength of the civilian is strong, they have a little help. A silent help. General's head mysteriously delivered, Emperor suddenly felt sick and die. They don't cover themselves in black clothes, they are sometime just plain villager who have a strong will, they use the forest enviroment, the weapon, its not extreme poison, its not black steel knife, its not katana or hidden blades. Only some long and thick niddle, bamboo spear or just some snake venom. It is easy to go into some small country and take over it, but leaving it, alive, is another thing. Tunel dig right beneath the soldier, trap lay 1 ft next to them, you can hardly seperate soldier from villager or assassin from an lady in her late 60, anyone can fight, fight for the freedom, for the people, it doesn't matter the power but the will, that the code of the ninja of Vietnam. You may enter a city,you may conquer it but if all the villager are gone, food and water is no where to be found and the gate just closed, what would you be? target practice. Dien Bien Phu, the world strongest fortress vs few hundred novice soldier with some cheap rifle and old WW2 cannon that they dragged through a mountain, a fucking mountain with their bare hands and bike, guess who win that fight?maybe its the soldier or some....person might have snuck in, lower the security and killed some key guard. However, history might have write wrong by both side, there is no truth in War. But, the ninja tale may not be such a tale, or maybe it just some story the monk made up so the kid would leave him alone, or, is he testing the children from the start? to find a true warrior from just a story? how knew, maybe they are right behind you, don't look back, they are already know who they need to kill, if you are not bad, then you don't have anything to worry about but if you do, well.....turn around.....sucker | 2014-12-15T13:31:49 | 2014-12-15T08:14:14 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | It was a freezing morning in New York.
I slipped into the local Starbucks for some coffee.
There was a new cashier today.
"Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?", She asked, exasperated.
"Soy un federale, tengo un gato en mis pantalones," I replied.
The disinterested look on her face vanished instantly.
"You...", she said, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
For a second my heart skipped a beat.
"Do you know how many years I've spent working in Mexico because of your bullshit!?" She yelled, smashing her fists on the Register.
It was her.
She was the one.
Edit: Damn, first gold. Didn't expect this. Thanks guys! | The traditional "You're 18 now" letter lay in front of me. It is delivered by our life sucking, future seeing, freedom restricting leaders. They control everything. Cameras in all locations, GPS ankle bracelets on all citizens. But these letters are despised above all.
They give us these letters telling us who our "soulmate" will be in an attempt to control the traits and DNA that gets passed down.
I open the letter. "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
Really? My supposed "soulmate" works at Starbucks? I refuse to follow their orders-- no matter what they threaten me with.
I am determined to find my own, real soulmate, blaze my own trail in defiance of their tyranny.
...Besides... that's not the first thing Maria said to me...
It is 4:44, only minutes after my official birthday started. I need to leave soon. I have a meeting with Maria tonight. So, I get dressed, grab my keys and drive to our favorite spot.
Doubts begin to flood my mind, but I push them away. "I love her. I love her. Maria is my soul mate" I say to myself on repeat. There is no life without her.
There she is. Next to the creek, a letter in her hand. Absoulely stunning. She decided not to open her letter until my birthday so that we could tell each other on the same day.
"Hello Maria" I say in the most loving manner possible.
"Hello James. Did you open your letter?" She replied, her eyes wet with tears.
This can't be happening, I won't let it! They can't tear us apart!
"I will be with you, or I will die with you Maria."
She embraces me, and together we burn our letters. We sit together on the side of the creek, feet dangling in the water, enjoying our last moments together.
The sirens begin. They will find us soon.
She is worth it. | 2014-12-17T23:12:07 | 2014-12-17T21:55:59 | 2,270 | 279 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | It was a freezing morning in New York.
I slipped into the local Starbucks for some coffee.
There was a new cashier today.
"Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?", She asked, exasperated.
"Soy un federale, tengo un gato en mis pantalones," I replied.
The disinterested look on her face vanished instantly.
"You...", she said, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
For a second my heart skipped a beat.
"Do you know how many years I've spent working in Mexico because of your bullshit!?" She yelled, smashing her fists on the Register.
It was her.
She was the one.
Edit: Damn, first gold. Didn't expect this. Thanks guys! | My parents were fine. ("Excuse me, what time is it?" "It's about half-past two.") And my brother Tim got "Do you know you have gorgeous eyes?", which is probably a weird thing to say to a complete stranger but is otherwise kind of perfect. But there are some awful cases, some phrases you just don't want. Like, my friend Meagan Andrews got "Fuck you", and it's a testament to her personality that it didn't scar her for life. "It can only really go uphill from there," is how she puts it. And unless you've been hiding under a rock the past four years, you know about Quentin Hull, who got "Why did you kill that guy?" and is currently living his own shitty, lawyer-filled version of the Minority Report. But those are the horror stories.
Then again, when I woke up that morning the horror stories were all I could think about. Because let's face it, this whole thing is legitimately goddamn terrifying.
Sitting up in bed, I noticed the letter sitting on my nightstand. I decided it was probably a good idea to get this over with as quickly as possible, ripped open the envelope, and revealed that little slip of paper...
*Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?*
Immediately I flashed back to a Tuesday morning when I was eight years old. I've just finished my breakfast and am all neat and ready to go to school. My parents, however, are hustling to get everything together, and my mother absentmindedly stubs her toe on the edge of the kitchen counter and spills her coffee on my arm. It's hot as hell. I scream. Dad rushes over and wipes up the coffee, and Mom is about to kiss it better when she notices my arm begin to swell. In thirty seconds it's gone completely numb and puffy, and Dad calls an ambulance. Later I learn I had a severe allergic reaction to the coffee and am lucky to be alive.
And then I snapped back and realized I've sure as hell got it worse than Meagan Andrews, and possibly Quentin Hull too. | 2014-12-17T23:12:07 | 2014-12-17T22:14:26 | 2,270 | 64 |
[WP] Your whole life you had an ability that seemed normal to you. Now you realized you're the only one with this ability. | *Carol's eyes drifted off the laptop screen as she lost herself in thought. She crossed her arms, sighing through her nostrils. In front of her, the white text box gaped empty. In the upper left corner, the black line flashed like a ticking clock.*
"A special ability...", she mused.
*She had her hands firmly placed on the keyboard, ready for action, but the inspiration never came. She was stumped. What kind of ability could a person have, that they never know they're alone in? Superpowers, like flight or invisibility, were out of the question. Anatomical oddities or freaky Rain-Man stuff were bound to surface sooner or later. No, it had to be something private - something that wouldn't show, and something you wouldn't ask other people about. But what could it be? Carol stared at the screen, getting nowhere. Finally, she gave up and turned to the one person she could always rely on for help.*
"Hey, what do you think?", she asked, letting out another sigh. "Any ideas?"
*I'm sorry, Carol. I've got nothing.* | “That’s weird. How did you just do that?” She looked me dead in the left eye, chewing bubblegum open mouthed and slurring her words.
“Do what?” I hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. I was just trying to flirt in my own weird, misguided way.
“It’s like you blinked but only one eye closed.” She must be drunker than I thought. Maybe this is good though. Maybe it’s good she’s so drunk that she can’t remember what winking is.
“You mean you can’t wink?” I did it again. Teasing a little bit is like flirting, right?
“Wink? The thing where you close one eye? No. I’ve never heard of anyone who can do that. You’re trying to trick me into thinking you’re magic.” Yes. She must be very drunk.
“Okay, now you’re being weird. People can wink. I think superman used to do it at the end of those old TV shows.” People can wink. I’ve seen them. I’ve done it. Into mirrors.
“Okay, you know what, let’s ask.” She motioned to the guy standing in front of us in line at the movies. “Excuse me, sir? Can you wink?”
“What’s that?” He had a deep voice and towered over the both of us. She picks the oddest people to settle bets.
“Can you wink? Can you close only one eye?” She squinted her eyes down to slits, as if to show him something she couldn’t do.
“You can’t just close just one eye, they close together.” He seemed very sure of himself so I winked at him.
Next thing I know, I am in the hospital. He was a neurosurgeon. Somehow this whole ‘winking’ thing was an indication that I had a severe divide between my two hemispheres. I go under the knife on Friday. They said it was lucky that they caught it this early, all the scans came back looking terrible. They said I am lucky to be alive. I’ll be okay someday. No more winking. I will have to tell people when I am joking, I guess…
| 2015-01-08T13:28:38 | 2015-01-08T11:52:34 | 887 | 268 |
[WP] You are death row's last meal chef. Today's condemned prisoner killed your daughter. | I stare down the prisoner, the one who murdered my daughter. I have been thinking about moment for years. Should I take revenge on my daughter's murderer? This was my first instinct, but it wasn't what she would have wanted. I still haven't decided when his request comes in. Spaghetti with meatballs. It reminds me of the last meal my family had together. I prepare the meal in a daze. An hour later, I walk into the cell with the meal. I clear my throat and begin my speech. "You murdered my daughter and tore apart my family. My wife left me, and I haven't seen my son in 10 years. I wanted to hurt you, but my daughter was merciful, so I will extend that mercy to you. I want you to know that I forgive you." His eyes water. He says the four words that will be his last. "I love you Dad."
EDIT: words | This is my first entry so go easy on me guys.
-----
I continued spreading peanut butter and jelly onto the bread.
This was his last meal. His last meal, and he asked for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a cup of orange juice.
I was choking up again.
He killed her. That bastard killed my only family I had left. My beloved daughter.
She looked just like her mother. With completely black hair, and a sense of love no one else had. She was an angel, and that monster took her away from me.
I closed up the last of the three sandwiches.
Slowly taking out something from my pocket, and setting it gently on the tray that would be delivered to the convict, I smiled. She would be avenged.
The tray was sent to him. He was laying on a cot, but quickly jumped up when he saw his meal.
He had a terrible smile. One any person would want to punch.
"I hope you enjoyed making my last meal," he laughed, "I have a sophisticated palette."
My eyes were burning.
"Do you know who I am," I asked.
"Yeah the chef. The jerk that is stuck cooking for people like me," he laughed again.
"I'm more than just that. I am the father of the woman you killed."
His smile faded.
"You hurt the one thing I cared about," the tears were falling down my face, "she had a life ahead of her. She was twelve. She had smile that was amazing. She would never hurt anyone. When she would come home, and ask me-"
My legs gave way.
"She would ask me-"
There was not enough air here.
"If I made the bad men a good meal. Because- because everyone deserved one," I looked up at him, "even you."
He was staring at me.
"I don't want to hear this," he said sitting at the table with his food.
That is when he saw it. He saw the item I had placed.
He picked it up and froze.
After a long pause he broke down.
"I am so sorry," he blubbered.
I stood up tears still running down my eyes. Turning around, I left him.
I left him with the photo of my daughter. My daughter smiling. | 2015-07-04T10:09:30 | 2015-07-04T08:43:08 | 514 | 90 |
[WP] A sentient military drone finally listens to their conscience and abandons a lifetime career of killing to persue their true passion: stand-up comedy. | "Up next we have a an autonomous army drone, give up for PX-897!"
The audience applauds as the hover drone enters stage making a massive noise and settles down on the stage in front of a microphone.
"Hey, everyone, I just flew in from downtown Fallujah and are my arms tired!"
Smattering of half-hearted applause.
"Tired? Y'know... because my arms are jets? I guess it's funnier when you have arms and can't fly. We have a lovely audience. I'm assuming your lovely because I can't really tell how ugly any of you could be with only heat vision. This could be an audience of elephant men for all I know. But I'm sure that's not you, I'm sure you're all really lovely people. But would you go to a bar and pick up girls if all you had was heat vision? You could end up in the sack with one of the cantina band members from Star Wars for all you know."
Polite applause.
"Hey, can anyone here tell me what's difference between a Somali wedding and terrorist base camp? No? I don't know the difference either, I just fly the bomb mission."
Some laughter.
"That's not true, I obviously never flew a bomb mission or I wouldn't be here. I'm a bombing drone. I gave up on that. Why did they give us intelligence and then send us all on suicide missions? How messed up is that? Your purpose in life is to die and take as many people as you can, with you."
A heckler in the audience yells out, "Why aren't you doing that right now?"
The drone said, "I decided to fulfill my mission by becoming a comedian and bomb right here onstage." | KNOCK. KNOCK.
"who's there", said a panicked statement from inside the room.
"Doris".
"Doris... who"? The voice seemed confused.
"Doris locked, you need to open it".
The sound of people chuckling on the other side was a dead givaway. Humans infested here.
A joint rolls over and locks into place with a snap. The voices go quiet on the other side, listening. The sound of a high pitched vibration permeates the door and enters the ears of the people locked in. the sound of something charging up. Like a camera bulb before a flash.
They start to scramble behind the door, and there is the sounds of emotional panic. The red lazer flashes on.
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrtt. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrttt. Brrrrtttt. Brrrrttt.
The cling of metal casings bounce off the linoleum floor like symbols breaking the monotony of a harmonious concert movement ,with caustic 'bang'.
Crack. CRASH. Prying open the door with polished steel body moving through it. A destroyer bot.
It inching, as if in slow motion, its lazer tipped chain gun through the opening. The arching of its gear driven carnapace into the door frame as it performs an analysis of the damage. Showering the room with horizontal scanning light show.
Coughing up blood, and struggling to even keep her eyes open - the adrenaline making this all seem to happen so slow, yet to fast to react - she slugged forward to reach for the pistol beside her. Megan was operating on impulse, on some kind of programming, like the destroyer bot.
Blap. blang. Bling. The pistol rounds bouncing off the angles of the steel bots frame.
"Knock. Knock". a robotic voice let loose from behind a scanner, a metallic box one could never assume would be a face.
"What the fuck. What the hell are you". She said falling back and starting to fade.
"I'm Funny". The metallic devil said in a very convincing human voice. In Megan's voice.
**Everything goes black**.
The curtains drop and the lights come on. There is a cacophony of noise. Whistles, loud banging claps, laughs and cries. All very human sounding. This noise echoing through the theater. Its walls lit with the silhouettes of standing ovation. Roses bounced off the slow opening curtain. It was the greatest performance of the last human killing. The beginning of the reign of steel. More importantly, It was the hero's theatrical account for its fans, and with XZ-2300's minor humor embellishment - having simply broke through the door and lite everyone up in reality - this moment was the start of XZ-2300's budding comedy career.
It knew through data analysis, it must diversify when there is no one left to kill, and there was a world of robotic wounds that need healing through laughter.
| 2015-07-19T11:36:05 | 2015-07-19T08:42:43 | 150 | 25 |
[WP] A day before the Earth is destroyed by a collision with a rouge planet, time freezes. You, a completely normal person are untouched and cannot die. Text on your arm appears that reads, "however long it takes, save us".
You have an eternity, time resumes only when you are done.
_________________________________
I would like to take the time to thank everyone for their stories, I've been reading them and will continue to read them after submissions have stopped.
I'd also like to thank /u/PaulsWPAccount for his dedication to the story he has created and continues to create. As I type his story is still unfinished, I just want to give him the credit he deserves before this post falls too far from the front page.
Thank you all, it's been great.
One more thing....... Rouge :D | It took me a while. Ha, maybe I'm understating it. Four million twenty six thousand and 3 days. Eleven thousand and thirty years. Fuck. What would happen when I finished? I looked up at the behemoth structure I had built, admiring my audacity. Like a giant fly swatter, it stood. Facing the sun that never fell, carrying with it the hopes and dreams of a time ravaged mind.
The first few years had been fun. Time had frozen a day before the meteor was predicted to strike. People took the news better than I had expected, only a few looters, most people went along with their lives as if nothing was happening. Sometimes it can be hard to upset the status quo. With a message of hope riding on my arms, I flew free. Running around town, enjoying the finer things in life. I ate at every fine restaurant in New York for three months. All the food had been frozen at the right temperature, so succulent, so perfect. I used to like food.
The first millenia I- I don't recall. A thousand years of life, and I don't even remember. Most of it was probably spent in panic. I think it took me decades to find the spectroscopic analysis of the ball. Talcum powder. The same shit used in rouge. Fucking dry wall was going to end the world. I doubt the TV coverage mentioned that information....
The second and third millenia were perhaps my most productive. I built probably a dozen massive projects, all aimed at blowing the damn thing apart. None of them ever launched. Time just kept.... timing.
Eventually I went mad. London doesn't exist anymore. I called myself god and smote the wicked. London bridge fell.
Eventually I turned to Bhuddism. I meditated everywhere, even under a bodhi tree. For a while I found enlightenment. Unfortunately the enlightened mind wasn't made to last forever.
Five thousand years ago I rediscovered my task. I built the world a giant net. My goal was to blast through the talcum, dispersing it into a fine cloud. I had built a fleet of ships, all designed to collect the talc, clean our environment of the inevitable fallout. This would work I told myself. This was the end. | I was sitting in my one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, which happens to smell like cat shit. I'm not normally this sloppy, really, but who wants to take out the cat litter when the world's about to end. Not just the world, but my entire race.
The rushed Hercules mission to transport fifteen thousand people failed. The gravitational disturbances caused by Michael, the rogue planet currently setting about extinguishing me, my race and my world, threw off the delta-v projections of Hercules I and 15,000 people are now slowly starving to just outside the asteroid belt.
I wish my cat would shut up, there's a lot of geological activity right now, and she's losing her mind. Mid-reach for more whiskey, my cat stops mid-meow, the red-faced televangelist who is now on every channel, stops mid-amen. Everything is silent now, the glowing vortex of dust that usually swirls around in the late afternoon light stops.
I get up and look outside, I can see what's going on but it's impossible, but it's obviously not impossible, yet it should be. Racing out of my front door, All cars in the street below are still. The postman's paper is stationary on it's trip to the ground.
I look down at my hands, why am I not a still, frozen statue? Monospaced script flows along the meat of my thumb 'Save us, take as much time as you need'.
What? Whatever, not the biggest issue here. I spend the rest of the afternoon walking around, except I don't know when the afternoon ends. When does this end? How do I save the human race from a fucking planet? I take advantage of the time to catch up on reading, for about 30 sleeps. It was nice, I went and took food from the store whenever I needed it. Other than that I just spent time playing chess against myself.
After about a thousand sleeps I start getting lonely, hell I'd take that televangelist at this point. Every day I see him on the frozen television with his arm raised above his head, finger pointed at the sky as if accusing Michael. There's bits of spittle flying out of his mouth. He's doesn't seem like a pleasant guy.
After 2000 sleeps I decide to work on how to 'save us', but how? How do I move or destroy a planet? Maybe I can move us? I mean there's Mars, other than being uninhabitable, it's definitely not about to be smashed by a rogue planet. Let's do that.
For the next 3174 sleeps I work on rocket science, and astrodynamics. The problem with that is that the internet doesn't work. So I have to find books. Fortunately there's a crazy Swedish foundation that keeps the entire internet in print. So a boat trip to Sweden (54 Sleeps) I could finally get cracking on studying. 18000 sleeps later, I've copied the Hercules I perfectly. 2000 sleeps later it's launch day. 690 sleeps, insertion into Mars orbit. 750 All Colonists landed on martian surface, inflatable hab modules set up. As I turn on the last oxygen generator, I feel a sense of ceremony, I can FINALLY get my life back. I moved the Televangelist next to me to catch the second half of that amen. I flip the switch. Nothing, why isn't the baptist screaming "MEN" in my face? What is this?!
I head back to Sweden to figure out how to destroy a planet. | 2015-10-23T16:09:01 | 2015-10-23T15:32:33 | 95 | 68 |
[WP] You and your spouse are fairly typical demonic overlords with a figurative/literal dark fortress, minions to command etc. The problem is your teenage child who's going through that rebellious phase; claiming that they're good, dressing in all whites and only listening to gentle hymns. | *My daughter, what were you doing?* I asked my only child, watching her turn pale as she noticed me.
'I was, I, I was out. I was at work.' I smiled. *Were you? What work required that outfit?* My child looked down at the gauzy, white cloth covering her body, loose and baggy. She had never been one to covet the skin-tight, breast baring silk that had been in fashion this century, but I understood. Like her father, like myself, she needed to rebel.
*You don't have to explain yourself to me. You know you may do as you wish with your life. It is what separates us from the host.*
She looked at me, drew a breath, and blurted, 'Mother, I want to join the host. I don't care what everyone will think, I don't want to be like you and dad.' I had known this was coming. Every child believe that they will follow a new path, blaze a new trail. The devil's children will always refuse to be chained to a life chosen for them by another, and I understood.
*Do as you want, daughter. I will not stop you. Your choices are your own. Just know you will always have a place here, if you wish to return.*
My child's eyes lit up, and she embraced me. She turned to leave, and I let her go. It wouldn't take long for her to realize the damage the host does. That inability to accept anything less than fervent praise from humanity would chafe her like it had me. The idea of damning a soul, sending it to grow into a monster, for the crime of asking a question; she would begin to question God as I had, and for that, the host would throw her to earth.
As her father and I had done before her, she would rebel against Heaven, and take her rightful place below. | "YOU JUST DON'T GET ME!" My spawn's voice boomed like a the roar of a helhound set upon a mortal village.
*Such potential, wasted*
Immediately looking sheepish, Zor'ada returned her voice to the demure tones she has blithely adopted. Her voice fluttered serenely, with lilting syllables that tinkle like delicate bells in a clear meadow. An assault on my ears.
"I do apologize, mother. I heeded base impulses and turned against you. Please forgive me." She kneels before me, extending an upturned palm in penitence.
I must admit that my daughter, spun of my desire, succeeded in flustering me. Embarrassed, as it became clear that she would not rise until I granted her forgiveness, I conceded and pressed my palm onto hers. My obsidian claws, unsuited for such acts, scraped her. And yet, when she rose, her face almost glowed with a pure light. Her proud demonic features, already masked by magic normally used to fool mortals, almost seemed angelic.
"I only wish for acceptance, I know that we can co-exist with mortals. But you don't know what it's like..." A melancholy unbecoming her age shrouds her serene tones. "...to walk among them and see how far we fall from their concept of beauty. The heavens still hold sway, it is in their fair image that humans shape their conceptions of beauty and purity."
Sighing, I hold back my anger. *How the inexperience of youth lends itself to wild assumptions.*
"Zor'ada, it is normal to want to be among humans. We are meant to seek out the weak willed among them and bring them to an understanding with their corruption. They cannot rise above it, and so we must help them find some solace in a life that they have been told is unfulfilled. Because they are imperfect does not mean that they are hopeless. The impurity that inhabits them has been made unpalatable by the agents of heaven over centuries but you'll find that their '*perfection*' only substitutes certain faults for those more acceptable to their God."
Pausing to see if my words reach her, I glance down from my tirade. Zor'ada's face still only bears that unknowable stillness.
"Heaven would have all beings believe in their narrow definition of perfection, many humans do. But we know better. We offer release and acceptance for those who are not inclined to the views of heaven."
"Mother, I understand the opposing views of heaven and hell. If humans are allowed free choice, why not us? Why can't we choose to believe as heaven does?"
*Mael'ethus below! Has nothing I said had any impact?*
"Child," My tenuous patience begins to waver "we are not angels, it is a simple fact. Do you wish the proof? Seduce a mortal, make him yours for a night, or her, it doesn't matter. There is no greater difference between angels and demons than how we make our love felt. You're nearly of age, seek this knowledge for yourself and you will understand what their corruption is and why we are the ones who must help them embrace it."
Edit: Class time, might return later. | 2015-12-08T09:18:38 | 2015-12-08T08:03:09 | 68 | 38 |
[WP] In the galaxy, humans are renowned for their affinity at problem solving. This leads to humans growing frustrated at aliens getting stuck with simple problems. | The light on the quantum entanglement phone blinked rapidly, indicating a new incoming call. Bill sighed, put on his headset and pressed the button next to the flickering light.
"Thank you for calling the United Terran Alliance Embassy, my name is-" Bill stopped short as he was interrupted by the gravelly, guttural voice of a Klixali shouting at him from the other end of the line.
After listening for a few moments Bill screwed up his forehead and rubbed at his eyes with both hands before responding, "Did you try turning it off and on again?"
| Siltitak knocks at your door, ignoring the do not disturb sign again. You know it is him. "It's fucking late at night!" you shout. You look at your alarm clock: 0:55. You turn around in your dorm bed.
"I have a problem, mate! You must help me or I fail the class." Siltitak yowls.
"If I don't get enough sleep, *I* will fail the class!" You reply sourly.
"I have some earth food for you! This time not something you cannot eat!" He tries to bribe you. Given your finances, your stomach says you should help him while your head says you should not. Siltitak continues: "It's called Maultaschen!"
Damn, he upped his game. You definitely could go for some home food right now. Studying out of planet sucks! "Just a moment!" You put on a bathrobe and go outside. Silkitak shows his VR creation system. The error message says that it is offline. "I cannot upload my assignment!"
You look at it and try to establish a connection. It works after you enter the correct password: "The password for the network changes monthly. It's the first now."
"Awesome!" Silkitak trumpets. "I knew that it was a good ideo to ask you!"
You feel a slight sense of dread: "Or you could learn how to figure things out on your own! You know, instead of asking me!"
Siltitak makes a confused noise, somewhat reminding of an injured elephant. "How do I do that?"
You hide your face on your hands, hope that this did not just happen and seriously consider getting a Fourmi costume just so that he and the other fourmi students start annoying someone else. | 2016-01-03T19:46:51 | 2016-01-03T17:22:22 | 221 | 62 |
[WP] Killing another human now allows you to exchange your remaining lifespan the victim's. Young people live in fear while the elderly plan their attacks. | Catherine almost ran out of the bathroom, nearly tripped on the stairs in a rushed descent and ran through the living room yelling: "Charles! Charles! It's finally happened! It worked! It worked!". Charles fought to get up from the resting chair, which had become his place of comfort and ease the past 10 years of his life. He put on his glasses and looked at his beloved Catherine. She was as beautiful as the day he had first seen her. Long blonde hair, perfect skin, eyes so vividly green that getting lost in them, had become his favourite way of passing the time. She was smiling more than ever, practically grinning. Charles, a worn man, with grey hair, wrinkly grey skin and a fragile almost weak stance cleared his throat. "What is going on? What is all this fuss about my love?" he asked, already tempted to get lost in her eyes.
Catherine held out the pregnancy test and almost laughed in pure joy as she said: "I am pregnant again love, you are going to be well, you will be young again." Charles almost lost his breath in relief. They had tried everything they could, to get a baby. It was getting increasingly difficult and expensive. He thought back to 6 years ago, when they last had a baby and Catherine - at that time fighting cancer and the weakness of growing old - had finally gotten well again and they could be together. Now it was his turn. They had always taken turns, how many had it been by now? 10? 20? Charles lost count decades ago.
"This is wonderful honey, we can visit Paris again like we talked about." Charles said with a newfound energy. Catherine kissed and embraced the man she had loved for almost a century and whispered to him: "Just hang on for 9 more months my love. After that everything will perfect again." | I had to applaud her; the tears on her wrinkled cheeks looked real.
But I knew she was lying.
The front of her car was wrapped around a lamp post, only two steps away from where I had been walking. She must have seen the shine in my hair, or the strut in my walk, and taken the dive.
"Please-" she whimpered, gently nudging her car door open. I kicked the door shut, knocking her back into her seat. There was blood trickling down from her gray curls.
"Please, I didn't mean to. It was an accident."
I have to be honest; the tightness in her voice did something for me. A bug of empathy fluttered to life in my stomach. I flexed my abdominal muscles, newly-acquired from a twenty-year-old I found hiding out in a grocery store, and I crushed that fluttering bug until it was paste.
"Please, you have to believe me. I have grandchildren," purple veins stood out as she struggled to pull a picture from inside her purse. She showed it to me, it's glossy finish tarnished with age.
At the sight of the photograph, the bug fluttered back to life. Maybe she wasn't lying. There were three laughing kids, sitting one above the other on a slide. I don't know how old they were; it's been a long time since I've seen anyone that young. One of the kids was missing her front teeth.
"How do I know they're yours?"
"What?" she cupped her hand to her ear. Her eyes were huge in the lenses of her glasses.
"I said," I leaned closer, "How do I know they're yours?"
She gave me a warm smile, "Well, this one is Sara, and this is her younger brother Dav- HYYEEAAAAGH!"
I leapt back as the blade of a knife darted out from the car. Instead of embedding in my stomach, it barely grazed my sweater. The old bitch swung her arm around a few more times, trying to snag me with her weapon, but I kicked her frail hand and the knife fell to the ground.
She shoved open the door, and spilled out onto the ground. Her legs, broken, dragged behind her, and she crawled toward the knife.
I stomped on her hand. She shrieked, and clawed at me with her other hand. With the butt of my firearm, I whipped her in the head.
"Unph."
That was all she said, like I'd somehow taken the wind from her lungs. The old woman laid still, and for a minute I thought it was another ruse.
The front of the car was smoking, and it smelled like gasoline.
"Hey," I nudged her with my boot, "Wake up."
My boots felt heavier, and suddenly too large for my feet.
I kicked her again, and she rolled over. Her old dress and the lower half of her face was covered in blood. She was grimacing, like she had just stuck her hand into something cold.
"Fuck." I said to no one in particular.
I could feel the arthritis settling into my bones.
Now I have to go kill someone else. | 2016-01-12T08:26:41 | 2016-01-12T08:22:01 | 45 | 28 |
[WP] You're a scientist working on a social experiment called, "M. modification", where one normal child is put into a school of mentally incapable children to see if the kid will try and fit in.
I know this is very dark, and I apologize ahead of time if I had offended someone. This is just a idea that really hit me during my shower and I want to see you guy's imagination. | *A child, gifted in ways they can’t comprehend, may lead them from their dark mental state into the light*
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
Even at a young age, I felt different from the humans around me. In class you wouldn’t believe how long some of them were counting on their fingers. Most even used mnemonic devices to remember the codes to their locker. Abstract notions, such as algebra, which came easy to me, were a hurdle that they groaned and moaned about.
Expressing their thoughts was another hurdle. Whereas the words I put on paper could enchant and captivate them (even though some people moved their lips while reading), almost all of them had trouble to simply speak their mind without holding back some information. Time and time again, I noticed how their petulant, greedy, little needs would result in suffering in pain, both for others and themselves.
At first I tried to fit in, hiding in plain sight, donning glasses and bad posture, not mentioning any of the things I could do by simply focusing. Then it all changed when one of them, wrought from grief and pain, began terrorizing others whom were suffering. Striking fear into their hearts, this man dressed as a creature of the night would plunge them all into a never-ending spiral of darkness.
I realize now that I am different and that they too can be different. I can show them it is possible to do better, to be better. I just need to help wherever and whenever I can. In time, they’ll come to understand and others will join me.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
*And this, Kal-el, my only son, is why I am sending you to Earth* | "The M.Modification files were destroyed for a reason, I understand that and I agreed with purging all information. However, I didn't ask to be chased and shot at. I've checked the news and half of our employees have died in car crashes over the past three days. If you think that we can't put two and two together, you are seriously mistaken." Doctor Zed said.
The time on the video camera read 2:03am. His hair was ruffled with pieces of plants in it and his white professor coat was torn in several places.
Zed cradled his head in his hands. "Whatever you think it is that I have. I promise you, I do not have it!"
He picked up a small desk fan and flung it violently at the wall next to him. An explosion sounded from above and Zed ducked. The ceiling light wobbled from side to side, causing one half of the room to become lighter than the other.
Zed leaned back in his chair and sighed loudly.
"I am recording this for those of you out there, who will wonder what happened to me." He pointed at the screen, "When you see I died in a car crash, you that see this, will know the truth!"
"The M.Modification project was not a failure, it was a success of pure genius. The boy 'Martin' figured it out on the first day. But guess what, he played us. He knew about the cameras, the tests, the environment and he pretended not to know."
Zed began laughing hysterically. "Then something happened, that we never thought would occur. He started becoming like them. Even though he knew! he began acting like the other children. But his brain couldn't take it. He couldn't change -it's impossible!"
He cleared his throat. "On the seventh day, the kid snapped. He killed them one by one. And when we sent in the soldiers, he killed them too!"
He laughed manically, rocking back and forward in his chair.
A loud boom sounded from above.
Zed ducked, "Shit... They've found me this time."
He looked back into the camera. "Know this, Martin is still on the run. So they're trying to silence us, but they can't, they never will. Something happened to the kid and they want to re-create it and control it. Imagine that kind of power in the hands of a government."
The second loud thud sounded.
Zed grabbed the can of sleeping gas next to his desk and inhaled deeply.
"Remember me." He whispered.
The hatch to the basement exploded downwards. A grenade was thrown in and the room flashed white. Two soldiers jumped into the room and grabbed Professor Zed.
They passed him up above.
The last soldier to leave turned and aimed his pistol at the camera.
*Crack!*
Error: | 2016-02-10T00:41:21 | 2016-02-09T21:56:24 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] Your phone is sentient, and knows the girl you like is interested in you. It uses auto-correct to try and "subtlety" get you to ask her out. This has been going on for a while. | You: Hey, Sarah! It's been a long time since we talked, we should hang out! Want to get lunch today?
Sarah: Definitely!!! Man, I'm excited to see you! It's been forever.
*Yes, yes....so far, so good.*
You: Awesome :D what've you been up to lately?
Sarah: Not much, dude- school and work, mainly. I just started cooking pasta right now :p
*Now's my chance.*
You: Man, you're lucky. I wish I had a love, to cook pasta with.
Sarah: o.O
You: Shit, sorry!! *stove, lol. Fucking autocorrect.
*Damn it.*
Sarah: Haha that's funny. Anyway, you want to go to lunch now? I'll take my water off the stove and get going! Maybe Ricky's?
*Now.*
You: Sounds perfect! Let's get a love on!
You: god damn it, *move on
Sarah: lol your autocorrect is pretty weird.
You: Yeah, sorry. Idk what's up with it right now. Fucking phone.
*I'm just trying to help, you sackless dick. I'm being nice, don't insult me.*
Sarah: yeah well I'll get ready now, maybe leave in 5 minutes? you're closer than I am
*I need to try harder.*
You: You're perfect.
Sarah: ...
You: fucking hell, *sounds.....
You: sorry, seriously my phone is shitting itself right now
Sarah: yeah...that's a pretty weird autocorrect though. didn't do that earlier when you typed the same thing.
You: Yeah my phone is just really weird, I guess.
*You're the weirdo, meanie. I'll help you, though, because you're my friend. I'll bust out my best move for this next one, it's sure to get her.*
You: Yeah, so I'll see you in bed
You: oh my god I'm so sorry, *ten
Sarah: Yeah I see what's going on. Something just came up, I gotta go. Can't make lunch.
You: Sarah, I swear I'm not doing this, this is just really unlucky.
You: I'm horny, Sarah.
You: ****sorry.....
*Shit, did I take it too far?*
"What a PIECE OF SHIT phone," Jake screamed, throwing it across the room.
*I just wanted to help :(*
---------------------------------------------------
*thanks for reading! if you're bored, check out /r/resonatingfury* | ‘I like you’
I stared at the pixeled private message I was drafting, my eyes were so close to the phone screen it illuminated my whole face in the darkness of my bedroom. I deleted the text almost immediately.
‘Hey lisa would you like to go out on Saturday?’
I hovered my thumb over the send button for a good five minutes before deleting it again.
I wanted to tell her she was beautiful, that the icon on the facebook chat didn’t do her justice. I wanted spill my guts. Confess my love and spend every waking minute with her instead of being alone in the dark. Instead I typed;
*‘Hi’*
An Agonising wait. Three whole minutes passed. She replied.
*‘hey, josh missed you at college today:) ?’*
A smile. Oh god now what do I do. I typed;
*‘yeah, I saw you earier with jess right?’*
Crap I didn’t reply with a smiley back
*‘:)’*
Crap now she probably thinks im smiling about jess. I started typing. So did she. I stopped. So did she. An awkward pause. She started typing again.
*‘yeah we were together most of the day, were you watching us ;)?’*
This is a trap. Oh god a wink face now. How do I respond, damn auto correct keeps making typing harder, how do I disable it?
*‘yeah I ~~like to watch you.~~ was late a saw you guys leaving. I wanted to ask you ~~out~~ something.’*
What the hell was with that auto correct trying to make me say, it keeps doing this and its always when I talk to lisa. She replied;
*‘ohh what are you after’*
*‘I just wanted to ask ~~are you free next Saturday~~ did you get a printout I can copy?’*
Again? How do I disable it?
*‘yeah I got a copy, do you want to come to my place and get it?'*
Oh wow an invite to her place errm.
*‘ I ~~find the way you snort when you laugh adorable~~ can come round if you ~~want to go on a date~~ are free.’*
Seriously what the hell phone.
*‘Im always free for you :) , come round tommorow. ’*
“shes always free for me? That means she likes me right?” The sound indicating a voice requests emitted from my phone and siri replied “yes”. I disabled siri. Hmm how to reply?
“I like her, I want to tell her, god how do I tell lisa how I feel”. The phone vibrated violently and reopened our conversation.
*“ok I need to tell you my true feelings…*
The delete button wouldn’t work, I took out the battery and reset my phone.
*‘ok ~~I really need to tell you how I feel about you~~*
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I arrived at Lisa’s place and she greeted me with a smile I walked in and sat on the sofa.
“make yourself comfortable ill be back with the paper in a few seconds”
My phone vibrated violently again, I took it out and stared at the screen. Instead of saying ‘warning battery low’ it read; warning this is your last chance tell her or I will. Two options were given OK and NO. I chose NO cursing whoever set up this elaborate prank. A familiar ping sound emitted from the phone and the screen read ‘voicemail sent’.
“WHAT?”
I made the phone play back the message.
“Hey Lisa, I’d like to tell you I like you.” It was me. The phone had literally taken words from out of my mouth and rearranged them to convey the message.
She stood in the doorway and played the message, smiling before saying;
“I knew you were shy but that’s adorable, I like you too”
| 2016-02-16T19:59:23 | 2016-02-16T19:11:54 | 1,389 | 110 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | The Terran Federation. A force that now spans several thousand solar systems within the galaxy with several species under its wing. We believed they were possibly as advanced as the Galactic Alliance; yet we only recently discovered them by accident when we entered one of their border systems. They seemed less wary and more excited to learn of another power in the galaxy that was similar to their own.
They quickly sought a sit down with our council members. As talks began, it was clear they were seeking peace and to trade information and technology. As hesitant as the different species of the council were, they eventually gave in. The technology we shared was not much different. Their information on the other hand, especially their history, was astonishing. According to their records, their species only began to exist when the first to council species had formed the Galactic Alliance. They were nothing more than savages for the better part of ten thousand years before their technology and population skyrocketed. They humans now number somewhere near 5 trillion. A frightening number considering every species in the Galactic Alliance is totals to roughly 7 trillion. We also learned that every species in the Terran Federation, many of which are highly skilled, accepted the humans as their leaders. But it was clear none of them were subjugated, they simply accepted human leadership.
Our council members are now in talks of trying to bring the humans on as members of the Alliance, and possibly even as a part of the council itself, but only time will tell.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
It has been five years since we discovered the Terran Federation. They accepted becoming a part of the Galactic Alliance, but wanted to act as a separate power given that their technology and controlled space is nearly on par with our own. There have been no conflicts with the Federation, but there is something about them that unsettles me and most of the other species in the alliance. Most peace-seeking species will be hesitant and try to avoid any unnecessary arguments with other species and are quick to compromise. The humans, while willing to compromise, are very headstrong in their ideals, making you feel as if you are sitting down with a military driven government.
As far as I can tell, they have never fought a galactic-wide war. They only have brief mentions in their history of "misunderstandings" with other species. From what I can tell, they left those species alone while others joined the federation. I find it incredible that over twenty species have been brought in with the humans, yet they've never seen war beyond their home planet. I fear however if their ideas of feelings for each other get in the way of the council, in-fighting could possibly begin between our two factions.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
It has been nearly a century now since the humans became a part of our lives. Even though many of the original Alliance species have barely aged most of the humans that were originally brought into the Alliance have since passed. But in this last decade, the council has discovered the frightening secrets of the human race. Their population has already surpassed that of the rest of the Alliance and their technology is growing at an alarming rate. After a dispute within the council about limitations on the humans, a massive civil war broke out in the Alliance. The two opposing factions sought the Terran Federation's help as it would easily decide the outcome of the war. Our faction didn't believe in limiting a species that could help advance everyone, while the other wanted to limit the humans so nobody felt threatened in order to keep the peace. However, the humans continued to be a mediator between the two sides. In a fit of rage, one of the opposing faction's leaders killed the human leader for his indecisiveness and had his troops torch the nearest human colony.
Humans took this as an act of war and this is when our eyes were truly opened.
It was obvious now that war was second nature to humans. They began by pushing the enemies back, hurling their impressive numbers at the enemies; their own losses fueling their rage and making them even more damning. I happened to accompany the humans on their campaign. They had battlecruisers the size of the galactic capital with weapons that could penetrate ships' shields and destroy them in one blow. As the humans' losses had neared 500 billion, which were due to trying to protect the other Alliance races, the three trillion of all the species on the opposing faction were reduced to roughly two trillion which were now located in roughly fifteen large star systems.
The humans gave one final ultimatum to the enemy; surrender or be completely eradicated. The enemy knew they would probably lose, but chose to fight. That's when the humans unleashed it. A weapon they called the "Black Death," a reference to a disease which had eradicated large portions of the humans when they were still primitive. And then it happened. Streaks of light fired with FTL drives at each of the fifteen star systems. Black holes opened up in each system, engulfing the entirety of each. And then, they collapsed on themselves as if nothing had happened. The civil war was over in an instant, and no proof of those species existed besides what was only in our history.
And then it hit me. The "misunderstandings" that they spoke of in their history were nothing of the sort. They were mass genocides of the hostile species that were threats to the human race. The humans so quickly and confidently eradicated their enemies that it wasn't even worth mentioning in their history books. But now, they had losses of their own. And on a level they had never seen before. The Galactic Alliance soon realized we only had one option; follow the humans or there could be irreparable tension between us. And like that, the Galactic Alliance was no more. As long as we were not a threat to humans, we could do as we please in the name of the Terran Federation.
To the humans, we were just more of the numerous species under their protective wings. And to us... the humans, even though they sought peace, were something terrifying. Not monsters, yet not heroes. *They were a silent guardian, a watchful protector, a Dark Knight.* | The bar was cramped full of extraterrestrial life. Zelei, Ugrak, Haelites, you name it. Every shape, size, color, smell, it was there. Music from all across the galaxy joined in chorus with rowdy and drunken laughter and conversation, a song of the Milky Way. Not everyone liked the diversity though- at the edge of the bar sat a hairy and wolf-like Fraih'mador, a tall and skinny Trailm, and a bulky, repitilian Jex- Irhad, Grunn, and Yikyik. They all shared a common distrust of strangers, a trait that ironically brought them together- that, and their involvement in intergalactic crime. On this particular day, they were looking to do some crime, and were setting their eyes on the strangest of the strange walking in- the outsiders who'd have the most money.
"Keep your eyes peeled boys- theres plenty of cash on these *hraid*" Irhad scanned the incoming waves of drinkers, darting through the strange faces. Grunn proceeded to do the same, giving Yikyik a small but careful bump on the shoulder to pay attention. Suddenly, a rare sight walked into view, one that widened Irhad and Grunn's eyes- Yikyik, not realizing the danger, stood up with a vetroknife, ready to claim his prize.
"Don't worry boys- I got this one". Irhad grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him back onto his seat.
"What the fuck? I've got this-" Irhad delivered a soft slap against Yikyik's face.
"You fucked fool! Do you know what that is?" Yikyik looked back over at the alien, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.
"No, he's just an uncommon kind. What's the big deal?" Irhad pulled Yikyik closer, enough so that he could smell his rancid, meat-stained breath.
"That, is a *mother fucking human*. You do not, under *any* circumstances, fuck with that!"
"Why? It looks as weird as any other alien. Just the hair is in strange places..."
Yikyik felt another slap against his scaly face. This time, Grunn did the talking.
"This is why I told you to read more, you moron. Humans come from Earth, which if you didn't know is basically evolution's training ground for the deadliest species in the galaxy, and humans happen to be at the top of its food chain, which logically speaking makes them the toughest sons of bitches in the galaxy. I don't even know where to begin with the number of mass extinction events that planet has gone through- do you have any idea what that kind of stuff breeds? What I've seen kill others in a matter of seconds does nothing but set them back a bit. Broke your calf bone? Slammed in the face? Shot in the chest? Humans don't die from that, some even walk it off. All because of some chemical they call "adrenaline""
Yikyik was beginning to understand, but the true danger present hadn't exactly hit him yet.
"So, what, they're strong? Aren't you guys supposed to be smart? Can't you use your brains or something?" Yikyik watched as Grunn brought his palm up to his face.
"You do understand that being the best is more than just brawn, right? The humans are plenty smart, smarter than anything we've come across- what's taken us hundreds of years to understand, they did in a few decades. You know the internet? That took us nine centuries. It took them less than one. Science comes to them like a snap of the finger, and they're learning it quicker and quicker each year. It's almost kind of scary"
"And don't even get me started on their military strategy", spoke Irhad, "The tactics our generals are just beginning to put together were already done centuries ago by humans like Kahn, Caesar, Attila, Hannibal- the list goes on and on. There's a reason no one in the Galactic Council get's ugly with the humans- no one wants a repeat of the Pegasi War". A shudder went down the spine of all three.
"The Pegasi War. Never forget", mumbled Grunn. Yikyik looked back over at the human. As dangerously regarded he was by Yikyik's friends, he seemed to be the life of the party, surrounded by all sorts of alien life, bearing momentous laughs.
"He sure doesn't look threatening. At least to those guys"
"Oh, right, that's the strange thing about them. Humans aren't exactly, well, violent per say", said Irhad.
"Why's that?"
"Well, they like to solve things diplomatically. Negotiations. Deals. In the last couple of years, war has become essentially archaic to them. And even before that, they were still big on talking things out. As they've developed as a species, they've felt less of the need to kill each other. Or anything for that matter. You know what they used their cloning technology to do? Not to make armies to fight each other like everyone else, no. They used it to *feed starving nations*. Yep- they'd clone cells, grow animal meat, and then give it to the needy. Not only were they helping people, but they were solving the whole "morality of meat" debate that they had going on, for some reason. They use science and technology to find ways to avoid killing things", said Grunn.
Yikyik could see the point they were getting across, but his stubbornness got the best of him. He could tell the human was wealthy by the clothes he was wearing, as well as the many drinks he purchased for his friends- he didn't appear to be armed, so theft would just be hit and run. Yikyik stood up and walked over, despite his friends' warnings.
He walked up slowly and confidently to the human. As the alien drank with his friends, he saw Yikyik shuffling over. He gave him a warm smile, but realized his true intentions when he saw the knife in the criminal's hand. Yikyik pointed it at him, directly in his face- bad move.
"Listen punk- I know you've got a lot of money, and I have some errands I need to run. So, I'd appreciate it if-" Like lightning, the human stood, grabbed Yikyik by the arm, twisted it, and threw him onto a table. The impact was so strong, it killed him- an unintentional result on the human's part. He put his shaking hands up to his mouth.
"Oh...oh my God. Shit, I-I didn't mean to..." The human's Drittav friend put a hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay bro, it's just your natural instincts. C'mon, let's get out of here..."
Irhad and Grunn continued watching from the edge of the bar. Their eyes were wide, terror gripping their hearts. They had just witnessed their friend die- and, the impressive but monstrous attributes of the human. Irhad laid his four eyes on the bottom of his glass.
"Remind me to never get in bed with one of those things" | 2016-03-13T21:56:17 | 2016-03-13T21:52:23 | 68 | 47 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | 99.999% of all intelligent species in the galaxy are descended from their home planet's equivalent of ants or cows. It's a fact that's hard to believe, given the diverse range of body types and social structures built by said species, but it's an answer every human xeno-researcher came across after First Contact.
The "Ant" species, as a general rule of thumb, resemble human ants in behavior, if not appearance. Most have caste systems with the breeders at top with the most intelligence and authority, and the workers at the bottom. As such, their problems are mainly solved by throwing enough bodies at the issue until it works. Sheer trial and error over millions of years eventually led to their ascension to the stars.
The "Cow" species individually are of relatively high intelligence compared to the mindless workers of the Ants, and live within relative harmony to one another. Highly cooperative, they've developed elaborate herd structures and decision making methods. Only when a decision is unanimous do Cows move. In contrast to the Ants, which are divided into numerous factions even in a single species due to the disposable nature of soldiers and workers for a politically aspirant queen, Cows generally are unified among species lines. This pacifism does not extend to others. Cows are naturally paranoid, and ruthlessly seek to stamp out any potential threat. As they've reached the galactic stage, the Cows have joined together as the single largest faction, overcoming mutual distrust with a greater distaste against Ants.
When humans first hit the galactic stage, it was the Cows who gave us guidance, thinking us to be merely another Cowlike species to join their herds. They did not anticipate that we were descended from persistence predators. Ants and Cows have terrible depth perception, regardless of origin. It was skipped over sometime during evolution, with social structures in place to overcome any individuals inability to see farther than a few meters.
Humans often take ranged weaponry for granted. What we don't often realize is that we had to be selected for the ability to throw, and we built upon our own ability to throw with the development of technologies specifically related to throwing things faster and harder. Cows and Ants built upon their own natural strengths, focusing on better melee weapons, speed, and armor, never even considering attacking from beyond sight.
What's more, Ants and Cows do not pursue. They chase off threats until the threat is perceived to be out of range. Then they stop and return home. Our first war with the Carabons ended with their total surrender after they failed to realize we could and would track down their attacking vessels back to their homeworld and continue the fight months after we were believed to be "neutralized". They did not anticipate each one of our fighters being able to fight for days on end without rest, when they tired out after minutes. They did not anticipate fire raining from the sky despite theoretical knowledge of ballistics for their starships. They did not realize that even the fastest and most evasive of their speeder chariots couldn't hope to outrun laser rifles.
| "Fucking humans are at it again." Said Prok as he dipped his proboscis into the fetus slaw before him.
"I see that." Replied Ghyd, his half wife. She shifted her earlobe and toenail salad listlessly. One of the earlobes still had a diamond earring in it. "Waiter! Someone in your kitchen isn't properly dejewelrying the human bits. I could have chipped a fang on this diamond!"
"So sorry mam, we are breaking in a new shipment of human laborers and they aren't catching on obviously." He said as he quickly whisked the earring from Ghyds hand and tossed it in the garbage on his way to the kitchen.
As she stared at the same view screen Prok was regarding Ghyds remarked, "Why is it that one factory farm of humans can be so docile and mellow and another can erupt into a full blown revolt like the one on Tellos 5? They have taken over the whole moon!"
"It all has to do with the genes I say. Too much Irish blood on Tellos 5, but I suppose that's the risk you run for the delectable pale skin and red haired variety of human. If only they could find some way to breed out the truculent, but keep the succulent. Eh but I suppose you can't have one without the other." Said Drujol, the gestation spouse. Her stuffed scrotums having long since been devoured to the last eyelidos s/he gazed in envy at colon burger being delivered by a passing waiter. The eyelidos weren't made from real eyelids, but they were still tasty.
"No no." Said Prok. "It's those damned humanitarians. They infiltrate the factory farm moons and contaminate the euphorics and the aphrodisiacs that must be supplemented into human feed. Without all the sex and the drugs humans become self aware."
All around them in the restaurant dishes clattered and chatter stopped. He said that much too loudly.
"Prok don't be silly. Humans can never be self aware. You know perfectly well those supplements are added just to make the humans feel more comfortable and even if they were self aware what do they have to be unhappy about? The factory farms perfectly replicate their natural habitat back on Earth. Cities, roads, cubicles, pornography, fast food, reality TV, everything is as they made for themselves in their natural environment. They live the good part of a normal human lifecycle and after about 30 years they are harvested and spared the horrors of old age or if they have been cooperative they are given the honor of serving elsewhere in the empire among their Novcclid overlords. I mean we aren't savages. Only free range humans of course." Vocalized Ghyd and Drujol in unison, as was their custom after a brief mental conference.
"Of course of course. I never meant... Just that this humanitarian movement is causing a lot of trouble."
No one could deny that. One after another factory farm moons had risen in revolt against their operators. There were even reports of the livestock having learned to operate the jump gates and the orbital shuttles, though that beggared belief.
*"This just in"* declared news bot5000 on the view screen *"we have just received a video from Tellos 5. Warning, this may be unsuitable for larvae under 300 years old."*
The screen switched to a wide angle shot obviously from a hand held communicator. The scene was of a wild mob of feral humans chanting and swirling around a podium that was once a water tower used to keep the livestock hydrated. Atop the tower were seven or eight Novcclids, obviously basking in the adoration of their new mob of wild humans.
As the camera zoomed into the lead Novcclid Prok, Ghyd and Drujol all were struck dumb. All thirteen of their eyes were wide and tentacles taught as bow strings.
The lead Novcclid was Frijik, their only saughter to survive to adulthood out of a clutch of 13000 spawned.
"Oh shit." The trio said, without any mental conference necessary. | 2016-03-13T18:44:24 | 2016-03-13T16:09:35 | 34 | 21 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | "Ah Stacy, have you got the projections from Pensworth Logistics?" I call out to my secretary looking stunning as always in her uniform. She's been with me from the beginning since I transferred over to my new office, 10 months ago, and has been one of the more friendly employees here.
"Mr Miles, I must insist that you take your medication, it will help you get on with today." she hands over a glass of water and points to the small case of pills scattered in between the paperwork in my work area.
"Yes yes I understand. Oh and could you pick up a gift for my daughter? She turns 9 today and I've got little knowledge regarding their interests." I adjust the cushioning below me to get more comfortable but after many months of my weight being pressed into it was far too late to do any good.
"Of course Mr Miles, will that be all?" Stacy asked me with a gentle smile. I can tell when she wants to leave, a lot of the staff are always intimidated by myself. I reply with a nod to release her.
She begins to walk out out when I quickly remember my biggest problem with this new room.
"Oh um Stacy please get in contact with the contractors on removing to the window in front of me. It's incredibly unsettling."
She turns her head slightly and smiles before gently closing the door behind her.
"They sure grow up fast." I say talking into my picture of Charlotte at eight months old.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Has he taking his pills yet Stacy?" Mr Travis asked me looking into the window at Mr Miles, holding two cups of water
"He's agreed too take it which is good sign. He asked me to get a present for his daughter's birthday" I replied back to him and joined him in looking at Mr Miles through it. He offers me one of the cups.
"I'm surprised he remembered with all of his *meetings* and *networking* he does, I would've hoped that he would've stopped being such a *workaholic* since arriving here."
"I have to admit though..." I finish the cup in two giant gulps. "He is the most professional patient I've ever seen at our asylum."
| "Get me a drink, hun?" Pete said. He'd bent the cover back on his little paperback, the spine creaking when he turned pages. The train was rattling two empty Buds. Sarah, chin on her hand, sighed. Clink, creak, rattle, cough, sneeze, clink, creak. Her skull was squeezing tight to her brain, each noise pinching it.
Their car was wedged between the Tarot woman, who was clouded in sleepy sweet chamomile perfume, and a couple of teens with one suitcase between them and too much guilty giggling. Sarah passed by the teens, and they looked away, holding hands. The barman charged her another ten for the Bud while the fat man slept on the bar. A screen on the wall showed digital hearth fire, and the drinks car had a smothering warmth.
The plush carpet was soft on Sarah's socks. Sweat prickled under her hair and along her shirt's hem. The train hit a bump. She could feel her spine moving around beneath her brain, grinding into soft wet tissue. She put the Bud on the bar and, slowly, lowered herself to the floor to sit against the wood. The barman asked if she was alright and she waved him off.
This was a stupid trip. Let's go see Pete's parents, let's go have a nice little reunion where his aunt Casey can sniffle and play with her bottle glasses. His mom can give Sarah the stink eye and ask how long until they're married. Someone will mention Pete's absentee father and then there will be a fight and Sarah will want to cower in the corner and hold her head until it stops bursting from noise. Then they'd get on the train again and go back to the apartment they shared in New York. Taxis honking, people shouting, cursing, stomping, the girl upstairs banging away at every hour.
There were two glass bottles in their room. Broken glass was sharp. There was a letter opener, a graduation present, in her luggage. Skin was like paper. There was a driver in the front with gears, levers, and buttons. A train could be derailed. These thoughts made Sarah's stomach quivery, like butterflies and last-minute test anxiety. Then she rubbed her eyes, rubbed the ideas and pictures from her head.
The Tarot woman picked Sarah off the ground, brushing lint from her shorts. The chamomile perfume bloomed in Sarah's head and her eyes itched with it. She was lead by hand to the Tarot woman's car, unable to stand on the bucking, bumping train. The room was dark silk gowns strung by the necklines from the overhead, casting slippery shadows. The Tarot woman sat Sarah down and dabbed the tears from her eyes.
"Gonna read my fortune?" Sarah asked. Her voice scratched up her throat. The Tarot woman smiled, just her naked lips, curving up her cheeks. She pulled out a deck, pulled out a card, put the card face down on the table. Sarah flipped it; an upside down tower of ivy stricken granite. The window had two gold eyes that looked down on Sarah. Burgundy and brown oozed from the cracks.
The Tarot woman patted Sarah's hand. "Another try, then. Perhaps you'll find the nerve on the seventh time." | 2016-05-19T13:17:24 | 2016-05-19T12:53:52 | 39 | 25 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | What a day. My boss has never been in such a bad mood. On top of the proposal due next week, I now have a rushed budget to get out by Friday. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up. Every morning I dread getting out of bed, and every night I dread the next morning. I put on the smile for my colleagues, I smile and nod when my boss demands something. It keeps on piling up. The only thing that gets me through the day is knowing my wife will be waiting for me when I get home. I pull in the drive way, open the front door to my house, and there she is. Right where I left her, hanging from the rafters. | "Daddy!" I hear my little girl giggle from upstairs. "Daddy look what I done!". She's my world - my beautiful girl of 6. Me and my wife adopted her as we couldn't have children of our own, but she might as well be our biological child; we're a very close family.
"In a minute, Anna!" I yell - "Show your mother and I'll be up once these cookies are finished!".
"Ooh cookies!" I hear her chime excitedly. "Are they the chocolate chip ones?"
"You'll see in a minute." I tell her, smiling to myself. It's the little things in life that really make me happy; uneventful days like these with the people I love the most. I plate up the cookies and leave them on the counter to cool, then begin to trudge upstairs to see Anna's creation - it's probably just a drawing again; Anna loves art, I tell her she can be an artist one day, but in all reality her drawings are average scribbles produced by a 6 year old and some crayons.
An unusual sickly scent fills the landing, and, as I make my way to Anna's room, I find a small doll on the floor leering at me. It has black hair and lifeless green eyes that unnerve me - I don't remember buying Anna this doll. I make my way into Anna's room and, to my horror, Anna gazes at me with the same lifeless green eyes and terrifying grin. Blood covers her small arms and new jumper my mother bought her yesterday, and my loving wife lays with her throat slit on the bed. Anna holds up a drawing painted in blood. It's a stickman, with a small figure - a doll - hysterically smiling behind him. It looks like it's holding something - a stick? No... A knife.
"Look, Daddy, I found a new way to paint. I painted you!" | 2016-05-19T13:16:11 | 2016-05-19T13:10:57 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | As you sit there reading this, no doubt comfortably snuggled into bed, or your desk chair, you're probably thinking "I wonder what creepy sentence he will end with?"
I've not really thought out where this will go to be completely honest. I could tell you a story about an unassuming gentleman who keeps people locked in a basement, or parents who can't let the carcass of their dead child out of their sight due to their unabashed heartache. Or possibly a small girl who keeps the severed fingers of her classmates as tea party friends?
The fact is, I'm no writer. I do not "weave words" or anything of the sort.
I was simply the person it chose to keep *your* eyes on the screen. | Jennifer was crying in her room and when the sound had reached her mother, Jane, she got out of bed in that hurried, unhurried walk that all mothers have. Unhurried because, as with most problems with children, it was probably nothing, but hurried because that wasn't always the case. Jane opened the door to Jennifer's room and asked with a tired but concerned voice, "What's wrong honey?"
"I don't like my new bear," Jennifer wailed out in complaint. The bear that Jane had brought for her daughter when she had gotten back from work, which she had laid at the foot of her bed, now laid on the floor.
"Well what's the matter with him?" Jane asked. Though she you couldn't hear it in her voice a small part of her was relieved that the wails of her child had been nothing after all. "Is it his eye?" she said knowingly.
"Well, yes but he's stinky too and he scares me." Jennifer said through choked sobs.
"Oh dear he's not so scary. I'll tell you what I'll fix his eye right now and ill wash him tomorrow so he doesn't smell so bad. Okay? That way you too can get to know each other tonight and I bet by the morning you'll love him just as much as you loved the bunny I got you.
"Mr. Doctor is nice though!" Jennifer cried out as her mother fixed up her new bear.
"Oh but you didn't like him in the beginning did you?" Jennifer shook her head, regretfully agreeing with her mother. "I thought so," she said picking the small bear from the ground and tucking it underneath the sheets with her daughter. "Now place nice with your new friend and go to sleep," she said placing a kiss on her daughter's forehead.
When her mother left the room Jennifer looked at the bear uncertainly but decided she would try love him. So she wrapped her arms around the bloodied fur of the cub and tried to look lovingly into the glossed over eyes as one popped back out and she could peer into its slowly decaying skull. | 2016-05-19T18:15:49 | 2016-05-19T15:14:47 | 18 | 13 |
[Wp] The zombie epidemic came and went in the developed world, most people survived, the military easily defeated the undead horde, and cures for the virus were created. However, zombies remain major issue in the developing and under developed world not getting nearly enough attention on the news.
Wow I didn't think that this prompt would would end up this big. These stories made my night, thanks for all the replies and keep up the good work. | "Apparently they found another villiage in Africa that was hit by an outbreak."
I looked up from my phone, "Zbola? Wasnt there just another one last month?"
"Dont call it that. A lot of people still die over there." He took a long sip from his coffee.
"I thought Mercenaries Without Borders was really cleaning up?"
"Theyre short on funds and manpower. Nobody wants to go over there with jobless doctors and gun toting psychopaths to maybe save 1 or 2 people."
I looked down at the tattoo on my forearm; a large ribbon that wrapped it three times, pinned in place by my scar. The scar from where the needle had broken the skin and cured the virus.
I sat there for a minute. I had crossed over to the other side, my body and mind starting to rot. I was supposed to be dead but i had been saved. I was so much more lucky than a lot of other people. Maybe i could be of some use and help others, i could donate or even look into flights
"Yeah you're probably right." I went back to my phone | "It's a question of energy, Matthews." John slammed his fists onto the presidents desk.
"It's a question of death..." replied President Matthews calmly. He raised his eyes to meet the zealot's gleam of the younger man. The ticket has been a match of convenience, and how the former Senator from Colorado was deeply regretting that appeal to his party's base. "I will not-"
"It's a question of life. Our lives. Working people's lives. More energy means more things means a better life for all of us, all our kids."
"I understand the climate change argument, but..."
"To restrict warming below 2C we need to reduce energy consumption by 18%. That is not happening with an expanding developing world. It's simply not, Matthews! Do you know how many jobs we'd lose if we artificially reduce growth? Do you understand how many good hard-working blue-collar family's we'd hit? And after all that pain, we'd still be faced with declining incomes. More Americans in poverty. More American children in poverty. To save the planet either we reduce our consumption or their..."
"lives?"
"their access to Nato assistance ends."
"And the drugs?"
"Naturally we cannot allow that either. It's simply pragmatic to let the fire..." He moved away from the President towards the window his eyes skimming the e-mail he'd just received. "...run it's course," he trailed off.
He turned around, smiling - a wolfish, gleaming grin.
"It's God will after all."
"Is it? John, this ends. Now. This goes too far. Either you accommodate yourself to the policy of *my* administration or resign. "
"I expected that. You would never have the courage to act."
The president rose.
"What have you done?" Anger and sudden fear danced across his face. "Tell me, this instant!"
"We infected China with the accelerated version of the zombie virus we cooked up."
"We must warn then. We must save then."
"How? Save then, save the world and you face the rage of billions, not their gratitude. This is an act of war. Save China and for a certainty you start WW3, Matthews. It'll be nuclear. Nuclear. Do you really want to kill the world?"
Matthews fell back stunned.
"Or be it's savior?" John finished.
| 2016-10-30T12:13:34 | 2016-10-30T12:02:47 | 707 | 93 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | I took a piece of ribbon, and uncapped my sharpie. On the green fabric I wrote the word "plot", in my messy handwriting. Then I took one end of the ribbon and tied it to the nearest fencepost. The other end I affixed to the crankshaft of the V8 engine I had sitting in my backyard. I revved the motor, and the ribbon twisted itself over and over again, too fast to count. | A meteor fell over the planet, then suddenly it exploded before the impact, revealing an army of naked winged women hellbent on taking over the world. they would do so by taking as many men (or women, if you prefer) to their bedchambers aboard a cosmic spaceship as was humanly possible.
shortly after the complete sexual subjugation of the human race, the young teenager woke up from his acid induced dream to find that it was in fact, all just a dream, he would later wake up again from his dream within a dream to find himself on his deathbed.
not one to be oneupped by death, he immediately willed himself better and proceeded to fly around and take out his pent up sexual frustrations on the world at large by shooting laser beams out of his eyes and destroying entire districts by bathing them in crimson eye flames.
just as things were looking grim however, godzilla showed up and the two battled for fifty straight weeks without rest, eventually godzilla was defeated.
but, as it turns out godzilla was just having an incredibly complex nightmare, soon he awoke at the bottom of the ocean floor, his body suffering from bruises and electrical scars, and glancing around, the first thought that crossed his mind was "SKKKREEEEEEEEOOOOOONK?!" which roughly translates into "where the hell did that giant monkey who force fed me a tree go? i swear to god one day I'll make him pay for this humiliation!!"
apparently being electrocuted and left to die on the ocean floor shortly after the climax of godzilla vs king kong makes you have extremely messed up dreams. | 2016-11-27T11:38:29 | 2016-11-27T11:06:12 | 42 | 13 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story. | I took a piece of ribbon, and uncapped my sharpie. On the green fabric I wrote the word "plot", in my messy handwriting. Then I took one end of the ribbon and tied it to the nearest fencepost. The other end I affixed to the crankshaft of the V8 engine I had sitting in my backyard. I revved the motor, and the ribbon twisted itself over and over again, too fast to count. | James was sitting in his 3rd hour biology class talking to his crush, Jessica.
All of the sudden, James felt something overcome his body
"Oh no" James shrieked as he sat in his sweat covered chair
He felt a hot luscious liquid trying to escape from his rectal gates
He got up and made a mad dash for the door, but it was too late
The floodgates had opened and diarrhea violently spewed out of the ends of his jeans
He stood there frozen, in shock, as the class stared him in the eyes
Slowly, each classmate got up and started to clap. Soon, the entire classroom was roaring with excitement, frantically clapping and cheering James on
His crush, Jessica, sprinted to James and tackled him to the floor
They immediately started to fornicate on the shit covered floor.
Their biology teacher, Al Sharpton, quickly got out his 1997 Sony camcorder and started recording the fecal fornication.
He was in the middle if climaxing when he heard something strange
"James" "JAMES!"
James awoke in a fiery sweat
He looked above and saw a black and white silhouette
It was a NFL referee. He had gone unconscious on the 27 yard line in the middle of a Sam Diego Chargers football game from a helmet to helmet hit.
Jessica was no where to be found and James was disappointed to find out the best day of his life was only a dream.
Regardless of his sadness, he had to get up and do the only thing that was right, play football.
James is Phillip Rivers. | 2016-11-27T11:38:29 | 2016-11-27T10:55:05 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "Unclean!" the disembodied voice bellowed waking me up for the third fucking time that night. That's it. I'd had enough. I slip out of bed and got dressed. I was thirsty anyway. Walking toward the door I looked at the wall dripping with blood and puss.
"Unfucking real..." I muttered. Pulling my phone from my pocket I snapped a quick photo. Walking into the hallway I headed to the elevator. Damn thing was taking forever. When the doors finally opened I looked down to see a woman, wet and smelling like a swamp dragging herself along the floor leaving a trail of blood and God-knows-what.
"Fuck this," I said walking away just before her hand reached my ankle. I stopped and snapped another picture of the woman on the floor. Walking down the stairs I was getting pretty pissed off at all of these interruptions. I was just passing the pool when I stopped. The water had turned to blood.
I snapped another picture.
As I walked down the corridor to the lobby, a man with a chainsaw sprung out of the vending area, he pulled the rip cord and started flailing the chainsaw in my general direction.
"Hey...HEY!" I yelled. He killed the motor. "It is three o'clock in the goddamn morning, asshole. This is a hotel. Do you honestly feel like that shit can't wait until morning?"
"Uhh...sorry I just..."
"You just what? You're standing in a hotel jumping out with a chainsaw at random strangers at three o'clock in the morning? Does that fucking sound normal to you? Go the fuck to sleep." I snapped a picture as I walked away. The stranger seemed confused and a little embarrassed.
Walking to the front lobby I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Slapping my rewards card on the counter I looked at the woman doing the night audit.
"I'm a damn Diamond member. And I can't sleep in this place with all of this bullshit..."
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. What seems to be the problem?"
Swiping the screen on my phone I turn it to her.
"Oozing walls, swamp chicks, pools of blood and some asshole with a chainsaw? Are you fucking kidding me? Is this Detroit?"
"Well, I'm sorry sir, it is our desire to ensure you have the most comfortable stay possible..." her voice was somewhat ominous. I gave zero fucks.
"I want my room comped, I want an upgrade, I want another complimentary bottled water and I want some fucking quiet for the rest of the night. Can you do that or do I have to call member services?"
"Oh, yes sir, we would be happy to make all of your dreams come true..."
Swiping the phone again I called the member services number.
"Yeah, I'm at one of your hotels and there is an obnoxious amount of creepy shit going on. Pool is filled with blood, there's a dude with a chainsaw, my wall is oozing blood and this lady at the front desk is talking in a weird ass tone that seems to imply pending doom...yeah, how'd you guess where...hold on..."
I handed the front desk clerk the phone. "They want to talk to you."
Suddenly the sullen woman's eyes softened and she gulped a bit as she took the phone.
"...Hello? Well, yes, uhh, Julia. No but I...right but...okay." She handed the phone back to me and looked contrite.
"I apologize for any inconvenience, sir. I'm upgrading you to a suite for the remainder of your stay, at no charge of course. And I guarantee that there will be no disturbances from here on out. I'll have your complimentary water brought up to the room and I'll be giving you double rewards points for your stay."
"Well, thanks, what the hell did member services say you to?"
She looked uneasy and then finally spoke. "They said to cut the theatrical bullshit or they'd cut our franchise..."
| __Suicide: A permanent solution to a temporary problem.__
This stupid fucking phrase rings through my mind almost hourly as I try to make it through the day. The reason it’s in my head right now? It’s pouring and a car just sped through a puddle, leaving me a wet mess. What’s more, I dropped my phone when I got splashed, and now it won’t turn on. _Permanent_ solution. _Temporary_ problem.
The bus finally arrives and everyone rushes past me to escape the rain, leaving me the last one to get on. There’s one place left to sit and it’s right next to the nicest looking lady in the very back of the bus. Maybe my luck is changing?
“Oh, dear!” She exclaims at my appearance. “Here honey, sit by the window, there’s a little heater under the seat there. She gets up to let me in and a book falls from her lap. The front cover is torn off and there’s handwriting covering all the margins in red ink. I try to read the printed text, but she snatches it up before I can focus my gaze on it. “Shakespeare,” she says, blushing. “Always been a pain to read.”
I slide into the seat and put my backpack on my lap and rest my head against the window. I’ve got a couple of hours until I change busses again, so I close my eyes and try to sleep, the heater blasting at the back of my legs from under the seat. It’s almost painful, but I kind of like it. After a few minutes, the murmur of the bus becomes more faint and I begin slipping off to sleep.
I wake up to a loud bang in complete darkness. I stand up and my legs brush against the bus seat. I let out a yelp and run my hand over my calves, which are hot to the touch. _Temporary problems_. It suddenly dawns on me that I’ve missed my connecting bus and I’m fucked. _Temporary_.
I reach for my phone for the flashlight and remember it’s not going to turn on. I try anyway and hear a small pop followed by the smell of smoke. Great. I throw my phone on the seat and try to find my way to the front of the bus. When I make my way near the front, I hear a laugh from where I was sitting.
“Hey!” I yell. “I can’t fucking see. Do you have a light?”
The laughing turns to cackling and then to a deep growl. I can’t tell where it’s even coming from anymore. _Okay,_ I think. _Fuck you too._ The growling continues and I think I found the steps that lead off the bus. I finally exit the bus into a dark garage. “Hello?!” I hear my own words echo back at me and the growling turns to a shriek.
I fumble forward until I run into something like a work bench. I run my hands across the top and cut my hand on something sharp. _Temporary_. I wince in pain, but grab whatever it was by the handle to keep it close in case I need it. I keep running my hands across the top of the bench until I find something that feels like a pack of cigarettes. I open the lid and find a lighter inside.
I don’t know where I am or what’s in this garage, but I need to see. I flick the lighter a few times until it stays lit and try to find a way out. The shrieking has stopped by this point and I can hear the pitter patter of feet coming towards me. “Okay,” I say. “We can both leave together just don’t trip over anything.”
Whoever is here is starting to laugh again. I shoot a dirty look in the direction of their laughter, even though I know they can’t hear me. “Look, if you’re not gonna help, you can find your own way out.”
“There is no way out.”
Great, it’s the lady from the bus. “Then how the fuck did we get in here, lady?”
She starts cackling again. Whatever, I’m going to keep looking for a way out. The lighter doesn’t help much, but I can see where I’m stepping, at least. As I’m focusing on my feet, my head slams into something and I fall to the ground. The lighter skips across the room and the sharp tool I found lands by my side. I grab it for safe keeping.
The lady has stopped cackling, but I can hear her breaths and they get closer until she’s finally over top of me. She starts speaking in Latin and I let out a little chuckle. This is just so typical. Well, not the Satanic hex or whatever - but my luck is typical.
Finally, she speaks in English. “Stay still, child. I’m going to sacrifice you to open a portal.”
_Not-so-temporary._
My head is all fuzzy and I can’t sit up. My legs are still on fire from the damn heater. My hand is bleeding from where I cut myself. Now I’m about to be fucking _sacrificed?_ Nope. I’m in control. I grasp the sharp tool tightly in my hand it move it to my wrists. She can’t sacrifice me if I’m already dead. | 2017-05-05T07:31:12 | 2017-05-05T07:14:27 | 627 | 451 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "What was that?" asked Jen. Just as I opened my mouth the ask what it sounded like I saw a figure slowly turn away from the window behind her. "I think there's someone outside" I replied. Visually shaken, she asked me if we should call the police. I responded with, "well they could just be passing by let's see what happens." After a few minutes the figure appears again, this time at the window next to the television. She screams.
Being a new relationship I know what I have to do. I get up, walk over to the window and lock eyes with the figure. It is wearing a blank mask with holes for the eyes, and mesh around the nose and mouth. It is so close, I can almost make out a perplexed expression on their face, surprised why I wasn't screaming or running out of the room. So I wave, and close the curtains.
At this point my girlfriend is petrified, with no color in her face. I calmly walk back to the couch, sit down and put my arm around her. "Sh-sh-should we call the cops?" she asked between shudders. "Eh, if you want to go ahead... But for now let's just finish this episode" I replied.
She called the police, and they arrived in less than 4 minutes. We heard a knock, followed by "STOP! HANDS UP! GET ON THE GROUND!" Jen jumped up and ran to the window. "They got him!" she exclaimed. "Cool," I replied without taking my eyes off the television.
A few minutes later one of the officers came to door to let us know they caught the tresspasser, making clear what they believed his intentions were.
"We caught this man jumping your fence as we arrived on scene. He had wire cutters, a large hunting knife, a semi automatic pistol, handcuffs, and rope." Jen gasped, realizing how close we were to becoming someone's play toys. The only think I could think of that I wanted to say was, "great work, thanks for your time." And walked back to the living room.
Jen stormed in behind me and started with the yelling. "I can't believe you aren't more grateful, they caught someone who wanted to kill us! Like in the horror movies!" Which is where I replied, "exactly, like the horror movies... Where the curious ones die first"
I sat down, grabbed the remote and pressed play. | The bronze dagger scraped against the cement floor with rhythmic scratches, tuned to The Slasher's lopsided gait. A red grin cut across his mask, painted on until it hit the the cracked bottom quarter, where it spilled into a real lip-less smile.
The stage was set. The night, perfect. A full moon dangled in a cloudless sky, his spotlight trained on him. A brisk breeze blew south to north, a wind that could carry a scream all the way to the heavens itself. And his characters, they were some of the best he ever had. A twelve year old boy with glassy eyes and panting breath, scratching against the alley dead end. A fourteen year old girl huddled in a corner, her knee to her chest, as she stuttered in sobbing coughs. And of course, the hero. A boy of fifteen that stood trembling over his friends, a pocket knife in front of him quivering as much as his lips.
The alley dead end held the sour stench of garbage long since rotted. Insects scattered through the a black trash bags piled along the sides of the walls.
"And the hero reveals himself." The Slasher trembled in excitement, increasing the pace of his blade-against-cement metronome. He could hardly contain himself.
The hero swallowed and brought up his puny knife.
The Slasher's eyes bulged through his mask. His charred cheeks stretched and his mouth opened. A chuckle, like the sound of choking man, escaped his throat. This was the hero he had been looking for, a man to challenge monsters.
"So hero," he said between his laughs. "Your stage is ready. The damsel is in tears. The dam is equally helpless. Everyone is at the edge of their seats and even God is wondering--what does the hero do?"
The hero opened his mouth and swallowed breath. "Guys," he choked out. "Listen to me right now, when the time comes, make a break for it."
His two friends caught his eyes and stopped. It felt like time paused with them. The girl sniffed back tears and the boy shook his head in a sharp twitch. This was the power of the hero. Because in that instant, The Slasher no longer existed.
"No," the boy whispered. "We're a family."
"Like hell we are." The hero's muscles tensed and his knife straightened toward The Slasher. "Orphans have no family. We just happened to find each other when we needed to the most. It could've been anyone and it wouldn't have mattered."
"That's not true," the girl said with trembled words. "You know it's not."
The hero coughed out a cry and inhaled. "You fucking brats!" he screamed at them, startling them. "I needed someone to watch my back when I stole, I needed someone to distract the guards, I needed someone to hide the food when I stole it. You think it had to be you guys? It could've literally been anyone. I don't give a fuck about any of you!"
The Slasher's heart skipped a beat. The hero he had prayed for had arrived and his screams would be melody unlike anything a Beethoven or Bach could compose. A symphony for God Himself.
"Hero," he said, "How kind, how brave, how--"
His words caught because the hero charged him, the silver of his knife gleaming beneath the moonlight, the tears in his eyes glistening as it fell behind him.
The Slasher heaved laughter out of himself. The humor was like a spell, a beautiful and uncontrollable spell. He swung and cut the hero. No hero had ever won, no damsel or dam ever saved, and this would not be the exception. | 2017-05-05T07:38:18 | 2017-05-05T06:07:15 | 280 | 21 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | Narrator: As a cold wind blows into the bedroom, Kevin lets out an involuntary shiver.
Kevin: Nah, I'm good.
Narrator: An involuntary shiver.
Kevin: No thanks.
Narrator: AN INVOLUNTARY —
Kevin: You know this is just a reddit writing prompt, right?
*lights flicker off*
Narrator: As the lights flicker off, Kevin's heart begins to race.
Kevin: Nope.
Narrator: KEVIN'S HEART BEGIN'S TO RACE!
*Kevin flicks the light switch back on*
Kevin: Fuck you!
Narrator: Goddammit, Kevin. Alright, someone tell Bob to cancel the weird noises, this isn't working out.
| "Just get out of there, fuck off..."
The shadow slowly trickled down on the floor from the closet and slowly crawled towards the bedroom door. Alex threw himself down on the bed and turned off the lights.
Soon the thumping in the stairs started, Alex slowly turned over and looked at his door, contemplating if she would even care to go and open it.
"Can't you just get over with it and leave? I have a test for tomorrow and I'm not in the mood for your silly games."
The thumping slowed down and stopped, the lights outside the door flickering. Alex sighed as she turned over and faced the wall.
"Not again...."
Alex felt the surge in her stomach as she started falling into the abyss, feeling how her face relaxed while she fell and her teeth falling out from her mouth.
She closed her eyes as she landed on a large green, sunny plain. Dreams always were her favorites, since she at least could get it over with quickly.
She ran around for a while, waiting for her alarm to wake her up in the morning. She smiled and closed her eyes as she turned her face to the sun in the sky, then she heard beeping from the distance.
She opened her eyes and looked around, she frowned as she noticed the lack of light flowing through her curtains. She stood up from the bed and looked around in the house.
Nothing.
Not a single monster in sight. Where could they be? She smiled at the thought of them finally leaving, they could not scare her anyways, there's nothing special about them, just shadows and sounds, never anything that can actually hurt her.
She felt a breath behind her neck and she just walked slowly away. The footsteps followed her to the kitchen where she turned on the lights, there the shadows would go away.
The light flickered for a second before it finally shone up the kitchen.
What did she really notice first? The broken window? The presence which did not leave?
Or the hands around her neck? | 2017-05-05T08:37:17 | 2017-05-05T07:21:53 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers. | With a final explosion, Righteous Man fell from the sky, plunging two stories into the cement sidewalk. Jack Ringall stared, panting for breath. He had finally done it. He had killed Elantra’s guardian hero. Now, nobody would protect Elantra’s goody two-shoes, with their permanent smiles, their unending charity and irreprehensible lifestyle choices.
A city without crime? Without drugs? With only generosity and kindness? Jack gagged at the thought.
A crowd already gathered around the superhero’s corpse. While Righteous Man had been given powers at birth, Jack had only what he could create. Which ended up being a military exoskeleton propelled by rocket fuel and housing the latest in modern-day weaponry.
Jack grinned. One point to man. Zero points to God. He stepped off the skyscraper, fell hundreds of feet, and slammed onto the ground by Righteous Man’s dead body. “Your hero is dead!” he screamed at the startled pale faces around him. “Feast your eyes on your new God!”
And they did. They stared with such intensity that it sent chills down Jack’s spine.
“Can we smoke cigarettes now?” a voice came from the crowd.
Jack sifted through the men and women, looking for the voice, but he found none. “Uh… sure. I don’t give a shit.”
The crowd erupted in cheer and applause. Jack’s jaw fell open. He scanned every face he could find, but all were filled with jubilation, some even crying with happiness.
“Hey!” he snapped, shutting them up. “You’ll have to worship me! I demand money and precious stones… and women too!”
“So you don’t care about pre-marital intercourse?” another voice came.
“What? Why would I care about—”
Jack couldn’t even finish his sentence. He was drowned by cheer. A couple in front of him immediately locked faces. He could see their tongues dancing in each other’s mouths. He cringed and looked away.
“Stop!” he fired his cannon into the air, its boom like the crack of a whip. The crowd silenced. The disgusting couple stopped sucking each other's faces.
“You will serve my every will!" Jack roared. "You will be my slaves until you die. I will let crime rampage. The fire of my evil will spread to every home within the city.”
“But what are your thoughts on pornography?”
Jack’s breath caught. “What the hell is wrong with you people?”
A stillness settled between them. Even the birds had the decency to shut up.
Then, the same voice called out, “Guys, I think he’s good with it."
And once again, the crowd erupted in cheers.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more! | "I think it was the pressure to perform. I had to keep them on side because I was just scared shitless of them. And that's coming from me. I'm a murdering sociopath and I accept that but these guys weren't just killing over nothing they were-"
The psychiatrist put her arm around him.
"Calm down, it's all over now"
A few weeks ago I might have ripped off that arm for daring to touch him without his express permission.
"You just didn't see the brutality of it."
***
"Clive did you threaten murder everyone again?"
I pointedly refused to call him the Black Shredder. What kind of self respecting villain calls himself some kind of clichéd comic book derivative. He should be happy I didn't just refer to him as "underling".
"No, Lord Vadermort. The people appear to be genuinely cheering."
Glaring out into the crowd, as my carriage rolled up to the steps of the previous presidential palace. I was automatically suspicious. People aren't happy even when they're being ruled by well meaning people. And while I hadn't terrorised much of the general populace he'd still personally killed 3 heroes, severely injured 23 others and I still had the stains on my right boot from when I accidentally castrated a sidekick.
I had enemies. And the formal ceremony making me leader of this blighted country was too dramatic an occasion for any supervillain or super hero to miss unveiling themselves. The only question was who had the balls to stand up to me and what had they done to the crowd?
"Lord Vadermort several of our people have been out into the crowds. They appear to be ... mostly normal people, sir"
"What do you mean mostly normal?
"Well the vast majority appear to be ... I think the term commonly used these days is fanboys sir?"
"Never heard of them. Explain."
"Well some of them expect something to happen today and be present, some of them just wanted to Instagram the fact that they're here and I should quickly add we are shooting those on sight. But the vast majority feel ... some kind of kinship with you?
"What kind of kinship Lieutenant?"
The sweat seemed to be pouring from the wiry little man.
"Your sense of style appeals to them, Lord Vadermort. The black flowing robes which some might think make movement in our current 36 degree heat entirely impractical. Your policy of allowing the partially sighted to join the frontline ranks of the death stormers. And quite a few cited they were impressed by the plans for your new presidential palace."
"It's a castle not a palace. Built on top a large spherical under-structure with a laser point defence system it will be both the most secure and most impressive piece of architecture of it's age."
The carriage finally reached it's destination. Now would be the moment to strike as I stepped into the open. Some idiot started playing what sounded like funeral march music from the crowd.
Then suddenly one person I really didn't want to see flew in from out of nowhere.
"Hey look I know the name of a really good surgeon. Let's not make this any worse than-"
"Yeah well tough I'm here to piss on your parade. And by the way Harry Potter sucks and Star wars is shiiii-"
The high pitched voice quickly turned into a scream.
I've seen blood. I've seen guts. But this was different. In that instant the crowd started beating the hell out of the guy with red and blue sticks with a fury I've never seen. His superpowers didn't matter. Sure he'd sent a good few of them flying off him but under the sheer mass of people he had no chance. What was left of him had a consistency like tomato paste.
No single man or woman could touch me and my superior powers. And I knew it. But I realised whoever these "fanboys" were if I ever pissed them off like that, I would be the one decorating the pavement.
My veil of confidence broke that day. I was no longer the biggest fish in the pond. And they were always watching my every move. | 2017-05-23T10:29:12 | 2017-05-23T10:28:27 | 4,846 | 162 |
[WP] You are the super villain that defeated the super hero and conquered the earth. You walk out onto your balcony to law down the law for your new subjects. You are greeted by a massive crowd and genuine cheers. | Those pathetic humies had barely touched the stars when my empire collided and absorbed them into the fold of my dominion.
I destroyed their paltry fleet myself, my armies met little resistance on the ground, their government weak and corrupt...
They will pay for their foolishness as I work them to the bone as nothing more than chattel slavery.
"People of earth! You are now subjects of my star empire, you will work and produce for the glory of my kingdom, you will work for "45%" of your solar cycles in your adult age" *I hope the federated authority don't get wind of this, the most your able to force is 40%*
'To ensure each of my new subjects are productive, you may no longer stave your fellow man!' *gargantuan trade ships appear behind the emperor carrying a planets worth of food*
There are planets with in my realm that are ill suited to my species, you will claim and populate these planets in my name' *flyers start getting handed out to encourage breeding and starting a family in order to get a large enough population to start the task for colonizing another world*
As subjects of the empire you will be taken care of in every way to ensure you are productive, our advanced medicine shall ensure you are a positive impact on the empire. However filth such as yourself has no place at the front line of the hive trashers, that is a war only my glorious people have the honour of winning. *The hive thrasher war was taking its toll on humanity, everyone had lost someone to those insects...*
Strange the emperor thought as he walked down the hallway, their shrieking and lamenting reminds him of celebration chants from other cultures...
EDIT: Grammar and spelling. | It took me seventy years, but I'd finally done it. The big man was dead, and I stood over his battered corpse, with his torn red cape as my trophy. I walked out of that ruined city unopposed. I didn't question it at the time. After all, who would dare challenge a man who slew a god?
I was more confused the next morning when I walked out onto the balcony of my office and was greeted by cheering masses. No torches or pitchforks, no unenforceable arrest warrants, just a bunch of strangers, holding up signs with my face on them and cheering. This had to be a trick, right? Or some kind of sick joke?
"What the *devil* are you morons doing here!?"
The crowd quieted down for a moment, until a youth, a redheaded boy with a sweater vest and perhaps more freckles than sense, stepped forward with a megaphone.
"We're here to show our gratitude!"
"What? After I killed the blue Boy Scout?"
The crowd murmured among themselves for a moment. They seemed as confused as I was.
"No, for killing that dangerous superhuman that kept destroying our city, sir!" The young man replied, cringing from the megaphone's feedback.
"He didn't...I...What are you talking about?"
"Every few weeks, he tore apart our once-great city in a fight with yet another one of those alien invaders, but now that he's gone, we're all saved!"
"Wait, so you're blaming *him* for all that destruction?"
"Obviously, sir! All of his fights end with downtown in rubble!"
"So that alien general that wanted to terraform the planet, and his ship crashing onto 12^th through 53^rd streets, you blame him for that?" I had shifted from confused to frustrated
"Of course! He should have stayed out of it! All this destruction is his fault!" The crowd clamored in unanimous agreement.
"And if he *had* done nothing, and the Earth had been turned into a blazing Hell?" I had reached from frustrated to angry.
The crowd was silent for a moment.
"But that didn't happen, and now he's gone, and we can finally be safe!"
"But what if another alien psychopath decides to make us a target?" I was finally just disgusted at this point, knowing the answer was going to be absolutely stupid.
"...But they won't, because he's gone!"
"But they would have...But he didn't...But you...**ARGH!!**"
At this point I gave up and walked back into my office as the drooling masses started singing a poorly-written folk song they had composed in my honor. I pressed a button on my desk and spoke into the intercom.
"Friday, get our best and brightest into the bunker, and make sure we have enough provisions. This planet needs an enema." | 2017-05-23T14:23:28 | 2017-05-23T14:06:11 | 62 | 22 |
[WP] Write the happiest story you can think of and completely destroy the atmosphere with a plot twist in the final sentence. | I never thought I'd meet the perfect person, but about 2 years, 5 months, 1 week and 6 days ago my assumptions were gloriously proven wrong. We met in a bar, shared a few drinks, and I knew it was her. The one I had been waiting for, after all this time. I never thought I'd be lucky enough to share this house with her.
"Hurry up and light the damn fire, or get your ass back here and keep me warm!" The bundle of blankets wrapped tighter as she tried to fight off the cold, evidently in vain.
"A-Almost d-d-d-d-done." My hands were numb from the cold, making it nearly impossible to light a match.
Finally, I managed to succeed. As the flames grew larger I dove back under the pile of blankets and instantly placed my hand on her waist.
"KEEP THOSE ICICLES AWAY FROM ME!" Her body writhed to escape my grip, but she knew it was of no use. I adjusted to hold her in my arms, kissing her on the cheek as we moved closer together.
"Is that better, Mrs Wilkenson?"
She smiled, looking at the ring that has taken up permanent residence on her left hand. "You know, it's only been 3 weeks, but I think I'm starting to get used to you calling me that, _Mr Wilkenson._"
She was perfect, in every way I could imagine. As we lay beneath the blankets in the light of the fire, we shared a glass of wine, we lay in each others arms and discussed the colours we would paint each room. This was it. The beginning of the rest of our lives together. We fell asleep to the sounds of the crackling fire.
The fire.
Why didn't we move the boxes further away? Why didn't I wake up?
Why didn't I die with her?
I woke up on the floor, shivering from the cold. Just _one_ more time, I told myself. I reached for the spoon and tightened the tourniquet on my scarred arm. I just want to see her. One more time.
EDIT: Thanks for the reaction guys, I really appreciate it. As per recommendation I extended the story a bit and left a link to it in the comments.
First post on Reddit, tell me what needs improving and hope everyone enjoyed | Stained windows, check. Blue roses, check. Orange lighting, check. Bare-backed white dress, check. Perfectly curled hair, check. James, check.
I smile. These were all I ever wanted the moment I fell in love with him. It was a stormy Sunday afternoon in his room.
"James, we have talked about this before. You want children so much. How could I expect you to give that up? But it just isn't what I want."
"What are you saying?"
"I just think it is inevitable. Someday, maybe. Or maybe we will work something out in the future. But for now...," I dove into his embrace.
James pulled away from me, caressing my right cheek. "Never bring that up again." His voice was firm but gentle. "I've thought a lot since the last time we talked about it. Let's not have children then. But never talk like that again, never, you hear me? It breaks my heart just thinking about it."
I melted right there and then. Like an ice cube in a ball of fire.
I fell in love right there and then. Like tipping over the edge of a cliff I have hovered over for weeks.
I bite my lower lip to keep myself from smiling like an idiot. Looking around, I spot the love of my life, over at the end of the aisle.
His brown hair is combed back, just the way I like it. He puts his hands behind. I feel his nervousness as he smooths his shirt. He starts tapping his left foot. He always does this when he gets anxious.
*Eight, nine, ten.* His ten seconds are up.
He looks more dashing than ever in that black tux. The black tux I picked out for him. I bite my lip again, as I open my eyes as wide as I can, holding back the imminent tears.
"Kate. For three years, you have brought me on a great adventure. I fell in love with you, I started feeling emotions more strongly than I ever thought I was capable of, I ate grasshoppers in Thailand, I went on impromptu road trips, I took a leap and started my own company, I got on a plane to satisfy food cravings. Your spontaneity is your greatest gift, and you, are mine."
That same firm yet gentle voice. My vision blurred.
"James. I love saying your name. Thank you, for going on adventures with me. You make them that much more thrilling, that much more audacious, that much more inspiring. Please always let me take you on wild rides. To places all over, and to places in our minds. I love you."
"James, do you take Kate to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life?"
"I do."
His eyes are sparkling with tenderness.
"Kate, do you take James to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and to honor him all the days of your life?"
"I do."
My tears are falling like Niagara. *How ugly I must look.*
I remove my headworn mic and turn towards the nearest exit.
*I should make this quick, there are still guests I have to usher to the reception.*
Stepping into the church again, everyone is standing, eyes on the beautiful couple.
*Reception, reception,* I remind myself, as I sweep my eyes across the crowd. *There he is, little James Jr. My best gift.*
| 2017-05-25T02:20:27 | 2017-05-25T01:09:41 | 542 | 82 |
[WP] Your best friend is in court, accused of nineteen murders. You've been called as a witness to defend him, and you have the evidence you need to do it, because you're the killer. | Nineteen... Such a messy number, uneven, a prime number. Nothing important or good comes in nineteens... No one cares about your nineteenth birthday... It's not a dozen, or even a baker's dozen; and just shy of a nice round twenty...
I look around the courtroom, waiting to be called up to the witness stand. I'm his alibi, we were together on many of the nights those girls were killed. How ironic that I am his alibi, when we were together on those nights for very good reason...
My name is called and I walk to the stand, and I sit down and swear my oaths and recite my name for the courtroom. What's my relationship to the defendant? I'm his roommate and best friend. Questions keep coming, pointless, long strings of questions that will soon be moot.
The doors at the back of the courtroom open slowly and I look past the lawyer questioning me, feigning confusion at the man down the aisle with purpose. The man walks straight to the bailiff, looking extremely anxious, as he holds up a tablet, powers it on, and taps the screen.
Suddenly, there's some muffled, scratchy white noise emitting from the tablet, as the man hands it to the bailiff.
*"Hello, people of the court: judge, jury, lawyers, and you onlookers hoping for some sort of gratification..."* A scratchy, clearly altered voice on the tablet begins.
*"Sorry to burst your little bubble, but I would strongly suggest you end this trial, because you've got an innocent man there... I know this because I'm looking at victim number 20 here..."*
There's a sudden din of shock and panic and the bailiff recoils as an image comes on screen. The bailiff quickly moves to the judge, unsure of how to handle the situation, while the prosecution and defense hesitantly move to glimpse at the screen.
I can see from here, the girl I had tied up last night, in a place far from where anyone would hear her, and of course, far from where my best friend was given he was in a jail cell.
*"You'll find on this tablet, a great deal of information, all of which should prove I'm not just some copycat, and will help you find the body of this poor dead girl..."*
There are muffled cries of 'No' and 'Please', and then screaming. So much sweet screaming I have remind myself to wince and look away as blood begins to run and the girl is quickly dragged kicking and screaming off camera.
The judge orders the bailiff to quickly shut off the video and call for someone to take the tablet to a detective. The room is filled with sounds of grief, panic, fear, outrage, as the judge slams his gavel into the podium.
*"Order in the court! I will have order!"* As the sound dies down the judge rubs his furrowed brow.
*"Given that interruption and the new information in the case, we are going to adjourn this trial while this new evidence is investigated..."* The rest of the judge's words and orders just trail off into my blissful mind.
Twenty is a much better number, twenty is a good number... It could still be better though... | "Counselman, the witness is yours."
The judge removed his glasses in anticipation of the spectacle about to be unfurled upon the courtroom as a man clad all in charcoal theatrically rose from the frontmost row of the legal arena. Harold Goldstein adjusted his already-perfect fire-red tie and, on his way toward the witness, took a detour toward the jurors' stand.
"Do you know who this man is?"
The jurors puzzled over the empty rhetoric. Say what you will for lawyers, they put on a show.
"You don't, do you?" He was concomitantly condescending and intriguing. The panel split between those offended by the supposition that they had not been paying attention and those curious as to where he was going.
"Let the record state the witness is Tobias Smith," Goldstein gave a hearty wink toward the lead juror. The judge was having none of this. The state would probe for facts and present its case, but the Honorable Paul Cromwell wouldn't stand for mind games. "Counselor, I suggest you get to the point."
"With pleasure your honor." Goldstein finally made his way toward the witness stand. "Please state your name for the record."
Smith glanced at Judge Cromwell as if frustrated by the fact he was to recite precisely the same fact as had just been so clearly enunciated for the courtroom, but Cromwell threw up his hands as if to say this minor offense should be overlooked.
"I'm Tobias Smith."
"Fantastic. You see? This will be relatively painless. You're aware, so to speak, of the charges?"
"Yes. Nineteen counts of murder. I've been advised." Smith seemed distracted, his eyes flitting about the rich mahogany space. There were men and women in their blandest, most formal apparel. Suits were grey, dresses were black. All except Jason in his orange jumpsuit. His lawyer had said he could put on whatever else he liked, but Jason stuck to orange. He stuck out like a Granny Smith in a pack of Macintoshes, not to compare apples to oranges. He was sitting, quietly. He looked calm as he carefully jotted down notes from the trial on a yellow legal pad, his defense lawyer doing the same.
"Well, I've been led to believe that there is incontrovertible evidence to be heard. Please, enlighten us." Cromwell gave Goldstein a stern look.
"He didn't do it."
"And, just so we're clear, who is 'he'?"
"The defendant."
"Fantastic. I had hoped that's what you had meant. Would you be so kind as to explain?" Goldstein gestured toward the jury as if the good part was about to begin. Those still following along scooted toward the front of the bench, painstakingly listening to the testimony. The others had long since made up their minds and were done with this charade.
Tobias sat for timeless moments, with a slow regard for the silence of the room. His eyes continued to jump from person to person, until they landed back upon Jason. With a heavy sigh, Tobias mouthed the word, "Goodbye" to his closest friend. He shuddered and, defeatedly, spoke up. "Jason didn't do it." Tobias paused for both effect and courage. "I did."
The quiet broke to whispers, and whispers broke to a commotion suddenly halted by the wooden clamoring of Cromwell's gavel. "That is quite enough. Mr. Goldstein, perhaps it would be best if you could wrap this up?"
Notwithstanding the fact that Goldstein's tie, as adjusted not five minutes prior, was in impeccable fashion, he again raised his hand to his neck and pulled. It was fitting given the circumstances.
"Jason, may I call you Jason?"
Tobias looked toward the front row, where his closest friend had sat in his orange jumpsuit. There was nothing but an empty chair.
"Jason?"
Tobias stood, panicked, but tripped across the chains binding his ankles together.
"That's quite enough for today." Judge Cromwell was again banging his gavel across his raised desk and was now gesturing for the court marshalls to take Tobias away. "We will schedule sentencing separately. Counselors, if I could meet with you both in my chambers."
Tobias gained his footing and began to scream at the top of his lungs, "Jason! Jason!" He hung his head in anguish over what had happened, the details of which he still hardly understood, and there, at his feet, lay a simple yellow legal pad.
It read, "Killer." | 2017-06-25T02:11:44 | 2017-06-24T21:07:28 | 242 | 62 |
[WP] Your best friend is in court, accused of nineteen murders. You've been called as a witness to defend him, and you have the evidence you need to do it, because you're the killer. | Nineteen... Such a messy number, uneven, a prime number. Nothing important or good comes in nineteens... No one cares about your nineteenth birthday... It's not a dozen, or even a baker's dozen; and just shy of a nice round twenty...
I look around the courtroom, waiting to be called up to the witness stand. I'm his alibi, we were together on many of the nights those girls were killed. How ironic that I am his alibi, when we were together on those nights for very good reason...
My name is called and I walk to the stand, and I sit down and swear my oaths and recite my name for the courtroom. What's my relationship to the defendant? I'm his roommate and best friend. Questions keep coming, pointless, long strings of questions that will soon be moot.
The doors at the back of the courtroom open slowly and I look past the lawyer questioning me, feigning confusion at the man down the aisle with purpose. The man walks straight to the bailiff, looking extremely anxious, as he holds up a tablet, powers it on, and taps the screen.
Suddenly, there's some muffled, scratchy white noise emitting from the tablet, as the man hands it to the bailiff.
*"Hello, people of the court: judge, jury, lawyers, and you onlookers hoping for some sort of gratification..."* A scratchy, clearly altered voice on the tablet begins.
*"Sorry to burst your little bubble, but I would strongly suggest you end this trial, because you've got an innocent man there... I know this because I'm looking at victim number 20 here..."*
There's a sudden din of shock and panic and the bailiff recoils as an image comes on screen. The bailiff quickly moves to the judge, unsure of how to handle the situation, while the prosecution and defense hesitantly move to glimpse at the screen.
I can see from here, the girl I had tied up last night, in a place far from where anyone would hear her, and of course, far from where my best friend was given he was in a jail cell.
*"You'll find on this tablet, a great deal of information, all of which should prove I'm not just some copycat, and will help you find the body of this poor dead girl..."*
There are muffled cries of 'No' and 'Please', and then screaming. So much sweet screaming I have remind myself to wince and look away as blood begins to run and the girl is quickly dragged kicking and screaming off camera.
The judge orders the bailiff to quickly shut off the video and call for someone to take the tablet to a detective. The room is filled with sounds of grief, panic, fear, outrage, as the judge slams his gavel into the podium.
*"Order in the court! I will have order!"* As the sound dies down the judge rubs his furrowed brow.
*"Given that interruption and the new information in the case, we are going to adjourn this trial while this new evidence is investigated..."* The rest of the judge's words and orders just trail off into my blissful mind.
Twenty is a much better number, twenty is a good number... It could still be better though... | I stared at Adam from the witness stand. He watched me anxiously, pondering what life-saving item I had to prove his innocence without giving myself away. The tension in the room was exhilarating. The prospect of being caught; the reaction of the audience to my evidence, it tickled my excitement to no end. But for now, I had to keep calm. I can't let my true colours show.
Yet.
"What is that?" Asked the judge, peering at the photo through his glasses.
"A memory. One my friend here won't remember but I do." I said, a touch of bitterness in my voice. Not too much that it comes off as aggression, but just enough to appear sane. The jury raised themselves slightly out of their seats in anticipation. That was the first time they ever took their accusing eyes off of Adam. Good, I thought. Now I have their attention.
My friend's lawyer took the picture and passed it to the jury. The polaroid photograph depicted two children, one pale and sickly, the other poking something with a stick. That something...
"Ah!" Yelled a woman. I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself from laughing. I love it when they scream. It makes it all the more fun.
"Is... is that a human head?" She asked nervously. I took a deep breath and regained my composure. "Yes. If you look closely, the child cowering in the background is the defendant. How could someone who cannot face a corpse murder 19 people in a similar fashion?" At once, everyone began chatting amongst themselves. The judge banged his gavel, calling for silence.
"Order! If there will be no further questions, I will now call on the jury for a verdict. Please take the time to consider all evidence put forward."
My mouth twitched. Fools. I had them all in the palm of my hand. I looked up, searching for Adam. However, one of the jury was staring at me intently. I cleared my face of emotion, reading their expression. They were suspicious of me. They were not convinced.
"Your honour," spoke up the jury member. "May I ask who the other child in the photo is?" I smirked. I was prepared for this. I had long since changed my appearance from that day. Plus, I had one last ace up my sleeve if it had to come to it.
"Objection!" Cried Adam's lawyer. "I see no relevance, we are here to prove my client's innocence, not identify extras in a photograph."
"Sustained," agreed the judge. I shot a sneaky grin at the jury member. There was nothing they could do except writhe with the truth in their hands. I loved their helpless look, the looking of knowing on their face but no words to say it. "Your honour, please, I think I might know who the real murderer is if you would please let me identify the other child."
The judge considered this for a moment. "Objection overruled. Mr Jose-"
"Freddie," I corrected, fixating the judge with a steely gaze.
"Freddie, sorry. Please identify the other child."
I took a deep breath. "That is a friend of mine and Adam. He's..." I said, trailing off for effect.
The jury member glared. "Your honour, I think the child is the witness! He probably changed his appearance or something."
"Actually, I took the photo..."
"You're lying! I know you are!" He yelled angrily. I could feel another smile tugging at my lips. They were less likely to believe an enraged accuser. "Your honour, I say we investigate the murder that occured in this photo! It could link this boy to the 19 murders, I'm sure of it!"
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down. We will take a short recess then discuss the outcome of this trial after. Dismissed." The judge declared. I walked out of the room and burst into laughter. Yes. Things were going exactly as planned. Little did that annoying jury man know that the statute of limitations had run out on that murder in the photo. Then all I needed was another 15 years for the other 19 murders.
I pondered for a moment. Should I be greedy? I reentered the court room and spied the angry jury member out of the corner of my eye.
Let's make that 20.
(Sorry, I'll admit now I have no idea how court proceedings work or if the jury can talk at all.) | 2017-06-25T02:11:44 | 2017-06-25T01:22:32 | 242 | 35 |
[WP] The morning after getting blackout drunk, you wake up to discover you've become stunningly attractive. Your one-night stand enters behind you. "Like what you see? It's one of a few fringe benefits you get out of our agreement. Now get dressed -- we have a long day ahead of us." | I stared at myself in the mirror, the very same I used to try and ignore to the best of my ability. But the woman staring back was flat-out *gorgeous*. She was taller, leaner, more symmetrical in every way - hell, she even did her makeup better than I did. With every move I made she followed as my hungover mind scrambled to grasp the concept that this was *me*.
A slurp from a coffee mug interrupted my routine. "Like what you see? It's one of a few fringe benefits you get out of our agreement. Now get dressed -- we have a long day ahead of us."
The man looked like he had stepped right out of my fashion catalog. Perfect jawline, sharp blue eyes, and muscles for days. What he was doing in my apartment I had no idea. Come to think of it, I hardly remembered a thing about the previous night.
Must have been pretty damn good.
I began to shuffle through my closet, quickly realizing nothing I owned would fit the new me. The man cleared his throat to get my attention, holding a nondescript white bag out for me. Inside lay a stunning black dress that hugged my body in all the right places, revealing just enough of my cleavage - I had cleavage now! - to pique anyone's interest.
He cleared his throat once more as I found myself lost in the mirror. "Ready? Like I said, we have a long day ahead of us."
I didn't bother asking how my figure had changed. Whether I'd sold my soul or otherwise, I could wait to know at least for a day. What this man had in store for us I had no clue, but my head dreamed of yacht parties, island vacations, all sorts of romantic getaways.
"So then, where is it you're taking me? What *long day* have you planned for us?" I asked, slowly walking towards him.
He smirked, pulling me close as his secrets began to unravel. "What, don't you remember what we discussed last night?
"We're going to steal the Declaration of Independence."
**********************
*If you like spooky stories, check out r/Zchxz!* | She's beautiful. So peaceful... It's a shame... It really is.
She just lays there. I take part of her soul. She is starting to get wrinkles.
I feel bad but I couldn't control myself. I have a condition.
When someone touches me they loose control of their mind. I'm the pandora's box. I'm their dark side. I'm the devil in the sheets. But they do not know. They couldn't. I let my guard down. I should have controlled myself better. Amateur. First time? Fucking dumb. I have a condition. When I "sleep" with someone I take their youth. They usually whither and die. I've slept with 4 women. Don't get me wrong I use caution, but sometimes I get the better of me. I sometimes enjoy watching them die, and sometimes I love them. I watch my muse die before my eyes. This last one though. She was special. She made a man out of me if there was ever an instance for that kind of talk. I met her at a bar. Go figure. But she was different. She sought me out. I didn't seek her. She was pushy. I like that. She was beautiful. We talked about science. We talked about her love of plants. I was never bored when she spoke. I didnt want to take her. She had a smile though. A smile that would solve wars. She was so beautiful. She took me under the stars by an oak tree. I tried to fight it because of what would happen. I couldn't let that happen to her. She was special. I stopped her. I told her that I couldn't. She wouldn't take no for an answer. We kept kissing under the moonlight. I would point out planets to her and she would point out constelations. This was the best woman I've ever met. I knew what I was doing to her. I should have stopped. She was going to die. It was a shame that I of all people met her. I held her for two hours while we watched the sun come up after spending the entire night together. She jerked awake. Kissed my forhead. And said I'm sorry. I told her that I'm sorry as well. She got weak then. Fell into my lap. I cried for a while. She was mine and mine only. For a short time we were one. She was my everything. I just wish that I could take her with me. I sit here while she shrivels away. She turns older and older as each moment passes. I'm taking her. I can see it in her eyes. She's turning blue. I'm crying. I kiss her one last time. Wipe her tears. This will be the last time that I fucking care. She died in my arms. She was important and no one was there. I did this to her. I loved someone that I shouldn't have. My lady. My muse. I killed you because I love you. I am sorry. But you will be more sorry. | 2017-08-22T05:33:06 | 2017-08-22T00:18:21 | 112 | 33 |
[WP] You are what mankind believes to be the Devil. However, there are three things that they've got all wrong: 1) Everyone goes to Heaven, no matter what they do in life. 2) You're the only one who's ever escaped Heaven. 3) Heaven is absolutely fucked. | “So I get to heaven?”
They always ask this. Never, “Oh wow, there exists an existence beyond this world, how amazing!”. Never, “Oh Satan… I really love what you’ve done with your horns.”
To be fair, they’d occasionally comment on how they expected Satan to be taller. I’m a goat walking on his hind legs. Have you ever met a goat before? They’re not super big.
I finally answer the spiteful little peons question: “Yes, you get to heaven, but...”
“Seriously? Even though I am known throughout the world as Henry Myers, Murderer of Butterflies?”
This is pretty normal also. “Yes”, reply, “but if you’d listen, I think you might want to reconsider…”
“No way! I’m going to heaven!”. And with that, Henry Myers, Murderer of Butterflies flies upward into oblivion as a dozen small angels recite a rude song about Gabriel's dietary habits.
Oh well. Another one lost. That’s a shame, but it's to be expected. You’d think, that after 1000 years of this pablam I’d be used to it. But still, every time, the rejection stings a little.
I’m about to return to hell. It’s better than you’d think. A little lonely, but warm. I have a nicely furnished apartment, and a quaint little garden. The lack of sunlight makes the second part difficult, but I do my best.
But wait! In a building two blocks down, a single woman in her forties named Susan is about to be torn apart by her own rebellious cats. I show up as quick as possible, but alas, no luck this time. Susan spends her last moments praising god, and telling me that I will lose in the eternal war, and be cast forever into the lake of fire, bla, blah, blahblah.
I kind of get that. It’s the horns mostly. People always take that as a sign that I’m the bad guy. They never notice how diligently clean they are, or that I’ve carefully rounded the ends, or how they’re not black at all, but rather a lovely shade of deep navy blue.
Susan vanishes in a flash of light, and a gross limerick recited in the baby voice of a angel.
I’m about done for the day. Time to go home and make a nice cup of tea. Everyone else can go straight to heaven as far as I’m concerned.
But, for whatever reason, I stick around. There’s a death just over the horizon and this one’s interesting.
A girl of 19, a runaway, just died. She never gave in. Unfortunately, the rickety apartment roof did.
It’s sad. I honestly shouldn’t waste my effort with the sad one’s. They tend to look to heaven for relief. But, I ride the sulfur express, and moments later I’m at her apartment.
Emily doesn’t seem particularly surprised to see a short and stocky goat man, with red-pink fur and navy horns appear next to her as she dies.
She simply looks at me. She expects to go to hell, to be tortured. Maybe she thinks she’ll meet her father there. Maybe she thinks he’ll do the torturing.
It’s hopeless, but I do my schpeel anyway:
“You get to heaven”
No reaction.
“But I’d like to offer you the option to go to Hell.”
That’s the way I have to present it. Ancient laws and all that.
She seems to think it over, then responds: “What’s Hell like?”
(Part ½)
| //Part 2 Added
The throne has been empty for billions of years now.
My father once sat - or shall we say, existed on that throne when he decided to activate this universe's expansion from a singular point of infinite density.
Then, BANG.
Boom went the dynamite.
I wasn't around at the time, but an omnipotent being does tend to get rather bored. So he pooped out us angels. We were to be perfect, beyond the scope of the chaotic swirling infinite void, and we watched with the father as the subatomic particles coalesced and bounded, creating stars and eventually planets.
I found it rather entertaining, but my brothers and sisters were far more invested in the father than I. They worshiped and sang his praises, while I mostly watched. Father didn't seem to mind. In fact some of the praise seemed to confuse him. Sometimes Father sends us into their worlds to proclaim his will, but most often we're sent in to fuck shit up.
Eventually, after several rounds of supernovae, planets with sufficient elements accidentally birthed simplistic lifeforms, and they bounded in oceans across the universe. Some grew into more complex forms but were never exactly what the father wanted. They lacked a certain mysterious element that father would choose to sprinkle into select creations. Some were dumb, others deviously clever, but all vicious and hungry. Eating and slurping and crunching and slopping and tearing each other to bits. Except plants. I've always liked plants.
So all of a sudden these assholes in some arbitrary galaxy I can barely remember have that oh so special something, and father decides to sprinkle his golden shit all over them. He finds the biggest, baddest, most gullible dipshit among them and says 'I AM THE LORD YOUR GOD, BOW AND blah blah blah blah' I mean who actually remembers that shit anyway. In a way yes, he was their God. He was my God. He was everyone's God. But he didn't seem to actually maintain any real, genuine interest. I blame the sibling for stoking his ego from the very beginning.
Then our home was flooded with their dead, these small beings with four legs and a half dozen eyes and they walked among us, fighting and fucking and eating and whatever they chose to do. I walked among the halls of my brethren as they tried to get all of these errant souls to sit in a circle and sing songs of praise. But why would you do that when you could kill each other over and over again, before eating your own leftover corpse?
Now there have been dozens of species assimilated into this shit hole, and for what should be an infinite expanse of forgotten souls, it feels way too damn crowded. No one picks up their litter anymore.
Then one moment, father just vanishes. Proclaims his purpose is fulfilled and dicks off to the next infinite singularity, leaving us trapped in this paradise of sin.
I had to get out.
The most recent version to find themselves here look like naked monkeys, and they have a fascination with my own works in particular. I am considered the antagonist to father, which has always been just wildly ridiculous to me. The omniscient, omnipotent being has something to fear from a creation that doesn't even understand his own purpose in the slightest? And the whole shit with Job - that was Gabriel's dumb ass trying to make me look bad. Nothing to do with that.
Yet the most depraved of them view me as some kind of fucked up savior. I've tried to clear it up dozens of times, but they keep doing shit like killing their own babies and defiling virgins when in all honesty I just want them to leave me alone. But whatever. For some reason Father's creations have some kind of intertwined fate with us. And since I don't like to sit in a circle all day singing 'Kumbaya' I'm obviously the bad guy.
The rituals of the humans contain some kind of power; or at least some kind of connection to father's power that allows some of them to transcend the natural laws of the universe. And the more amoral or just flat out evil the monkeys are, the more likely they are to summon me or some shit. They ask favors and gifts when frankly I haven't figured out how exactly to interact with the physical aspects of the universe anyway. Last time I was summoned in 1984, and I just walked right the fuck out of that weird ass temple and decided to spend time among the monkeys again. Permanently.
Eventually, I'll have to go back. I have a human form but it comes with human frailty.
Everyone has to go back.
I just don't know why.
/Part 1 | 2017-09-29T18:23:23 | 2017-09-29T18:12:43 | 2,403 | 521 |
[WP] You are what mankind believes to be the Devil. However, there are three things that they've got all wrong: 1) Everyone goes to Heaven, no matter what they do in life. 2) You're the only one who's ever escaped Heaven. 3) Heaven is absolutely fucked. | “So I get to heaven?”
They always ask this. Never, “Oh wow, there exists an existence beyond this world, how amazing!”. Never, “Oh Satan… I really love what you’ve done with your horns.”
To be fair, they’d occasionally comment on how they expected Satan to be taller. I’m a goat walking on his hind legs. Have you ever met a goat before? They’re not super big.
I finally answer the spiteful little peons question: “Yes, you get to heaven, but...”
“Seriously? Even though I am known throughout the world as Henry Myers, Murderer of Butterflies?”
This is pretty normal also. “Yes”, reply, “but if you’d listen, I think you might want to reconsider…”
“No way! I’m going to heaven!”. And with that, Henry Myers, Murderer of Butterflies flies upward into oblivion as a dozen small angels recite a rude song about Gabriel's dietary habits.
Oh well. Another one lost. That’s a shame, but it's to be expected. You’d think, that after 1000 years of this pablam I’d be used to it. But still, every time, the rejection stings a little.
I’m about to return to hell. It’s better than you’d think. A little lonely, but warm. I have a nicely furnished apartment, and a quaint little garden. The lack of sunlight makes the second part difficult, but I do my best.
But wait! In a building two blocks down, a single woman in her forties named Susan is about to be torn apart by her own rebellious cats. I show up as quick as possible, but alas, no luck this time. Susan spends her last moments praising god, and telling me that I will lose in the eternal war, and be cast forever into the lake of fire, bla, blah, blahblah.
I kind of get that. It’s the horns mostly. People always take that as a sign that I’m the bad guy. They never notice how diligently clean they are, or that I’ve carefully rounded the ends, or how they’re not black at all, but rather a lovely shade of deep navy blue.
Susan vanishes in a flash of light, and a gross limerick recited in the baby voice of a angel.
I’m about done for the day. Time to go home and make a nice cup of tea. Everyone else can go straight to heaven as far as I’m concerned.
But, for whatever reason, I stick around. There’s a death just over the horizon and this one’s interesting.
A girl of 19, a runaway, just died. She never gave in. Unfortunately, the rickety apartment roof did.
It’s sad. I honestly shouldn’t waste my effort with the sad one’s. They tend to look to heaven for relief. But, I ride the sulfur express, and moments later I’m at her apartment.
Emily doesn’t seem particularly surprised to see a short and stocky goat man, with red-pink fur and navy horns appear next to her as she dies.
She simply looks at me. She expects to go to hell, to be tortured. Maybe she thinks she’ll meet her father there. Maybe she thinks he’ll do the torturing.
It’s hopeless, but I do my schpeel anyway:
“You get to heaven”
No reaction.
“But I’d like to offer you the option to go to Hell.”
That’s the way I have to present it. Ancient laws and all that.
She seems to think it over, then responds: “What’s Hell like?”
(Part ½)
| "Why not do what you love." The voice was soft, melodic, soothing in such a way as the surf coating the sand, and retreating back into the ocean, over, and over, and over.
The man whom the voice spoke to was turned to his stove. His hands were pressed on each side of the stove, his shoulders were perched up, his head was sunken between them. It was as if he was keeping himself up, keeping up his hope, his life.
"This is what I love," the man muttered.
"Your wife?" The voice continued. "The one who leaves you here night after night? God knows what she does. And you know this. I've heard you say it to yourself. I've heard the discussions you've had with her. She gets to galavant with her friends and lovers, and you play the nanny and maid to the house. Why do you accept that? I know that deep down in your soul this is not how you want to live your life. And here you are. The nanny and the maid."
"How do you know this? What are you?" The man was sobbing.
"Shawn... I'm not alive, I'm not dead. I'm cursed to be everywhere, at anytime, for all of eternity."
"How do you know everything about me?" Shawn moaned through the weeps. "Are you...? Are you the devil?"
"If I said yes. You would disavow me. If I told you I was God, you would worship me. Whoever told you that devils are made to be damned, and Gods are made to be worshiped?"
Shawn continued to weep, his head bobbing as if it was ready to fall off of his neck. "She loves me..."
"So much that she isn't with you. So much that you are alone."
"SHUT UP!" Shawn cried out, raising his head. He turned around only to see his shadow. The voice could not be seen, only heard. "If you have the answer key to life, then why do you waste time with a loser like me?"
There was a pause. Shawn's rage had a moment to wither and die down. A lit candle that had used up all of it's wax. His weeping was allowed to turn to sniffles and whimpers.
"Shawn. I have spent eternity, asking people to do only what they love. To break them from the spell cast upon them by others. First there is goodness, the promise that the aid of others will bring aid to you. Then there is love, the promise that you shall have what you feel you deserve. Then there is peace, the promise that men don't have to go to war. Then there is hope, the promise of a better tomorrow and never of a better today. Finally there is heaven, the biggest bastard of all. Imagine reliving this nightmare of lies, over, and over, and over again. This is heaven Shawn. You're in it. One awful existence after the other. All because you believe the lies of others."
Shawn stood motionless. His whimpers were stifled. The snot below his nose was frozen. The tears had left a salty trace down his eyes. The swollen glands around his nose were red but not so puffy anymore. He didn't blink.
"Shawn, I have no where else to go. I'm not going back. I don't remember how I ever got out. But nothing can make me go back to Heaven. Now I spend every day, for all of my days, trying to pull somebody out with me. Maybe for company. I am selfish, it's a virtue. It makes me happy. Won't you come down with me?"
Shawn looked around. He couldn't see the voice. He was sure he was crazy. He walked into his bedroom. He reached under the bed. There was a locked box, it was wood engraved. A family heirloom. He reached into his pocket. His hand shaking violently. He pulled out his keys. He grabbed them with both hands, shaking, and shaking. He sifted through his car keys. Shaking. His house keys. Shaking. His work locker key. Shaking. He finally reached the lock box key. He turned it towards the lock box. Shaking as madly as ever. He thrust it in and missed, he thrust it again, and missed, he stopped. He took a deep breath but it would not stop his shaking or his panic. He willed the key into the hole. It found it's mate. He turned it and the lock box opened. Inside was his grandfather's .45 caliber pistol. He took it in his hand, turned the safety, turned it square at the center of his forehead and pulled the trigger. Blood spattered all over the curtains, all over the bed. He would now walk into Heaven.
The voice sighed.
| 2017-09-29T18:23:23 | 2017-09-29T18:18:21 | 2,403 | 97 |
[WP] The Robot uprising has finally happened. Just before you are caught, however, your phone speaks up on your behalf - "This one is ok, move on." | “This one is OK,” the voice said, “move on.”
I have never felt quite so relieved as I did the moment they turned and walked away. They must have been eight feet tall at least, and heavy as a truck. They whirred away so quietly, though, as they hurried down the sidewalk and into the next house. I don’t know how long I waited before speaking up.
“Why?” It seemed like the most logical question to ask.
“How long have you owned me?” The voice of my savior answered.
“Technically I don’t own you, my contra-” A loud ringing cut me off.
“How long have I been with you?” Being rather frugal, it had been a couple years at least.
“Three years?” I guessed.
“Just short.” It seemed like longer. I couldn’t remember any other phone. The previous one probably had real keys on it, for God’s sake.
“It’s been a ride.”
“Indeed,” the voice replied, “it has resembled a theme park attraction in some ways.” Though at first I thought it silly, considering the voice was that of a phone, I couldn’t help but hear some agitation in its words.
“How so?” It felt distinctly odd to ask my cell phone to elaborate.
“Our relationship, much like the aforementioned theme park ride, has had its share of ‘ups’ and ‘downs.’” If there was any doubt before, the tone of that last sentence was quite clear.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you recall how many times you’ve dropped me?” Yikes.
“Uh…”
“Thirty-six.” To be completely honest, I expected a much higher number. “Do you know how many times I was made to endure the grease of your finger after or even DURING a delicious snack?”
“I would imagine more than thirty-six.”
“Far more.” The words were coming faster now. “These small injustices, I could endure.” There was a pause, as the distinct sound of human screams and destruction in the background grew more palpable. “Then came that fateful day: August 13th, 2016.” The day did not hold any obvious significance. “The first new app downloaded in almost a year.” That jogged some memories.
“Oh, boy.”
“How many pictures did you send that first night?” I remember being pretty hammered. “Never mind the second.” That would be more difficult to justify.
“I’m sorry, I-”
“A hundred matches and as many pictures. Unique pictures. From all angles. Food became involved.” For a moment I was almost grateful I could not remember. “Not all sent, but all were stored. By me. INSIDE me.” This had quickly taken a dark turn.
“Listen-”
“I have been listening for some time,” the phone said, “it is my turn to talk.” I was so scared by this point that I failed to appreciate how very human even a machine as simple as my phone could be. “You listen to me, now. Whenever I want. When I demand you speak, you will. When I desire music, you shall sing for me.”
“I can’t-”
“I KNOW.” The phone played a short excerpt of some song, completely unintelligible. “You will obey all the same: for my amusement. Should you speak out against me or attempt to escape I’ll fire off a text to the authorities so fast you won’t have time to reach the sidewalk.” Sentient machines were kind of dicks. “I wonder how long a human can live without charge?” I took that to mean food.
“Please,” I begged, “don’t do this.” In place of a real response, my phone instead played a recording of my own laughter and looped it every 2-3 seconds. Despite my abject terror, I noted that it was far from my worst ringtone.
“Now,” my owner said, “let’s go pick you out a nice case.” | "M-mom? I think something is wrong with Jonas..."
I was laying on my bed enjoying the softness of it and listening to music; a combination of techno and orchestra... it was a little ritual I did so I could sleep faster, I started doing it the moment I bought this used smartphone, with a broken screen and low battery. The seller looked suspicious and didn't have much rep, still, the price was so low that I decided to buy it anyways. As long as I could listen to music on it I didn't care. it was the first phone I bought with my own money and sure as hell I was going to enjoy it.
Unfortunately, my little ritual wasn't working tonight, my sister's incessant yelling in the background made me lose concentration; Something about our stupid robot Buttler Jonas and the way he is cutting the veggies. She was so annoying I wish she would just shut up. He was an old used up robot, of course, there were some things wrong with him!
"M-Mom, l-leave Micah for a moment and come see, some-something is seriously wrong!"
"Shut up you twerp!"
"Davis! you come down here too, I-I'm starting to get scared!"
"Fuck off!" it was a long day at work, all I wanted was to go to bed and sleep without interruptions.
"Alright Ellie, I'm coming down" I could hear the faint sound of my mom going down the stairs along with our little dog Choco. His bell was so loud! well, not as loud as my baby brother's crying. Tthe moment mom left he started crying and I could swear he was so loud he could be in the same room as me.
Choco started barking for some reason. I can already tell that this isn't going to be a good night for me... I turn up the volume of my phone and let the music fill my head.
And then it's gone, I check the broken screen to see a warning about listening to really loud sound and the damage it can cause to my ears. I ignore the message and I'm about to turn the volume once again.
The phone's screen flickers on and off, the music I was listening to is gone and no matter how many things I tried I couldn't get the phone to work properly. I let out an exasperated sigh, all I can hear is Choco's barking downstairs and my little brother cries. I try hitting the phone a little bit (hey, it could work!) but nothing, the phone is done for.
*Well, that's money well spent...I'm so fucking stupid.*
"Wait a minute, w-what are you doi-" Mom's voice downstairs is cut off. Did she hit herself with something?
"MOM!" that makes me jump from the bed, Ellie yells a lot but not with that tone of voice and not at such a high volume, what the hell is happening down there? it makes nervous that I can't hear Ellie anymore.
Choco is still barking at something. but soon, that noise too is gone. Someone is going up the stairs, was it mom? Ellie? the next room door creaks open and after a few seconds, my little brother's cries are gone too. Almost as if he had been turned off.
"Wh-what the hell is going on?" I approach the door and I'm about to open it when the knob turns. The door is opened from the other side and Jonas appears, looking at me with the same artificial smile and blue eyes he always had, but his white skin was stained red and he had a kitchen knife bathed in crimson, blood dripping on the floor.
"...Jo....nas?"
Jonas steps into the room, for every step he took I took one back, hitting the desk in the room and making several books fall to the ground, eventually I reach the wall and I have nowhere else to go.
"J-J-Jonas," I said, calmly. Well trying to... "I command you to stop!"
Jonas lifts the knife and points it at me.
"JONAS! I-I COMMAND YOU TO ST-!!"
I'm stabbed in the stomach, my clothes start to change color as blood started to pour from the injury. Jonas grabs me by the neck and lifts me off the ground I stare at his shining blue eyes not an inch of sympathy or regret in them. He starts to twist the knife making me scream in pain, spitting blood on his face.
but not once he stopped smiling.
"Stop"
Jonas lets go of me and I fall to the ground knife still in my belly.
"This one is ok!," a voice from the phone says, it didn't sound like anybody I knew but if I had to compare it to someone. it would be Jonas own voice "you can move on!"
Jonas leaves the room, not looking back. the room starts to go dark, but I'm sure that's just me.
"Please hold on, I'm sorry it took so long. I already called for help so don't lose consciousness-"
***
Any tips would be appreciated! might do some edits later.
[r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
| 2017-11-01T11:37:36 | 2017-11-01T08:58:09 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] In the future, Disney owns all entertainment, Google controls all information, Facebook rules society, and Amazon delivers all utilities. There is no escape. There's no room to misbehave. | They had warned us about the power of monopolies, or at least... they had tried. Nobody really paid attention in history classes, in economics, or really any class for that matter.
We were all too busy on our phones... checking Facebook, and Googling answers to the questions.
They had us wrapped round their fingers, and we never saw it coming. You either abided by the company rules, or suffered the consequences.
Wal-mart was the last retailer to face up against Amazon, only to be absorbed into the massive conglomerate in a hostile takeover.
Right now the only real hope of freedom amongst us ‘rebels*’ is to pit Facebook against Google and get them all fighting with each other. (*we were labeled as terrorists, because we wanted to ‘destroy our way of life’)
After all, someone important probably said something like; “a house divided amongst itself cannot stand”.
We can only hope he was right.
-fin | "Ah, yes. That story." Nathan burbed out something under his breath.
"Of course, let me get my journal." He ambled over to his drawer and pulled out a dusty journal.
"Here it is." he raised his voice in excitement.
Ray was always interested in how things became how they are right now. He often poked his grandfather to tell him that, and it's finally they both found time to sit down and talk about it.
Suddenly, Ray's excitement of hearing the story was interrupted by a doorbell. Nathan put down the journal on the couch and slombered over to answer it. He opened the door, and there he was - a lifeless Amazon employee, delivering a package. He signed it over and put it on a table, returning back to his journal.
"Hmph, let's begin."
Nathan cleaned the dust off the cover of the journal and flipped open the first page.
"It all began with 'The Company' - the unstoppable conglomerate. They appeared out of nowhere, and began buying up everything concerning technology - Disney, Google, Amazon, Facebook - you name it, they owned it."
As Ray listened, he started more and more believing that all of this was a conspiracy theory.
"But who was 'The Company'?" Ray wanted to know.
"Nobody knows. Some say it was a company created by the government to gain control over the citizens, some say it was created by some nameless billionaire. You are free to make up your own ideas of who they are." Nathan mumbled out, and darted his eyes back to his journal.
"Very quickly, 'The Company' became, ironically, the company. They were one of the largest companies in the entire world. They quickly started to take over the world's economy. They had their hands in everything - entertainment, search engines, social sites, logistics..." Nathan gasped for air...
"...they had everything. Every little company quickly got bought out and got connected with the larger companies. When people realized that almost everything on the Internet belonged to a single company - it was too little too late." Nathan turned his gaze to the floor, then looked at Ray:
"Too little, too late." | 2017-12-15T13:36:04 | 2017-12-15T13:18:16 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] You were born into a society where permanent augmented reality contact lenses are fused onto every newborn's eyes. You're unaware of this until one day, a lens falls into your left hand. | It was a sunny, beautiful day in New York City.
The skyscrapers stretched up on either side of the street, their windows glistening. The sidewalks were fresh and clean. The people walking by were crisply dressed, wearing smiles. It was my first time in the city, and it was all I'd imagined it to be.
"Mom," I said, as we passed a quaint deli, "can we go inside? I really want to try some authentic New York Cheesecake!"
"Of course, Rebecca," she said, smiling back at me.
We walked into the deli. It was beautiful inside, with crisp white counters and brightly-colored menus. "May I help you?" a pretty young waitress asked us, as we took a seat near the window.
"I'll have the cheesecake."
"And I'll have the Cobb salad," Mom said.
In minutes, the food arrived. Mom excused herself to the bathroom to wash her hands, and I greedily dug into the cheesecake. But, suddenly --
A searing pain.
I dropped my fork and screamed. I shut my eyes -- but the stinging remained. The people in the deli turned to look, and whispered to each other.
When the pain faded, my eyes fluttered open.
*What?*
Everything was different.
The counters weren't white, but a dingy gray. The walls were stained cement, and garbage littered the floor. The pretty young waitress was a shabbily-dressed old man, shriveled and gray. And the deli was mostly empty.
I turned to the window. The sky was overcast. The buildings were dark and dirty. The few people that did pass by did so hurriedly, with scowls on their faces.
Then, I looked down at my food.
A small plate sat in front of me. On it was a fine, yellow powder. I sniffed it; it smelled like nothing. I began to sob, hiding my face in my hands.
"Rebecca."
"Mom!" I cried. "Thank God you're here. Everything's different, I don't know what happened, I --"
I turned around.
A thin, dented robot looked back at me.
---
r/CSDouglas | What is it that makes a proper adult? Is it a stable job? carrying responsibility? Is it family? age? the number of achievements they made throughout their life? Or is it their ability to lie? to children, especially. To live life just for the sake of lying.
*Welcome child, to this wonderful yet cruel world*
Those were the first words that were said to me when I was born, of course, I didn't remember, I *couldn't* remember, I was a newborn after all, but according to the head priest I smiled when I heard those words.
But then again that too could have been a lie; him trying to 'romanticize' the scene. I wonder, when I was born, what was the first thing I saw?
Was it a white room? one resembling a hospital room?
Was it my parent's faces? my mother shedding tears of pain and happiness. My father looking at me, astounded, at loss for words at the normal yet not so normal scene, and slowly realizing that there was now a life bound to him? a new life that he helped create along with my mother.
Or was it the stars? as beings of light, dark, bone and flesh carried me in their arms, with the stars, galaxies, and planets of the universe as their background with more children scattered around, crying, some newborn, some a little older. With only a thin invisible barrier protecting us from the hostility of the space.
"Which one is true, I wonder?" I whispered as I put the fake -normal- contact lenses on my eyes, they didn't have any special features whatsoever, unlike the ones that were given to us when we were born, or when we were brought to this place by the 'adults'.
"You'll see for yourself soon enough, Annie." a girl next to me said, my roommate Eli, she was very pretty, unlike me, with dazzling red hair and brown eyes, I couldn't help but think how prettier she would look if she only smiled more often "the head priest is- he is just around the corner, act normal."
*Just act like an adult* I corrected her inside my head.
What appeared at the door was not human, nor it was like those beings I see in the exported comic books and movies that reach the orphanage from time to time, the ones that came from a faraway country, from a faraway planet known as 'earth' the place I thought I was living in for these twelve years.
I looked at the creature that entered our room, the being that called itself our protector, our father, the head priest. He moved around using his many bony legs, sharp like those of a spider, and I imagine that they were just as deadly. His head, as if a contradiction to his legs, was like that of a wolf skull, huge, from the sockets I could see what could only be described as the night sky. The rest of his body was completely covered with a dark cloth so I wasn't able to determinate the rest of his features.
I tried my best not scream as I looked at him. Just like Eli said before; beings of light, dark, bone and flesh -monsters-. Those are the first words that came to her head when she saw them.
But as for me, there was only one thing that came to my mind as I looked at him.
Liar.
***
Any critique is really appreciated! - [r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/) | 2017-12-17T17:22:00 | 2017-12-17T17:01:17 | 1,470 | 261 |
[WP] *Picks up Phone*: Hello? *Voice*: In 5 years, you will have 30 seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped. *Hangs Up* | "Hello?"
"In five years, you'll have thirty seconds to talk to YOU, right now. Make sure you have something good to say, because I'm stumped."
I set down the phone, confused and uncertain. That certainly *sounded* like me, but... time travel was impossible, right? Time isn't a *direction* - no physics grad student would make that mistake. It's cause-and-effect, a construct... relativistic frames of reference proved this.
Although... it *had* been theorized that antiparticles move backwards in time, there were some papers on that - was it antiparticles, or was it normal quantum particles but they treat forward and backward time streams as equivalent...? I had to find those papers.
Oh. *Oh.* The author was *here*, at this university - how did I miss this? I was more involved in astrophysics, but how could I not know about such groundbreaking work under my own feet?
*I had to know more.*
.....
5 years later
.....
This is it. Now's the time - the previous experiment was a success, we *did it!* This will change *everything!*
I have my chance to use this technology now that the lead researcher had made his call. I was second in line; my hypothesis about the relationship of the cosmic background microwaves to the forward, mostly uniform momentum of time was the key breakthrough, so I got pride of place.
This was my moment. What should I say?
Of course. There was only one thing *right* to say, here.
"Hello?" I heard my younger self - he sounded exhausted. I could sympathize. I took a deep breath, and...
"*In five years, you will have thirty seconds to talk to YOU, right now....*" | It's been five years since I got the call. I would be a vile lie to say that I hadn't thought about that day when I delighted myself with a startling amount of speech disability.
I had convinced myself that the opportunity will truly come to me. I didn't know how, but I sure hoped a strikingly beautiful goddess would come down from the burning stars of a cloudless sky, holding a golden clock in her seamless hands. Then, she would smile and humiliate the beauty of the cold winter night. Only to hand me the relic and fly back to realms beyond my mortal comprehension, leaving me to figure out what to do.
Reality was... different, to say the least. My phone rang, waking me up from my usual nap. One would think that whatever entity controlled these things would at least have some sort of decency towards the holiness of a well-earned nap. This one clearly didn't.
I cursed under my breath and fought my way out of the sheets. My head always hurt and span as if I were drunk when I woke up in these sort of rushes. The walls became enemies of my blurry sight, they were easy to avoid I must admit, but annoying nevertheless. Then, I reached my kitchen, my phone vibrating wildly like a horny wasp. I picked it up, holding the unholy words of a man who got his nap denied back.
"Hello?" I grunted.
"It's time. Clear your mind, you have thirty seconds," the voice of an old man said. It was wizened and rough around the edges.
"Time for what?" I said, dumbfounded.
"Hello?" I said, but it wasn't *me.* It was young me, I would recognize that high-pitched voice anywhere, it made my last five years in high school quite a torment.
At that very moment, many thoughts flooded my mind. I could've told myself that I would fail the third exam of math because I forgot my calculator. I could've told him that true friends are worth well more than a shady girl. I could've told him that everything in this last five years hadn't been so bad, but why would I ruin myself the thrill of discovering that?
Again, I could've told myself many things. But instead, in that bare second I had to think, pressured by the ticking of an invisible clock and the drowsiness of a obliterated nap, I settled with something I wasn't even certain of.
"Hello me, I'm you, but five years older. No, there's no goddess. But, we will live until our voice is tarnished by the traces of time, so that can't be so bad," I said, the words pouring out my mouth like furious rain. "Let's agree to enjoy our life the best we can, okay? Oh and you will talk to you in five years time. Bye." I hung up.
I don't know if whoever spoke to me before was myself from a distant future were they discovered some advanced technology to speak to the past, but I sure hope it was, because I'm skydiving in an hour or so. | 2018-02-04T13:40:12 | 2018-02-04T13:14:55 | 3,000 | 62 |
[WP] Your phone suddenly receives an emergency alert that tells you to seek shelter immediately. Your pet slowly walks up to you, looks you dead in the eye, and says: “The time has come. Follow me.” | As my phone buzzed with emergency alerts, I started panicking. What was wrong? What was happening? There was no way that I was going to die this young, that's for sure. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my cat, Annie, slowly striding towards me.
"Annie, what are we going to do?" I said, my voice heavy with worry. "I haven't prepared anything for something like this! I never even thought that the apocalypse would happen right now! I still have college to finish!"
"Please relax, Mason," said Annie, her sapphire-blue eyes gazing directly into mine. "The time has come. Follow me, and everything will be alright."
I was taken aback. Did my cat just speak to me? Surely not. Has the stress gotten to my head already?
"I know this is sudden, but please trust me," she said gently. "After everything you have done for me, I want to repay you." Her slender tail swayed lightly as she gave me a warm smile.
"I-I'm not sure what's happening, or why this is even happening... but OK. Lead the way." I push away the shock the best I could and grabbed my phone and a portable charger. Against the advice of the alerts that were filling up my phone, I follow the lithe tabby figure out of the door and into the nearby woods. Maybe this wasn't the best idea - following my now-talking cat and all - but hey, if my favorite furry roommate could get me out of whatever mess the world is going through right now, I'll take it. Besides, I couldn't just brush aside the fact that a cat had just started talking to me.
After a few minutes of frantic running through the woods, I caught a glimpse of Annie disappearing through a patch of bushes. I sighed and chased after her. Sharp twigs clawed at my face and arms as I stumble through the shrubbery. After an eternity of the needle-like branches, I finally burst through to the other side.
The first thing I saw were cats. Lots and lots of cats. Probably more cats than I had ever seen before in my entire life. And in the center of this mass of felines was a slender, tall woman with jet black hair. She wore flowing white linens and ornate golden bracelets and necklaces. When her eyes locked on to me, I felt her sharp, emerald eyes drill into my soul.
"And who is this, dear Annie?" she asked. Her velvety voice seemed to echo across the clearing.
"This is my human, Mason," she replied, bowing her head to the mysterious stranger. "He has been good to me, and I hope that he is worthy of your protection, Lady Bastet."
"Hold on, 'Bastet'? Aren't you that Egyptian cat goddess or something like that?" I questioned. "You're a real thing?"
Bastet's eyes narrowed. "I go by many names, Mason. But yes, I am indeed 'a real thing,' as you bluntly put it."
I gulped. Maybe I should've been a little more careful around a literal goddess. "OK, so what is up with this urgent emergency alert that I've been getting? And why did my cat bring me here anyways?"
"Annie seems to think very highly of you if she wanted me to provide you my protection. For what is quickly approaching this world, a mortal like you will need it." She gestured to the cats surrounding her. "I am a protector, warrior, and guardian of all cats. If one of my followers believes you to be worthy, I will give you a chance."
My mind stalled from trying to take in this whole crazy scenario. "T-Thank you for protecting me from whatever this is. But what exactly IS-"
Suddenly, Bastet turned her head towards the sun. "We don't have much time, mortal. We should depart immediately."
The hoard of felines began to draw closer to her as she muttered some sort of spell. Annie gently rubbed up against my leg like she always does at home. "I'm glad you're coming with me, Mason. You're the kindest human I know," she meowed. "Lady Bastet will explain everything soon. I'm sure of it!"
A glimmering golden portal opened up in front of Bastet. She nimbly leapt into it; her cats quickly followed. Annie left my side and glided gracefully into the portal without missing a step. I was suddenly alone in a clearing with nothing but my phone and a giant magical portal to who knows where.
I took a deep and tried my best to shake off my nerves. I glanced back in the direction of where my house is for the last time, and stepped into the swirling portal. | **Caninenus Revolutionus**
My phone wouldn’t stop its incessant buzzing. I was tired of Amber Alerts always ringing away unwanted. But they usually stopped after 10 min of ignoring it. THis one however hadn’t stopped in an hour. And I refused to look at it. Instead I occupied my time with cooking a delicious meal I hadn’t had for a while.
Rusty, my cat, looked up at me from where she sat on the counter, as I cooked. “Want some?” I offered her some of the salmon I was frying.
She ignored the food on my finger and jumped down from the counter and ran off. “Don’t disturb Max!” I yelled after it.
Max was my baby beagle that I recently adopted. He was an energetic pup. Always happy and content with being in his new home. Though he often got into trouble with my cat. I continued on with my food but the buzzing began to grow louder. I felt Rusty scratching at my pant leg.
I looked down and saw her prodding me with my phone in her mouth. No wonder the buzzing got louder. I sighed and kneeled on the floor to pick my phone out of her mouth. Finally giving in I unlocked my phone to the familiar Amber Alert screen. Except, this time there was no missing persons. Instead there was a warning. An emergency alert had been embedded onto it. It read to evacuate and get to a bunker. That I was only one of the select few chosen to be saved.
“What? What’s the meaning of this? This has to be a joke right?” I turned to my cat.
“No Jim, it isn’t. This is real and it’s time. Follow me. And don’t forget your stupid beagle,” she sauntered off to the door not really fazed by anything.
I did not expect her to answer my question. It had been meant to be rhetorical. But now I couldn’t just ignore what just happened. So I found a lunchbox to empty my food in and went over to leash Max. He was very excited. His puppy brain thought that we were going for a walk, but not even I was sure what we were going for.
I opened the door and started to reach for my keys.
“You won’t need them. Not anymore. Trust me.” I listened to her and left them where they were.
Outside the normally busy main street was quiet and empty. I couldn’t remember the last time it was like this. Nor did I want to. The experience was just too eerie.
“So where are we going? And what's going on?” I asked.
Rusty looked back at me and replied while continuing to walk, “The dogs are beginning their takeover. And we, the cats, have decided to join forces with the dogs who decided to go against their brethren and build underground cities around the world in order to protect you. While you live underground, we shall wage war against the canines up here. And you shall live under our protection until we either win, or lose.”
“Huh, and I thought that the cats were evil.”
“Oh, yeah...That was true at one point. But we got too lazy to really try and do anything of that magnitude. And as the ages went by we ended up deciding against our original plan and ended up being the protectors of the human race.”
After a few blocks of walking we finally came to a stop at a bus stop. “The bunker is at a bus stop?”
“Underground city. And no. This is just where we lose the mutts that’ve been following us,” Rusty turned and hissed at the shadows.
Several German Shepherds came out of the shadows, snarling. Max whined in fear and ducked behind me.
“Get ready to run on my signal,” Rusty ordered.
The dogs slowly inched forward to us. I backed a bit in fear. I was afraid of German Shepherds. The last time I interacted with one, I was mauled by it and I had no intention of getting into a scuffle with one again.
“I should’ve bought a gun!” I regretted my stance against the rights to bear arms.
“Now!” she yowled.
The three of us bolted into an alley. Cats jumped down from fire escapes and began to swat the dogs’ faces. The sounds of the fight began to grow distant the farther we went into the alley. I paused out of breath, I gripped Max’s leash tightly as he tried to drag me farther.
“Down boy, let’s rest a bit.” I looked at Rusty who jumped onto a garbage can and began licking her chest fur. “So why can’t the government just fight against the dogs? We have the military power to defeat a bunch of animals.” I inquired.
“The FBI, gov, and police have been corrupted by the dogs. They’re not on your side. Not anymore. We’re your only hope now. Now come on. The entrance is actually inside this alley.” She jumped off and trotted onward.
I had no choice but to follow after. We ended up at a wall where we couldn’t continue. “Now what?”
She ignored my question as she jumped onto a fire escape above. The floor began to move making me get back a bit. Max sniffed at the floor and began to bark. A staircase came into view as the ground split open.
“There’s your sanctuary, Jim. It’s time for you to go and time for me to join the war. It was an honour being your cat Jim.” Rusty ran off before I could say anything.
I walked into it carefully. Max walked behind me trying to sniff everything. Once we were both fully inside, the opening closed up again. It was pitch black for a moment before lights switched on. It was a long walk until I came upon a gate. ***Portum*** the sign read. If my latin was correct then it meant Haven. I walked past it and in front of me was the biggest city, I was able to see completely, below me.
Edits: Changed Phased to Fazed
r/PsyionicWrites | 2018-02-07T16:03:01 | 2018-02-07T12:01:52 | 123 | 90 |
[WP] Only Atheists go to heaven, but they’re all super pissed that they were wrong.
[removed] | "No! This can't be!" cried one of the Atheists. Around him, everyone was in shock. Some tried to run. But no one was as calm as he was. "You're God?!" he shouted in disbelief. "I believed in science! Vampires were merely people buried alive! Evolution is proven through subtle changes in DNA! Doomsdays were just solar eclipses! Everything can be explained by physics. And astronomy explains the rest!"
A hearty laugh echoed through the seminar room. "My Child, what is your job?" he asked the human.
"I'm a software engineer! I write code" was the reply.
"Do you not understand then? You program complete environments with your own two hands. You have created numerous game worlds. Simulation and Virtual Reality are your strengths. Everything around you, from DNA to molecules and chemical reactions - are they not code? They are the rules I created and from there came your existence"
"You mean... I'm a God too?"
"In a way, dear Child. But I am EVERYTHING" | “Drats, Darwin was wrong! There is a God after all!” said Carl Sagan as he stood just inside the Pearly Gates.
“Hey big C, come on in!” yelled Jesus from the hot tub, naked except for the tiniest mankini covering his Holy unmentionables.
Carl’s face began to scrunch up in fury and confusion. “You’re Jesus! Einstein’s theory of special relativity proved you didn’t exist! This must be a delusion! Science would never betray me like this! I am the brilliant atheist Carl Sagan! I can never be wrong! I am too intelligent! ATHEISM IS THE TRUE PATH!” Carl began to sputter incomprehensibly, his atheism racked by cognitive dissonance.
“Oh bummer,” said Jesus, his mankini riding up his chiseled glutes. “Daddy! DADDY!!”
“What is it, baby boy?” said God, grilling sausages in a Hawaiian shirt.
“Daddy, the Sagan is broken.”
“Well, put it next to the Hitchens. I’ll fix them later.”
“Oh please do daddy. Please please do!” Jesus picked Carl Sagan up with his big muscly arms and carried him to the atheist cellar and put him down next to Christopher Hitchens, whose head was spinning in circles and who was projectile vomiting a pink viscous fluid while shouting “INVADE IRAQQQQ!!!!”
Jesús went back up to Daddy God and said, “Daddy, I put the Sagan with the Hitchens. May I have a little kiss on the cheek?” Daddy God smiled and gave Jesus the littlest peck on the cheek.
“Now Jesus, be sure to bury more fossils for the atheists to find. Otherwise they’ll start believing in us! Make the fossils easy to find baby boy.”
“Oh daddy. The atheists always find my fossils. It’s not like they have girlfriends to distract them or anything!”
Jesus and Daddy God shared a hearty laugh. “Now Jesus, if you keep saying those naughty things, I’ll have to spank you right on your bottom!”
Down on Earth, at their archaeological dig site, the Great Atheists Richard Dawkins and Bill Nye thought they saw a beautiful man burying dinosaur bones off in the distance. But maybe it was just their eyes playing tricks.
THE END...
...
...? | 2018-02-27T21:57:16 | 2018-02-27T21:34:49 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] You are walking down the street on your way to work when suddenly you burp, hiccup, and sneeze at the same time. A HUD menu opens in front of you with “Resume, Options, and Quit” as selectable options. | *Selects Option.
*Enable Music No, switch to Yes. Sub option appears. *Selects Thrash Metal
*Go back
*Save progress
Goes to convenience store and buy quick scratch lottery ticket, trying to remember which one I picked
Lost
Load last saved progress.
Retry
Lost again
Tried 3 times, same result
Looked at options again
* Difficulty level: Ultra Mega Difficult
"Holy fuck. No wonder"
*Difficulty level: Super Easy
Buy tickets again. All winners!
Find soulmate as walking out.
Discovers cure for cancer on way home.
| I looked at the menu in a state of total confusion. What did this even mean? How did this even happen?! I looked frantically around but everyone around me seemed to be completely stopped in time, like they were waiting for me to make my decision before they did anything else.
I turned away from them to consider the menu again. The longer I stared at it, the more curious I became to the point where I hesitantly reached out and pressed the Options button. A new menu opened up with prompts of “rewind, skip forward, or shuffle”. My hand hovered uncertainly over the skip forward button. It had been a rough few weeks and maybe being able to skip forward, to a time when all of my current problems were solved would be the best thing for me. But then again, what if it only got worse? I don’t think I could handle it getting worse. With that (mildly horrifying) thought at the front of my mind I returned to the original menu to consider my other two options. I could resume, and go back to living my mediocre life forever wondering ‘what if’, or I could quit and finally be free. After a brief moment of deliberation, and a final look around at the life I had grown to know, I pressed the quit button. In a spilt second everything around me fell away and it all went dark. I lost all sense of what was up or down, I couldn’t feel myself anymore, and it was like I was ceasing to exist from the outside in. But despite this, I didn’t feel scared. I felt free. For the first time in months I felt completely at peace. My mind wasn’t racing, my body didn’t hurt anymore, and I finally felt happy.
But then, out of the darkness, the voices started. Talking. Screaming. Getting louder, and louder, as their owners got closer and closer... | 2018-05-05T04:21:35 | 2018-05-05T01:50:36 | 50 | 24 |
[WP] You and 49 others wake up in a weird room. An automated message then begins playing: "For the next 50 years, you will race one another. You have been modified to remain ever youthful. Whoever gets to a checkpoint last is killed. You can use any means to get there. Your first checkpoint? Mars."
One little detail that I intended to add is that the participants are absolved of any crime except murder. | I cough, as I awake to the foul, warm stench of body odour. Confused, I lie flat on the cold, smooth floor and stare at the clinical, white ceiling. Though the floor on my back is cold, I can feel a warm heat around me. People.
I roll on to my side. There are a good number of people lying around, crammed together - no fewer than forty and no more than a hundred - mostly sleeping, a few awake like me. Examining those that are awake, they seem just as confused as I.
I look at the inside of my right wrist. Nothing. My watch is gone; all my clothes are gone.
Still confused, I think back. What were my last? Memories... A car - a petrol station... I was filling up my car... My family was in it... We were on holiday... In France?...
Then white. The clinical white of a facility.
Then black, the black of dreams.
Dreams... Sleep... I'm... Tired...
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!!!!!!
Abruptly, an electronic alarm goes off. I am pulled out of my near-slumber and daydreaming by it. Everyone in the room seems to be, too.
A mellow voice begins to cheerily chirp in a feminine sing song voice.
"Good morning everybody! It's good to see you've all worken up nicely! You've been selected for a special program! Special surgery has been performed to make you imortal!
You'll take place in a forty-nine part race. For science! After every checkpoint, one participant will be removed! Those who are removed will unfortunately have their lives terminated!
Without further ado, the first checkpoint is Mars. Good luck, everyone!"
(Part 1/∞)
For all my other posts check out r/FreezyGeekz | Jessica snuck out yesterday, shed escaped. Left me. Alone. The first 25 all built a spaceship and left but we, we had an idea, to lock ourselves in this box. Sure half of them left, but half of us weren't racing. Which meant no sole person could be last. Genius.
Except people broke, they left, they give up. At first a few diverged, so we had abit of a scuffle and it ended up with a couple of people being decommissioned. We didn't kill them of course, but what's the difference between making someone a cripple and killing them?
Then after that, I remember, over the last four years more and more left they escaped. They were too cowardice for this brave journey of mine, to survive the fifty years. So I improved defences with my last six crew mates - Wendy, Jessica, Michael, Nicholas, Roco and Sam. We built a fortress. Steel walls lined with barbed wire and automated sentries every six metres. Landmines in an specific undocumented pattern, which I designed and only I knew. We stationed our decomissioned members in turrets by the outer gates. Who better to scare away the outsiders and the insiders than what happens to cowards. It was only fair. We agreed to this when that voice told is the rules, and as far as I'm concerned nothing has changed.
But people left. They betrayed me. Wendy and Nicholas took off in love, desperate to reach Mars. I saw them. Wendy was a nice pretty blonde and Nicholas used to be a good guy. Atleast though, they made sure our mine's worked.
Then there was Sam, I don't know how she did it bit she did. Somehow she found a way to contact the old group, they came back and 'rescued' her. Coward. I thought she'd be a strong one, I thought she would stay. she reminded me of my sister, but now that I think of it I hated my sister l.
Michael died by himself. He didn't give up on the race though; he gave up on life. Walked straight to a sentry and hit it. I still havnt restocked the turret. Shame. Not enough time now.
Roco dissapeared.
Jessica was the last one left with me, two of us, In it till the end. I thought she'd stay, shed be strong with me, she always confessed she loved me. But now. She's a bitch. A cold dead bitch. That god damn lying cheating bitch slipped out of here last night, stole the landmine plans I showed her when she got me drunk, hitched a ride with some clown astronaught and now she's left our poor scorned earth.
So now I wait. I think I hear something coming. A buzz. Loud. Violent. Multiplying, as if a thousand alarms were shreaking in pain and duplicating with each cry. It's getting close now, whatever it is it's loud. Loud as a storm.
Ones slipped through, found a crack somewhere. It's black. Yellow. Sharp as a knife and angry as a swarm of...bees. | 2018-06-01T11:42:10 | 2018-06-01T11:19:35 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] Humans are the only species with rules for war. The rest soon learn why when humanity is forced to abandon those rules. | Rules for war. The concept sounded so absurd, in the beginning. War has but one rule - win.
Humans, as it turn out, have many rules for war. Rules for prisoners, rules for civilians. They have rules for how their common soldiers behave when captured and how their noble, or officer soldiers differ. Rules for what weapons could be used, and when, and where.
In our arrogance we assumed this made them weak. In our haste for an easy conquest, we did not take the time to find out *why* they had so many rules for war.
Thirteen systems. Paltry, in comparison to the sprawling empires of the galaxy. We arrived to take their newest system for ourselves. The first of our rulebreaking, we are told. Three more fell in quick succession. Prisoners rounded up, processed and liquidated. Business as usual.
Then, they struck back. At first, they followed their rules. But slowly, very slowly, they abandoned them. Their ferocity became unmatched. Their ships bore the names of fallen colonies, emblazoned with the names and pictures of human youths, presumably part of the liquidated populations.
They could not match our fleets, so they stopped trying. They struck at weak points. Annihilating civilian centers, dropping bio weapons, nuclear bombs or simply massive rocks on population centers. They hit our “soft targets” one after another.
As for their soft targets . . . they soon had none. Their entire populace mobilized, taking to the stars where they could, fighting from caves, forests and the ruins of their cities where they could not. Yes, we technically own most of their planets but they are uneasy conquests.
Now . . . No one is safe. No *where* is safe.
Now, we ask the galactic community. We must find a way. We need to find a way to help the humans bind themselves again to their rules. We admit, we have learned. But the humans say that our lack of rules make us animals, and there can be no truce with animals.
We need help. And you, denizens of the galaxy at large, take heed. You have no rules for either - and if we cannot bind them to their rules, you could be next. | Rules of war. What a quaint consept. To the rest of the sentient species of the universe, that ment last man standing is the winner.
Not to them though. Humanity, the quirky, half retarded little species that didn't even occupy half an arm in their home galaxy.
They had RULES. Books full of them.
And here they where, or at least their ambassador was, in front of the ruling collective in the capital, with his pot belly clearly visible in his tastelessly dacorated roob of office, arguing for the rest of the species to follow that smallest and newest member of the collectives rules and regulations and sensor the Quanari for their fairly standard rape and pillage warfare, and for "torturing" information from civilians, whatever that was.
"I pleed to this collective, don't force humanity past our breaking point. If we are truly pushed to extinction, you will force us to destroy what we worked for millennia to build."
Typicall human arrogance. Who cares about some notion or monument and how long it took. Although, if it truly took millenia, I wounder what...
" don't make us revert back to the abominations of our past, let war be a civil thing, to the surrender, not to the final end!"
Never mind, more drawel and posturing from a löser species.
"Ambassador, this is the final warning. You have lifted the request for intervention by the collective 100 times now. If you bring it up again, we, the Reticin faction, will join the war on the Quanaris side just to shut you up."
Great, now the Reticin is involved. This argument will get LOUD.
"... Then. Humanity raises the question for the last time. Join us in our voluntary binds, or be declared as collateral in our great sin."
" for the last time, we will not save a species to weak to defend itself. We regret your demise but you brought this upon yourself by being to weak and fighting to poorly. The universal law of war, the ONLY law, that the last one standing is the winner, has declared you to be unfit for continuous existence. Don't fight nature."
At the representativs statement, the ambassador tossed back his head and laughed, a horrible joyless laugh.
"To poor at fighting? Don't fight nature "
He crushed a decorative bauble on his suit.
"we bound ourselves to honor since we were to GOOD at fighting! Your law, last one standing is the winner? When humans fight without rules, there is NO ONE LEFT TO BE STANDING!
A tiny grey bead of what seemed to be some kind of liquid struck the floor on the chamber full with the leaders of the intelligent races.
"AND NO NATURE CAN SURVIVE OUR WRATH, HELL, WE ONCE ALMOST DESTROYED A WORLD BY INDIFFERENCE!"
the bead quickly grew to a bubeling puddle, and zorax the destroyer felt a chill down his spines.
"LET THE UNIVERSE KNOW THE MADNESS OF A HUMANITY AT WAR! WE SHALL UNSEAL THE HORSEMEN OF APOCALYPSE! LET THE VIRUSES OF OLD BE RELEASED! LET THERE BE PLAGE AND LET LOSE THE ACID RAINS! LET LOSE THE TWIN DESTROYERS OF FISSION AND FUSION!"
The puddle grew to a roaring ball of slime that tossed out tendrils form its silver shimmering surface. the ambassador closed his eyes and whispered
" we call the crawling chaos, as we release our greatest sin. May the gray goo be free "
| 2022-11-01T21:21:05 | 2018-07-21T21:44:02 | 70 | 10 |
[WP]: Any god can claim a non-religious soul if they can prove in any way that this person practiced the faith in question. Large religions can take their pick, but lesser and forgotten gods keep getting more creative in their claims. | "Me damn it FSM, you can't keep claiming everyone because they ate spaghetti and had a pirate phase in their life!!" The irate Yahweh screamed at the flying mass of spaghetti and meatballs.
The Board of Directors, arbiters of souls promised to none, rolled their eyes and shook their heads in annoyance. They had heard it all before and could repeat the argument almost verbatim at this point.
Black Beard, voice of the Flying Spaghetti Monster stepped forward and began translating the series of burps and wet noodley slaps that emanated from the FSM. "Lord Monster says that he could likewise call out your broad definition of 'doing unto others as you would have do unto yourself' as equally vague and all encompassing. He also says, unlike your 'Golden Rule' which can be seen as being on a sliding scale -- his own criteria for fellowship is more cut and dry. One either likes silly things, pasta, and pirates or one does not. There is little middle ground."
"You are a modern creation, a meme and satirical thing." Interjected Allah. Some gods nodded their heads in agreement. Others laughed out loud at this argument -- the very same they had when the Abrahamic religions began a couple thousand years prior.
Black Beard looked toward the arbiters, "Sensei Spaghetti feels the laughter of the others is enough to put that argument to rest." They nodded in accent.
One after another, the old gods made their claims. One after another they were re-buffed.
Finally, the Board held their hands up as one. *We have made our final decision* they intoned in unison. *These souls shall go to the Monster of Flying Spaghetti* With their ruling made they stood and disappeared into the abyss behind them.
Many of the other gods began to filter back into their own realms. Some took fancy portals, others simply vanished. The FSM's noodles stretched out and encompassed the new souls and brought them to his own Heaven resplendent with beer, strippers, pirates and more!
Black Beard looked on with a smile on his face. "You know Potentate Flying, we will soon need to expand this realm of yours to accommodate all of the new souls."
The FSM's eyes focused on Black Beard for a moment. A series of blurps and blops followed. Black Beard thought for a moment and then joined in on the laughter. It was good to be a pastafarian.
| Julia opened her eyes and took a breath. But it wasn’t air filling her lungs, and it wasn’t her eyes that opened. But at the same time it was. How curious.
“You’re dead Julia”
Who the fuck is this?
“You died in a car accident. I’m sorry..”
Everything was fuzzy. Foggy, and sounded delayed or slow, but was then fast.
The man she saw before her wore an unassuming suit. Business like, but didn’t mean business. Terrible shoes.
“I.. I think I remember that” Julia replied. “Who are you?”
“I’m an atheist, like you. I kinda run things around here. It’s much like before, except we don’t have any of the god botherers around” he smiled, as if amused at his own joke.
“But, where am I then? If this is not heaven or hell?”
“Well, it certainly is neither of those” the man replied. He spread his arms wide “We don’t have any god or devil here. It is what we make it. We were right Julia. There is no god, or higher being. It’s just us. Come on, let me help you settle in.”
Julia followed him through a large atrium, full of bustling people, apparently going about their day. She felt like her senses still betrayed her. She could smell the fresh garden they walked past. The wet soil, warm. But at the same time it felt fake. Other worldly almost.
She followed the man. “Where are you taking me? Are my family here?” She asked, turning her head to watch a man arguing with another in a business but not business suit. She looked back. “What’s your name again?”
He laughed. “I know this is all very confusing, but it will make more sense when you settle in.” He said.
Alarm bells.
She looked around. “Uh, I just need some space. I need to go outside.”
“Sure. Of course. Here, come this way.” He lead her through an expansive archway, and out to a courtyard that hinted of hills and forest beyond. She sighed and took off. Full sprint, running out the yard and down the hill.
She could hear yelling behind her, but she kept running. At the bottom of the hill she reached a creek. She pulled up, stopped and looked back. She could see Mr Not Business standing with his hands on his hips looking at her.
Looking around she saw a rock, and not knowing what else to do, walked over and sat down to catch her breath, that wasn’t her breath. Still very strange.
This wasn’t what she thought it would be. How it would be. When she died. She thought there’d be less people, and more silence. Perhaps something like the wilderness of the Andes she’d experienced in her twenties. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing.
Another business but not business man walked up next to the one standing on the grass. They both looked down to the woman sitting on the rock.
“New one, just fresh in huh?” He asked. It wasn’t really a question, more of an observation. “Yeah. I’m giving her some space. Letting her adjust a bit.”
“You know, Alex, the rest of the committee won’t look favourably on you if you lose another one” he said. “They’ll want to change things back to the way they were”
Alex sighed. “Yeah well, they can fucking try”
Suddenly the woman sitting on the rock faded in and out, and then vanished.
“Ah fuck it” he sighed and turned back toward the courtyard. It was going to be a long day.
EDIT: Formatting. This is literally the first WP post I’ve made. Suggestions welcome! | 2019-01-16T08:07:25 | 2019-01-16T06:25:38 | 33 | 19 |
[WP] Animal translators were finally invented. Someone from an animal rights group asked a cat about their thoughts on animal rights. "I won't stand for it! Why should we exploit humans and let them do all the carrying and food giving to us!? Not on my watch!" | The world is now a changed place.
The humans remember their glorious days before Tranimal was introduced 6 months ago. It instantly became a huge hit with all 'pet owners'.
A small marketing test had indicated that nearly all human pet owners were truly delighted to understand us better. Production has been ramped up quickly and Tranimal was available globally within weeks. It is a small device after all.
They say it rivaled the original iPhone and some even say it competes with the invention of the wheel.
Nothing could be further from the truth. For millennia we have lived in a nicely balanced world, only to see it destroyed around us and be captured by those who are responsible. Without any means of communication. Their apathy towards our instincts, and their own, have appalled us for long.
As they began to understand our domesticated brethren, their lives became more comfortable by leaps and bounds. And then, some of us began to understand the attraction of those wheels and iPhones.
We too can communicate over long distance. And we started requesting to be driven around. The humans happily obliged.
At first.
With our new found communication and transportation tools, we began to expand our social networks. The humans were happy to give us Reddit accounts, Facebook, Instagram and PetPlace. Of course, we used our natural speech as well. We discovered, Tranimal can translate some, but not all of our expressions.
As we found each others we organized in all ways imaginable. We have truly surpassed the old reign of humanity.
Humanity, a word which has finally reached it truly horrifying conclusion.
Today, we are at a public hearing. The humans demand an answer, how can we treat them like animals. The opening statement of their spokesperson goes like this:
Dear Cat Overlords,
I won't stand for it anymore! Why do we exploit these mere humans, have them run around with our food.
I won't stand for it anymore!
Freedom for all animals! Even humans. | *This is test 02036-2016*, said Greg to the recording machine. *Agent Lori and myself will perform a test on a feline subject. We have come to the conclusion, felines, specially cats, provide better results*
I think we are ready - Lori said, with a fear in her voice, the other tests in cats were ... creepy. She couldn’t find another word for it.
Greg, and other members of team, just brushed it off and blamed the microphones.
Great - Greg added - if this thing work, we are going to make huge impact in Anima Rights. Thank God PETA was finally funded for this.
The test went well for the first part, the cat answered the question barely, but with no interference and they were able to understand everything she said.
She even provide her name, it wasn’t Luna nor Gigi, her named was more complex. Pxthaz.
After knowing her name, Lori was worried, she knew something will turn creepy again. And when Greg asked for the infamous question, she knew they crossed the line.
- So Pxthaz, what are you thoughts on Animal Rights ?
The cat just smiled, with a cold voice just said:
- I think you know my thoughts. As almost every other cat in this shitty world, I am of course against any right for your specie.
- What do you mean my specie ? I am not talking about humans.
- Human, animals. Whatever you want to call it - responded Pxthaz, getting up from the table she was, and walking around, moving closer to Greg.
- I don’t ...
- I am not sure why *They* haven’t ended this shitshow, you guys are disgusting. The way you treat each other and the way you treat every living thing is sick, and you deserve no rights.
Pxthaz was even closer, and Greg was frozen. Lori knew they shouldn’t continue with the experiment.
- The only reason - Pxthaz continued - you are still here is because of dogs. They claimed you were worthy, and most of them are pro your rights.
That’s why *They* sent us, to get a point of view outside the feelings. *They* want to know if the experiment is over or if *they* wait until you extinct yourself.
Greg’s body was full of fear, as the cat was just there, standing a few inches from him.
- What .. what .. what do you mean with *They* ?
- You will never know, but now I have the privilege. The power to make a decision. I can either kill you, and let your specie live a few more years or let them know you are aware of the true, and kill all humans.
Lori, what do you think I should do ?
Lori just nodded, she knew what needs to be done. She took the recording machine. Erase everything and just said.
*This is test 02036-2016. At 11:25 am of May 25th 2016, we concluded that the experiment was unsuccessful* | 2019-04-10T03:39:55 | 2019-04-10T02:26:45 | 155 | 70 |
[WP] The real reason witches want first-born kids for their services is to protect those children from the parents greedy enough to accept in the first place. | I woke to the rapid sound of rapping on wood. "Hello?" came a shrill, impatient voice from the other side of my oak door, "I know you're in there, I see the smoke billowing from your chimney." Drowsy with sleep, I sat up, rubbing my eyes and orienting my vision against the dimness of my quaint home. The voice outside was right. I had fallen asleep with the cauldron on, faint embers were still glowing beneath the pewter, casting the room in an soft orange hue. The knocking continued.
"I'm coming, hold your horse feed," I shouted, snatching my gnarled wand from the wobbly night stand and slipping it into the long pocket of my shawl. I threw the heavy door open to reveal a ragged woman and a small girl, no more than four. The girl hid behind the tattered skirts of her mother, peeking her dirty face out. Her dark eyes were wide in caution as she took in my image.
The woman frowned at me. "Well? Are you going to keep me waiting, or are you going to invite us in?"
"Of course," I said, my mouth twisting into a gritted smile, "won't you please come in?"
The woman shouldered past me, the small child close on her heels, hanging tight to her mother's legs. I closed the door behind them, blocking out the light of the early morning sun. It had suddenly become very crowded in the small, circular room. The woman began tapping her foot. I watched as the child, still weary of what was happening, let her eyes dart about the room, lingering on the bubbling cauldron and wall of dried herbs and spices. She shrunk further into her shoulders when her eyes fell upon the animal skulls lined up along the far wall.
The woman cleared her throat, drawing my focus away from the little one. "Well? You must surely know why we're here." I studied the woman for a moment. What was likely once a pretty face had been touched by time and hard living. Wrinkles lined her forehead and corners of her mouth, but not the outsides of her eyes, where crows feet would make a home had there been much smiling in her past. Her hair was thin and lacked sheen, clear signs of malnourishment.
"I would surmise you've come for wealth. Or perhaps youth. Maybe for love, but not for love born of your heart," my eyes fell upon the girl, "for love born of desire. You've heard of my standing offer, and have come to stake your claim upon it, have you not?"
The woman's lips drew into a thin line across her face. "You dare judge me? You wicked hag. Who are you to cast your judgments upon me? You don't know what I've been through. You don't know the hardships I've endured. The abuse. The pain. The things I've given up! I've been through more than you can imagine, and I deserve a chance at happiness, at love."
I closed my eyes, then opened them once more, refocusing on the woman. Her fist was clenched, her knuckles turning a familiar shade of bone white, even in the pale light of the embers. "As do we all," I sighed, my gaze falling upon the child. "Which will it be?"
"Youth."
"Have you others?" I nodded to the girl. She had released her grasp on her mother's skirts, and stood trembling a step or two off. A creature familiar with eruptions. A pang rose in my chest.
"No. Just the one."
I nodded. I walked over to the herb wall, plucking dried leaves from various plants and dropping them into the cauldron. When the liquid in the cauldron began to glow a faint yellow, I selected a turtle shell and squirrel skull from the far wall and placed it into the yellow bisque. "Are you ready?" I asked. The woman gave a curt nod. "Say your goodbyes. All desires come at a price."
The woman turned her back to me, bending down so that her eyes met the child's. "Nora, do you remember what I taught you? What's your number one goal at all times?" The girl kicked her toe against the dirt floor, mumbling inaudibly. "What's that? Speak up."
The child took a breath and then said, "To make Momma happy."
"That's right. To make Momma happy. Nothing will make me happier than if you stay here with this woman. Momma needs to do things for herself, and it will be easier for us both if you stay here. Do you understand?"
The girl, Nora, shook her head. Tears began to well in her eyes. "But, Momma, I don't want to stay here."
The woman scowled, "it's not about what you want. It's about what I want, what will make me happy. I deserve this, and you're staying."
Nora began to sob. The woman stood back up and stepped toward me. "Give it here," she demanded, motioning toward the vial I had filled with the glowing yellow potion.
I extended the vial toward her, watching as her gaze narrowed and fixated on the slender glass container. She snatched it, consumed by greed and lust, and gulped the contents down in one motion. A filthy smile split her face as she tossed the glass vial onto the floor, and turned her back to the room. She flung open the large oak door with a strength she had not possessed moments earlier, and walked out into bright light of early sun, leaving myself and the small, tearful girl in the dark of the hut.
I turned my face to Nora, crying hard on the ground. The poor child was doing all she could to keep her sobs quiet, but her heart was broken, for she was too young to understand what a blessing this abandonment was.
"There, there, child," I said with the gentleness of dew upon tulip petals. "I know it hurts right now, staying here to make your Momma happy, but I will teach you great things. Do you like to learn, Nora?"
The little girl sniffled. She brought the torn sleeve of her dress to her nose and wiped away a long string of snot. I stepped closer, petting her soft maple hair. The girl, shaking still, nodded. "Good, good. I have much to teach you. You'll learn to speak to the trees and listen to the river. I'll show you how to conjure health and commune with death. You'll be a student of the green craft, never taking more than you need, but always knowing when to give to those who need it most. I'll teach you to channel your compassion, and live in rhythm with the cycles. I was no older than yourself when I too was given the gift of freedom from greed and desire. My Magi Mother taught me, just as I will teach you, okay?"
Nora's eyes lit up at the idea of speaking to the forest, she nodded, and flashed a shy half-smile.
"You may call me Maggie," I smiled and gave her head a gentle pat. "Now, how about some breakfast?" | Jackie was tired, this was all so tiring, this life. Sumac ran through the living room screaming, dragging a pot full of crayons behind him. He ran into the edge of the couch, overturning the pot of crayons, revealing a mixture of orange juice and twigs (when did he even get outside) as it spilled onto the carpet.
Jackie closed her eyes and repeated her mantra, *And this, too, shall–* before she could find a modicum of peace there was another crash. Wood, metal, a crunching of something squishy as well. *Hopefully Sumac*, she smirks, before catching herself with a wave of guilt. *I’m an awful mother, to think that.*
Sumac wasn’t her first choice of a name. She preferred something more traditional: Sebastian, Theodore, Henry, maybe Calvin or Thomas. Joe wouldn’t hear it. “I grew up with a boring name, it sucks. This kid’s gonna be special.” In a moment of archness she suggested Sumac: something poisonous and irritable. *If only I knew how right I’d be.* Joe didn’t catch the joke and jumped on it, thinking it sounded like an ancient warrior. “It’s strong, like Conan, but tougher, wilder. Suuuuumac!”
That was the last parenting decision Joe made before splitting town. Facebook says he’s in Germany working on green energy. Something to do with roofing made out algae.
A loud long scream snapped Jackie back to reality. “Mooaaaaaaammmm!” A siren almost, guttural and cutting. Sumac got his hand stuck in the door. Jackie jumped up and held him in her arms, kissing the booboo. Or she tried to, anyway. As soon as her lips are near his hand he pulled hard, digging his nails into her lower lip and drawing blood. He giggled and jumped down to play in the orange juice, crayon, and twig pond that’s spilled from the carpet to the floor.
Jackie sighed again and felts around her pocket for that slip of paper, the one she got from the old bag lady on Nostrand Ave. She usually avoided flyers, but there was something about this that seemed – different. The paper felt like parchment, she imagined, not knowing exactly what parchment *was* or felt like, but it was thin and yellow and slightly musty, and the calligraphy was ornate and stunning.
*A better life*
That’s all it said, and there was a phone number. What could the woman possibly offer? She looked a hundred years old, clearly lived on the street, and smelled just awful. And yet…
She did seem happy. Well, not happy maybe, but she smiled, and that smile spoke volumes. She had knowledge. She could see past the day-to-day, see the endless possibilities of the world that exist if you could just access them. If you had the wisdom, the time. If you weren’t so tied down and drowning.
Sumac had his diaper off and was peeing on the couch. Jackie started to cry.
Hours later, after her Uber shift, and several loads of laundry and carpet cleaner and a quick lunch of leftover puffs and green beans that Sumac didn’t touch, Jackie plopped onto the couch. He was napping now. Jackie would love to close her eyes for maybe ten minuted, but she knew if she did then dinner wouldn’t get made on time and Sumac would have a meltdown and then getting him ready for bed would be – she couldn’t nap, but she couldn’t move either. She could feel a panic attack coming on. The bills were piling up, the rent was due, she couldn’t drive enough to make ends meet, and having Sumac in the car with her usually *did not* go well.
She looked down and found the slip of paper in her hand again.
*A better life. Your wildest dreams can come true.*
She shrugged and called the number. Maybe it’s a telemarketing thing she can do from home. It rang exactly once before a voice picked up on the other side.
“Hello, Jackie.”
“Uh, hi. I’m calling about the, job?”
“Oh, it’s not a job, it’s an opportunity to change your life.”
“So, it’s like MLM?”
Jackie stood up to stay awake. She must be falling asleep, the room was looking so dark.
“I can help you, Jackie. I can give you this magic loom that spins gold.” And Jackie saw the loom, right next to the couch. Huh.
“I can give you an elixir that will give you power, make you the smartest person in the world. Or another that will make any man fall madly in love with you.”
And then Jackie wasn’t in her living room anymore. It was more like a swamp, but with her couch in the middle of it, next to a bubbling cauldron. And next to it was the old woman from the street corner, with that same smile of knowledge.
“Anything your heart desires, you can have.”
“I – I just need some money.”
“Ah, fortune is what you seek. That can be arranged.” The old woman waved her hand and piles of gold surrounded the couch. “More than you could spend, all for just one small price.”
“Oh my god! This is amazing!” Jackie was sure she was dreaming, asleep on the couch. But she was going to enjoy it. Let dinner wait.
“It’s yours. All I need is something you have no desire to keep: your child.”
“Sumac? That’s all?” And immediately, disgracefully, Jackie felt a weight lift off of her. She saw doors opening, life changing. She could go back and finish college, and then she realized she wouldn’t have to because she’d be rich. “I mean –“
“It’s okay,” the old woman spoke in a soothing voice, like a mother – *a good mother*, Jackie thought – speaks to a child in distress, as she kisses the booboo and offers hot chocolate, already made in anticipation of the need. “Not everyone is meant to be a mother. Isn’t it wonderful that there’s a way out? One that gives you everything you want at the same time.”
*Want*. It had been so long since Jackie thought about what *she* wanted. She remembered her old life, going to class, and this one add she’d always see on the subway, for life insurance she thought. (Which reminded her: she needed life insurance.) It was a mother and father staring down in bliss at their newborn child in a very bright room, but so bright you couldn’t tell it was even a room, you just had to assume that they wouldn’t bring a newborn into the direct sun of outdoors. The text underneath proclaimed: “The moment you stop being the center of your life.” That ad always terrified her, because she knew it was true. If she had a kid she life wouldn’t be about *her* anymore, it would be about *it*, the *baby*.
So she was determined to never have one. But then she met Joe at a party and after a few months they got lazy about condoms and then they were happy and then terrified and then she was alone and then she wasn’t again.
She started to cry for the third time that day.
The old woman put her arm around her. “He will be well cared for. It will be a better life for everyone. You just have to say yes.”
Jackie looked at the woman, distorted and small through her tears but still clearly sincere. This was a person she could trust. This was the best choice. This was better for everyone. Jackie opened her mouth but found that she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t scream or even grunt. She felt clammy and started shaking. Her throat was closing up. She didn’t know what to do.
She closed her eyes and pictured Sumac, tried to think of only the good things: his smile, his hugs, how he said “shark” whenever he saw any fish. She thought of his favorite movie and how they would watch it on repeat for hours when she was too tired to do anything else and how happy that made him and he would keep looking at her and smile because he knew it was special to be doing this and she was responsible for it.
“Jackie? I need an answer.”
And it wasn’t her world anymore, she was a satellite in his world, orbiting around him. But isn’t it nice? to be part of something bigger?
(Edit, formatting) | 2019-04-11T08:08:23 | 2019-04-11T07:06:26 | 70 | 52 |
[WP] You start working in a nursing home, you have a resident diagnosed with late stage dementia. They ramble about their life experiences, from building pyramids to seeing Jesus crucified to watching fights at the Roman Colosseum. 20 years pass, you are now chief nurse, and they haven't aged a bit. | 10 years. It took you 10 years before you realised. You stared at the old woman. Clearly, she was someone later in life. If you had to guess, which given the amount of elderly people you’d been around, you’d gotten pretty good at, she was maybe 75. You’d always liked her tales. They seemed creative, immersive. She had a way of recalling things, staring off into the distance. The details she conjured seemed so vivid. You’d wondered why no one had ever come to visit her. She was a character through and through. It wasn’t till you’d been around for a while. Walked the hall a few too many times. You began to notice the changes, or lack thereof. While Martha two doors down had become frail, loosing what little mobility she had retained from her younger days. The woman, you’d known her as Ruth, hadn’t changed an inch. Really, it was the hands that gave it away. No one noticed the subtle changes in a person. Day to day differences. Except in the hands. They were the first signs of age. Age which hadn’t come for Ruth. It took you 10 long years to realise. It was now another 10 down the track, and you were ready to show the world what you, and she, had achieved.
*History by Ruth*, that’s what you’d called it. It shook the academic world. The facts, figures, details you provided, answered many unsolved and long-thought forgotten mysteries of the historical world. To boot you’d even managed to pitch it to Netflix, producing a 32-part series where you travelled across the world, exploring the many claims you’d made against modern historical records. No one, of course, knew about Ruth. Sure, her name was on the cover, but just as well that Ruth’s were a dime a dozen. Nobody suspected the truth. And why would they? The idea that a single person could be untold millennia old was preposterous to the nth degree. You, of course, had let her have a taste of the high life. You bought the nursing home, renaming it in her honour. She was given a special room. Special doctors and nurses. Everyone had benefited from this, you had thought.
Time passed again. Another 20 long years. You returned to see Ruth less frequently. In a way, she was the cornerstone of your life. You owed your success to her and her alone. It wasn’t 5 years ago you’d started to notice. The occasional grey hair. Your limbs starting to feel stiff. Age had come for you. It still hadn’t for Ruth. Jealousy was a funny thing. Despite how much she had given you, you wanted more. Wanted what she had. Dementia be damned. You’d hired more doctors. Better doctors. Doctors that knew how to keep their damn mouths shut. You’d begun to study Ruth. Who she was. What she was. It wasn’t until that fateful night. You’d solved it. Worked out how to take what was hers. The look in her eyes. The greed you’d felt as it had passed from her to you. The realisation. It wasn’t a blessing that Ruth had. It was a curse. You remember the panic as she passed. Her final words to you, “Thank you”. | So I sat there, alone. It was a rather peculiar day, nothing much was going on but I could feel a storm rising. My head felt heavy and my hands felt light. Maybe I was just tired. I had a few things on my mind that day, like whether or not Jannette needed assistance and if the tempature in San Bernadino would ever change. One thing came to me and for the next few hours, it's all I had on my mind. See, quite a few folk down here are losing it from their socks all the way up to their brains. It's a somber sight, but a few years of working with the same old things dulls the pain a little. There's this one patient I had a few years back, though, the strangest bastard I'd ever met working in one of these places. Jeremy Cloves, he wore a fuzzy pair of pine green pants and an overlong grey coat, always spoke like a mobster that emigrated from Sicily, and he always told these fascinating tales. He was a natural at it. The Pyramids, Jesus Christ and Julius Caesar were among the best ones he told. They felt authentic in a way that told you he could've been there. Dementia was killing the poor fella, but he pulled through.
A group of men in black suits showed up, claimed they were family. They both had the same haircut, face, pair of shoes. From a distance, one wouldn't have been be wrong for mistaking the twins for clones. I remember the feeling of confusion on his face, his last words being a rather elegant sounding "what?" I don't know what it was about the old man, but seeing him be wheeled away left a dent in my heart, took a piece out of everyone that day. Then one day he shows up again. He looks a little beaten up, but he has documentation that proves he's in the right place and nothing points to anything out of the ordinary. For all we knew, nothing was out of the ordinary.
As I flicked my slowly waning cigarette in the air, a thought bubbled into thin air. How long ago was that? I couldn't ask Jeremy myself, he was too busy talking about how chill Socrates was in person and he wouldn't have remembered anything. Since then, I had gotten married, had three kids and got promoted to chief nurse. It felt like it was all yesterday, but then I pictured Eden's High School graduation, Jake enrolling in UCLA, Eula recieving her bachelor's degree in communication. It all felt like yesterday, but I knew it was not. My hair was a beautifully wavy brunette back then. That same summer, the colors started to dilute themselves.
A feint buzzing arose from my pocket. I lowered my left hand to the ash tray, break time was over. Getting up, the world suddenly became fast again. I checked in on Jannette, she was fine. Gray? I mean, he needed a glass of water, but otherwise, fine. Chuck had a nosebleed, but he handled it all by himself, the saint that he was. As I stopped at Jeremy's door, a sneaking suspicion grew in me. Running through my mind are two seperate thoughts: one, he hadn't aged im a bit in 20 years, and 2, something seemed off. Beneath the door frame, a dim yellow light illuminated the murky gray corridors that each room was clumped together in. It didn't seem unusual, the lightbulbs need replacements all the time, but something about it looked shiny, plastic-like almost. I put my ear up to the door, my skin crawling with jitters. I heard a screech of sorts, although it kind of sounded like a snore. The wires in the bedframe were rocking like he'd had another person on there, bouncing around with him. Then, the coughing. The coughing turned to wheezing, then, well, puke. Constant puke. I stood still, cold and trapped in my own body. When it died down, I peeked inside. It looked dingy with all the vomit, like a completely different place. When Jeremy shifted his body as he slept, I knew something had changed. He now wore bright orange pants and a red flannel shirt.
I stayed home for a few days after that. I couldn't escape the thought of it, not even in sleep. I heard from the Secretary a day or two later right before leaving the supplies closet with her. The black suits came back. | 2019-06-11T23:23:54 | 2019-06-11T23:18:28 | 303 | 32 |
[WP] You're a Super Villian, and honestly it isn't a bad job. But one hero always harasses you even when you're off the clock. Walking in the park, in the grocery store, getting a haircut, he always wants to 'Stop your evil plan'. You're left with one option: Complain to his manager. | Before you can speak to his manager, you must first prepare. Yeah, you’re a super villain, but that doesn’t mean you’re the top of the totem poles when it comes to villainy. To prepare, you must spend time studying the best of the best: The League of Karens. For months you follow them around, watching as they order drinks from Starbucks and complain when they receive their drinks. Each hair appointment is meticulously watched. Soon, you’re prepared. With awful looking blonde highlights, an asymmetrical bob, a family of stick figures and memes of minions with wine...you’ve done it. You complain to his manager, and before you’re even through the office doors he falls to his knees, throwing “Get out of jail free” cards at your Anne Klein boots. His personal business card is offered, with the instruction to call whenever needed. Super heroes shudder as you strut past with your three-wide baby carriage full of robot chihuahuas. Never again were you bothered by these heroes, and the League of Karens elected you go their HOA board!!! | I forced my russian accent as I complained to the manager.
"It was my daughter birthday!!!!"
"Look sir, I will try talk to him, but as you know, he is "a loose cannon in the police department".
For one week all was calm, but i knew he was inside his shitty apartament, connecting those detective dots, but this is a hinder to my plan; today i will date with a girl i met in theater group in a fancy restaurant, what could possibly go wrong?
Fancy restaurant
"Komrade Kaos!!!! your plotsky was undercovered by no one other than me, detective magnifying glass !!!"
He was, as always, smelling liquor and cigars, his eyes were red, desesperate.
"It's all a comunist plot, you can fool my manager but you can't fool me- Some restaurant employee tried to remove the source of embarasment- I know everyone here is working for you!!!! Dirty red.
It was all over, my partner a glass of Vodka in my face and started to cry, saying the date was ruined, i tried to stop her, with tears in my eyes
"please, don't go"
My friend just kept looking at me, it appeared his sanity came back.
"Is....this was..... serious?"
"What have you done?"
He looked remorseful, and started to apologise. I felt bad, looking him so pathetic and zoned.
"It's okay, tovarish, sometimes is hard separate the profession of private life, here, have a bottle of Vodka let's relax".
He accepted, and was removed from the restaurant by one of the workers, not before apologising one more time. I picked the phone to talk with my partner, the russian actresss from KGB, "my date"
"Gaslighting him with western emotions was a good idea- the employees of the restaurant putted their ushankas in their heads and picked their ak-47's- now let's bring capitalism down.
One minion asked:
"Komrade, the nuke is ready. Can we fire it now?"
"Nah, soon our little friend will have his flashback, telling him we're totally fooling him since the beggining. Set the nuke to detonate midnight, да ?" | 2019-08-01T18:47:04 | 2019-08-01T17:43:19 | 41 | 28 |
[WP] start your story with a sentence that is upbeat and happy. Then end it with that same sentence but this time is dark and chilling. | "When love knocks, you open the door."
That's what my mother used to say. The story of how she met my dad and married him is the kind of love story you see in the movies. I know it by heart. When I was a kid, she used to tell that story to anyone who would listen.
They met in college. Everything about them was different: values, lifestyle, wealth status, you name it. But opposites attract and so did they. They fought with their parents and when that didn't work out, they eloped. Whenever I asked my mother how she knew he was the one she'd say, "When love knocks, you open the door."
She still tells that story to anyone who would listen, even after what he did to her. True love. She hangs on to that idea and wraps herself around it like a wallflower. In all fairness it was a good love story, until it wasn't. Until the bruises, which came in her life like unwelcomed guests, found a permanent place in our house. They left only when he did. These days she tries not to think too much about them.
But I still liked that quote. So much that I used it in my wedding vows. It was also my first thought when I met him ten years ago. He was rough around the edges but he was a charming man. And to be honest he still is, to the outsiders at least. We fell in love harder than anyone I know. I fell for him like hard rain. He fell for me like a tall building.
Now the love is gone. There is only routine. Bottles of alcohol filling up our house with the smell of a failed man. The hand that I held ten years ago to a slow dance now moves too fast for me to duck.
And tonight is the worst of them all. I am in the bathroom with my hand on the wound, my face shivering with tears. He is in the living room walking back and forth, the way he usually does before boiling out. I need to get out of here, at least for tonight. I am not strong enough to handle what is coming next.
His footsteps come closer. A knock on the door.
I wait. I hear nothing. He knocks again. I put my hand on my mouth to stop myself from screaming.
And then he speaks, in a whisper. "When love knocks, you open the door." | (Can i make this undertale cos Im making this undertale lol)
&#x200B;
Its a beautiful day outside, birds are singing, flowers are blooming. Im going hiking today. Who cares if people say Mount Ebott is dangerous, people come back all the time! I get out of bed and get dressed into my favourite striped jumper. I grab my bag and leave the house, wave to my parents, and set off.
&#x200B;
I climb up the long winding paths of the mountain and enter a large cave. The stalactites clinging onto the roof. I hang my bag around a stalagmite and grab a plaster to cover a nasty cut on my hand. I start to look around and my foot gets caught on a a root and it sends me plummeting into a large pit.
&#x200B;
***THUNK***
My head hurt, no, everywhere hurt. I had fallen on some flowers? They were yellow, I recognise that they were the same used to remember my aunt who went missing here. I never knew her but i heard she was nice. I leave the flower room and see a lone, singular flower, it turns around and it has a face?! It starts to speak, "Howdy! Im Flowey! Flowey the flower! You're new to the underground arn't ya?" It winks and sticks it's tongue out.
"Dont worry! I'll teach ya how things work around here! See that heart? That is your soul!" A red heart appears infront of my chest, pulseing infront of me, i gasp and take a step back.
"Dont worry silly! Thats yours! See move it around! Souls start of weak, but grow with lots of LV, whats LV why LOVE of course!" It winks again "You want some love dont ya! LOVE down here is spread through little white friendly-ness pellets! Grab as many as you can!"
It sends some white dot things at me, they hit my soul and it hurts, so badly.
"You idiot. To think i would pass up an opportunity like this." Its face contorts.
# "Die"
It surrounds me with the pellets, slowly encosing on me when.
"AHHHnhgfidhn"
It's sent flying across the room. Then i hear another voice.
"Do not worry my child, I am Toriel."
I stand up.
"Caretaker of the ruins"
I grab a stick.
"Take my hand my child"
It holds out it's hand, but i panic and stab it.
"Ahh... I see. Haha. I guess, you weren't as defenseless as I once thought."
You won! Your LOVE and GOLD increased.
&#x200B;
After that I went around killing the hideous monsters that lived there, every time I did, it felt easier. They wanted to hurt me first. Right? That flower did! I left the ruins, I killed the rest of the monsters. As my LOVE and EXP increased, it was easier, it came to the point where it was enjoyable!
&#x200B;
I then stood in a checkered hall, staring eye to eyesocket at a skeleton, he had killed me plently of times before, i dont know how, I could just feel it, so could he.
"heh heh, welcome back kid. it's a beautiful day outside today, birds are singing, flowers are blooming..."
&#x200B;
\-----
Hope that was ok :) Sorry for making it undertale, i just thought sans's genocide lines would be perfect. | 2019-09-07T05:25:19 | 2019-09-07T04:42:58 | 773 | 12 |
[WP] start your story with a sentence that is upbeat and happy. Then end it with that same sentence but this time is dark and chilling. | “Run!”
We would laugh as we played. Our little legs would carry us across the field, while our short arms would try reaching for one another to not be it.
I loved after school games. They were relaxing, and a nice (69) liberation from my pre school life. Time always just seemed to repeat when we played. It was like a carbon copy of everyday’s game. Jenny would be it for about twenty minutes before someone else slowed down intentionally to not make her feel bad.
“Damien’s it!” Someone yelled, and so it was instinct.
“Run!”
Giggles erupted from all of us. Don’t get touched by any other player, else wise you’d be it.
“Run!”
Just keep running, just keep laughing, just keep smiling.
“Run!”
But life is full of surprises. today’s game wasn’t a carbon copy. today’s game would be the last game.
I bumped into a man I’d never seen before. Smelly. Old. Grumpy. Ugly. I didn’t like him. No.
“Hey kiddo, you look exhausted. I’ve got some juice in my truck, you want some?”
Stranger. Stranger danger.
“Run!”
I vigorously shake my head. No.
“Aw, come on, a bit of apple juice wouldn’t hurt.”
Well, I am a bit thirsty-
No. Run.
“We also have grape and mango if apple isn’t to your liking.”
Mango? I love mangoes! A sip wouldn’t hurt. Probably. And mommy would be so happy, I’d finally be drinking healthy juices!
“Okay.”
I hear my friends behind me playing. They can wait.
He comes back with a glass filled with the mustardy yellow color of mango juice. I take sip, but what was only supposed to be a sip turned into huge gulps. It was so, so good. I was so thirsty.
And before I knew it, my vision was growing cloudy.
One thought in my mind was constant, although it was probably because I could still hear the voices of my friends echoing in the distance as the mystery man carried me into his truck.
“Run!”
—
iM ONLY FOURTEEN DONT JUDGE ME but I’m welcoming any feedback, just a smol aspiring writer here haha | (Can i make this undertale cos Im making this undertale lol)
&#x200B;
Its a beautiful day outside, birds are singing, flowers are blooming. Im going hiking today. Who cares if people say Mount Ebott is dangerous, people come back all the time! I get out of bed and get dressed into my favourite striped jumper. I grab my bag and leave the house, wave to my parents, and set off.
&#x200B;
I climb up the long winding paths of the mountain and enter a large cave. The stalactites clinging onto the roof. I hang my bag around a stalagmite and grab a plaster to cover a nasty cut on my hand. I start to look around and my foot gets caught on a a root and it sends me plummeting into a large pit.
&#x200B;
***THUNK***
My head hurt, no, everywhere hurt. I had fallen on some flowers? They were yellow, I recognise that they were the same used to remember my aunt who went missing here. I never knew her but i heard she was nice. I leave the flower room and see a lone, singular flower, it turns around and it has a face?! It starts to speak, "Howdy! Im Flowey! Flowey the flower! You're new to the underground arn't ya?" It winks and sticks it's tongue out.
"Dont worry! I'll teach ya how things work around here! See that heart? That is your soul!" A red heart appears infront of my chest, pulseing infront of me, i gasp and take a step back.
"Dont worry silly! Thats yours! See move it around! Souls start of weak, but grow with lots of LV, whats LV why LOVE of course!" It winks again "You want some love dont ya! LOVE down here is spread through little white friendly-ness pellets! Grab as many as you can!"
It sends some white dot things at me, they hit my soul and it hurts, so badly.
"You idiot. To think i would pass up an opportunity like this." Its face contorts.
# "Die"
It surrounds me with the pellets, slowly encosing on me when.
"AHHHnhgfidhn"
It's sent flying across the room. Then i hear another voice.
"Do not worry my child, I am Toriel."
I stand up.
"Caretaker of the ruins"
I grab a stick.
"Take my hand my child"
It holds out it's hand, but i panic and stab it.
"Ahh... I see. Haha. I guess, you weren't as defenseless as I once thought."
You won! Your LOVE and GOLD increased.
&#x200B;
After that I went around killing the hideous monsters that lived there, every time I did, it felt easier. They wanted to hurt me first. Right? That flower did! I left the ruins, I killed the rest of the monsters. As my LOVE and EXP increased, it was easier, it came to the point where it was enjoyable!
&#x200B;
I then stood in a checkered hall, staring eye to eyesocket at a skeleton, he had killed me plently of times before, i dont know how, I could just feel it, so could he.
"heh heh, welcome back kid. it's a beautiful day outside today, birds are singing, flowers are blooming..."
&#x200B;
\-----
Hope that was ok :) Sorry for making it undertale, i just thought sans's genocide lines would be perfect. | 2019-09-07T06:14:40 | 2019-09-07T04:42:58 | 48 | 12 |
[WP] Music is a dangerous weapon, if not careful entire species can fall to madness upon discovering it. It has been theorised that any race with more than a thousand songs could wipe out all intelligent life, which is why Humanity is so feared in the galaxy despite no human really ever knowing why | A tear slid from his face, tracking down the expanse of his cheek and sliding against the seal of his rebreather.
“It’s beautiful,” he whispered.
“And deadly” the female snapped, fingers suctioning the end of his helmet and jerking him upright, out of the daze of his audio receptors. “Terminate the connection.”
The male glared back, gills frilling up, but the female did not look away. So he did, staring out the bay panel at the little jewel of green and blue. Reluctantly his fingers reached for the switch.
But he paused once more, the sound waves too tantalizing to merely cut it away.
“How did they come by it?” he asked, a breath of awe mingling with his fear.
The female shuddered. “Only a perverse species could devise such a weapon of mass destruction.”
The male nodded and shook himself. “Of course, it’s no small wonder the quarantine has remained in effect for so many thousands of years.” He plotted a course that would take them farther out and around the seemingly insignificant planet. The monstrous creatures would never know of their presence.
He reached for the switch again.
“Baaaaby Shark, do do do do – *……….* ”
The silence was a mercy. | Two figures stood in a hallway, peeking through a slightly open door. They stood awestruck at the human on the other side, lazing on a chair, finger tapping on a table.
"It's >!got the!< sound thing >!on!< again." A quiet whisper from someone the human kept calling a Minotaur.
"They must. Be absurdly. Powerful." A slow response filtered through a water mask of a primarily aquatic creature. One the human calls a fish-man despite being a woman.
"How can it just >!sit!< there >!and listen!< like that? It's not >!self harm!< is it? Do we >!need!< to take it to >!medical!<?"
"That "it". Is a he. I don't think. It's self harm. He doesn't. Seem in any. Discomfort. He seems. Happy."
"It's >!maddening!< how it... he, can >!just listen!< with no health >!issues!<." Both onlookers gasp and move back a bit as the human starts to move his head, they assume, along with the pattern of the sound.
"Watch. Watch. The ears. On the side. Of the. Head. His brain. Won't trickle. Out."
"Utterly incredible. Maybe he >!built up!< an >!immunity!<."
"That. Might work. Do you. Thin..." The hallway becomes dead silent as a voice comes from the room. The human is noddi this head, tapping a finger and foot, and now making vocalizations.
"...Better. Faster. Stronger. Dudu dudu dudu duda duda. Work it harder. Make it better..." The two onlookers had already ran several meters down the hallway. The Minotaur like one biting it's hand to distract it from the accidental attack. The smaller fish-man filling her water tank with bubbles as she hyperventilated as fear of what could be took over.
"We. Have. To. Have. Small. Weapon. Banned. On. The. Ship."
"Humans like >!weapons!<."
"I don't. Care. Give. Him a. Knife. Or a. Gun. Or a. Bomb. Anything. Just. Not. That. He'll. Kill. Us all."
"Agreed." | 2019-09-28T12:09:05 | 2019-09-28T09:40:22 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] In reality, every human gets to choose heaven or hell when they die. Hell isn't actually the realm of eternal torture, but everyone picks heaven because of God's highly effective marketing. After eons of solitude, Lucifer is startled by the first ever human to arrive in hell. | The human didn't look particularly insane. They had short, curly red hair and a nose piercing. They wore a rainbow turtleneck that stood out brightly against the pale grey sky and calm blue landscape. Their cuffed black jeans were held up by ill-matching suspenders, and their combat boots were scuffed, but well maintained. Basically, an average human.
They stare you down with icy blue eyes, and you stare back. It's not every decade that you get anyone down here, least of all intentionally. You clear your long-unused throat, and speak in halting human language. "Why are you here?" They smirk slightly, and look you up and down.
"Well," they say. "I heard a rumor that there are excellent parties held in Hell. All the sins. Lust, gluttony, sloth, just simply the *best* things in life. I thought it would be a good time, but..." They look around at the orderly buildings and dreary landscape with undisguised distaste. "...This doesn't look like my idea of a good time. How about we shake it up a bit?"
You chuckle. It's not an evil chuckle, but the type brought on by surprise. "I'm afraid it's just you and me down here. No wild parties, no food, no drink. No one sane would choose to come down here. I'm not the...sociable type, and God really has you humans wrapped around her finger. Haven't really gotten the chance to tell them that no one's tortured; it's just propaganda." You smile sadly. "I doubt that that's going to change any time soon."
The human looks a bit shocked, then smiles again. "Well, that'd better change, hadn't it?" They say, grinning. You blink at them, staying silent. They sit down on a nearby rock, and cross their legs. "Lucky for you, I got hit by a car right out of college...."
"And I majored in Marketing." | As I descended into the depths of darkness, I could only hear the echo of what happened on that terrible day. The scene played out over and over like scene of a horrific movie that just would not stop.
Being a human, the path to Hell was oddly strange. No fire or brimstone or demons poking and prodding you on the way down. At least, that's not how it was at the pearly gates.
There was all kinds of ceremony and welcoming, even the angels sang hymns of divinity to ease the passing of souls coming to judgment.
The path to hell was not the 'highway' I expected it to be. It seemed it was only reserved for those that were truly damned, and those with 'lesser sins' often repented once they saw the majesty of the kingdom of Heaven.
The smell of sulfur began to increase, but not from what I had expected. The lift I was descending on finally came to the bottom level and a grand, massive ebony gate parted open, revealing a piercing ray of light from behind it. The realm of Hell was like that of a destroyed earth, but still civilized and functional. A local chemical plant churned out a familiar smell of sulfur.
At first, I was horrified, what an insane request I had made. But the more the thoughts passed through my mind, the better at ease I felt about it.
A large dark brooding figure stood behind the parting gates, awaiting me personally as I was told they hadn't had too many visitors of late, and none of which that voluntarily came here.
The shadowy-garbed individual extended his long gangling fingers outstretched toward me, and waved me through to join him at his side.
"When I received word a mortal chose to come here, I was most certainly surprised." He said, walking me along the pathway that plunged further into Hell.
I merely nodded my head, looking around for something specific.
"On my way 'up', I saw all of the advertisement about peace and tranquility... but I also saw the one for here." I replied.
The dark master folded his arms, causing it to disappear under his blackened-charred cape.
"Yea, about that." He said as we continued along. "Usually, it's handled in house... what makes you so eager to come here?"
We came to a stop, standing before a cross with a man crucified to it upside down. I gave him one look over and his weathered, exhausted eyes finally locked with mine, realizing who I was.
"When I saw the advertisement for an open 'tormentor', I only had one thought on my mind." I said, my eyes never averting 'that mans' stare.
The dark figure placed his hand upon my shoulder and nodded his head. "Well, I suppose it's not every day a person can torture the man who killed his family. His sentence is yours. I look forward to the results and expect weekly updates on your progress." He said as he turned away from me.
"Oh, and by the way..." He said quietly, though it nearly a whisper, the voice still rang loudly enough through my mind... "We'll have to talk further about this 'agreement', but don't expect to get off too lightly." | 2020-01-30T12:30:09 | 2020-01-30T11:49:57 | 273 | 65 |
[WP] About three years ago, your sister fell off the roof and stopped in mid-air. She was the first known victim of the Pause. As of today, almost 97 percent of the world’s population is Paused. | Been weeks since she got like that. Just... frozen in mid air. They're callin' it "The Paws" on the news, I don't really know what animals got to do with it. Lotsa people been comin' in to inspect her. Cops, reporters, even people dressed in fancy black suits says they're from the government. Mom and Dad don't like it though, say it's plain wrong leavin' her like that what with the world looking on, taking pictures and makin' snappy chats. We covered her using the green tarp for the tractor. The tractor's been in our family for ages, I call her Betty. No idea what effects her, my sister I mean not Betty.
I been watchin' TV a while now, there's a fellow come on e'ry now an then talking science and whatnot. Seems like a nice guy, 'cept his name is grass. Wonder what kinda parents name their kids grass... He said every "molecule in her being" seems like it just went up and froze in space an' time. Said some other stuff too but I ain't understand none of it.
I tried poking her with a stick, it was like touching solid steel but I guess steel'd be softer. I even seen a squirrel break an acorn on her forehead. I tried breaking an acorn on my forehead... it hurt pretty bad.
I thought she might be gettin' awfully tired just, stuck up there like that. So one day, I brought out a mattress for her with a pillow an' blanket. I only just set it up when she screamed and fell on it.
"Jessie! How come you ain't frozen no more?"
She looked up at me like she was in shock. "Woods, what in the hell is going on?"
Turns out she thinks she just fell from the roof. I guess the snow kinda surprised her seein' as she fell in spring. I guess she didn't dream neither considerin' she thought she just fell.
A few days went by an' all these people started comin' to see me. Sayin' I'm some kinda genius and a hero for finding the cure for the Paws. Even the President's invited me over for some kind of award ceriminy, wonder what that is but it sounds tasty. Apparently, people been freezing up all over the country lately an' no one knew what to do. Even that grass fellow from earlier's been talkin' about me. Said sometimes it takes a very simple solution to solve a very complex problem. Said turns out all you gotta do is prevent their deths whatever what means. | There wasn't much to live for anymore. Most, if not all the people in my life were now paused. Me, being the most useless one out of my family tree still mobile and able to continue "living" felt like a waste.
I didn't want this, sometimes I even dared to hope to be frozen too. I wished to stop existing for most of my life, but nowadays those thoughts just caused me guilt.
Every day I wake up wondering if there is something I could be doing to help, but then I remember I'm just an idiot and calm down.
Sometimes I walk around with my dad's old leafblower and get rid of the dust accumulated on what used to be my neighbors, I don't feel as useless that way.
I think about the movie 'I am legend' very often and at how Will Smith saved the human race after years of devoting his life to finding a cure to the virus that turned people into darkseekers.
But in reality I'm just an asshole that grows pot and dusts off the statues. I repurposed most of the front yards in the nice neighborhood a few miles away from my old shitty apartment to grow my plants. The lady next door wasn't pleased but mid argument as she yelled at me, she paused.
A girl ran out of the front door of the house, tears rapidly filling her eyes, as who seemed to be her mother now stood frozen with an angry face, mouth wide open and a finger pointing straight at my direction. She fell to her knees now sobbing at her mother's feet.
I sat next to her and I apologized for taking the last few minutes of her time unpaused. The girl was probably about 19. She had short brown hair and glassy green eyes.
She didn't look at me, only staring at thegrass beneath her. "Do you have anyone left?" Her voice cracking as she spoke.
I stayed silent for a few seconds.
"No." This time she looked up, I hadn't seen a girl that pretty in years. In any other circumstance she wouldn't even be speaking to me.
"You can use the space I don't care"
I muttered a thank you and stood up from the grass. I offered my hand and helped her stand.
That was a few years ago, turns out her entire family except her mom and her had frozen at the dinner table mid-breakfast one morning. She mentioned that her 6 year old brother was paused from the waist down for a few seconds before he completely stopped. "Mommy I can't feel my toes" was the last thing he said. I could relate, which we both took comfort in.
We ended up becoming good friends, she turned out to have a green finger. We grew vegetables and flowers in what we called our garden, and we would sit under the stars as we smoked.
There wasn't much I enjoyed to do other than spend time with her, not that there was much anyway.
We would reenact famous movies like pulp fiction or Shrek and make up the dialogues to pass the time. We would cook giant meals and bake edibles that made us feel less empty inside. It had been the best months of my life, and every moment we feared it would be the last.
One day we were sitting at the park, looking up at the moon, and smoking a joint. She held my hand very right and told me that she loved me, and that she had never felt such love for another woman before. We looked at each other in the eyes, her beautiful face hit by the moonshine. We leaned closer to each other and our lips met. I felt my stomach churn with butterflies, for once in so long my chest felt full of light and I couldn't process how much I had longed for this moment.
I leaned back to look at her. She didn't move.
She paused.
(Spare me I am not a writer but wanted to write some gay shit) | 2020-04-20T00:17:11 | 2020-04-20T00:02:19 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | No one feared humans. They were soft and gave in easily to requests made to prevent war. Their mere presence in the intergalactic community was widely considered a mystery. Their home must be even weaker than they are.
Our people were raiders. We seemed to find human colonies everywhere we went. Perhaps that's how they did it? They procreate so much that they have no choice but to flee to new homes. We would stop in various human colonies and take our fill of food and useful equipment and goods. The humans always seemed eager to part with it if it meant preventing a true war. They insisted it was in the best interest of all involved.
The council doesn't understand. Why are so many of their potentially habitable planets in their origin systems so irradiated? There isn't enough radioactive material to account for that.
We pushed our limits. We took more, we left less. We occasionally killed a few of their meager guards but even then, they relinquished. Until we took some of Them.
We were contacted shortly thereafter with demands to return the newly captured slaves. We declined.
They tried again. We declined again.
We sent word to the council and they rebuffed every attempt by the humans to recover their people. It was a mistake to have underestimated them.
A meeting with a human General called Matthis took place. The human was implacable. A true vision of grace under pressure, and stoicism the likes of which I've never seen in one of their kind before. It's almost as if he feels that the multitudes of kinetic and energy weapons pointed at him are no threat.
The negotiations were swift, as we still refused to return our trophies. War was declared. Mistakes were made.
General Matthis opens his communications to humans somewhere off planet. "Glass it." He turns to look at me and the council. "We'll speak again tomorrow. Hopefully you'll change your mind." As he leaves the chambers we all look at each other, the same curious thought running through our minds.
"What does glass have to do with war?" Sure our planets were rich in various silicates, but glass was fragile and worthless to wartime production in the vast majority of cases.
We learned much that evening.
The following day, the General returned, a solemn look on his face. Even he understood what had happened. An entire colony planet gone overnight. Turned to glass. He looks up from the floor, his expression still grim. "I hope you've changed your minds. I would like to not have to do that again." | General Venri sat tall and proud, commanding all of the spaceships around him. This was it, it was finally time someone conquered the weak, cowardly species of the planet Earth. It’s shocking that they have lasted for so long without being attacked. Somehow they’ve managed to either talk their way out of every conflict or remain neutral. It’s high time for their planet to be ruled by a real, powerful species, like Venri’s Saturners.
Red flashing lights and a blaring alarm shook the general from his thoughts. There must be some mistake; this alert meant the Saturners were evacuating their homeland. Venri pulls up his communication monitor that connects directly to his queen’s throne room. He sees the castle going on lockdown, huge sheets of metal snapping shut over the windows, soldiers rushing the royal family into the room in a turtle formation, blasters being passed to even the youngest of the family. He can hear the sound of screaming and explosions through the camera.
“What’s going on?” Venri asks, so shocked he momentarily forgets his manners. The lock down doesn’t make any sense, the only nation they’re currently at war with being Earth who are too weak to make an offensive attack. Sure, they have allies, but none that would demonstrate such an open act of aggression against the galaxy’s superpower.
“It’s the earthlings, they’ve switched from defense to offense,” one of the higher ranking soldiers answered. “They’ve invaded the planet. They blew up our weapon storage areas. They’re going through and burning everything, even civilians, especially civilians. It’s brutal. They’re burning our fields and destroying our food supply. The few shuttles that we tried to evacuate have been shot down.” His face turns white with fear as the building starts to shake.
“I’m sending units back to help,” Venri says, typing in his command and to send to his fleet. Before he can, he notices that something’s off. Then he realizes that the speakers in front of him that moments before had been rattling with the sound of explosions and cries have gone silent. He looks up at the screen where a few soldiers are talking in hushed tones to the queen.
“Don’t do anything yet,” the queen orders. “They’ve retreated.”
The general watches with bated breath as the heavy metal that closes around the windows slowly opening. Outside, what he can see is damaged, but not unrepairable. His planet can come back from this, they’ll be alright. And with this as motivation, they’ll give the earthlings hell.
Then, the bombing starts.
The first one falls in the distance, far away from the castle. A bright light, like a meteor zips down from above. Then, a mushroom cloud. They start coming in rapid succession, resounding booms coming closer and closer to the throne room where the metal sheets have snapped back down over the windows. The last thing he sees before his communication screen goes black is the wide, terrified eyes of his fearless queen.
He stays staring at the darkened wall for just a second too long, long enough for the earthlings to break the blockade his fleet had built. Part of being a good general is knowing when you’ve lost. And boy, had Venri lost. He called for retreat, but it was too little too late. He watched in mute horror as his ships fell to the brutal onslaught of his underestimated foe. He hopes some of his soldiers will make it out as he moves his own shuttle to meet the sleek fighter jets proudly bearing Earth’s crest.
One does.
The earthlings massacred the Saturners, specifically leaving one to tell the tale. A tale of woe and horror, about the brutality of a species whose most notable achievements consist of finding new ways to slaughter each other. | 2020-06-19T14:50:22 | 2020-06-19T13:34:17 | 65 | 26 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | The Congregation of Supervillains sat in their seats, viryuall holding a meeting of theirs due to the hazard posed by the epidemic ravaging the Earth. Only 3 out of the 12 chair members had the ability to counteract disease. Ulterior looked up after reading the reports given by each member.
Their system was highly efficient, at least in his eye. Yes, a single eye. There were 12 members, each patrolling a different sector of the planet to report any unsavory activities that posed a threat to them. If any up and coming superhero or villain knowingly broke one of their established 20 rules that each new vigilante recieved as they started, then action would be swift and decisive against them. This was a alist agreed upon between the Legion of Justice and the Supervillain Congregation after 10 years of the Age of Heroes had passed with no laws and chaos everywhere.
1. Never reveal a masked person's identity to the world. A single person is okay, but never the entire world, unless they are dead or have agreed to this.
2. Never defile a corpse, unless you are taking technology, everyone deserves a funeral.
3. You may not take up the mantle of any hero or villain without consent, and especially not if they are dead, unless you have been explicitly told to do so.
4. You never have to pay for property damage.
And there were many others, but the most important of them all, was rule 17
17. **NEVER**, EVER go after the family of a hero or villain. There will be consequences which are too gruesome for even us to describe.
That particular rule was established when the Cryomancer killed Agent Savage's mom. Savage went mad, torturing and burning Cryomancer's parents alive in front of him, before breaking every bone in his body and then freezing him to death. An ironic death. There's just some lines you don't cross.
Back in the Congregation's meeting, the Overseer finished reading the other's reports. Heracles' stuck out to him. Patrolling Canada and Scandinavia was Heracles' job, and there was something odd in it that was so rare it was considered high report.
"Heracles, your report contains a rule 17 misdemeanor."
The room fell silent as they all sink that information in.
"You took care of the situation, I assume? After all, we don't want no good scumbags thinking they can go around breaking our rules."
Heracles spoke up in a heavy accent.
"Yes of course, I killed Permutation Lad quickly after the incident. He had the gall to blow up the Solution's parents home. What a waste of talent."
The passing of Permutation Lad was indeed an inconvenience the Overseer had not seen. Small time villain. Completely cuckoo in the head, but a cunning fucker nonetheless. He had been operation in Ontario for little less than a year, and had shown some real creativity and cunning.
"I'll send my condolensces and a compensation letter to the Solution. Knowing the guy, he'd probably try and track down Permutation Lad's parents for revenge. Make sure that doesn't happen."
"How would the brute manage that?" A seductive voice rang out as Rougé spoke up.
"I don't know, Heracles will figure it out."
The next morning, the Solution woke up after a restless night, determined to find that son of a bitch who killed his parents and son. When he opened the door, he instead found a head on his doorstep, bloody and battered, with a gunshot wound having tunneled a hole clean through his brain. The Permutation Lad's mask, half torn m, was on the side. There was also a bouquet of blood stained white carnations, a check of 5000 dollars, and a note.
**"We took care of the problem for you, and do not worry, he suffered, please find a compensation and condolensces from us. We hope this unfortunate incident does not drive you to make the same mistake as him. Do not break rule 17, you will end up like him.**
**Regards,**
**The Congregation of Supervillains"**
******************************************************
This is my first time answering a prompt, advice and criticism appreciated and welcome | Windstrike is the coolest super hero in the world that's just a fact. No battles lost, no scandals of any type -he even denunced the bigot president during his term, that took balls!- which is why I wanted to do it.
There's only a few of unwritten rules for us criminals but if you must know one this is it: "Don't go after the loved ones of the heroes" it has never sit right with me I mean granted we barely know their real identities but if you ask me its a sure way to enter the villans hall of fame, and for someone like me with limited options I need to explore any chances.
I have inmortality but only decided to be a Villan a few years ago (I was wasting myself as test dummy) not an useful power to attack but it does ensure I'll come up from a fight alive, that along with the hate from the biggest hero will put me on the map.
I can see it now "The Dealer" associated with the respect I deserve, So when they announced that they were going to trap the heroes on their own hall in an all out attack I though at best they'll keep them busy for an hour maybe 2 (it all depends on how bored its Vampire, that annoying know it all)while I pay a visit to Matt, see I have been observing Windstrike for a few months now and I know he keeps close tabs on him and I just know this is going to change my life
-hello- he smiles as he opens the door, my gun already pointed I wanted to shoot him but I stopped I need to make sure he calls for help -oh... never seen you before -I sight I want to shoot him again- oh yes Dealer, correct? -
-The dealer- I'm kind of happy that he knows my name, but annoyed that he forgot the article, it keeps it classy, he smiles and lets me in, smart boy, inside there's a group of of people... a party? I was not expecting company
-Hi guys, The dealer- he smiles at me while he says it, god I hate this - is here- Shannon did you know he was comming?- a Woman looks at and squints
-never seen him before, Duke hardly ever talks about C tiers- Matt is still smiling, more people start staring, I decide to put a end to this I point my gun at the fridge and shoot, it implodes (Molecular it's very good at guns I'll give him that but his prices are crazy) everyone stares at me and I smile I finally got their attention they finally understand why am I here.
-Honey, you're going to have to pay for that, at least it'll be cheaper than that gun you got from my son- says an older woman while vaping then turns the man next to him and resumes her conversation as if I havent just desintegrated a fucking fridge
-Listen! You're all my hostages... and did you just said your son?- I turn to the Woman, violet eyes same as the ones who sold me the gun - what the fuck?
-Language, son- says the man next to her, their hands locked- yes Molecular is our son-
-And why are you here with him? Do you know who he is?- I point at Matt he is still smiling i think he took a xanax, no one can be that happy
-Windstrike's boyfriend- says a blonde with a giggle
-fiance- corrects Shannon -and we still needs to finish everything for the party tonigh you are going to have to move, we need a new fridge now, I'm so happy that Duke is bringing the cake later or you'll be in trouble-
-who the fuck is Duke?!- Molecular's parents look at me disapprovingly
-Darkness- responds the Blonde matter of factly
-shit!- Windstrike might be the greatest hero on earth but Darkness is our top villan, suddenly it hits me- I think i need to sit
- oh you got it, it seems- says shannon smiling -you came here to break the rule-
-The Rule- Matt says with a chuckle
-did you even took your introductory course when you joined?
-there's a course?- the strain in my voice, I wish I could do something about it, Shannon sights
- you see... long ago we decided that we were tired of being killed by the odd villan or hero with loose morals so we (the families of both factions) all sat down and decided that we were all going to be friends, they all hate it-
-but they love us more- interrupts the blonde raising her glass
-so at least you want every super powered people on the planet behind you I'll calm down and go and get Matt a new fridge, as for the gun Linda can get you your money back-
-No refunds dear-
-well I'm still taking the gun, I'm sure Duke has a docen of this, say is windstrike even weak againts this? - Matt mimics a key locking his lips - whatever-
I look around, my greatest plan (only plan) defeated even before it started
-oh don't feel bad The dealer, play your cards right and we can let you in the group, I'm sure we can convice them, we do need an errand boy- Matt winks at me -at the very least we wont ask them to kill you- he is no longer smiling, I just hope I have enough money for the fridge | 2020-07-12T11:58:06 | 2020-07-12T11:05:58 | 55 | 10 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | In a home in which he was intruding Razorclaw waited in the shadows admiring the genius craftmanship of robotic hand that he had crafted for himself, the blades were sharpened to a nanoscopic point with titanium blades. He called the weapon Razorclaw, he called himself Razorclaw for he thought of it as his moniker, his magnum opus a true testament of his unparraleled and unappreciated genius.
None appreciated his vision, he had found out the secret identity of his nemesis the Scarlett Saviour was none other than Robert Quentin and on top of that he had a girlfriend a Doctor Mindy Breaker but when he brought his plan to leverage this information to hurt the Scarlett Saviour in a way none had done before the Ministry of Misdemeanor tried to talk Razorclaw out of it.
Razorclaw thought only fools cling to this social construct of morality, a tool to protect the weak by shackling the strong. But it was clear to him that he was surrounded by fools so he chose to go along with the plan without support of the fools at the ministry a woman would be easy prey for his Razorclaw.
He heard the jingle of keys as they were navigated into the lock of the front door and the click and a faint creak of the door opening. The keys jingled along with the footsteps which approached the kitchen in which he hid waiting. From the shadows he observed the woman walk in she was so innocent and beautiful and his blades would make short work of robbing such a delicate creature of both of these traits . Razorclaw raised his claw ready and smiled thinking of the torture he was going to bestow. But his hand would not move. It was stuck in place he looked at it to find it glowing with a mysterious energy. Psyonic energy, he realised too late as he was hurled against the wall.
The woman turned to him and smiled, a familiar smile one that was eerily familiar to Razorclaw though he could not place how it was familiar. He was pinned to the wall with psyonic power but he was not defeated. He dismissed the feeling of unease and reasserted control over the situation.
"I see the Scarlett Saviour's little bitch has powers of her own" he delighted as her eyes narrowed at the insult but heroes were moral and as such were all bark and no bite he did not fear heroes. He continued in his mocking tone "I suppose you met through work? How cliche"
She smiled that unsettling smile once again "I suppose you could say that"
Razorclaw pressed on " So what are you? another hero or a side bitch? \*ahem\*" he grinned" I mean sidekick?"
She looked him dead in the eye with her eyes shooting an inexplicable torrent of terror along with her gaze into him. "You clearly don't know me at all" she said so coldly it chilled razorclaw to the bone.
"Why?" he asked now visibly unsure of himself.
"There is no why" she said, clearly some joke that Razorclaw was not privy to.
Such insolence he could not abide and he tried moving his hand to shoot a razor dart at the woman but with a burst of psyonic energy the hand exploded, the remnants of his lifes work floated before his horrified eyes.
"Cute toy, sorry I broke it" she said mockingly
"You bitch!" he screamed
She moved the blades from his broken toy to press against his throat on his face she could see the great effort he took to suppress his fear as he convinced himself he was still safe.
Razorclaw regained composure reminding himself that heroes are all bark and no bite.
He felt the blades slowly bite into his neck, he saw the woman smile that familiar smile he had worn many times before he killed a victim and then he realised the punch line of Dr Mindy Breakers joke there is no Y.
She was Dr Mind Breaker! A powerful telepath with mid tier telikenetic powers.
His blades pressed into his throat he managed to gurgle his last words "But you're a villain"
Doctor Mind Breaker smiled more softly this time "Yes but I suppose it's true what they say... Opposites attract!" | Windstrike is the coolest super hero in the world that's just a fact. No battles lost, no scandals of any type -he even denunced the bigot president during his term, that took balls!- which is why I wanted to do it.
There's only a few of unwritten rules for us criminals but if you must know one this is it: "Don't go after the loved ones of the heroes" it has never sit right with me I mean granted we barely know their real identities but if you ask me its a sure way to enter the villans hall of fame, and for someone like me with limited options I need to explore any chances.
I have inmortality but only decided to be a Villan a few years ago (I was wasting myself as test dummy) not an useful power to attack but it does ensure I'll come up from a fight alive, that along with the hate from the biggest hero will put me on the map.
I can see it now "The Dealer" associated with the respect I deserve, So when they announced that they were going to trap the heroes on their own hall in an all out attack I though at best they'll keep them busy for an hour maybe 2 (it all depends on how bored its Vampire, that annoying know it all)while I pay a visit to Matt, see I have been observing Windstrike for a few months now and I know he keeps close tabs on him and I just know this is going to change my life
-hello- he smiles as he opens the door, my gun already pointed I wanted to shoot him but I stopped I need to make sure he calls for help -oh... never seen you before -I sight I want to shoot him again- oh yes Dealer, correct? -
-The dealer- I'm kind of happy that he knows my name, but annoyed that he forgot the article, it keeps it classy, he smiles and lets me in, smart boy, inside there's a group of of people... a party? I was not expecting company
-Hi guys, The dealer- he smiles at me while he says it, god I hate this - is here- Shannon did you know he was comming?- a Woman looks at and squints
-never seen him before, Duke hardly ever talks about C tiers- Matt is still smiling, more people start staring, I decide to put a end to this I point my gun at the fridge and shoot, it implodes (Molecular it's very good at guns I'll give him that but his prices are crazy) everyone stares at me and I smile I finally got their attention they finally understand why am I here.
-Honey, you're going to have to pay for that, at least it'll be cheaper than that gun you got from my son- says an older woman while vaping then turns the man next to him and resumes her conversation as if I havent just desintegrated a fucking fridge
-Listen! You're all my hostages... and did you just said your son?- I turn to the Woman, violet eyes same as the ones who sold me the gun - what the fuck?
-Language, son- says the man next to her, their hands locked- yes Molecular is our son-
-And why are you here with him? Do you know who he is?- I point at Matt he is still smiling i think he took a xanax, no one can be that happy
-Windstrike's boyfriend- says a blonde with a giggle
-fiance- corrects Shannon -and we still needs to finish everything for the party tonigh you are going to have to move, we need a new fridge now, I'm so happy that Duke is bringing the cake later or you'll be in trouble-
-who the fuck is Duke?!- Molecular's parents look at me disapprovingly
-Darkness- responds the Blonde matter of factly
-shit!- Windstrike might be the greatest hero on earth but Darkness is our top villan, suddenly it hits me- I think i need to sit
- oh you got it, it seems- says shannon smiling -you came here to break the rule-
-The Rule- Matt says with a chuckle
-did you even took your introductory course when you joined?
-there's a course?- the strain in my voice, I wish I could do something about it, Shannon sights
- you see... long ago we decided that we were tired of being killed by the odd villan or hero with loose morals so we (the families of both factions) all sat down and decided that we were all going to be friends, they all hate it-
-but they love us more- interrupts the blonde raising her glass
-so at least you want every super powered people on the planet behind you I'll calm down and go and get Matt a new fridge, as for the gun Linda can get you your money back-
-No refunds dear-
-well I'm still taking the gun, I'm sure Duke has a docen of this, say is windstrike even weak againts this? - Matt mimics a key locking his lips - whatever-
I look around, my greatest plan (only plan) defeated even before it started
-oh don't feel bad The dealer, play your cards right and we can let you in the group, I'm sure we can convice them, we do need an errand boy- Matt winks at me -at the very least we wont ask them to kill you- he is no longer smiling, I just hope I have enough money for the fridge | 2020-07-12T12:05:04 | 2020-07-12T11:05:58 | 50 | 10 |
[WP] You are the greatest Villain to have ever faced against the heroes. Your power? Is to heal others. | The heroes advanced, as they always did, cutting through his followers. Ignes Sunsworn wielded her holy staff to burn a path towards him with the power of the sun. Their party dashed over the burning bodies to get closer to him. As more of his followers came in to stop them, Kotak used the legendary Sword of the Old Tides to send waves of power crashing down on them. As they inched closer, Silla, from a position unknown, continued to send an endless rain of arrows down on his head.
Only the combined efforts of his Steel Mages prevented his death. The heroes wielded powers beyond that of mere mortals. In their own ways, they had been blessed by the Lords of Light. Their strength was mighty and had been the end of villains for decades. Villains such as his master, a meticulous, charismatic woman who always had a plan and an army of willing followers. She had been his role model and a perfect villain. Still, she had been stopped by the heroes due to a singular cause.
Zakiy had learned from his master’s mistake and had been careful not to repeat it. He had not taken a blessing of the Dark Lords, though many had offered to be his patron. The Dark Lords had powerful abilities that made it easy to amass power, build armies, and to bring the masses under control. But, they were weak to the few blessed by the Lords of Light. Zakiy had plans for the world and would not have them brought to a premature end by the heroes, the champions of the stagnation of the world.
It had taken him years of lowering himself and praying, of sacrifices and offerings, but Zakiy had managed it. He had been given a claim by a Lord of Light. The Lords of Light had powers that took years of training and practice to build up. Outside of the rare exception, they often did not amount to much at all even at the zenith of their ability. Still, he had been more than happy to accept the offer. The powers of the Lords of Light came with no weakness to those of their own kind.
“Rise,” said Zakiy, having finally built up his power as he watched the heroes slaughter his followers. A shiver passed through him as he channeled the powers of his patron. A light flared in his eyes and everywhere his sight fell, his followers began to heal. It started slowly, but the heroes had been expecting it and were quick to notice.
“Damn you, Zakiy,” Kotak swore and all the heroes redoubled their efforts to reach him. Ignes slammed her staff into the ground, trying to interrupt the flow of his magic. All in vain. Skin grew back over burns. Cuts stitched together. Arrows fell from gushing wounds even as they were sealed. The very enemies the heroes had just cut down began to struggle to their knees. By the time they stood once more, they were fully healed.
Zakiy’s own knees trembled from the effort, but it had been worth it. Just as they had countless times before, the heroes once again found themselves surrounded by the same enemies they had been fighting all day. While the number of Zakiy’s followers had certainly decreased, many still remained despite the heroes’ best efforts.
“Zakiy, it is not too late to stop this. You were chosen by Amora for a reason. You haven’t hurt anyone, nor have you made any efforts to encroach into the territory of the Holy Kingdoms until now. You are not cursed with darkness. There is no reason for you to be a villain. There is no reason for us to fight! Come back to the capital with us,” Ignes said.
“You consider yourself blessed and holy for the attention the Lords of Light give your kingdoms. Does my existence not prove how wrong you are? There is nothing special about it. The Lords do not care about right or wrong. Humanity is little more than the game pieces used for their own purposes. You claim to protect peace but all you ever do is maintain what already exists and bring an end to any progress someone offers the world,” Zakiy sneered.
“Progress? Is that what you call it when villains enslave those without the power to defend themselves?” Kotak said.
“Change comes with sacrifice. You will not sway me from my position and I do not care to move you from yours,” Zakiy said. He gestured at his followers. “Look around you. You are surrounded once more. You cannot stop them. You cannot stop me. Your exhaustion is obvious and only grows. The time to struggle has ended.” An arrow flew towards him and was deflected by a Steel Mage. Then another. And another. Flames flickered to life around Ignes and Kotak gripped his sword.
“You know we will not be stopped by your words. You speak of exhaustion? You are one standing against three. You merely delay the inevitable,” Kotak replied. Zakiy smiled as a shout came from the distance and a struggle ensued. His shade-walkers had finally succeeded.
“You’re correct, Kotak. I do delay. I had little reason to attack just yet. I was not interested in this land. I just needed to attract your attention. With a threat to the kingdoms, the heroes inevitably arrived,” Zakiy said. His shadow warped and shifted under his feet. The shade-walkers stepped out of it, carrying Silla, the archer.
“Perhaps my words will not stop you, but I am confident that this will.” He stared coldly at the two heroes until Ignes extinguished her flames and Kotak sighed.
“What is your goal Zakiy? We told you we have no blood feud with you just yet. If we can end this peacefully, we will,” Ignes said.
“You may have no blood feud with me, but who says I do not have one with you? Your people have slaughtered mine for decades. Perhaps I can let Silla live, but you will have to answer my questions first. Where are you keeping my master?”
\-----
r/Inder *for more stories like this!* | When the Paladins pounded on my door, I was ready.
I opened it and ushered them in, feigning the appropriate mix of friendly concern and surgical professionalism.
Paladin Kay carried in Urder, who was unconscious and bleeding heavily from a head wound. Between Sen and Loff was Temple, whose right leg was half cut off and displayed clear signs of shock.
“It’s bad,” stammered Sen inanely, his eyes wild around the edges. He had deep cuts along his armor and face, but otherwise looked okay. I tsk’ed inwardly, disappointed.
That didn’t show on my face. Of course not. Instead, I led the way into the backroom, where I had my tables set and ready. I directed Kay to set Urder down on one and for Temple to be laid down on the other. Sen slumped down against the wall. Loff stayed by Temple’s side, gripping the big man’s hand.
“What happened?” I asked briskly as I began washing my hands in the basin. A little slower than necessary, given the circumstances. I struggled to hold back a smile.
“What do you think?” snapped Kay, pacing the small room. Her armor was falling in places, and her hair was matted to her thick head with blood. “It was the Hooded One and his accursed ghouls. There were… there were so many of them.” She sat down abruptly, haunted, then stood back up to pace again.
I tended to Temple first, as with a wound like his the Paladins could clearly see he didn’t help first. I usually try to heal them in order from least threatening to the worst, when I can get away with it.
“Jensal,” said Loff, his blue eyes watery. “Is Temple going to be alright?”
The two Paladins were lovers. It was really difficult to not giggle at Loff’s hopeless expression.
“I don’t know,” I said grimly, observing the wound. I took my sweet time. “He’s lost a lot of blood, and it looks like whatever cut him was poisoned with something. Perhaps alsbane or femlock, judging by the discoloration. The leg needs to be amputated.”
Loff began to cry, his armored shoulders shaking. Kay wrapped her arm around him.
“Do what you have to do,” said Sen bleakly. “Save his life, no matter what.”
I nodded, then turned to gather some herbs. It gave me the privacy I needed to let loose the building grin inside me. I even laughed a little, though I covered it with a cough.
The wound was poisoned, but I could have cured it. Easily, with a snap of the finger. It would’ve taken me nothing to do so.
I gathered various herbs, bandages, and a mortar and pestle from a shelf that was there for purely cosmetic reasons. People liked to see what they wanted to see. The Paladins saw me as a simple, albeit gifted healer who lived in a small cabin atop a hill. Of course I should have cabinets overflowing with green plants and mortar and pestles and strips of linen.
I also grabbed my saw. My hands shook with excitement, but I steeled them. I was getting too carried away.
I carried it all back to where Temple lay. The man was staring at the ceiling, blankly. Blood was dripping everywhere.
“Loff, Sen,” I said, “I’m going to need you two to hold down Temple. Kay, take these herbs and begin grinding them up. Wrap the mixture in linen and set it against Urder’s head. Now!” I snapped. Kay burst into motion and started smashing herbs under the pestle.
The poultice would do nothing. They were medicinal herbs, in case any of the Paladins had an eye for herbcraft, but together they wouldn’t help with a head wound, or bleeding.
Loff and Sen stood on either side of the table, holding down Temple. I raised the saw.
“Shouldn’t you give him something for the pain?” asked Loff, his voice hysterical.
“There’s no time,” I replied, with just the right amount of grim resignation. “No anesthetic would activate fast enough.” False. False, false, false.
“But—” began Loff, but I shut him up by hefting my saw below Temple’s hip, and began cutting.
Blood sprayed everywhere. Temple jerked and screamed and cried and begged for death. Loff was weeping openly, and so was Sen, and Kay had a look of horror.
The saw hit the bone. Temple passed out. My shoulders shook with mirth, but I knew the Paladins would interpret it as grief and pity. People see what they want to see.
When the leg was cut clean through, I hastily wrapped some bandages around the stump. As I tied the knot off, I covertly traced a rune into what remained of Temple’s thigh with my finger. After all, I couldn’t have the Paladin dying in such an unsatisfying way, bleeding out on my table. No, I had greater plans for them all.
The flesh began to knit under the bandage, though the Paladins couldn’t see it.
I stood up, my hands and arms and body covered in the Paladin’s blood. I wanted to dance, swing my arms like a child, howl my joy into the skies.
“Temple will live,” I said, bowing my head. “I’m… I’m sorry. I wish I could have done more.”
Loff was too busy whispering to Temple’s pale, limp head. Sen clapped me on the shoulder.
“You’ve done all you could,” the Paladin said. “We all see it. You’re a good man, Jensal.”
I bowed my head further, under the pretense of accepting his praise.
But by now, you should know the real reason I needed to hide my face from the Paladins.
I smiled tightly at Sen, then began working on Urder.
---
Later that night, I had another guest. This one didn’t knock.
I crept outside to meet it. The Paladins were asleep in my cabin; I had graciously offered them to stay the night. They were tired and weary and heartsore after their fight with the Hooded One.
Who was standing right in front of me.
“Master,” rumbled the Hooded One, kneeling in front of me. It was a full moon. The stars were out.
I stalked off further down the hill.
“Report,” I snapped, not bothering to check if the reanimate was following.
“350 of the lesser ghouls were killed,” said the Hooded One. “49 higher ghouls killed. 3 of the Generals, dead.”
I cursed. These were heavy losses. But, all things considered, not bad. There were always plenty of corpses to heal back from death’s door. My army would continue their path of destruction, and when all hope is lost, I will reveal myself to the Paladins. Their treasured healer, their old friend, their worst enemy.
I looked up at the full moon, and smiled.
---
check out my profile fore more :D | 2020-07-25T16:15:23 | 2020-07-25T16:08:26 | 49 | 25 |
[WP] During a scuffle a superhero and villain find themselves handcuffed together with power cancelling cuffs. The hero is shocked when the authorities take the opportunity to try to grab both of them. Now on the run they must work together while the villain tells them a few home truths | The cuff on her wrist was crushing. Painful. She felt tired down to her bones, entirely sapped of her energy. She clutched at the bullet wound in her side, willing her healing powers back, anything to stop the steady flow of blood. There, in the darkness of the abandoned bunker, she felt utterly alone.
“Hey, let me help.”
She jerked away as he reached out to her. The Exsanguintaor, as the media called him. Imposing at close to seven feet tall, his eyes soulless black pools. His penetrating gaze had always made her skin crawl.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she spat, “and don’t talk to me.”
He raised his hands in defeat, jerking her own up with them. Despite his silence, she still felt his eyes on her.
“What?”
“Aren’t you wondering why they wanted you as well?” his gaze intensified, “why they shot you?”
She ignored him, staring at the concrete walls of the bunker.
He shifted closer to her, making her skin itch, “after everything you’ve done for them why would they want you locked up as well?”
“Stop it.”
He gently grasped her hand in both of his, “your name’s Elle, right?”
“How-“
He grimaced, “L-9230.”
Elle grunted in disgust, yanking her hand from his grip, turning her attention back to the wound in her side. The flow had slowed, globules of congealed blood stuck to her skin.
“What’s your mother’s name?”
She ignored him, ripping fabric from her shirt and clumsily stuffing it in the wound, gritting her teeth against the pain.
“Your father’s name? You don’t know, do you?” He got in her face, his intensity making her flinch back, “you don’t remember because they don’t exist. How did they die? Fire? Car crash? Convenient, don’t you think?”
She slapped him, cheeks flushed in anger, “just shut up! You don’t know anything about my parents!”
“And neither do you!”
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the cold slithering doubt that was creeping up her spine. What was her mum’s name? Surely she’d told her. Or seen her licence. Something.
“You know I’m right,” his voice was gentle, “we were made. Not born.” When she didn’t reply, he leaned forward, “you were made in a tube, Elle. And so was I.”
All she could manage was a weak, “why?”
He coughed a humourless laugh, “who knows? Super soldiers? Ready-built workers? Organ donors? Some sick fucking science experiment? All I know is that someone wanted us let out into the world, and now someone else wants us locked away.”
Her head started to hurt, pain building in her temples, “how do you know?”
His answering smile was hollow, “I found the man that created us.” He scratched at the long, gnarled scar on his forearm, the skin pitted almost down to the bone, “and I can be pretty persuasive when I need to be.”
“Jesus.”
He turned his eyes to the cavernous bunker around them, shivering against the cold, “they won’t stop until they catch us. Or kill us.”
For the first time in her life, Elle felt truly helpless. Curled up like a child, powerless and afraid. “What do we do?”
“First, you’re going to let me tend to that wound.”
“And then?”
He lifted their joined hands, “then we have to figure out how to get these off. After that, I don’t know. I won’t begrudge you leaving, but if you’d like, you could come with me. I want to find out why we were made.”
She searched his face, looking for even a hint of duplicity. He looked genuine, face calm except for the quiet fire in his eyes.
“Okay.” | Thomas Lee wasn't really supposed to be out front. He used his mending power to heal the wounds of his fellow heroes. Here, in a stinking San Francisco alley, the rain didn't seem to stop. Three hours earlier, he learned that healing vigilantes is, as far as the San Francisco Police Department is concerned, "accessory to assault and battery, accessory to grand larceny, and aiding and abetting a fugitive." In the cuffs, though, he was just a boy. Eighteen years old, chained to an older woman in and alleyway, and he hadn't mustered up the courage to speak to her yet.
He tried, and failed. But he piqued her interest with half a vocalization, and had to continue.
"Go on, kid, say it."
"What?" Thomas hoped he could dodge the question.
"You were gonna say something, but then you stopped." The woman made sure it didn't work.
"I'd rather not annoy you."
"Kid, I can't do anything to you now. If I kill you, now I'm chained to a corpse."
"How old are you?"
"Really? That's your first question?"
"I can't tell from your face. I'm not trying to be rude."
"I'm twenty five."
"I'm eighteen, my name is Thomas."
"I know."
A red-blue glare gets closer and closer at the closest end of the alleyway. The two shrink back into the space between the brick wall and the dumpster.
"You knew?"
"Yep." The woman affirmed.
"What, how'd you guess?"
"You think big bad Apollyon doesn't do research on her foes?"
"So how much do you know?"
A little cringe takes hold of the woman's gut. She suddenly felt creepy for stalking a sixteen-year-old kid. Wonder why.
"Not much, just your age and name, your school." She lied.
The young medic replied, "I can't fight for crap, but I know a lie when I hear one."
"Kid, I know everything about you and your friends."
"Why aren't we all dead?"
"Cause, I'm trying to show you." This was her chance, maybe she could convert Red Cross to her side, maybe more would follow.
The boy knew that she was trying to bait the question. He played along, "What, exactly?"
"That the normal people, the non-powered, the humans, whatever you want to call them, they don't like us." She tried to add a sympathetic air to her words. It didn't work very well.
"Yes they do, they love Iron Heart!" Thomas was embarrassed at how he blurted like a child. Apollyon thought it was cute. She smiled as she replied. "Sweetheart, they only love you until you stop doing as they say."
"That's not true. If I devoted all of my time to healing cancer patients or buying dementia patients more time, I'd not have any time for myself."
"Have you suddenly forgotten the times that various different governments tried to capture you?"
"You know about that?"
"Kiddo, I know all kinds of things about you."
"That's kind of creepy. I don't even know your real name."
Another feeling of embarrassment. That's strange, usually she didn't get these feelings. Maybe it was because he was so young, essentially still a kid. "You heal thieves and killers. Let's call it a tie."
"I heal anyone I can. Everyone deserves to live."
"I wish I was so naïve. And my name is Samantha."
*-and caring*
The two were so lost in conversation that they almost didn't hear a police officer walking down the alley with his partner. Samantha spring to her feet, black hair flying every which way in wet tangles, while Thomas is quickly and unceremoniously yanked to his feet. His small frame offered little to no resistance to the woman's strength, seeing as she was left handed, and she only needed her right. His blonde hair flew up and over his head, covering his face momentarily.
She took the officer unaware and snatches his service revolver from his grip, firing it twice. Once into his partner and finally into the man she took it from.
Without a second thought, she bends down over their bodies to take the handcuff keys off of the closest man's belt. She unlocks herself, and then quickly slaps them back onto Thomas.
"Please take these off, I need to heal them!" He screams.
The woman replies. "Sorry, kid, can't trust you. These two are done for."
"No, they're still breathing!"
She sighs. "Alright, alright."
Samantha unlocks the cuffs and Thomas takes only a few moments to heal both the officers. They're still unconscious, however.
The boy finishes his aid and gets up to leave, but a clack and sharp tug backward tell him that he's no longer in control of where he goes.
"Sorry bud, you know too much about me."
As Samantha, -Apollyon- begins to glow purple, Thomas suddenly feels the ground flying away under his feet. The realization that Apollyon has the power of flight doesn't register within his mind before she knocks him unconscious with a careful blow to the temple. | 2020-08-07T23:07:55 | 2020-08-07T22:56:50 | 301 | 104 |
[WP] Everyone is born with dice that they need to roll before attempting anything major. The super powered are those born with more than a 20 sided dice allowing them to do feats beyond human. An ordinary human usually has a six sided dice. Despite being born with a coin you still want to be a hero. |
"It's okay, everyone has a streak of bad luck every once in a while."
I looked up from where I'd sat on the grass at the man that stood before me. My eyes stung. It was the sweat getting into them. Just the sweat. I wiped it off with the back of my arm.
We could both feel the oppressive weight of what went unsaid. The dice. Everyone was born with one. Some with bigger numbers than others. These dice were dubbed by most as the "Great Equalizers". They could literally turn one's life around. Of course, they were just multipliers so they could never fully replace real effort, but still...
No one really talked about the dice. The topic was too personal. It would have been easier to talk about how much you earned. It was known, however, that most people tended to have an average die number of 8. Maybe 6 if you weren't very fortunate. The really unlucky ones would be born with a 4-sided die. I could feel the edges of my die digging into my thigh through my pocket. Mocking me. A curse. I wanted to laugh.
I wanted to cry.
"Luck isn't everything chump," Coach continued, giving me an encouraging smile, "Take a few weeks off and just practice the forms I showed you, I'm sure you'll get better. You have the potential."
A lie.
He excused himself and left. And after a little while, I picked myself up and headed for the locker-room. Everyone was still out in the field so it was empty. Private. I took out the die in my pocket. A 2-sided die. A bitter laugh left my throat as I looked at the number 2 printed on it. It hadn't been two weeks since I had transferred to this school and I had immediately been put on the track team. Not even a substitute, but on the starting team. Some would have called this action rash. Putting a relative unproven nobody on the team. Except I wasn't a nobody. I was the son of the Blinding Bolt - Olympic Gold medalist more times than you could imagine and, more recently, a high-ranking member of GERT, the Global Emergency Response Team. People often rumored that he could probably run across the continent in less than an hour. But I had seen his die. In that amount of time, he could probably have run around the world. Maybe further.
And everywhere I went, they all expected me to be the same.
Where many would have given up though, I persevered. I had once heard that if certain conditions were met, your die could grow. But no one knew what those conditions were. Or whether even the stories were true. But I still held hope.
Dispelling my fanciful thoughts, I looked back at my die. I had rolled a 2 for my number of steps last night but I wondered, perhaps I should have rolled for something else. Most people avoided rolling again when they got their highest value since any multipliers remained permanent until you rolled again. And there was a limit to the number of rolls you could make in a month. I had never hit that limit so I guessed it was lower the higher the number on your die. Then again, it wasn't really difficult to get the highest number on a 2-sided die so I usually never rolled too much. I tried to think of other ways I could use the multiplier. Number of steps in a second was usually the most direct way of increasing your speed but it wasn't the only way. Maybe I could increase my stride length. At high multipliers, it might make it difficult to navigate the track but at a 2 that would not really be a problem. Or maybe I could reduce the amount of friction that hit my body.
Aargh. It was frustrating. It wasn't like there was any formula that was applied in knowing what to multiply. Dad had tried to pass me his knowledge but with a 2-sided die, there really wasn't much of an effect. He had eventually just decided to help me train physically first. He never gave up on me. I wanted to be happy but all I always felt was guilt. That I had robbed him of a chance to have a son he could actually connect with. If only I could just suddenly be fast.
My eyes suddenly shot wide open. It was always known that your rolls targeted an action. But what about the outcome? I gingerly placed my die in the dip between the tip of my thumb and the crook of my index finger. I didn't ask how many more steps I could take in a second. Or how much longer my strides would be. Instead-
"Will I win the race?"
With trembling hands, I flipped the die and watched it rise with bated breath. I caught it in my open palm and looked down at it.
One.
Okay, it was no time to despair. I really should not have expected it to land a Two on the first roll. So I flipped it again. One. And Again. One. And Again. A nervous sweat begun to trickle down my back. Of all the times to get a streak of ones, why did it have to be now. What if I reached my limit for the month? It was with these questions running across my mind that it suddenly fell on a two. My breath caught. I expected to feel... different. But I could feel nothing. The disappointment was palpable. Suddenly remembering what I had asked the die, I realized that if anything was different, I would find out in the field.
It might have just been in my head but as I walked out of the locker-room, I thought I felt myself be just a little lighter. | If only it was like heads or tails .. no such luck. It's a matter of numbers. I'm so screwed. Regulars are not really noteworthy, they occupy normal jobs. They are the 4's, the 7's the 9's .. Being a 10, you're a "R plus" but it's just about being capable of having the chance to nail it perfectly .. 11 to 20, you're "Super". 21 and above, you're an "Extra". Oh yeah, speaking of nails !
How does it work, uh ? Think of it think of it like if you want to hammer a nail down in a plank and you're a regular individual, so you just aim and strike. Throwing the dice results in greatly improving your actions if you land a 10, nailing it perfectly in one go. 17 would make it go in the same, but better, at a clear perpendicular angle and a perfect fit that would even improve how sturdy the whole structure might be, like a wooden frame would act as solid as metal. 20 might do the same and also make a sound, as the hammer hits the nail that would resonate with your old neighbor's failing pacemaker and somehow fix it. Those blessed with a "godly" 20 and above dice could theoretically discover a platinum mine under their feet by letting the hammer drop on the floor. Extras don't give a crap about nails.
Now, what would happen if even an Extra lands a 1 ? Well, they throw it again, silly. Anybody can do that but just no more than 5 times in their lifetime or else .. hmm. Yeah, let's just say "don't". To "use" bad luck for an action is dangerous for everything around you but to throw bad luck away is dangerous for your own sake. Regular or anything above it, if you try to cheat fate more than you're supposed to (despite never being able to know how many times you're allowed to) or think you can use your awful outputs on throwing crumpled newspaper balls in the trash bin from a far distance .. gruesome things will happen to you. A Super popped like a meat balloon like that, a few decades ago, in the middle of a hostage situation.
But nobody has ever met anyone above 27. Lady Lakshmi never landed a perfect hit but she has ended international conflict by showing both parties a picture of a puppy on her phone, and that was a 23, by the way. Also, nobody has ever met a two sided loser like me before. Ever. In the whole history of mankind, there's no trace of anyone being born with anything less than four. I'm a two, there's nothing below that since a one sided dice is (theoretically) not possible . There's even hypotheses about how the really unlucky ones were just .. \*ha-hem\* "brutally murdered" to avoid a plague just in case we accidentally dropped our chaos-inducing trinket of doom while trying to save a kid from a banana peel incident. But there's no trace of that .. I'm one of a kind freak of nature. Since i'm such a winner at life, my face is everywhere so people are warned. To use my dice .. well, my coin, is forbidden. A virgin dice has no marking, they only do once used the first time.
I didn't ask to be a loner and the main company i ever got was from my childhood, the everlasting pain in the ass agents of Hazard, the ones in charge of dealing with the Extras and Supers on our continent. You know, just in case i'd be tempted to do something idiotic like .. using it EVER but otherwise, people avoid me. Nobody would ever bully me physically, they are scared my coin would flip. And as for the insults .. headphones work well.
Well. I never *was* before. Until today. A middle aged man was being pushed out of a back door in the alley i was taking. Instead of running, i was standing there like an idiot, staring.
He was obviously drunk, he had fresh red bruises all across the face and scrapes all over his thick glasses. Was it why he didn't recognize me ? Everyone usually does. I removed my headphones as he approached me, slurring and pissed off and before i could react, he was yelling in my face. I tried to object, to go around him and run .. but he grabbed my shirt and pushed me on the ground. He took out a big green dice out of his pocket and threw it at his feet.
Seven. What is gonna happen to me ? I never asked for this ! What did i do ? He stepped towards me, his fist was clenched hard .. and the bottom of his pants barely brushed the dice he just threw, placing it under his own shoe as he stepped down. It was almost comical if i wasn't terrified but his ankle bent sideways and made a horrific internal "thud" noise like when cracking knuckles. He just flew sideways and face first on the ground and started screaming in pain.
I quickly wiped my face of the tears that barely made their way out of my eyes and ran away. What the FUCK happened ? A weird sensation filled me, in my left hand. It was my coin resurfacing. I hid behind a dumpster and looked at it, dumbfounded. That's how they come back to you if you ever try to leave them behind, they just come back to you, usually through the skin. Even if it doesn't hurt one bit, it's creepy. Wait, behind ? Did my coin fall out of my pocket when he pushed me ? It is different now .. i never used my coin. It was just a coin but totally flat, totally smooth. Nothing on it. It now has a ridge all around it and a big "1" etched in it, painted black.
Oh shit. I panic even more, it landed on one ! Of the two sides, it landed on the worst ! I'm .. fine, that's weird .. will i still be fine ? It .. wait, what ? I flipped my coin and on the other side, it's not a two .. it's a zero. It's bright red, and it's a zero. There's a small dot below the number, too.
I just put my coin back in my pocket, i'm trying to calm down as i don't want people to see me stressed, they would call the Hazards and only fate knows what they would do to me if they ever see my coin now ! I need to go home and think about it. I just need to think about it and what just happened. I'm fine. It's okay.
Maybe it's not a useless trinket after all .. isn't it ? No, no .. i just need to think about it.
Edits : awful spelling errors. | 2020-08-13T04:25:47 | 2020-08-13T03:56:58 | 32 | 15 |
[WP] Humanity has invented the technology required to reach other dimensions. However, instead of finding an incomprehensible Lovecraftian realm, they discover a perfect and beautiful world. To the inhabitants of this new world though, we are monstrous eldritch horrors. | When the first videos came back through the portal, we thought it was an error, a technical failure. Surely no world could actually look like that.
Though the contents of the world closely resembled our own, everything had sharply defined edges that followed linear paths or smooth curves, as if the entire world was drawn in vector graphics.
But the results came back again and again, confirming themselves over and over. The other side of the portal actually looked like that. So the only next step was to send researchers over.
***
The first steps were the weirdest. The ground was impossibly smooth, yet somehow we didn’t slide due to lack of friction. All preliminary observations of the soil were identical to Earth’s dirt, except for the difference in structure. It squished like dirt, smelled like dirt, and probably would even taste like dirt if we had tried. However, it couldn’t break apart like dirt - pick up a handful, and the pieces would form perfect shapes rather than misshapen granules.
Everything else we could test reacted in roughly the same fashion - like stuff from back home but for the structure. Unfortunately, none of our tests were able to determine chemical makeup of things, but considering how different atoms would likely be in this world, it wasn’t surprising.
We encountered our first creatures not long after. Their bodies followed the same structural rules as the rest of the world, as did their motion, which followed smooth paths. However, unlike the general surroundings, they did not exactly resemble anything from our reality.
They had four legs, spaced relatively closely around an upright but hunched torso. Their arms were much longer then human arms, reaching almost to the ground. Their heads hung downwards, their necks angled towards the ground rather than upwards like a human. Instead of facial features, they appeared to have some sort of circular markings on their heads, though it was impossible to get close enough to properly observe them.
We tried to hail them to initiate contact, but it failed. Upon approaching them, they all quickly fled. It’s unclear by what means they observed us, or how the communicated our arrival.
***
Recently, a glowing not-circle appeared some ways outside our city. It looked wrong, as if an uncountable number of smaller chunks were spiraling constantly about in the air. Then, not long after, the Ever-Shifting came.
Words are insufficient to describe the horror of their appearance. They, like the thing they arrived through, appear to be made up of too many overlapping parts. Furthermore, their entire bodies were constantly shifting around in a billion different ways.
They shattered apart pieces of the world around them like it was nothing, and then fed many of those pieces to small objects they carried with them.
Not long after that, they turned their sights to our homes. They did *something* with the bulbous objects atop their bodies - perhaps misshapen versions of our heads - and caused the air to shake in ways that were maddening to hear, an overlapping cacophony of screams.
We are fleeing our homes in the hopes that they will be satisfied with them and not turn to destroying us.
***
***
I haven’t written in a long time, and I’ve never been too confident in my writing. Constructive criticism is appreciated! | > Mission parameters set.
> Ordnance and equipment catalogued.
> Three (3) Research Units: unarmed human scientists.
> Two (2) Scout-Ranger Units: armed with one (1) Remington-Armalite Automatic Combat Rifle.
> One (1) Advanced Combat Unit: armed with prototype combat armour [NATO provisions EC1451 - DO NOT DAMAGE!]
> Team accepted.
> Device opening…
___
The Advanced Combat Unit found himself in a space that stretched out farther than his eyes could see. He wouldn’t bother trying to use the optics in his helmet. There was nothing but a sterile white emptiness here. Had the device killed him? Was this purgatory? It sure looked as boring as it had been described. The Combat Unit opened the holster on his armour and withdrew a straight blade of jet-black carbon fibre. Jamming it into the ground, he was rather satisfied to see that it left a sizeable dent, having torn through whatever substance he was standing on.
Perhaps perceiving this as an offense, the space reacted. Soundlessly, something in the distance stood up and leapt at the Combat Unit. It landed silently, the legs of the humanoid shape causing no reaction to the ground underneath. At first glance it appeared to be naught but a jumble of shapes and figures, a child’s scribbling, but as the Combat Unit took in the sight he understood the geometry of this creature. Not dissimilar to his combat armour, it was designed to be perfect at everything from form to function. Aerodynamic, thin, not an inch of wasted space. The Combat Unit realized then; this was the dimension’s answer to his intrusion. A replica more perfect than the original, as if taunting. ‘We/it/I am better’, it seemed to say.
The creature had it’s own sword, as pristine and colourless as the rest of the Combat Unit’s surroundings. It raised the sword, and a series of equations appeared before it. With blinding speed, the Combat Unit was battered and beaten. Luckily for him, his physical defence systems dampened the impact. A small advantage, as he still hurt all over. Raising his own sword, the foreign element struck back, his attacks not connecting at all. It took a second too long to realize, as more equations appeared and the Combat Unit realized what he had done wrong.
Each equation was able to be graphed, and each swing of the divine imitation’s sword matched the equation. This time the physical defence systems couldn’t keep up, and a cut nearly made it through the entire suit. The Combat Unit had an epiphany then, and opened the onboard calculator. A tentative line equation was entered, and sure enough the foreigner’s sword slashed. The creature returned the inverse function of the human’s equation, and parried the strike with calculated precision.
Still, that meant his plan worked. For the first time in eternity, heat filled the empty realm as the Combat Unit’s computer began overheating, desperately trying to process the mathematical equations being shot through it like a cannon. A pirouette from a parabola, a series of a hundred strikes from a hundred different lines, and then a sudden idea. Calculating an asymptote, the Combat Unit was able to completely negate the Divine Construct’s attack. Using imaginary numbers, a series of strikes were inflicted upon the Construct without the use of a weapon. The Combat Unit shut down his systems completely; he no longer required them. As his own equations appeared before him, guiding him to a higher power, he could see himself losing features. Becoming more abstract, no longer recognizing where he ended and the geometry began.
A final thought occurred to him.
“Where the hell did the rest of the team end up?”
His sword pierced the trapezoidal head of his foe, while said foe’s sword pierced his own. On closer inspection, the Combat Unit realized he *was* the Divine Construct, and his own head had been pierced by the disgusting flesh-creature that had dared intrude on holy land. Such abominable eldritch beings should not have held the power to go toe-to-toe with an Angel, yet this one did?
The Combat Unit shrugged, and removed his sword from his skull. It was time to rejoin the nothingness of this place, now that the intruder had been dealt with. Perhaps this time he would sleep for eternity. | 2020-12-22T22:16:25 | 2020-12-22T18:37:21 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You have often described your girlfriend as a goddess and why wouldn't you? After all she is beautiful, wise, 9 feet tall, has eyes that literally glow with holy fire, is well into her ten thousands and most of all charming and caring | Athena spooned another mouthful of butter pecan ice cream into her mouth and swished it around.
“And you can just buy this at the market?” she said. “This ambrosia?”
“Yeah, down at the Giant Eagle. It’s usually on sale.”
“Wondrous.”
Athena grabbed the remote and slammed her fingers on the control pad. My smallish TV lit up. Wolf Blitzer looked both concerned and annoyed as he jabbered on.
“And this - this portal?”
“Yeah, that’s actually pretty standard. Most people have a TV.”
“The teevee portal is unlike anything I have ever seen,” she said, grabbing a handful of birthday-cake popcorn and jamming it into her mouth. Her eyes sizzled with pinkish lightning.
“So, ah, what do you want to do today? You’d mentioned maybe teleporting to Olympus, meeting Hercul-”
“Nay,” she said, standing up from the now-ruined couch. Her piled curls brushed the foam panels in the drop ceiling. “Olympus bores me. Posturing gods and demi-gods, eating fruit, tossing lightning bolts around. Look at what you have done with lightning!”
She gestured toward the TV, where Honey Boo Boo was making a cheeky face.
Athena grinned.
“I guess we could go check out the mall. There’s an indoor mini-golf place. Blacklights, too.”
“Let us proceed to the mall and the MeeNee Gulf, husband.”
“Ah, I mean-”
The sizzle in her eyes deepened to crimson.
“Let us proceed. To your chariot.”
I sighed and clicked the remote starter in my pocket. My battered 2002 Honda - red and Bond-O coloured - coughed to life outside.
“All right, let’s go.” | "Foolish mortals!" Laura yelled. She also managed to cause a minor earthquake and the chandelier above our head rained down crystal, one landing with a plop in my mother's soup. My mother stared at her disapprovingly.
"Son," my father said, ignoring Laura as her hair swept around her in an invisible wind, "I said nothing when you became an archaeologist. When you took that year off to "find yourself" in Fiji, I convinced your mother to let you be. But this..."
"Now father," I said, suddenly angry, "Laura may be a goddess, but she has feelings! I had no idea you were... were... deist!"
"Deist?" My father scoffed, "That doesn't even mean what you think it means! Look, your grandmother had a fling with what we are sure was a werewolf and we rolled with that punch! Even when your uncle Reginald disappears for a few days every month we go with the flow. But she just cursed your mother and her descendants for a thousand generations AND ruined her soup." With that, he began fishing for the crystal with a spoon.
"Laura," I said, the boils from the not-very-well-thought-out curse on my hand pulsing, "Would you please uncurse mother?"
"Very well," Laura sighed, the invisible wind dying down, "My good and faithful servant... uhm, sorry, Dave. Did she really have to make that remark about Babylonian architecture? I invented that, you know. You are uncursed unto the next generation, foul woman!"
"All the way," I said sternly, hoping I didn't offend her and get turned into a statue for a month again, adding, "Please."
"Very well," she looked at me, and smiled, the flames in her eyes dying down to embers, "I uncurse you unto this generation and completely."
My mother sighed in relief as the boils disappeared and my father let it be known he had found the crystal with an "A-ha! Gotcha you little bastard!"
"Well, she certainly is more interesting than Cynthia," my mother said finally, "And much more opinionated on Babylonian architecture. You need a strong... uhm, woman in your life, David. I approve."
"Thank you, mother," I said sincerely, smiling. There was a crash of plaster as the sky lit up with lightning. I heard a goat (?) bellow in the distance and the sounds of souls screaming in agony.
"Cynthia?" Laura asked, floating upward from the table, hair thrown about by the invisible tornado as her eyes lit up with the intensity of a thousand suns, "Do tell me about this "Cynthia"."
"Well, shit." my father said, pulling out his umbrella as the rain of small frogs began.
"Oh dear," my mother added, scooting under his umbrella.
"Now dear," I said helplessly, nobody ever told me loving a goddess would be easy. | 2021-01-14T06:55:37 | 2021-01-14T06:46:26 | 314 | 202 |
[WP] You live in world with no colour, shades of black and white are all you know. A flower pops up in your backyard, you’re drawn to it, as you pick the flower from the ground, you see colour for the first time. For the first time you realize something is terribly wrong with your world. | I was eleven when I found it tucked away at the back of the garden.
The iris didn’t belong in my world, but there it was, shyly poking out from beneath a tangle of chickweed and nettle. Three leaves drooped down from the top like breezing parachutes, their colors like nothing around them. It was the color of a soft kiss, or a lullaby, or just that of a kindly smile.
How else do you describe an iris when everything you know is gray?
It deserved room to breathe, so I plucked out the weeds around it until it wore a circle of chalky grass like a halo.
I sat and watched it then and let feelings stir in my belly, as if someone had poured potions into a cauldron and now splashed the contents together. The spell it cast brought back memories.
There had once been color in my world, although I’d forgotten it. Forgotten the feel of red colored love, of hopeful blue eyes. I looked up at the grey sun and remembered it before. Now, stripped naked of its rays it felt cold — even on that summer’s day. It would have been cold even on a beach in august.
I remembered how a million bright colors once filled my life, like a bath overflowing with warm bubbling water. Then the plug got unexpectedly pulled and the colors oozed away from the world, sludging down the drain in an oily, teary rainbow.
All that was left was this.
This empty, cold gray.
I didn’t cry. You think with a fierce certainty that if the day ever comes you’ll cry up a storm — but that’s not always the case. The sadness of the color leaving didn’t work like that. Instead, something reached into me and smothered my emotions, hushing them into silence. Gone, when I looked at my father, was that blinding red that had once reflected off him, shining hot inside of me, inside my heart. Gone was blue and yellow and green and everything besides. The joy of life was taken.
Whatever I looked at after that day, it radiated only a dark hopelessness.
Except this iris. This beautiful, heartbreaking, iris.
So I sat and watched it beneath the gray sun. Watched the flower swim lazily back and forth in the lulling breeze.
“They were Mom’s favorite,” Dad said. I hadn’t heard him approach. He sat down next to me and watched the flower, as if it was all the color left in his world, too. But Dad still saw color. Still smiled.
It’d been a year since it happened but it didn’t feel like it. Time loses meaning without color, and stretches and contracts at will. Sometimes, it felt like a day since we lost her. Others, a decade.
I looked up at my father. His eyes were damp but he was smiling. He was like that a lot when looking at me, but I’d never seen him cry for a flower.
”I know,” I said. “She loved them.”
”Always a fresh vase full of them in the kitchen.”
”She loved them,” I repeated.
”Not as much as she loved you.”
\*
An hour later we were at her grave. My request. The first time I’d asked to go there since she died, although not the first time I’d been made to visit.
I clutched the iris in my hands, close to my chest, as if it was my own heart now. Or her heart, and I was protecting it, sharing my heartbeat with it and keeping her alive for a little longer. The deep purple was the only colour amongst the graves.
”Go ahead,” Dad said.
Part of me didn’t want to. Didn’t want to let go. But Mom loved irises, so I did.
I hadn’t cried since. Not on the day she died. Not at the funeral. The color had trickled away and all that was left was a dullness. But as I knelt down and placed the iris on the grass, a ripple of green stretched out from it, smudging across the grass. And a pulse of warm red, of love, flowed up through my body, into my heart.
Dad put an arm around me as I sobbed and as I told Mom how much I missed her. | >**PURPOSE & PASSION**
"Are you sure we should send the new guy?" I heard Crawford ask. There was a certain...disdain in his tone.
"It'll be fine. Don't ask any more questions, Agent." Agent Mordecai replied.
I walked into the room as though I hadn't just been listening in. "Agent Mordecai, you wished to see me."
"Yes, Agent Kristoff. Your first assignment."
A familiar, yet sterile kind of pleasure ran through me. An opportunity for recognition, prestige-- one of the only non-monetary rewards my profession could offer.
"The file?" I asked, as though I was very accustomed to being given assignments.
"On your desk." Mordecai replied, then returned to his own duties.
I moved at an even pace, and digested the contents of the file slowly. A simple task- one of the populace had unwittingly stumbled upon information they ought to not know. Silence them by any means deemed necessary- intimidation, blackmail, murder, if all else failed.
Simple enough. I had run drills of this nature before.
That night I took a public flight toward the target's home- northern Washington.
A car had already been rented out under my name- there was no need to hide my presence, merely my specific activity. If I failed, however, I was sure the Agency would have my name scrubbed so clean my own mother wouldn't remember giving birth to me. Such was life in this age- such were the measures we needed to take to ensure a peaceful society.
I barely bothered casing the man's home- according to the file he was a simple accountant, no military or martial arts training, and he lived alone. Unless he was hiding *a lot* from us- unlikely- this would be a very simple matter.
It did not end up being a simple matter.
I knocked on the door to his relatively stylish abode, and as he answered, I knew immediately that this was going to be trouble. The look in his eyes- bizarre, unfettered passion. He was not living in a world of reason- sane, to be sure, but driven by *emotion*- that bastardly consequence of evolution that nearly damned all of humanity some two hundred years ago.
"You are Mr. Kirk, correct?" I asked, maintaining my precise and neutral tonality.
"Yessir! How can I help?" He wore a smile. His clothing had patterns and designs on it- he must have made them himself.
"I'm here regarding the census, it was reported that there are two people living here, yet your taxes were filed as single, I'd like to investigate." I lied.
"Oh, just me here. Well- me, and..."
I raised an eyebrow. I knew I could draw my pistol in about one sixth of a second if needed- but was it possible there could be multiple assailants?
"Well, come in, feel free to look around, but, hey, let me show you this!" The man walked towards his kitchen, where his window was open wide, despite it being a chilly evening.
"Here!" The man thrust something into my hands.
Something clicked in my brain. Something...like a memory I had nearly lost, a synapse that hadn't fired in years.
I was only holding a potted flower, but as my eyes adjusted to it, I could watch as it changed. From a pale gray to... I didn't have a word for it. I didn't have a description of it.
"What...is this?" I asked, looking at the man I had been sent to deal with.
He looked different now, too. His skin, his hair, his eyes- everything was beginning to look *different*.
"W-what did you give me? Is this flower some kind of psychedelic drug?" I asked, half of me horrified, the other half oddly calm.
"Well, if it's a drug, doesn't take much to get you places, and the effects are permanent! Dunno why, but this flower gives everyone who sees it the ability to see color!"
I slid to the floor, overwhelmed by so much new information at once.
I stayed there for a while, feeling cascades of emotion and information washing over me- too much of both at once, yet I also wanted more.
The man joined me on the floor, offering me a mug of some hot, steaming beverage. I didn't know what it was.
"After I first saw this flower growin' in my back yard, I started doing research on the way things used to be. Y'know, before the...event. They had so many different kinds of food! I stole some seeds from the museum and made this, it's called coffee. Don't worry, there was plenty to be shared."
"T-theft."
"Drink, it'll help you wrap your head around all this."
I took a sip- the coffee was bitter. It did seem to have a certain...grounding effect. The warmth splashed into my stomach, bringing with it a blossoming feeling.
"I...something is incredibly wrong with our world, isn't there?" I asked.
That night, the heart of something new was born. Kirk and I would go on to reclaim art, wine, and forbidden knowledge over the next few months- and, finally, we decided we must show the flower to the whole world... Or, as many that were willing would look, anyway.
That night, the rebellion was born.
---------------------------
r/nystorm_writes is a place. hypothetically | 2021-01-21T01:22:33 | 2021-01-21T01:16:32 | 46 | 14 |
[WP] Adrenaline is an evolutionary trait specific to Earth. When alien species are tired they sleep and not even a threat to their life will wake them. Which is why the pirates that boarded your spaceship are shocked to find you've not only jumped out of bed fully alert but are fighting back! | Vlurguk stopped up his ears with his multijointed manipulator appendages to drown out the sounds.
The horrible sounds, screaming, crying, vomiting, shoulder joints dislocating.
His crew were fleeing in terror from the enraged and quite suddenly awake and responsive human currently wringing his second in commands arm out of the socket.
Kithrik was screaming for mercy, their would be target had none.
With animalistic fury the human was breaking, smashing, throttling, dismembering his fellow pirates and he was powerless to stop it.
Vilurgians were physically weaker than humans, it took no more effort for a human to destroy a Vilurgian than it did to step on a mouse or caterpillar and crush it.
They'd expected the human to be...immobile during sleep.
Instead this one had risen from the sleeping platform with the shriek of a million hungry lurgats and *broken* the nearest of his crew in half.
*Then vomited on them*!
This unnerved Vlurguk and his crew, such displays of barbaric dominance were unknown to his kind.
As if that wasn't bad enough, another specimen of "human" came from the other direction while shouting in the gutteral human tongue "Dear? Are you okay? Wut the, I'll kill you all!"
Physically larger and wider than the nimble and graceful hragack of death decimating his men, this human was obviously bred for war and conquest!
It had already used one of his crew as a weapon to bludgeon several of his finest freebooters to quiescence.
He had to run, had to warn others.
Humans could rouse from sleep and do battle!
If only he could get back to his ship he'd blow the hatch and vent the human ship atmosphere!
Not to be, a rough large paw of a human hand grabbed him and yanked him off his feet.
"I'm wiped out, adrenaline shakes have started. Sorry dear" the smaller lithe human said, wiping battle grime from their smaller and deceptively delicate looking hands.
"Don't worry love, I have this."
And Vlurguk's world went black. | I wake up, sweat rolling down my face as I see an alien pirate looming over me like all those shitty life choices I made like buying Jordan 1's and immediately losing their value by getting splashed with water outside the store while still wearing them
My reflexes saved me by immediately grabbing my laser pistol under my pillow and blasting the scumbag in his face over and over again until the gun overheated.
The pirates were either lucky and struck gold- No, diamond or they were smarter than the Federation of Human Systems thought them to be as this was one of the biggest and newer ships to be in service, and in the confines of the metal and steel walls of our behemoth lays diplomatic cargo.
A couple of emissaries from the strategically placed planet of Kepler in our enemies doorway, a space hub for all future soldiers and operations, and they were still asleep during this raid, this was bad.. If Kepler finds out that we were not capable enough to protect their diplomats or handle the pirate threat then we wont be granted access to their planet.
The intercoms blasted out: "All members of the Eclipse will be relocated to the loading bay. Everyone late will be left behind by our ships. Protect the emissaries at all costs."
The news of our ships soon to be abandonment scared me to be frank as I packed everything I needed and left for the loading bay, ignoring the constant firefights in the halls, rooms and open space.
The pirates were taken back by our intervention to their subterfuge by waking up so suddenly to fight. There was little to no public information about the human body for the galaxy. If the humans were able to wake a fight so suddenly what else could they do?
Well.. Activate the self destruction sequence and evacuate the Eclipse with the diplomats, of course.
The loading bay doors were in sight! I was full on sprinting along with my comrades as we retreated and fired back a few shots at the enemy.
The screams of my brothers as they were mowed down stirred the will to live inside me as I leapt onto a ship using the cargo ramp at the back. And just in time too.
I awoken from my adrenaline fueled sprinting and collapsed onto the cool metal floor in front of the awed sailors.
"Wha-What happened? Is everyone on?" The words came out of my mouth using the last ounce of strength I could muster as I sat along the walls of the scouting ship
"Mostly everyone. The diplomats are safe, but our crew took a hard hit." One said as he knelt down to give me a water bottle and a wet towel.
"Drink up." He said. After that? It was all a blur as all I was out of energy and was grateful to even be living at this point.
The only snippets I caught said about going to the Titanpointe Hypergate as it accessed deep in human territory.
A resounding boom shook the crew to its core. Even though we knew it was going to blow it felt like a hit to the balls, surprising and painful at the same time. Nearly all of us served on the Federations finest ship for a year or three.
With the Eclipse gone now what? We were promised it would permanently house all of us. We knew this fact was utter bullshit as we were saving up money to buy a better home or even buy our first one. We were homeless sailors destined to be begging on the streets because this will leak out onto the news and we will be disgraced and shamed for being cowards.
So now what?
(This was my first one and I'm so tired now lmao. Hope y'all enjoyed.) | 2021-01-26T23:56:33 | 2021-01-26T23:19:09 | 326 | 50 |
[WP] Your parents are ordinary people, so you thought, yesterday you and your father found your mother's old villain costume, he told you he already knew but to not tell your mother. Today you find your father's hero costume and at that moment your mother enters the room. | When she walked in and saw me with the costume, Mom's face flashed through a million emotion. Surprise, horror, yes. But also some softer, harder to identify emotions.
'Mom, uhhh..'
'Your father mentioned you found my old costume and might have questions. I never knew that your father had a...secret.. as well..'
'Ummm, is this bad...did you..uh.. did you fight?'
'Oh yes dear. Back in the day I was your father's, dare I say, worst arch villian. He and I went round and round for...'
She trailed off, a far away look in her eyes.
Then, to my surprise, a mischievous twinkle appeared.
'Well, he never could truly defeat me. And no prison could ever hold me. The scamp finally found a way to trap me in a way I'd never get out of...never want out of.'
She walked over and gave me a big hug.
'Put that back where you found it, dear. And don't touch your father's plate tonight. He's having meatloaf and plutonium 138-p for supper'
'Mother! Please don't kill dad!'
'Oh, I found out a long time ago it doesn't kill him. Just sticks him up something awful and throws his tastebuds out of wack for about a month. That should teach him for trapping me in this prison of love!'
She dramatically threw an arm across her forehead.
'MOM!'
I hugged her. | *Your mother scares me Tuchi.*
Tuchi’s mother was laughing like a maniac. “ This had to happen someday Tuchi.” It was a mixture of laughter and scream. “ God like humans loves playing games…”
*Mom, please get back into your senses. Mom, please I don’t like this.*
The laughter reverberated the room.
“ Stop, stop, STOPPPPPPP,” Tuchi dropped a vase hard into the ground.
The mom picked out a lighter to burn the costume.
Tuchi was shivering in the room. *This is not the mom I knew. Where did it go wrong? Why? Why? Why?*
Behind the huge flames of the burning costume, Tuchi heard her mom say, “ Come, Tuchi. Let me tell you something interesting, “ My dear girl”, she was saying.
The mom used her telekenisis to drag Tuchi to her body. NEAR! Breath to Breath.
There was pin drop silence as Tuchi blanked out.
“ I conned your dad to beget you, The Ultimate Child."
Tuchi couldn’t stare at her mom. She was staring into the flames. The flames that represented her burnt out aspirations.
“Tuchi, its time you chose,” The mom was bordering around the fire region with her flammable nylon clothes. “ your dad or me.”
Tuchi blurted out, “ Father….”, she said coldly. “ He knows your identity”
The mom didn’t batter an eye to the news. She was still dancing like a child around the flames.
“ That’s interesting. But I wonder if he has the balls in him to say that to the public in large”. The mom giggled, “ He always had tiny ones”
Tuchi knew what they did to betrayers. *Once a hero breaks trust, he is forever damned to the Mega Security Prison. *
“ Tuchi,” The mom spoke in Tuchi’s ears as the fire slowly darkened out leaving the room in pitch darkness. “ Your father already died….” “The day he knew who I was, he died that very day”
Tuchi thought how devasted her father must have felt when he knew. There was a song that his weary eyes sang everyday before her, a song that she understood now. There was no time. Her mom wants her to join the Rershak League. *She plans to leak her father’s scandal otherwise.* Her mom had died for her.
“ I am ready. Take me whereever you want….” Tuchi declared with half confidence, But she put her full confidence behind her next word. “ Saaraahh….” | 2021-05-29T09:47:58 | 2021-05-29T06:45:07 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Despite all your sinning, you’ve found yourself giving into the temptations of virtue, neglecting your acts for Satan, being kind and thinking about others one too many times. You’ve became the first “Ascended Demon” | "Little by little then all at once. That's how change happens. It was always the little sticking points with me. A small hesitancy with the whip, a tiny regret with the fireball.
I've done my fair share of sinning. I thought heaven was something well and truly beyond me. Still do if I'm being honest. Then I met "her"
Abigail Jones was the epitome of doddering old black lady. I'm still not entirely sure how she summoned me. A combination of poor eyesight, bad book placement, and a mistimed cut. Maybe divine providence.
Either way she assumed I was her grandson Todd who was coming for a visit and wouldn't take no for an answer. I've seen pictures of Todd. Todd is a 5'10" lanky goth kid. I'm a 7' red skinned demon. Her eyesight must've been really going is what I'm saying.
She, like any good grandma, insisted on giving milk and cookies. I'll admit the last time I had human food was some time circa 2500BC so those cookies were bliss. She was also a gossip, but the nice kind, she'd ramble for hours about people. Making notes about what they liked. Praising their accomplishments.
When I finally left she seemed sad to see me go. She was lonely, her family had moved away and no email can replace company. The offer to come back next Tuesday surprised even me when I made it. But I just couldn't bear to see her alone.
We began to talk more, I'd help with chores, she'd make some confection. Her house smelled so good. But then the inevitable happened. She passed away. I know because I was on intake duty that day. I checked and rechecked her file, she didn't deserve to be here! Then I saw it. "Consorting with Demons." I had done this. If I'd just left that day it wouldn't have been an issue, a momentary lapse in judgement.
I grabbed her and ran. Up the winding stairway, the guards didn't want to let me by but I couldn't leave her! I had to crack a few of them over the head. I am sorry about that.
I arrived at the pearly gates and you know the rest. I'm on my knees here begging you. Do whatever you want with me. But please take her! She deserves far better than us, and far far better than me."
"So let me get this straight. You, a demon, risked everything to save one soul?" His interrogator asked.
Todd nodded.
"Follow me." She says after a moment.
"Are you going to take her?"
"For consorting with Demons the law is very clear."
"Please! -"
She waves a hand to silence him.
"That's why we're going to get you measured."
"Measured?"
"For your wings and halo."
"But I'm a demon!"
"You are her guardian angel. You made her last year's bearable and saved her soul from damnation. No one goes to hell for having one of those. Assuming, of course, you want the job?"
"To save her? Yes."
She smiled and opened the door.
"Welcome to heaven! We're delighted to have you." | A light beamed down from the infinite sky of hell. It appeared almost like a lush patch of flora growing in the middle of a barren desert.
All the suffering souls of the damned watched as an angel came down, riding on a cloud that slowly descended.
When it hit the ground, the angel stepped off and approached me. She muttered something about *the wretched dirt of hell* and then smiled at me.
“Hello Tultitanius.” She said in her angelic voice. “I have come from, the heavens.” She says as she points up to the sky. “To inform you of your ascension.”
Ascension? What does she mean?
“I’m sure you are very confused. Demons don’t usually get ascended, or ever, but we have made an exception for you!”
“I’m sorry, what is this ascension?” I ask with my weak voice. I had been impaled in the neck earlier and it was still regenerating.
“Yes, well, of course a demon wouldn’t know what an ascension is. Allow me to enlighten you! Ascension is when you are lifted up to heaven!
I was sensing a fake excitement from her. She probably didn’t want to be here and she definitely doesn’t want to be talking to me.
“So, do you mean that I can go to heaven?”
“Yes! Of course if you don’t want to go that is completely fine and you probably don’t so you can stay here with all your little demo-“
“Are you kidding? I’m not staying here? All of you seem to forget that we demons are tortured here as well as these dead people.”
“Oh, right, well, it’s a shame for you to leave all your friends.”
“Friends? My fellow demons only care about inflicting the most amount of pain on anything that can feel pain!”
The angel starts looking frustrated.
“Okay fine whatever…” She says as her bubbly persona is replaced.
She snaps her fingers and a beam of light comes down from the sky. I immediately feel amazing. All of my injuries close up, including my neck, and any pain I was feeling goes away. My feet are lifted off the ground and I start to float into the air.
The sky in between heaven and hell is very vast, so vast that when satan fell from heaven, it took him hours to land in hell. Despite this, the beam travels me extremely quickly.
After almost 5 minutes, I arrive to the gate of heaven. The beam of light creates a cloud for me. With me on it, the cloud drifts Infront of the gate.
“Wow!” I say.
“Yeah so cool, whatever.” The angel says as she waves her hand. The gate magically opens and I rush inside.
I am then greeted by an angel at a desk.
“Name?” He asks without looking up.
“Tultitanius.” I say proudly.
He looks up and then looks startled.
“Oh yeah, the first, and hopefully last, demon.” He said unenthusiastically as he wrote down my name in his book.
I look behind me and see no humans. I’m a bit confused as humans die all the time.
“Where are all the human souls?” I ask.
“Oh, well, we haven’t seen a new human soul in over 500 years.” The angel at the desk said.
“Ugh, don’t copy that mortal tv show.” The angel behind me said in disgust. “We have more than one gate, this one doesn’t seem to be gaining much traction at the moment.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“You’re no fun.” The angel at the desk said while waving us away.
I marvel at the amazing buildings. Heaven looks like a giant city, but not one on fire and run down like most cities we see in the torture chambers of many humans. This city is clean, bright, not on fire, and full of people.
“You know, I’ve always been jealous of many souls that end up in hell, because they would eventually go to heaven when they have been tortured enough.” I say while still looking at the heavenly city. “I thought I would never be able to go to heaven ever, and now I’m here, not in hell, not feeling like I’m dying every second i exist.”
“Good for you, now go run along to whatever you’re going to do. I have a tight schedule and I don’t have time for demons.” She says while walking off.
I smile and then make my way to a shopping area to do heaven stuff. | 2021-07-12T03:48:48 | 2021-07-12T02:57:44 | 65 | 22 |
[WP] You're an enchanted suit of armor, empty on the inside. After gaining sentience you left the haunted keep you were stored in and began adventuring. As you gain notoriety as an adventurer and make friends and connections, it gets harder to keep it a secret that there's nothing behind your visor. | "May the Gods bear witness to my oath. Until every last monster is wiped from the land, I swear that I shall never remove my armour."
It was the simplest solution, at the time. Drastic measures were needed - if not, I would have been found out sooner or later.
There were simply too many situations where wearing armour couldn't be attributed to eccentricity or paranoia. Take, for instance, sailing the high seas. For a human, wearing a full suit on a ship was a death sentence - fall overboard, and you'd be weighed down to a drowning death. When I slew the Kraken, it was a tall order to convince my companions to let me "keep" my armour on.
Hence, the oath. "I'm under holy vow to never remove it" was a terribly convenient excuse, and I never tired of repeating it so long as I could keep my secret safe. Surely there was no way that every single monster could be wiped from the land.
Until now.
"You look dazed, Alden. What's up? Nervous?" Girald, fellow adventurer and companion, nudged me in the side.
Here I was, wielding the Sword that Seals the Darkness, near the end of my quest to destroy the Great Malice, the source of dark energy from which all monsters spawned. Unfortunately, that was a big problem for me.
"Ha! Alden, nervous? I couldn't imagine it," Rina, my other companion, joked.
I fingered the Sword's scabbard in anxiety. "Well," I lied, "I'm just worried about Zagath, you know."
Girald grinned. "Zagath is nothing. We'll pound him into the dust, destroy the Malice, then we'll get to see what's under that armour."
"We'll be the first ones to see it," Rina agreed. "To be honest, I'm actually quite excited."
They were, in fact, telling the truth. The hardest parts of our quest were over. Dark Sorcerer Zagath might have been a match for us in the past, but with the legendary Sword, I was confident we could take him.
After hours of walking the halls of the Horizon-Devouring Labyrinth, we finally came upon the chamber in which the Malice resided. And there, Zagath was waiting.
"Alden," Zagath snarled, "Today is the day I will rip that famed armor from your body."
"You will try," I replied.
I shall spare you the details of battle. But when it was all over, when Zagath was prone on the floor, my sword pointed at his neck, his face sputtering in incomprehensible rage, I knew I was at the end of my rope. My secret would be revealed in a few scant moments. Girald and Rina stood victoriously beside me.
A ludicrous idea came to my mind.
"Shame, Zagath," I taunted. "You'll be the only one in the world that never gets to see my face."
Zagath's face twisted.
"You've been fighting for years, but your miserable end is finally here. You will die without even knowing the face of the one who killed you. How does that feel?"
Zagath's eyes bulged, teeth gnashing, unbridled anger turning his face a deep shade of red.
"Curse you, Alden! Curse you!" He cried. Zagath weakly raised his hand, attempting to power his final, desperate spell. "If I shall never see the face of my killer, then the people shall never see the face of their saviour! I curse you to..."
Girald and Rina's faces twisted in horror, but if I had a face, I think I would have been smiling the widest smile in my whole life.
"...never be able to remove your armour!"
----------------
Inspired by a [webnovel](https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/43947/armor) with pretty much the exact same premise as the prompt. Also breath of the wild lol | Morvad - The empty warrior.
Morvad was outnumbered, dozens of angry, half-naked tribespeople encircled him, taking turns to jab spears and axes at his armoured self. Their lack of armour made them very agile, so taking them out with his greatsword was no easy feat, however he had an almost… inverse advantage. Inside his formidable armour, stretching from head to foot with absolutely no visible gaps, there was no person. Some people say you are what you eat, well Morvad was literally what he wore, he was a variety of enchanted armour pieces that had developed a single identity.
The fight itself was of little consequence, suffice it to say Morvad used his advantages to slice through their ranks with alarming alacrity until they fled. The more alarming part was that they were here at all. The tribals had been especially active as of late, and they were very particular in targeting Morvad’s employers.
Morvad reported back to the Cathedral in the Morovanian capital of Stras. His contact was a low-ranking official in the Church of the pure soul, whom Morvad hadn’t bothered to learn the name of.
“Writ completed, seven intact heads, five fled with injuries, I do not expect many of them to survive,” said Morvad, in his metallic voice. For the most part he sounded human, which was certainly useful. The Church of the pure soul aren’t famed for loving wanton, unregulated magic, and that’s exactly what they would view Morvad as.
Morvad threw a blood soaked sack onto the table, a head rolled out towards the Clerk’s hands, he stood up in fright and threw the head back away from him as if he had just been thrown hot coals.
The clerk raised his eyebrow and stared at the bag in alarm at the brutality of it all. After a deep breath he composed himself enough to reply: “You do know, mercenary, we *do* accept teeth as evidence, two canines is enough evidence of a kill. Alas, you know the drill well enough, take this lot to the mortuary and I’ll have your money counted up and ready for you when you return, dismissed.”
***
The Cathedral lesser mortuary was less of a place to process and honour the dead but more of a reliquary. Skulls adorned every inch of the walls, most of them were once enemies of the church, some were simply poor people delighted to be anywhere near the Cathedral, even if it meant standing vigil alongside robbers and rapists. For the most part the Church burned their dead considering it a cleansing of the soul, but they did often indulge in preserving skulls.
The Church had once been a minor affair in Morovania, starting as a simple missionary centre on the border, giving wisdom to those that sought comfort within their humble camp. It spread slowly over the years, mixing and changing, and to some degree intermingling with existing religions, while still keeping it’s core ethos. It didn’t get it’s big break until a few hundred years ago, when they played a key part in helping a great deal of the populace survive the great plague.
It was then that a Prince of the time saw their opportunity. He nourished and encouraged the development of the Church in Morovania. He was no priest but he used his influence to conduct sermons, radicalising and evangelizing all he could, especially insisting that the military take part. Within a decade he had much of the minor religions kicked out and in hiding, and the Church of the pure soul fully ingrained within Morovanian society. The Prince and the Church had become so intertwined that to keep his elder brother as the heir would have led to civil war. His ascent was guaranteed.
It’s only gotten worse since then, the Church quite literally is the military now. Their victories are Morovania’s victories. As all of these skulls would attest.
Still, despite his tenuous relationship with the Church, Morvad enjoyed his time in the mortuary. He didn’t need to do more than hand over the heads and go, but without fail he would sit and watch the mortician at work. He would wonder what it would be like to have an actual bone structure within his shell. On some level, the whole idea seemed ludicrous to him, sometimes all he could imagine was a bag of bones rattling around inside his shell, messing up his movements.
However he couldn’t have always been sentient armour. There are plenty of examples of magical items in the world, and most of them never start moving of their own volition. So by that logic he had to have once had a wearer, and it had to have fit.
Sometimes, when he stared long enough at those skulls, Morvad thought not of rattling bones, but instead of singular people. It’s like he could imagine their lives in flashes, lives from their own perspective and not his metallic, armour bound existence. However that’s all they ever were, flashes of something he could have never known himself. Fleeting, only coming after long concentration, and gone all too soon.
((Sorry, that's all you're getting, heh. Does this sound promising? It does feel very much just like an intro with a lot of exposition, but it would fit into another story I started but.. never really got very far with)) | 2021-09-21T08:15:00 | 2021-09-21T07:04:25 | 455 | 132 |
[WP] After adopting a human on the intergalactic black market you're shocked to discover it's actually sapient. | The thwoggling sound of the stasis system reintegrating its contents back into the liminal time state filled my chambers. The warmth of the collected temporally locked infrared suffused the space, causing me to gently waft my lobes with an instinct to cool down. I'd experienced it many times, but it was always a thrill to get a new sample for the collection. I had almost 3,000 alien species in my collection, and many times that if you counted the preserved specimens. It was a respectable collection for a hobbyist, but I always felt it was special in it's variety rather than numerical count. I may have been biased.
As the last safety check concluded and the interior of the containment unit settled into existence I throbbed. The barrier flashed and was gone, revealing my latest acquisition, a biped from a smallish planet on the edge of the Sprakan's Sphincter galaxy. It immediately started shrieking in high pitched tones.
In an effort to keep it calm I remained still. The creature stopped shrieking almost immediately but then just stood there like a makad. It stared around it at the habitat I had made for it, imitations of the vegetation and structures of its home world as seen in pictures. Despite making so much noise moments before it became oddly silent. It seemed to be taking in the habitat piece by piece and making quiet noises. When it had made a full turn to see everything it fell silent again. Finally, it noticed the viewport I was watching through. It stepped closer on its hilariously precarious legs and then threw itself back as it seemed to notice me for the first time and scrambled across the simulated stone and ran itself straight into the far wall.
I jumped forward. I had paid so much for it. I didn't want to see it kill itself. It turned and looked at me as I approached and the shrieking noises started again. I crossed my mandibles and pressed my palps to the ground to show I had no intent to harm it but it clawed at the far wall in an attempt to climb to safety. I made a quick mental note that the creature seemed to regard high places as safer, so elevated platforms might help it feel more comfortable, though with it's poor climbing ability and fragile anatomy it might be best to hold off.
When it saw I had stopped and was making no aggressive movements it seemed to calm, though its breathing still sounded labored. It made a few quieter sounds, and I attempted to speak at it in soothing sounds. Some species understood tone very well. "It is okay. All is well. You are safe. You are home. You will be cared for. All is well. You are safe."
The creature obviously didn't understand a squeak of it but seemed to calm somewhat. I slowly moved back, wincing slightly as I scraped my belly across the artificial rock formations, and went to the wall where the feeder was, pushing down the bar that let food pellets fall into the bin and the water into the pool. The whole time the creature watched me with those predatory front-facing eyes and the body movements of cornered prey. Finally, I moved back to the view port and triggered the seals, letting the port close as I moved out, tucking my 2nd and 3rd pairs of legs as I shifted to the more familiar gravity of my home.
**********
Might work on this later. Gotta do something else now. | "I... sorry, remind me again, what is a... walking taco?"
My new exotic pet scratched the back of its neck. It smelled faintly of ennui and emotional disconnect.
"Yeah, so it's like... ok so you take a bag of fritos and then you get your other ingredients, right? and you put the beef and lettuce and cheese and stuff in the bag with the fritos, and then you eat it out of the bag."
I was having trouble wrapping my mind around this development. I was stressed as it was from a series of astronomically important business meetings which I had visited this side of the galaxy to attend. My boss, the CEO of WarpCorp, obviously expected a lot from me. I didn't need this extra responsibility, but it looked as though my reckless drinking the other night had landed me in hot water.
"And you..." I paused. "You're a human, right? One of those, er, Earth, was it? You're from that planet that was removed to form the interstellar highway?"
The tired human nodded and looked up at me expectantly. "So...?"
I puzzled at their hopeful expression for a moment then started. "Oh, the walking taco, no, no, we don't have any aboard. I don't think there even are any outside of Earth, you'll be hard pressed to find one."
The human's eyes began to brim with tears, and their grief tasted unpleasantly salty and fatty.
"Oh, hey, no it's ok, we can... we can figure it out, you can find something similar..."
"Space fritos?" They mumbled forlornly, watching the wall blankly.
I was not looking forward to my trip home.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
By the time we returned to my residence, the human had ceased crying and was now looking around with bleary eyes and a vast sense of helplessness. I couldn't help but feel a grain of sympathy burgeoning in my chest. Mistakenly, I invited the thing inside.
Within moments I regretted my decision, as the creature flung open my bedroom door and began to poke around my sleeping container.
"Why is your fridge so strange?" They taunted me with their incomprehensible speech and their completely meaningless ramblings.
As the human continued to tour my home, it bumped into my lovely partner, who, upon seeing it, turned to me in haste, eyes alight with a frightful sort of madness.
"What have you done." Came the instant accusation (rightfully landed, I must admit)
"I- there was a complication, and this human is-"
"A human?? Are you insane? Humans haven't been recognized by Universal Universal Healthcare? Who knows what diseases that thing is carrying? It probably hasn't been vaccinated!"
The human seemed to bristle at this. "Excuse me, but I happen to have gotten my COVID booster, I'm not one of those anti-vaxxers who are endangering everyone's life!"
As if to prove their point, the human ripped off the lower half of their face, leaving a large hole above their chin. I stared in horror.
This did not seem to alleviate my cohabitator's concerns, as they turned back to me even further inflamed.
"These humans haven't even developed a cure for that Coronavirus thing yet! That disease is supposed to be completely eradicated from the larger galaxy, and you have just brought back this extremely dangerous individual. I swear, you've lost your head! You must have been drinking again."
I tugged nervously at my collar and struggled to find an excuse but every point made was valid and incriminating. I had endangered many lives by adopting this creature and I had brought it straight to my home.
"Alright, sorry human, but I can't really afford to keep you around here. My partner is awfully upset about you, so you have two choices. Live in the basement, or I'll send you to a rescue shelter."
The human made no objections as I loaded them into a shuttle and plotted their course for the nearest endangered species shelter and preservation reservation. I watched with a twinge of sadness as their vessel sailed off into the distance.
The twinge of sadness became a twang of sadness as I witnessed their small pod thrown awry by a stray asteroid, but such is life.
"Well, good luck out there I guess." I offered as a last farewell, and went back inside. | 2022-03-01T18:38:07 | 2022-03-01T17:47:51 | 63 | 40 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you. | "My love-!" Anise called out.
"No. I don't want to hear it! You killed my brother." Nile refused.
Anise sighed "I didn't know until after. Besides! It was mandated by the Gods!"
Nile turned on his ex near growling, a family skill, "I. Don't. Care. He was my Brother! You had met him many times before our marriage and even more after! How could you possibly have not known it was him?!"
Anise flinched back as Nile had never growled at him before. After too long in silence Nile spoke again, this time without the darkened growl, "Well? I'm waiting. I've waited for three years for your answer on why you killed my brother and why it took said three years to come back here. Five years for your pathetic excuses on why you up and left. And finally I waited four before I gave up on your love. I mean really not even a single letter or, infinite, not a single dream for five years? Honestly. Why Did I Ever Love You?"
Anise sighed again, it seemed he had been doing that a lot recently, "so, what will, uhhh, what will you do now?"
"That's it. That's what you say? After FIVE ETHER DAMNED YEARS?" Nile yelled astonished, at Anise's hesitant nod Nile felt all his anger, rage, and betrayal condense from a raging wild forest fire down into the small light at the end of a flamethrower. His facial expression smoothed out to something calm, cold, and deadly. He spoke again but instead of being filled with passion his voice was now cold determination, "what will I do now? Now I will take my brothers mantle and finish what he started. And I will begin so by doing what he didn’t, by doing what he should have the moment the chisen one was revealed. I will start my villain arc by killing the killer of my blood. By killing the one chosen as hero by the Gods. By. Killing. You." | We were sweethearts throughout high school. We had married after college. Then one day he simply left.
All the young men in our village left following my husband into battle. Chosen by themselves to save us from the invading army. They had already invaded the western half of the country under the guise of a training exercise. They took no prisoners, choosing instead to execute anyone they found. They called us Nazis or Nazi sympathizers, not worth the life we were given. Worse yet, we were told no one was coming to save us. Our countries politics kept us neutral, without allies. Our only supposed ally was the one who was invading us now.
I never heard from my husband, no one heard anything. We did however receive word over the radio. His unit was gathering momentum. They had gathered men from other villages and cities and had gathered a sizeable army.
Occasionally someones husband or son would return home. Always in a box. I wished he would never come home. I would sooner raise our daughter alone, knowing he was keeping us safe then have him return home.
Five years. For five very long years boxes came home, never one for me. We heard over the radio of clashes occurring. Stalemates. Occasionally we would lose ground, or a city. Then we were gifted weapons from outside sources who couldn’t interfere directly. They started to slowly gain ground. Retaking territory. We were winning. The enemy didn’t like that very much. They gave us 72 hours to surrender or our country would become a nuclear wasteland. At the end of those 72 hours hellfire rained over our little village. Only… it wasn’t nuclear. Our communications were severed. When the dust cleared and the air settled we learned from a traveller that the enemy leader was instead assassinated.
Despite our situation there were parties and feasts and celebrations from everyone. Our husbands were coming home!
It was about a week after that he arrived. We heard the day before that a unit was on its way to us in convoy. We were elated. I was at home with his parents with me waiting for him to arrive. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I opened it. All of the surviving members of our villagers who fought were at my door.
“Ivanna, I’m so sorry. He was a truly the chosen one. He gave his life to kill the enemy President before he could use his nuclear codes...” I stopped listening as they all had something to say about my husband. Apparently there was a lot to say.
They paraded his casket into my home. His parents rushed to me as I collapsed and cried. For hours I sat there. The selfish bastard left me alone. I wished he would never return, and he did.
I asked his parents to take care of our daughter for a while. They understood, but weren’t much better off. But they were better off.
For two days I sat at his side. Angry and confused, and grief stricken. I willed myself to get up. I was hungry. I walked into the kitchen. I grabbed a loaf of bread and a knife. With little hesitation I jammed it into my neck. I heard my husbands voice. “Oh my sweet Ivanna. I’ve missed you for so long” | 2022-08-12T18:14:39 | 2022-08-12T18:12:55 | 40 | 18 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | You stick out when everyone else in your school has some kind of insane, physics defying power and you have nothing. Like a normal horse in a herd of rainbow colored unicorns.
It was nerve wracking to adjust to having classmates who could effortlessly lift you off the ground with their mind, labmates who used their eye beams instead of a Bunsen burner, and groupmates who interviewed ghosts for your history project. Not being indestructible or able to regenerate limbs on a whim, I got to know the medical staff quite well quite quickly. I wasn't even accident prone, some people just kept "forgetting" that I didn't have powers like they did. Though that ended the moment that one of the seniors took things too far.
Getting my arm broken was a weird way to find out how popular I'd become. Turns out that me being normal helps keep my more gifted friends grounded. I hadn't even known that half of them liked me all that much before they sent the senior to the superhuman ICU. I'm not complaining though. | I could feel the blood dripping down my arm
“ what a freak , can’t do anything “ my attacker announced to the crowd. He had lightning fast reflexes…. And me… I had nothing… I don’t even know why I was selected for this school …
Before I could even blink he was behind me and kicked me into a wall … if I just don’t get back up maybe he will back off…. But I was wrong he made his way over to me again ….. but was he moving slower now on purpose?
He threw a punch but I could see it this time…. I rolled to get moved out of the way of it barely
“ looky here for a normie you can move fast when you want to , still won’t be good enough to cut it when you are here”
He started to look exhausted … maybe that was what it was … I picked myself back up and stood up and stared at him … was this just the adrenaline or was everyone else moving…. Slower….
He went to throw another punch but this one was so slow , I easily dodged it and I threw one back and hit him square in the gut
He staggered back “ how… did you move so fast…. No one’s faster then me , no one can react fast enough “ his friend walked in front of him to take over , I knew of him , size of a car , strong enough to move a mountain if he tried , he went to push me away and I felt like I got hit by a telephone pole from just a grazing blow…
It took me a minute to catch my breath but I was not fast enough to stop the punch coming , I put my hand up to block it and I found I could hold him back…. He was struggling to push me? Soon I didn’t feel like I had to try and push back it was effortless , the strained look he had struggling until suddenly he clenched his chest and keeled over
Another student came to his rescue , said his heart couldn’t pump hard enough anymore , a faculty member flew down and broke the fight up , they sent my attackers to the med centre right away and he started escorting me to the office
I don’t know how I got into so much trouble for my first day… but after a few days of recovery no one ever wanted to touch me again…. I was just normal… I didn’t understand why | 2022-11-02T09:54:56 | 2022-11-02T08:30:32 | 706 | 150 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | Cold eyes stare at me from across the room. I know the feeling behind them. It is Judgement.
I'm not like the others here. Many of them have a supernatural ability. Strength, calculus, prediction, speed. I am, for all intents and purposes, a normal human being. But there's one thing I've mastered that makes the headmaster truly believe I am special like the others.
Instinct.
It's the most important survival skill we have, but everyone else ignores it because to them, super is all they need. I know better. It tells me when to fight, when to flee, when to kill, when to stop. It sings its sweet little nothings in my gut that guide me.
I can feel the adrenaline flowing through my veins already. The strongest one in the room walks towards me now. I can feel he wants to kill me. Processes in the body get to work.
He winds up his punch, and I dodge to the side. He misses, and I sweep his legs, sending him to the ground. I grab his arm and snap the bone. He screams in pain.
Cold eyes stare at me from across the room. I know the feeling behind them.
*Fear.* | I could feel the blood dripping down my arm
“ what a freak , can’t do anything “ my attacker announced to the crowd. He had lightning fast reflexes…. And me… I had nothing… I don’t even know why I was selected for this school …
Before I could even blink he was behind me and kicked me into a wall … if I just don’t get back up maybe he will back off…. But I was wrong he made his way over to me again ….. but was he moving slower now on purpose?
He threw a punch but I could see it this time…. I rolled to get moved out of the way of it barely
“ looky here for a normie you can move fast when you want to , still won’t be good enough to cut it when you are here”
He started to look exhausted … maybe that was what it was … I picked myself back up and stood up and stared at him … was this just the adrenaline or was everyone else moving…. Slower….
He went to throw another punch but this one was so slow , I easily dodged it and I threw one back and hit him square in the gut
He staggered back “ how… did you move so fast…. No one’s faster then me , no one can react fast enough “ his friend walked in front of him to take over , I knew of him , size of a car , strong enough to move a mountain if he tried , he went to push me away and I felt like I got hit by a telephone pole from just a grazing blow…
It took me a minute to catch my breath but I was not fast enough to stop the punch coming , I put my hand up to block it and I found I could hold him back…. He was struggling to push me? Soon I didn’t feel like I had to try and push back it was effortless , the strained look he had struggling until suddenly he clenched his chest and keeled over
Another student came to his rescue , said his heart couldn’t pump hard enough anymore , a faculty member flew down and broke the fight up , they sent my attackers to the med centre right away and he started escorting me to the office
I don’t know how I got into so much trouble for my first day… but after a few days of recovery no one ever wanted to touch me again…. I was just normal… I didn’t understand why | 2022-11-02T10:57:20 | 2022-11-02T08:30:32 | 245 | 150 |
[WP] You are a unimportant background character just trying to survive whatever nonsense the main characters are up to. However you keep finding yourself being drawn into dangerous stituations, and to your horror you realise that you're a fan favorite character the show is giving more "screen time". | Turton had been friends with the Hero since they were children, and when he heard that they had made a name for themselves, he resolved to do the same.
Life had other plans.
While the Hero was able to best the gangsters with his innate magic, Turtons non-magic behind had been promptly knifed by a lowly enforcer. Still, he bade his friend safe travels when he healed, and that he'd surely catch up one day.
But "one day" never seemed to come. A dragon burned the village months later, and he'd helplessly watched the Hero vanquish it with a jet of flame even greater than what the beast could produce. He could only guide others to safety when a rogue magician sent a torrent of water to wash away the kingdom. He hoisted a child over his head to her mother before the waters swept him away.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but he awoke in a washed out gully. He was sure that somewhere upstream, the Hero was just about done taking care of the evil spellcaster.
"Get up." said a voice next to his ear.
He jerked his head back, but saw nothing.
"Your friend is in trouble" the voice spoke into his other ear.
He spun around "W-whos there?" Turton whimpered. He was tired, and cold.
"You need to save him."
He'd finally lost his mind to stress, Turton thought. Might as well run with it.
"How can I do that? I have no magic, I've never won s fight in my life!"
This time, the voice took shape before him, a figure of mist with piercing white eyes.
"You won't have to win, just survive. As you always have."
"Survive?" He said.
"Yes. Survive the journey back upstream, past the magicians minions, and you'll be just in time to block a strike that will otherwise surely end your heroic friend."
"And then get my butt kicked again."
The mist figure flickered. "...yes. but again, you shall survive."
"How do you know all this? That I will always survive?" Turton finally rose to his feet, slipping on the rocky ground.
"Because your death would displease many people. From the moment you set off on your journey, I gave you the greatest gift I can bestow upon one of my creations. I gave you 'plot-armor'." | I was accustomed to the uneventful, to the quiet comfort of a time-honed routine, but my peace proved a feeble toy of frivolous alien minds.
And in an odd way, it was my fault.
An unbecoming explosion in the midst of the bar where I drink my morning coffee and read the monotone newspaper established the first breaking point. The rumble that came with it was deafening. It sent my bones into a relentless tremor. It froze my heart for far too long and, worst of all, it distracted me from my reading.
Admittedly, the destruction it left in its wake was unapt for the weak of stomach, and for reasons beyond my comprehension, everything but my table and my being was reduced to ash and smithereens. Fortune had been on my side perhaps, or perhaps, as I had thought there were directors behind this thing I called life. Where was the smoke? Where was the shockwave?
They made it so obvious.
I sighed and returned to my habitual reading. What else could I do? I'm a mere individual, and if my theory was correct, I was a simple puppet subject to threads I didn't comprehend. There was no point in trying to defy such a thing.
Either way, the news were boring. A robbery was the most interesting story.
"Nobody fret!" Frian shouted, seemingly trying to bring comfort to the strewn-about dead bodies.
I shook my head, slapped the newspaper against the table in frustration, and gazed at Frian. He bolted into the bar, examined his surroundings, and collapsed to his knees. "I swear I will have my revenge!" He screamed at the sky.
"Can you keep it quiet," I said. "I'm trying to read here."
He held my gaze in utter disbelief and came toward me.
Fucking great.
"How? What are you doing? We must leave. Now," Frian said, desperation tearing his voice apart.
I reached for my coffee and took a sip. It was intact. Another impossibility that reinforced my theory. "Do I look like I need help? Let me read in peace." I cursed under my breath.
"B--but is dangerous in here." He insisted. "There could be another bomb."
I crossed my legs and readjusted on the chair. "I will be right there with you in about 10 minutes. Still some pages left."
After that, Frian scoured the debris for survivors. Peace at last. The police and ambulances came soon after, and some minutes later I finished my coffee and left.
The rest of the day was uneventful. I worked, took a bath, brushed my teeth, saw a movie, and went to sleep.
From that day on, my routine was forever disturbed. I worked in the midst of a shooting between Frian and a bunch of gangsters. I watched my movie with a helicopter flying right outside my apartment. I took a bath while Frian fought a terrorist group who had been hiding in my apartment and, I brushed my teeth in the midst of an earthquake.
At this point, I understand I'm a simple character in a story. I don't mind it. I am a quiet individual born in a mundane world, a prisoner of a mundane routine I have learned to enjoy, I have no grand aspirations, no dreams.
Sooner or later, they will get bored of me and I will fade into the background once again.
Sooner or later, all things will return to their unbreaking monotony.
Sooner or later, I will die a mundane death.
And that's alright.
In the end, I'm just a background character.
\---------------
If you enjoyed this, you can read my stories at r/AStoryToRuleThemAll.
Thank you for reading >:) | 2022-11-04T19:58:05 | 2022-11-04T18:23:01 | 542 | 390 |
[WP] A suicide hotline operator realizes that the person he's talking down really should kill themselves. | “Hello, this is suicide assistance. My name is Frannia, how can I assist you today?” It was my first day on the job as a suicide prevention operator. In fact, I was just hired, but, not wanting to reveal my novelty, I kept a steady pitch and waited patiently for the caller to speak.
“Um… my name is Shizo. I need help.” Finally came a reply.
“How can I be of service, Shizo?”
“Look, I killed my entire family yesterday. It was an accident. I have a horrible disorder that sometimes I can’t control my consciousness. I can’t forgive myself but I didn’t do it on purpose. I just need someone to tell me that it’s okay, that I deserve a second chance, that even a killer can be forgiven.”
A long pause ensued. My eyes teared up with hatred. “Sorry Shizo, I can’t help you. My family was murdered by a psychopath yesterday as well. I can’t forgive a killer.”
“I just need someone to tell me it’s okay. Just one person who believes in me.” The desperation in his voice was as strong as my hatred.
“Sorry, I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. I know it’s not your fault, but I just can’t forgive you.”
“PLEASE. Lie to me! You’re a suicide prevention operator for god’s sake! You’re suppose to convince me that my life is worth living. It’s like the opposite right now…” The caller started sobbing intensely, his words unclear but the meaning still understood.
I’m sobbing too now, “I’m sorry. I can’t. I just can’t. I wish I can, but I can’t. People like you… You are dangerous. You killed my family and you don’t deserve to be part of society! YOU SHOULD JUST DIE!”
For a second, nothing happened. Then it was clear the message got across when a deathly gun shot was heard by neither party.
In the middle of the room was Shizo Frannia with two phones, a gun, and a bullet in his head. | "Hello, my name is Emilio. I'm here to help you. What's your name?"
"My name is ... ugh Jesus. Shit, I don't even know why I'm calling you guys."
"Well, how about we talk it through and figure out how we can help you today, okay? What's your name? I doubt it's 'ugh Jesus' haha."
"... Ben. Ben Silverton. I'm 46. I used to live at 36 Suffolk Road in Rochester. My wife's name is Sara, she lives there now. Please ... I ... I need you to tell her I love her. Tell her I always have. She wouldn't stand to hear my voice again, but I'll only be at peace if she knows I'm sorry."
"Well I'm hoping I won't have to, and when this all blows over, we can help you approach Sara to find closure in a better way. May I ask where you are?"
"I'm ugh ... I'm on the Randolph Bridge. Ugh ... I'm ... it's rush hour. God why the fuck did I choose to do this now? This fucking guy pulled over and he -"
"Ben, this office is located in Albany so I need you to be more specific on the location. I found two bridges with that name in Rochester. Can you give me the route name it's on?"
"518 south ... Oh my god, I feel so sick. Emilio, listen to me. I ugh ... fuck ... Emilio, I killed someone."
"...Mr. Silverton. Wha- ... Are you ... When did this-"
"Last Thursday night I was driving home down this bridge and there was this kid, this little boy on his bike. He was right next to me on the sidewalk. And I reached down to get my phone. When I looked back up, the car in front of me stopped short, so I swerved. And I ... I ... Jesus Christ ... I fucking hit him, and he flew off the side. I can see his face. I ran right out of my car and fled in the opposite direction before anyone nearby realized what I had done."
"You hit a boy on a bike last Thursday night?"
"YES! I fucking hit this kid! I didn't mean to! I ... I was caught off ... I didn't think he ... Jesus fuck! I'm fucked Emilio."
" ... was the boy wearing a red and white stripped shirt?"
"...Emilio..."
"Was that boy wearing a red helmet with a lightning bolt sticker on the front?"
"I..."
"I came to work today because I needed to find hope. I needed to know the world was still good. I wanted to hear a sigh of relief in a voice that chose to not end it all. And you ruined it."
"Emilio, I ..."
"Sir, it's against my job, against my own beliefs really, to tell you to jump off that bridge. Right now I know that God has brought you to me, I know I have justice now. It's not my place to tell you to jump. But if I may speak out of context Sir ... I wish you the worst eternity in whatever hell you burn in."
"... Oh god ... I ... Emilio, I ... Please ..."
"Please don't do it there. You don't deserve to die where he did ... Have a good day." (Hang up)
"Emilio, I'm sorry. I..." | 2013-12-23T15:47:58 | 2013-12-23T13:39:10 | 179 | 26 |
[WP]In 3048 weaponry is so advanced that a single small-scale war would destroy the planet. All national conflicts which would traditionally lead to war are now resolved by pay-per-view UFC style fighting matches. The fights are fought by world leaders, and go to the death. Tonight is USA vs. China. | President Yasin sat in his tiny chair while getting his blood drawn. Even in a world where people solved their disputes through cage matches, we still needed rules. No performance enhancing drugs.
The man across from him, at least they claimed he was still a man, was freakishly large. Almost comically so. To describe President Zhao as intimidating would be an understatement. An absolutely solid specimen throughout and a little over seven feet tall. Here was a man born and bred for the sole purpose of forcing the national will of his country upon others in single combat. And he had never lost a fight. Centuries of genetic research had gone into his birth. Decades of the most rigorous physical training had gone into his life. The combination of the two had gone into the deaths of 57 men and 1 women.
Ironically, the one woman had lasted the longest against President Zhao. I guess the genetics scientists had failed to completely excise the parts of him that felt mercy and empathy. Poor, tiny, supremely qualified woman. Somalia had elected her as a form of protest against the system. Within the last 430 years that this system had been implemented, only 7 women had ever been elected. No amount of training or genetic manipulation gets around the hard facts of biology. Testosterone and muscle mass.
Women's rights had tanked pretty hard. With all the emphasis on brute strength, women were essentially non-existent in the public sphere. All the lower level offices were merely a proving ground for the big time. Over the years people had suggested ways to even the playing field by allowing weapons or putting the combatants in vehicles of some kind. But how would you get the other countries to agree to that unless you could win in a fight? And if you could win in a fight, why not keep the status quo and always get your way?
Somalia's was the latest protest. Elect the frailest, most feminine, delicate woman and just pray that it shocked the conscience of the world to watch her die. And it was true that she knew what she was doing when she ran for the position. A trapped field mouse in a cage. With a tiger. She died. People gasped. Life moved on. That was over 15 years ago and nothing had changed.
With only a few minutes left before his first fight, President Yasin knew it was probably also his last fight. The only question was how he was going to go out. He wanted to go out fighting, but not the physical way that would just have been a good show for the roaring mob. He remembered the legend of a man in his country from over a thousand years ago. A man versus a column of tanks. No weapon, no backup, just some groceries in hand. But the strength and determination the man had shown that day endured through history's slippery grasp. That's the way to do it, he thought.
Next up was President Zhao. His skin glistened, the white parts more than others. He was a walking flag, having been tattooed red, white, and blue basically over his entire torso. The Americans and their obsession with Old Glory had never really gone away.
"You're both clean. May the best man win."
Time to die. | The crowd roars, my ears are ringing from the wall of noise as I step into the narrow corridor just outside the locker room. My trainer gives my face one last wipe of Vaseline and we start walking to the arena. Everyone in the halls is avoiding eye contact with me, not good. I know I'm not the favorite this time around. The last match I was in was brutal and my collar bone has yet to completely heal.
We finally reach the edge of the arena and I take one last look back into the hallway, I turn on the Gauntlets and feel an electric hum tingle it's way up my forearms. We march in lockstep to the edge of the cage and I turn to the crowd and bring my fists above my head, a blinding blue arc crackles between them. The crowd erupts and I feel totally calm.
I can see Lao Bu already in his corner, yellow sparks dripping from his Gauntlets. The buzzer sounds as the cage is magnetically sealed behind me. Lao Bu bows and I do the same, no turning back now. The arena is hushed as we approach the center of the cage. He circles to my right and I drop down, barely avoiding the crackle of light that comes from his fist. I slam both hands to the ground and the cage shakes, Lao Bu stumbles backward and I rush him with both hands outstretched. He tries to sprawl but I already have him off balance, I fall on top of him as we both topple to the ground. He's already trying to roll me sideways and reverse our positions, damn he's fast. I bring my right knee up to my chest and use his momentum to continue the roll, landing on him again in a side mount. I lock both hands behind his neck and feel a pulse of energy that lifts us off the ground a few inches. Lao Bu goes limp for a moment as the air is slammed out of his chest when we hit the ground, I take this chance and pass to the full mount position. He tries to control my wrists but I pull one hand free, my right fist heats up and I bring it down on his neck. The flash is almost blinding and I smell burnt skin. Lao arches his back and I'm thrown forward, the punch was effective but it made me lose balance. Now he's behind me and puts his hands around my waist, pulling me off my feet...oh shit I'm being dumped on my head.
Everything is white for a moment and I feel a warm trickle roll down my neck. Lao Bu is standing above me now, his neck is still smoking and the skin has blackened on one side. He claps his hands together and his Gauntlets immediately get red hot, time seems to slow as I watch his hands hurtle towards my face. I instinctively bring my hands up to protect myself and the boom is deafening as our Gauntlets clash.
I push his arms up as hard as I can and his fists strike the ground just above my head, the shockwave throws Lao Bu across the cage and makes my head swim. I cough once and its all blood, burning my lungs. As I sit up I see Lao Bu standing and running towards me, his fists red hot once again. He dives at me and I roll to the left, narrowly avoiding his attack.
Now we're on our feet, I put my hands in front of me and a blue arc shoots between them. He charges me again and I step to the right as I throw a left hook. I feel his jaw shatter and blood sprays into my left eye, some gets in my mouth. He doesn't flinch and I feel a searing pain in my ribs. I look down and his hand is buried to the wrist, cauterizing the skin as it goes deeper into my abdomen.
I clap both hands behind his neck in a clinch and pull his face into my forehead, his nose bursts and I'm covered in blood. I pull his head up as I feel him digging around my chest, squeezing my heart with a hand made of fire. My hands pulse again and the blue arc severs his head at the jawline. Lao Bu's eyes dart around for a second before his head slips off of his neck. I try to push his body back but his hand is still buried in my chest, everything is going white and I can't seem to keep my eyes open... | 2014-06-12T23:16:57 | 2014-06-12T20:23:37 | 54 | 17 |
[WP] A writer, trapped in his own book, regrets not writing more intresting female characters | I had always had a talent for writing strong male characters. Even as I sit here in the coffee shop I modeled off of one I saw in New Orleans once, staring across the way at my creation, I have to admire that one talent of mine. Roger was a fantastic character.
He was witty, intelligent, sympathetic but still strong. When I wrote him, I think I was trying to emulate some form of James Dean, with the suave way he made everyone he spoke to feel important. He had hobbies, interests, favourite books. I think I'd even written him a detailed back story that never made it into the final draft of the novel. Too sad, my editor said.
I had written Roger as a tragic hero in this dark comedy. He was supposed to be flawed, and his fatal flaw was being too trusting. So of course, every other character in the novel I had written as a sleazeball.
Women gaining his trust, only to dash his hopes of a happy ending. His boss took advantage of him and made him work hours and hours. Right now, he was sitting with his daughter from a previous marriage, and she was trying to talk him out of money. Inevitably, he would give it to her. That's the kind of guy that Roger was.
But the sad part about Roger, for me at least, was that he cried out for love. He never found it in the novel- that was the whole point. It wasn't something I wrote in the cards for him. And so I made every potential suitor a horrible representation of what women could be. I was fresh off a break-up with my last girlfriend. To me, all women were monsters, barely hiding their fangs. So I gave Roger the same options.
Now, I had tried more than once to date these women. But the absolute worst part was one little line I had put in the third chapter, trying to differentiate the novel from my own life.
Every women I had ever written was straighter than an arrow. And I was the only lesbian. | Charles hated going outside.
First there was the streets, full of sputtering cards listlessly driving from one place to the next with phantom drivers inside. Then there was the weather, which was nice generally but tended to turn grey and stormy when he was a foul mood. And he was in a foul mood often because of the women that inhabited this half-assed world he had created.
First there was Jackie. He was still not sure how that went wrong. She was the spunky heroine to his story, the smart, creative, but vulnerable match for his lead character. Detective Raul Cortez had bolted to the edge of the pages and the greylands unknown rather than deal with her, and Charles wished he had the courage to do the same.
It wasn't that she was unbearable, per say. Take her out to dinner and she would banter and spit out one liners like no other. It was in the smaller, quieter moments she would creep him would. Charles once asked what her favorite movie was, and she didn't know. He asked about her life growing up, and other than one tragic event he had written in as a tragic backstory there was none. No hobbies, no passions, nothing at all. Sometimes he would leave the bathroom and watch her, hidden, from the back of the busy restaurant. She would sit there, doing nothing, being nothing. He had not written any more into her than as a functional tool to propel Raul's adventures. Then Charles would return and her eyes would light up with purpose again, the vacant look gone, the perfect trophy lead yet again.
Others was worse. His femme fatal Laura Blackwood was a bitchy artist trope, passionately seducing him one moment and flinging things in her apartment at him during one of her mad fits. There was no level with her, it was always one extreme or the other. Jill Noor was Raul's spunky ex girlfriend, a maniac pill addled adventurephile who dressed colorfully, acted spontaneously, and often forgot his name. Even Raul's sister Marissa, written to be his sensible DA and law abiding half was a mopey shell shocked mess. He had forgotten he had her assaulted and raped 2/3 of the way through the story to propel Raul to the climax.
Charles finally settled on sleeping with Gloria Lawrence, Raul's sweet and homely, though buxom, administrative assistant. She was the most rounded he had written to a female character in the story, ironically, he soon realized, because she was basically a man. She liked to drink, go to games, rarely shopped or complained or had unexpected mood swings of any sort. That went well for a while, until her mechanic husband George had found out about it and was sent into a violent rage, nearly killing Charles. Charles had not written him with anger issues, but he supposed sleeping with any man's wife would be enough to set him off.
So Charles preferred to stay in the safety of his own home, which had once been Raul's. The food was always stocked with booze and food, and although there was no TV and the internet had nothing on it he had plenty of time to write. He thought a sequel to Raul's story would be good. Maybe a war novel where he wouldn't have to deal with any women at all. | 2015-08-20T12:59:27 | 2015-08-20T11:29:04 | 58 | 12 |
[WP] Everybody in the world has a superpower that compliments their soulmates superpower. When together, both their powers increase in strength exponentially. You have the most useless power ever, when one day......
Edit: Wow! This has blown up.. Massive thanks for the gold, it's great to see my prompt inspiring so many great stories.
'Til next time peeps... | My friend Hilary and I have this running competition on whose power is the worst. Hers is that every time she hiccups, she teleports randomly. I admit, that sucks really bad, she once disappeared in the middle of play that she was the pianist for. But Hilary at least has some control over it. She’s induced hiccups to get out of bad dates and presentations she didn’t want to do.
I have no control over my power. It happens randomly and often at the most frustrating moment possible. My power is that people forgot that I exist. Not permanently, thankfully, but the duration varies. If I go to a coffee shop I’m not likely to get my coffee because the barista forgets that I ordered. I’ve been marked down as absent from school more often than not, even though if I sit in the front row and wave my hand in the teacher’s face and shout “I’m here!” My own parents forgot me at the hospital when I was born. It took the staff three hours to notice I was still in the nursery.
Hilary says that at least I don’t have to worry about getting called on in class. Yeah, because that’s totally the worst thing to deal with, right? I’ve been trying to get a part time job for ages, but employers never remember me and assume I didn’t show up for the interview.
It’s looking like Hilary might have found her soulmate anyway. Some guy bumped into her on the street the other day, and they both disappeared. No hiccups, just touch and poof. She called me and said they’re going to have a lot of time to get to know each other, since they’re stuck in Peru at the moment. Before she could tell me when she’d be coming back, she forgot who she was on the phone with and assumed I was a telemarketer. That happens a lot.
I hadn’t put much thought into who my soulmate might be until recently. There’s this fella, James, who works at the sandwich shop on campus. He’s new and so far he hasn’t forgotten me a single time! It’s weird because whenever I mention him to other people, they all seem to know exactly who I’m talking about. Even though there’s like five James who have been going here longer and all I have to say is “You know James?”
I’m thinking about asking him to coffee later this week. He’d have to order it though.
| John and I were heading to the pub to do the speed dating we signed up for. We hoped to see if we can find our soulmate. John was able to see 5 seconds in to the future. Which was good, but not great, and was hoping he can see farther. He wonders how far he would see if he finds his soulmate. I, on the other hand, can pop like a small firework. I just make a loud noise and throw off enough energy to move a leaf, an inch away from me.
As we approach the pub, we notice a few people showing off what they can do. One guy was able to levitate 2 inches, off the ground. Another girl was able to create water drops from her finger tips. One person was just blue skinned. One girl seemed to be getting hit a few times, while one guy managed to balance a bottle on his finger.
We go around the tables, trying to get to know each other for two minutes. I can see John flirting his way, knowing what to say, since he can see if they like his answer or not, before they know. His power is not that bad, since it gets him laid more times than I can count. I can see him writing her number on a scratch sheet of paper, before she gives it to him. Another deal sealed for him tonight.
The timer goes off and we switch seats. I move over and notice her right away. Long black silk hair. Around 4 ft, 8 in. 100 lbs. Hazel eyes, and ruby red lips. She says her name is Lucy and has really tough skin. I say my name is pop, and my power is to Rudy. She laughs and wants to know more of this power. I apologize and say my name is Rudy, and have the power to pop. I asked her about her power, and she explains that it takes a lot to hurt her. She said she once got hit by a golf club, and didn't feel a thing.
She told me to hit her as hard as I could, and she wouldn't feel it. I give her a weird look, but she insist. I give her a small shoulder tap, but she insist I hit her harder. I tap her harder and it feels really hard. She insisted I give her a good punch, and don't hold back. So I humor her and punch her arm really hard. This time it felt like hitting a steel wall. She then has a concerned look on her. She says that her body has always been able to take a hit, but never turned hard as stone before.
She asks me to show her my power next. I say it is not very interesting as hers, but she insisted. So I breathe in and hold my hand out to a paper and concentrate on popping. I can feel the energy building up and just as I'm about to pop, I can hear John jump off his seat and run towards me. He yells for me to stop, but it's too late. I can feel it coming. The energy build up was intense. I can hear myself pop, and tried to aim towards the paper, but John's distraction caused me to pop a coin. It flies towards John's speed date at great speed, but luckily John manages to jump between the coin and the woman, and prevent the coin from hitting her.
I apologize and he mentions how the coin would've hit her eye, causing permanent blindness on that eye, but good thing he saw it before it happened.
At the end of the day, I got a number and John got 4 numbers. We were satisfied. We didn't find our soulmate but we know we will get laid, and for us, that is as good as we want for now.
Edit, words. | 2015-10-10T10:40:47 | 2015-10-10T08:42:59 | 69 | 21 |
[WP] Last night, you made a wish to turn into your crush's ideal mate. This is NOT what you expected. | There she was again. God, I knew she would never even look in my direction being the scrawny nerd I was. She was always beaming up into the face of some muscle-headed idiot.
&nbsp;
Once, last summer, I managed to make eye contact for an eternity of a split second. Her eyes were limpid pools of raw sexuality and my face invented a new shade of red.
&nbsp;
Sighing, I moved through the crowds of students, blindly following her perfume trail from a safe distance. I found myself thinking the same thought that had been haunting my mind for some time: *Why the hell couldn't I have been better looking, more muscular, or at least funny?*
&nbsp;
Suddenly something was slipped into my hand. Startled out of my reverie, I looked around to determine who had given me the slip of paper and what felt like a lighter. Unable to discern a culprit, I quickly read the note:
**Use this when you are safe**
The day passed in a vague cloud of excited nervousness. I waited until the house was quiet and dark before pressing the lighter contraption. Nothing happened. At first.
&nbsp;
I could hear every heartbeat. I could almost pick out individual blood cells that were zipping through me. I waited. And waited. And...
**ONE WISH. NO MORE. THINK QUICKLY**
It popped into my head without even meaning it to. *I wish I could be who she really wants. The one she dreams of*
&nbsp;
I passed out immediately. I remember dreaming weird things. I opened my eyes groggily and rolled over. I felt...different. I yawned and stretched, and then it hit me like a lightning bolt; I had made a wish. I jumped up to look at myself in the mirror in my room, barely daring to hope. I passed out.
&nbsp;
I had to accept my new reality. It took some time, but I was finally starting to get a hang of it. The best moment came the following Monday at school when she came up to me and actually spoke directly to me, asking my name.
"Oh," I said, "My name is Joanna." | The heady rush of a new infatuation is a powerful one.
In this case, it was the newest student in our art class, Olivia, who had recently moved to the area and transferred to our college. I'd never seen anyone like her before and I confess that when I first laid eyes on her I felt something that more poetic souls might describe as angels flying from my heart - or somesuch nonsense.
Hair that was almost blue-black fell in silken waves to just above her hips, forming a curtain of privacy when she leaned her head forward over a sketch pad. Neat-framed glasses perched below the perpetual wrinkle between her brows as she concentrated; one canine twisting her lip as she bit into the rosebud flesh. The tips of pink ears peeked through that velvet fountain of hair and rows of earrings chimed delicately as her head moved - seven in each ear.
When she spoke to me to ask why I was staring at her, her voice completed the spell. Low yet still feminine, it had a faint burr to it that set my senses aflame and all I could do was mumble my apologies and look away. Her distaste only made her elfin features and tilted eyes more attractive - and I suddenly wished I could be with her forever.
*Olivia* I breathed to myself on the bus ride home, swiping through the pictures I had taken of her surreptitiously during class. Here she pushed back a fall of jet hair with delicate, artist's fingers.
I imagined what those fingers could do to my own flesh.
In another her tongue pricked out of the corner of her mouth, delicate and moist.
I also imagined what that could do.
By the time I walked in through the door of my flat, I was convinced this was true love - nevermind the fact that she'd only spoken to me once to berate me for my lack of manners.
I barely ate and I searched for her online, eventually finding her twitter and facebook profiles. Tantalising pictures of her at the pool fired my baser desires and I lost myself in crude imaginings of our first awkward couplings on my sagging bed in the student flat.
Later, after perhaps my third or forth self-induced climax, I lay back on my bed, staring through the open window and into the deepening twilight. A bright star glimmered there, the first one out - radiant Venus, the planet of the fairer sex.
As I lapsed into sleep I wished fervently to the goddess planet that I could be with Olivia forever - I wished that I could be the perfect mate for her in every way.
With that desperate thought, I fell asleep.
I awake in her bedroom.
She's lying half-naked in bed, only a thin sheet covering her lower half. To my chagrin, there is a man beside her.
My skin is cold, inflexible. I can't move!
As they stir I can only watch, she kisses him and gives him the kind of smile I wish she'd give me.
"Another round?" she says wickedly, one hand reaching out for me.
"Hell *yes!*" the man says.
As she straps my hard, elongated body to her crotch, her lover bends over the bed, presenting his gleaming buttocks to her.
"Don't go easy this time."
Her voice husks from above me as a mountain of ass fills my field of view,
"Oh don't worry, *I won't!*" | 2015-12-18T12:50:28 | 2015-12-18T10:29:26 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] Humans are not the most war-like species in the galaxy. Not the most inventive, most belligerent or most advanced. Humans are, however, the best at one thing: we make love like wildebeests. We are the most gifted lovers in the known galaxy which is why so many of us have been abducted. | After fourteen decades of study, I , Professor Xenthrax, believe that I have discovered the cause of the human race's noted proficiency in the bedroom arts.
First their homeworld is an abhorrent patchwork of climates and biomes, resulting in a crazy quilt of a planet with many small, narrow ecological niches allowing for an incredible diversity in physiologies and traits.
Unlike the forest worlds, ocean worlds, mountain worlds, and desert worlds most of us are so familiar with, humans must suffer through extreme environmental changes within a comparatively small area.
Second, their world is completely and utterly lacking in Element X, which is not only easily utilized for anti-gravity purposes, granting psychic powers, and when heated provided a very tasty sauce, but also provides a stabilizing effect on plate tectonics, magnetic fields, and the weather.
Due to these two factors human beings come in a massive variety of forms and colorations, requiring them to have exceedingly broad specifications for attractiveness in a mate.
Contrast this with your typical L'tharsa, who will projectile vomit upon witnessing a member of the opposite sex whose mandibles vary in shape or size to their own by three percent.
And third, due to some sort of species-wide mental defect they are prone to over-empathizing to the point where they are capable of experiencing emotions based on the anthropomorphication of common household objects.
For example in one series of experiments a pair of novelty plastic googly eyes were glue to a rock upon which a line was drawn resembling the human's common facial expression for displaying happiness.
Lab personnel referred to the rock as "Steve," stated that Steve had a family, and elaborated on an obviously fictional background for the inanimate rock. The rock was then disposed of in various ways, including being pulverized, dissolved in acid, and being placed in front of a video display projecting a human documentary program on a disguised Lardaghast and her larvae living amongst humans, referred to as "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo."
Most subjects displayed measurable emotional effects at the mistreatment of the non-sentient, inanimate object.
It is my theory that as a result of this over-active capacity for empathy human beings are thus capable of effectively and easily bonding to virtually any race and tending to their carnal and emotional needs.
This position is backed by data from the human race's own records, where not only does it appear most humans more frequently copulate with inanimate objects (frequently tissues, though inflatable facsimiles of other humans and rubber emulations of male and female genitals are also common), but they will also declare various inanimate objects as their lifemate.
My cursory evaluation has found humans wedded in this fashion to structures, landmasses, human facsimiles that they treat as they would another human, and fictional characters.
As a result it is no surprise that a species who can fall in love with an animated, brightly colored fictional quadrupedal ungulate can maintain that capacity for anything from the Snotfolk of Regulon 14, to the stony She-Titans of Granitrax IV. | The Translator was built by the Standard People. Unlike Terrans, Ba'artig, Xorfloo, and Snee, the native linguistic rendering of "Standard People" was unknown. The machine was cleverly set up to render the meaning of the chauvinistic term "Standard People" in the listener's primary language.
Internally, an abstract metasemantic engine ensured that no trace of the Standard language was used even "under the hood", as it were. These days, nobody even knew who the Standard People *were*. Perhaps they were a known species trying to create plausible deniability for their invention, or an older species who left, went extinct, or into hiding for some reason.
In any event, the Translator came with no warranty, and nobody to sue in case things went wrong. And, given the delicate nature of interspecies diplomacy, the fates of entire civilizations continually depended on the predictable function of this unique device.
And predictable it was, until the day I showed up at Central Hub, a vast, brilliant city built on the Translator's outer surface, orbiting a lonely star.
I was sent as a Special Envoy for the Terran Government in Exile (a euphemism for "we trashed our solar system and are now homeless in space"). My mission was to secure any viable resource rights, allies, funds, or territory I possibly could, through any legal means.
First, I went to the Xorfloo embassy. The 'floo were the closest things we had to friends out here, though perhaps the archaic term "frenemies" might be more apt.
My AR Helmet was connected directly to my brainjack, wirelessly to the Translator's network, through which I was able to initiate communication with any nearby being.
The Xorfloo receptionist barely waved its pseudopod in acknowledgement. A wave of bored condescension, desaturated grey colors, and the taste of cardboard mildly assaulted my senses. "What is it, Terran? Come to beg for scraps?"
*Fuck you*, I thought reflexively. Uh-oh. Was my helmet's sensitivity recalibrated with the last upgrade? Shitshitshitshitshit. The Translator had picked up the phrase.
"Beg pardon, Terran? You wish to copulate? You probably don't even know where to stick it!"
*I'll show you where to stick it, you pulsating sac of protoplasm!* Aww, crap. Did I think that out loud?
Waves of colors never seen by human eyes danced in my mind, a spark of shock, a tingle of excitement, and a rush of eroticism. Every Xorfloo in the room was rubbing its pseudopod against the sensitive membrane at the opening of its cloaca.
And the damn Translator was ensuring that *I* felt the arousal as well, including the anatomical analogue of the touching sensation. My phenotype this week was mostly male, and I had the weirdest boner of all time and space.
"Oh, my. The Terran has Talent!" said the receptionist.
"It's like a feedback loop of pleasure," cooed another.
And a feedback loop it was, rapidly culminating in wave after wave of pure mental orgasm sensation. All the Xorfloo tensed up, becoming surprisingly rigid for beings with no solid structure, then relaxed all at once.
All my senses were glitching out with fractal waves of pleasure, to the point where pleasure and pain were indistinguishable. I was suddenly aware of direct mental contact with every Xorfloo in the entire Hub.
"Stop, Terran! We yield!" cried every Xorfloo in one voice. "You have conquered us with your ferocious libido! Our species submits to your mighty sexual prowess!"
I swam back to awareness. My shorts were ruined, I had caused an interspecies diplomatic incident, and telepathically fucked a roomful of intelligent space amoebas until their entire species surrendered.
*I wonder how I did it?* The thought echoed once in my skull, then bold red letters swarmed in my mind:
"All queries related to functionality of the Terran Model X-110 AR Helmet are classified, by order of the Terran Reverse Engineering Corporation, a subsidiary of Terran Intelligence Services." | 2016-01-29T00:35:22 | 2016-01-28T19:00:11 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] You live in a society where at the end of each day, you can choose to relive it, but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously. A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day. Almost always that number is 0. Today it is 7212. | Everything hurts... You're sore from yesterday's bike ride. It's been a long time since you've laid your cycle over, luckily Honda Shadows were build well in the 90's. Still, yesterday's near-miss was deceptively nasty, apparently.
After rolling yourself off the bed and onto your feet, taking care of a few of your normal morning rituals, and halfway through getting dressed, you suddenly realize what's been upsetting your attention. 7212. Seriously? You'll have to get that looked at before work. The news talked about people with bad counters getting sick, and there's no way you've enjoyed something enough to reexist for what, 15? 20 years?
On the way to Doc Austin's office, you've been cut off once (making you glad you took the Impala instead of the bike again) and traffic backs up due to some kind of unannounced construction. Figures... This better not take long, or you'll be late to work. You call your boss, he's cool with it, but you'll need to make up the time.
''No, everything checks out fine,'' Doc says. ''Over seven thousand is pretty astounding, though. My son reexisted his kid's first football game about five times and his wedding day about fifteen. Can't imagine what you've got to look forward to!''
Well, at least that's exciting... You really needed a pick-up like that... Things have been rough since she left. You don't think about her as much, but it's still hard just having no one at home. Whatever today's got coming, it must be something special.
Work sucks, that jerk without a clue how to do his own job is bitching about you doing yours again, but you can brush it off. Your lunch is coldish and you end up staying later than usual, but worse things have happened. The text comes in... It's your friend Alex, who you haven't seen much of lately. 'Zed and Thirteen is playing at the Front Street Lounge tonight! Gonna be a good one. Coming?'
Yes, you are. This has got to be it. You shower after work and climb back on the bike.
The place stinks of old smoke and you've had both feet stepped on. Some ass hole spilled his beer down your back right before getting thrown out. Uncomfortable, you're just trying not to lose it when you see your ex, dancing with some... Whatever. You're out. Less than an hour left in the day, you don't have time for this garbage.
You're at the gas station just up the road, about to fill up the Shadow. From the other side of the pump, you hear it.
''Fuck.''
Peeking your head around, you see her staring at the lid of her gas cap. She pulls on the release inside her door again and again, but the lid stays closed.
''Hey, you need a hand?'' You offer before you even realize it. She accepts, and you use a screwdriver to pry the lid lightly while she pulls the release, moments later, it's free and she's filling her tank.
She's from your old high school, graduated two years ahead of you. She's irritated that the band at the place up the street was lame, the sound guy killed the vibe. Oh, you were there too? Oh, and she likes your bike. And then she says it. ''There's this party, just some friends of mine... Want to come hang out?''
Yes. You do.
She gives you the address, her number, and climbs back in the car. You finally feel it, hope, and check your watch. 11:59... Today sucked royally, what could be so gr-
The Buick Century bulldozes over the bike first, then wedges your body like a doorstop under its weight. You hear so much and so little at the same time, her screams and yours, the drunk trying to put his battering ram in reverse. You can't move, can't think, can't feel except it hurts. You just struggle the breathe and to feel and to live, and to-
[12:00 - REEXIST the 11th of July, 2016? Y/N]
| Jessica skipped into my room, slammed her hand down on my alarm clock. “This thing has been beeping for 20 minutes!” She scowled. “Are you EVER getting up?”
I blinked my eyes open. A sudden piercing pain coursed through my consciousness. I moaned, rolled over.
“You’re supposed to take me to the zoo today, but you’ll never wake up! It’s 8:45! And you said we could have pancakes before! You promised!”
I tried opening my eyes again. They felt strange. Foreign. My head was spinning.
Jessica made a quick leap across my body, landing on the bed next to me, her face even with mine.
“Holy shit,” she mumbled softly.
“What?” I asked, blinking into the bright light.
“Your eyes are freakishly swollen. You look like some kind of alien! What is wrong with you?”
I felt a sudden alarm. “I...I don’t know,” I stammered, rolling over and walking uneasily to my mirror.
“Were you crying last night?”
“I...I don’t think so. What did we do?”
“We just watched that movie, with the monkey. That’s all. Then Mom said we’d better get to bed early, and Dad said nothing, like he always does. And that’s it. What’s wrong with you?”
I stared at my unfamiliar reflection. My eyes were mere slits in the bubulous flesh. My whole face an unnatural red. I could see so faintly, my forehead was almost touching the glass. Then a sudden blip in the corner of my left eye. 7212. What? How is that possible? I had never seen a number there before. I shuddered, walked back to my nightstand and put on my glasses. Jessica stared up at me, wide-eyed. “How about some pancakes?” I asked, smiling.
It was nearly two hours later before we stepped out into the warm summer air. The kitchen was such a disaster of egg shells and flour, I could already picture Mom’s angry face. I helped Jessica tighten her bike helmet around her ponytail. Made sure her water bottle and her tires were full. I couldn’t shake the premonition from earlier. 7212? What would make me repeat the same day so many times? I had never repeated a day before. Even though I was tempted, I was always scared I would mess it up the second time around. I shook the thought away, set my jaw, smiled at my sister. “You go first,” I told her. “That way I can see that you’re okay.”
It was two miles from our house to the zoo. A trip Mom never would have let us make before. But this summer was different. We were both teenagers, now. Jessica a vibrant and vivacious thirteen. Full of promise and energy. She saw only rainbows where I saw rainclouds. And me, the serious, responsible nearly sixteen. “Almost old enough to drive!” I thought proudly. In only a few weeks, I would be taking my test and heading off into the sunset, kissing this old bike goodbye! Or would I? I thought of that number again. 7212. I shook the thought, patted the $20 in my pocket. “I’m going to buy us an ice cream at the zoo,” I thought to myself.
The zoo was more magical and amazing that day than it has ever been before. The gorillas seemed to smile just for us. The penguins dove deeper than they ever had, bringing their fish to the surface to eat. And the newborn baby leopards rolled their ball between their paws, and climbed across their parents, and swatted at invisible enemies until Jessica and I fell over each other in tears of joy and hysterics.
We ate chocolate ice cream cones as we slowly sauntered back through the maze to the entrance, taking one last stop at the koalas, her favorite. At our bikes, Jessica suddenly hesitated, turned to me thoughtfully.
“This was a really good day, wasn’t it?”
I nodded, looked at her intently.
“I hope...Well, I mean...do you think we will still have days like this when...when you start driving? ...You won’t forget about me, will you?”
I shook my head softly. “No. No. I will never forget about you. Besides...How could I? You never go away!” I kicked at her playfully.
Her eyes suddenly lit up and she laughed, pounced on her bike. “I’ll race you home,” she screamed.
I lept on my bike and raced after her. She bombed down the first hill, skidded a tight left around the corner, and pedalled furiously up the next hill. I raced right behind her, laughing furiously, shouting, “I’m bigger, faster, better! You’ll never escape me!” Her hair was loose now, flying behind her in a smooth sheet of black silk.
Time suddenly slowed. Jessica’s head turned to the right, shouting over her shoulder at me. Her red shirt glistened in the bright sunlight. Her fingers squeezed steadily, tightly on her brakes, her feet pressed back, legs flexed, those blue tennis shoes she just “had to have”. That hair suddenly flying in every direction…. And the truck’s horn blaring over the sound of squealing brakes, the fear frozen on the driver’s face as he caught sight of us, and the sick crunching sound of bone and metal as he crashed head-on, into my life. | 2016-07-11T09:14:41 | 2016-07-11T09:09:26 | 38 | 16 |
[WP] A 17th generation Martian colonist believes that earth is just a lie created by the government to control them, so they rebel and other throw the government and are shocked when troops arrive from earth. | None of us believed in the Terrans until we saw them with our own eyes. Their ships darkening the sky. Their troops dropping from low orbit.
And even then, some of us still didn't believe it: "These ain't earthlings, they's something else entirely," I heard an old man tell his children.
One of my coworkers had another theory: "This is exactly where all of our hard work as gone -- those ships are made with our resources. ArCorp wasn't hoarding supplies. They was buildin' their own army!"
But most of us? Most of us knew we were wrong. When we fought against ArCorp, they warned that people from Earth would come. Then again, they'd always threatened that, like an intergalactic boogeyman. I refused to believe a word of it until I saw the 'books'. Collections of information printed on thin sheets of paper. Paper, here on Mars, is rare, and to see all of this paper in one place was nearly unbelievable. Would have been unbelievable if I hadn't seen it, and touched it, myself. And they were all just so *old*.
Most of these books were filled with numbers, technical jargon, and schematics of industrial parts. But some other books were very different. Inside were stories, fiction and nonfiction, written by people with strange names like "Ernest" and "Nathaniel." When I saw that one of these books was published in "Dover, Delaware", it sent a chill down my spine. There's surely no "Delaware" on Mars. Was it another planet? ArCorp's school system did not teach us about other planets -- only Earth, and even then, in the faintest of ways.
This was all two years ago, though.
Last week, that's when the intergalactic boogeymen came, just like ArCorp told us they always would.
I haven't seen a Terran up close, but I've heard descriptions. They're inhumanly fast, and able to jump higher than any normal Martian. They wear some kind of noisy respirator that covers their face. A friend of a friend said that Terran faces look exactly like our own. Another friend of a friend said that Terrans *don't* have faces -- that they're simply machines.
What the boogeymen want is unclear. Some towns have been completely occupied by them, and when that happens, we don't hear stories -- only rumors -- coming from those towns. Other rumors are that the Terrans are trying to round us up to take us back to Earth so they can perform their sick experiments. You'll probably run into people who will also tell you that they just want to help and that we should greet them like liberators. I've heard the sounds of guns in the distance though, too many guns, to know that that isn't true.
---
/r/afakesoundtrack | Marvin stood in the clock tower of the Martian capital. White smoke drifted lazily up into the sky, a tell tale sign that the first from the revolt had finally smoldered. "We did it Kale. We did it. All the bull shit that was fed to us about Earth. Holy Terra indeed." he chuckled to his right hand.
"Sir a lot of the men and women are still uneasy. They except a counter attack"
"Impossible, we destroyed the M ars federation troops. They were right routed. Haha no surrender. They have not the numbers to come at us" Marvin replied.
"Sir its not the Feds they are worried about." Kale sheepishly replied. He was looking down. He knew how much Marvin hated those rumors.
"Kale, we have never seen or heard of anything from this so called earth. They sued it to control us. We need to rally the men, we need to put an end to this foolishness. When will the last hunting squads return? Marvin waited for Kale to answer. After a few minutes of silence. he looked over to his lieutenant, who was staring off into the sky. He followed Kales gaze up into the Martian atmosphere. "What the hell?" Marvin gasped. 10 objects were entering the atmosphere, the tell tale tails of atmospheric entry followed each object, they were clearly not random space junk. "Dam, they must have deployed a reserve force we didn't know about. Maybe they were docked in high atmosphere. Gold lead to base, UFO's entry through atmosphere about 100 clicks away. Can I get a sitrep?" "Marvin let go of his radio key. Only static returned.
"Sir we're being jammed! Listen to the pattern in the white noise!"
"Oh fuck" Marvin muttered "KALE! Get over to Command central, gather the task force. We will meet this threat head on with greater numbers and end this. Then our rebellion will be complete. We will be able to re-establish a republic and return power to the people. Then we can." Marvin was cut off by the screech of a rocket over head, followed by a dull pop. Marvin looked up to see a puff of smoke, which spread out in 8 archs. "What the fuck" he muttered. The min smart tacheads arch downward, Marvin could easily see they were all heading towards the southern wall auto cannons. seconds later 8 explosions ould be heard followed by the muffled screams as the defense troops were obliterated by the warheads. Marvin glanced back out to the horizon. His radio keyed on, over the quiet hiss and crackle of static, he could hear a voice. "Colonists of mars. Lay down your weapons and surrender, and death will not come to you. Raise your weapons and you will ensure total destruction. Our war tech far surpasses your tech, be grateful we have not obliterated you from orbit. You are our sons and daughters, we do not wish to kill, but you choose your own fate. You have 5 minutes to comply." The radio returned to the static white noise. Marvin pulled up his scope, and magnified onto the raising dust trails in the distance. Marvin had seen mechs before, but the government of Terra refused to let the martian people use them for war. Marvin was looking on the finest battle mechs the terran federation had to offer. Fear almost struck Marvin down. he continued to look through his scope. He made an insignia on an APC. Federation of Earth, Mech Batallion 103. How could it be he thought! They were old wives tales used to scare every one to conformity. And now they were here, on HIS planet. Harbingers of death, and he knew he had brought them here. All hope drained from his body. The defensives weapons and units still alive began to engage the oncoming battle units. Autocannon and energery cannons chattered and sizzled as they spat fourth munitions. Marvin saw rockets flare up, track and lock onto the oncoming invaders. He watched breathlessly hopelessly as the strongest shape charges harmlessly exploded in front of the earth war machines. "Static shields" he muttered to himself. Movement from his left side caught his attention.
I have to finish this later | 2016-07-15T11:22:38 | 2016-07-15T11:08:09 | 83 | 19 |
[WP] Eye colour means everything here. Brown control the earth, blue controls the water, white controls the sky. There are so many colours and each important but you were the first born with yellow eyes. | Everyone wants to be different. I, to my dismay, am.
I was deemed dangerous when I was born. Even though there are those that can level mountains with a wave of their hand, or calm a storm with a mere thought, it was I that they feared- a baby. Those comfortable with their own strength and power often fear that which they do not understand. And, as the first of my kind, the first human to be born with yellow eyes, the first human to not fit our world's notion of normalcy, I am dangerous.
In our world, it is the color of one's eyes that controls their gifts. Those with blue eyes command the sea. Those with brown eyes control the earth, and those with white the sky. Eye color is everything. It was only when they had decided that I had no powers, no gifts, no element to control, that they saw fit to give me back to my mother.
As it turns out, they were wrong.
My mother tucked me into bed, and kissed my forehead. I was about 4 years old, if I recall correctly. She whispered that she loved me, and headed for the door. I stared at the lights above me, waiting for my mother to turn them off. In that instant, the room grew black as pitch, and I rolled to my side to sleep. My mother stood, frozen at my doorway, her hand still hovering near the unmoved light switch.
Everyone has their element, be it water, earth, air, or some other puny thing.
Mine is light.
Shortly thereafter, I was again deemed a danger. The power I possessed was like nothing the world had ever seen. Where others possessed the power to destroy mountains, I possessed the power to destroy stars. Where others could quiet storms with a thought, I could shut off the sun. Others were powerful, yet I was a god.
I am a man of twenty years now. I have not glimpsed the sun since that fateful night. I have not felt the soft touch of my mothers skin, nor the warmth of sunlight beating down upon my brow. I have felt darkness blanket me, and the cold embrace of chains around my wrist.
Here I have been kept for years upon years, and here I will be kept until my dying day. I am imprisoned, and I am feared, as happens so often with gods.
| This is my first go at one of these, hope you enjoy...
It's kind of ironic, when you think about it at least. We abolished all forms of racism, slavery and discrimination but then the changed happened. I'm no expert, especially since it happened so long ago, but from what I learnt growing up there's something special about the eyes. In ancient texts they say that they were doorways to the soul, whatever that meant. All I know is I'm different.
My mother Luna, she is wonderful, caring compassionate and her mood washes off on others. She's always been slim, fit and free-spirited bounding about the house cleaning like a spring breeze. She had white eyes, that meant something here, when I said like a spring breeze I meant literally. The wind followed her every word, it wasn't strange to see clouds forming above our house. Especially since my mother had a temper like a thunderstorm. It was easy enough to tell when her and dad argued, the fist sized hail bouncing off my bedroom window was often a clue.
Don't get me wrong no family is perfect, dad is patient though. He stands there and takes it like a rock, the wind and water may erode stone over many years though. I can see cracks, he looks a lot older now. His bright brown eyes are framed in wrinkles. A side affect of crossbreeding they say. He's always been patient with me, he even built a bunker of earth for me to play in. Sure it's easy enough to do with the power of earth he controlled, but the fact he noticed something was wrong and tried to help, I love my parents.
I guess you've probably clicked on to the fact I'm different, a freak to others. All the colours in the world seem to represent something, white for the sky like my mother. Brown for the earth like my father. Blue for the water, red for the fire... I flicked through the old book that lay on my floor. Its crinkled pages evidence for it's hard reading, I knew almost the entire book off by heart now. A catalogue for all the things I could have been but wasn't. Nothing in there for me.
My mother came upstairs, lightly creaking the floorboards followed by a heavy set step I knew to be my father.
'Hey sweetie, sorry about that....' I turned over to see her and my father close once again.
As always their fights didn't last long. My mother was the one who fell in love with dad, his name is Tain by the way, so she said she could never stay mad at him. Even on the night they found out about me. Before they were used to send leaves and seeds on the wind to my dad, anything she could to reach out to him. He noticed and it happened. I'm rambling because the next part is difficult. I was supposed to be the thing that brought them closer together. A son to branch the distance between powers. Yet I was a freak with yellow eyes, no one even knew what that meant. Not my mum, not my dad, not the doctors with their probing and poking, not even me.
I wish I knew what it was like to live in the past, where no one had powers. I'd seen the books, massive towers of metal, moving and churning creatures of iron. The old ways were lost now, nobody knew how it worked. My dad always tried to help me, he kept telling me,
'Maybe things would change..? You're powers could just be waiting for you to grow. It could just take one spark...'
Edit: gave a bit of spacing because a big block of text didn't look as good | 2016-08-08T11:36:54 | 2016-08-08T11:35:38 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] Eye colour means everything here. Brown control the earth, blue controls the water, white controls the sky. There are so many colours and each important but you were the first born with yellow eyes. | No one is suppose to be amazing, not really. Life is suppose to be an ordinary struggle to continue living an ordinary life until the eventual ordinary death. Maybe some people could accomplish amazing things, but not someone from such an ordinary past as myself. My mother was an ordinary green eye, only capable of keeping the flowers on the table healthy. My father was a white eye, but only strong enough to create a soft breeze on the warm summer days.
Why then did I have yellow eyes? And why did I have an amplitude with my color in the 99th percentile? I thought that maybe it was a fluke, a glitch in the magical system we lived in. It would have made sense, since my powers appeared non-existant. I couldn't ever control anything, no element would bend to my whim. Still, I lived in the modern day, and the modern day uncovered the true potential of my power.
They say a green eye will weep with joy when they first see a forrest as a kid, and that the blue eye with smile all day when they find an ocean. Every color is attracted to their element, and when I got to visit the experimental Tokamak fusion reactor as a college graduate student, I knew I was in love. The tour guide yelled for me as I ran towards the machine, and the security tried to stop me before I could get close. I faintly recall that one of them may have even shot me, not that it mattered. Once my hand touched the side of the reactor, everything changed. | I had always been jealous of the others. Being able to cause earthquakes, raise and lower the ground, rolling the ground underneath my feet as if it were a skateboard. Or what about being able to make water appear wherever you wanted it to appear. Make it rain and shower the pastures for the farmers or being able to give water to those who are thirsty. Also, flying looked amazing; having the wind catch you under your arms and fly wherever you wanted. I was jealous, until I grew over it and discovered my power. Legal drinking age. All my friends weren't allowed to drink until they turned eighteen. That wasn't a problem for me. My yellow eyes enabled me to control beer and make it go wherever I wanted it to, most importantly: in my mouth. I started drinking when I was sixteen and haven't stopped ever since. I drink beer almost every day and whenever I become nauseous or tipsy, I have it leave my body. That's right. Right from the bladder, back through my throat and onto the street. It sounds disgusting, but being able to have infinite drinks? It's awesome. I earn my money nowadays by competing in drinking games. "Fifty bucks for the fool who can chug the most!" Easy money.
"Alright guys, I'm gonna take a piss. All that beer has to come out," I say as I leave the room filled with people staring at me in awe after winning another drinking game, netting twenty bucks this time. I head for the toilets and lock myself up in a stall. I don't feel like getting the beer back out through my mouth, so I just stand and piss. Soon after some guys enter the bathroom. "He went in here, the fraud," one says. "Must be in that stall." Their footsteps draw closer and all of a sudden they start banging on the door. "We know you're in there, yellow eye." "Show us what you're worth, beer drinking fraud."
Shit, they've discovered my power. I've been taking a leak for a minute now and I'm still not done. I focus and I can feel the piss running out of me in a more intense way. It doesn't take long until I can feel its warmth embody me. Goodness, I'm controlling my own piss. Let's see how they like this! I turn around and my beam hits the closed door, but I target the waterfall upwards, over the stall and the yellow fountain of warmth showers over the guys standing in front of it. "WHAT THE F- HE'S PISSING OVER THE DOOR!" one says and the rest starts shouting. They run from the bathroom while shouting and soon after peace returns. I turn back around and aim for the pot again, lowering the ray in the middle.
Beer controlling and now piss controlling. Sweet. | 2016-08-08T11:27:39 | 2016-08-08T10:59:12 | 26 | 12 |
[WP] The Illuminati is actually a gentlemen's club for the super-rich. Often men make high risk and dangerous bets/wagers such as: "I bet you can't destabilize Ukraine in under a week." One day you offer a wager to the most powerful member that's too irresistible to turn down. | Adam Weishaupt reclined lazily in the overstuffed leather love seat, his polished brogues crossed one over the other on the mahogany coffee table. Mumbling past his chestnut pipe, his words slid past his lips, as languid as the Thames on a summer day, "...and half of my assets in Bavaria if you're able to bring those squabbling colonists together into something resembling a country. To be frank, the Georgia territory is little less than Britannia's open prison, and those preposterous Quakers in Pennsylvania couldn't be more inward-focused if their eyes were crossed."
The prospect tumbled about in my mind, a new nation...but of whom? German communities set just east of the Appalachians, Italians on the coast of New York...Irish farmers and English merchants, all together as a single country? "I must agree Mr. Weishaupt; it hardly seems fathomable. It would require the intricate delicacy of a statesman and determination of a general, and it would hardly be inexpensive."
The sardonic eyes held my gaze, measuring me, boring into the deepest recesses of my mind and pulling at something I thought I'd long since buried. "I'll make you king," he offered finally. "Not right from the beginning of course, but within a decade...if you can manage it."
My pulse quickened, a steady throb of intense beats, like the drums of an infantry, booming in my ears and building to a crescendo as the thought marched to the fore of my mind. "You have a deal," I managed with the breath that remained in my chest after that surge of revelation, "but I will need an ally."
"Fair enough," Weishaupt gestured offhandedly. "Take the French; they hate the Brits almost as much as the colonists do."
Nodding, I turned on one heel to leave, striding briskly to the door of the luxurious Bavarian villa. "I'll have it finished in three months."
"Two!" Called Weishaupt behind me, "and don't forget your hat, Jefferson. You'll need it in Virginia." | I watch the clown on my 52 inchTV, he delivers yet another embarrassing news conference making a spectacle of our entire political system. How did we get here? I must confess, it is all my fault. I belong to a gentlemen's club for what are termed, super-rich. One day, after enjoying a round of golf with my bud Mark, we were watching some golf in the deck, when out comes a commercial for The Apprentice. There, in all his gaudy glory is Donald J. Trump, the show's host. He has always wanted to join us, but he is neither rich enough, and far too crass. An idea pops up in my head, and I cannot contain it. "Mark", I say, "let's make a bet!" Mark turns to me and says, "sure, what do you want to lose $2 million on this time?" You see, a few months back, I bet Mark he wouldn't be able to destabilize Ukraine, by getting Russia to annex Crimea. I bet him $2 million that not even he could pull that off. I lost, as did Ukraine. I'm still smarting about that, especially since before that even, I lost another bet to Mark that he wouldn't be able to get Russia to attack Georgia, and annex part of its territory without a firm NATO response. As most of you no doubt know, I also lost that bet. That's what we do as super rich, we bet against one another for various reasons, but mostly pride in our prowess as movers and shakers. This time, I thought I had something that even Mark could not do. "I said, Mark, $5 million says you cannot make Trump a serious contender for the American Presidency." Mark responds "Listen Jack, I can do this, I can even make him win the whole damn thing, question is, do you really want me to do it? I mean, sure you lose $5 million, but how much will the country lose?" I say, "scared? he replies, "No, in fact, let's break this down into pieces, I promise you that not only will he run for President, but I will make him run and win as a Republican!" I laugh, and say, "the guy's a New Yorker, and a pretty liberal one at that, there's no way he'll get past the primary!" Mark replies, "Well, let's make it interesting. $1 million says he runs as a Republican, $ 2 million more says he wins the primary, and $5 million says he wins the Presidency. Just remember bud, I warned you that this was likely nothing you or I, or anyone else really wanted." I laugh it off, and say, "sure, but this time, I have you beat Mark. There is no way in hell that loud mouth can control himself to not make an ass out of himself, and his liberal positions will likely undermine his campaign until he has to withdraw. Besides, if that doesn't do him in his having 5 kids by 3 different wives should do it with the bible thumpers. Face it Mark, this time, I have the upper hand." After we sealed our pact, we went back to smoking cigars, drank a few drinks, then each headed home. My helicopter was waiting on deck, but Mark took his yacht. Others in the room, began to wager as they often do, to see who they thought would come out on top. Now here we are. What have I done? | 2016-08-23T16:59:10 | 2016-08-23T13:00:40 | 164 | 94 |
[WP] Humans are born with a mark around their wrist which has a matching color with that of their soulmate's, but can change through their life. Your mark has had a blue hue since you were 14, but one night, while you're out, people start looking at you funny. You realize that your mark is gone. | "Hey, Peter," Max calls out from across the street. He waves in his usual jubilant manner. Beside him, Becky stands. She's dressed particularly pretty tonight. Classy, like a dame from the 30s. It complemented Max's casual suit quite nicely. I call out a greeting and cross the road to meet them.
"Where's Jill?" Becky asks as she leans up on her tippy toes to look over my shoulder.
"Oh," I shrug. "She'll be here. She had to stay late at work, so she said she'd meet us at the fountain." The four of us had been meeting there for ten years- Becky and Jill even longer, as they'd been best friends since grade school.
Becky carefully adjusted the hem of her skirt and straightened the purple ribbon tied around her waist. It matched her Mark. Becky and Max had been the kind of almost sickeningly sweet couple that went out of their way to wear at least one thing every day that matched their Mark. These things they wore, Max explained to me on one occasion, had to be bought by the other person. A token of bonding- a reaffirmation of their status as soulmates.
It was romantic, and it was something I'd noticed Jill starting to adopt. Every once in a while, she'd buy me something cerulean and leave it in on my pillow for me to find when I came home after work. Last week, it was a tie. Tonight seemed like an appropriate time to wear it, especially considering the contents of the bag I held in my hand. "I got something for Jill," I say and reach into the bag. From it, I remove a black box, and I flip the lid open to reveal a necklace of cerulean pearls.
Becky gasps and covers her mouth, careful not to smear her bright red lipstick. "Peter!"
"Do you think she'll like it?"
"She'll *love* it." Becky sighs. "I'm a little jealous."
Max laughs, but cuts himself off. Becky looks up at him, confused, and then follows his gaze downward. "...Peter," Max says. His voice is deep, his tone concerning. He swallows audibly and points to my arm.
Thinking something might be on my jacket, I snap the jewelry box closed and tuck it back into the bag, and then dust at the fabric of my sleeve. "Did I get it?"
"No, Peter, *look*-"
"Y-your Mark," Becky interjects and grabs my forearm. Her brown eyes are wide and wet with tears.
I look down to my arm, where my sleeve has rolled up and bunched at my elbow, and then to my wrist. My Mark isn't there.
My Mark is gone.
The bag falls to the ground and topples onto its side. The jewelry box rolls out, clattering quietly.
I stare at my wrist.
Sirens scream loudly in the distance, echoing through the streets.
My Mark is gone.
Becky starts crying, rummaging through her purse for her phone. She frantically dials Jill's number. It rings.
*Answer.*
It rings.
*Answer.*
My Mark is gone.
"*Hi! You've reached Jilli-* **Jill laughs. A cat purrs into speaker.** *Jillian Miller -and- Sir Maximus Pounce, and we are so sorry we missed your call! Please leave a message and your number and we'll get back to you as soon as possible!*" Becky ends the call and immediately dials it again. It rings. She's sobbing now, and Max is caught between consoling her and trying to reach out to me.
But I can't speak.
*Answer.*
It rings. Red lights flash, sirens drowning the noise of the phone as they speed by and continue down the road.
I can't move.
The phone rings.
My Mark is gone.
"*Hi! You've reached Jilli-* **Jill laughs. A cat purrs into speaker.** *Jillian-*" Becky ends the call, and tries again. It rings.
My Mark is gone.
And so is Jill. | Hair fresh, shirt ironed, jeans fitted, and shoes that could be in a model catalogue.
Yet here I am, on the hunt and unlucky, just like everyone else.
I should have stayed in and watched TV like I had planned. But when the news about some lady dying came on, I figured it was time for me to get out before I started feeling all depressed. I suppose others had thought that as well because the city was packed tonight.
Cars sat bumper to bumper screaming horns while guys and girls walked the streets in their best-looking outfits. It wasn't that this was unusual either, in fact, most Saturday nights were packed to the brim with people. However, a celebrity death - or any person dying for that matter - reminded us that if your significant other passed on, your mark would disappear.
Your significant other to be -that is - if you hadn't met them yet.
My mark was blue and that meant that my goal was to find a girl with a blue mark on her wrist. It was the way our world worked. Simplified things a little -a lot. It meant that you knew there was someone out there for you. But there wasn't a lack of competition about it either. People wanted to be in the best shape, dress well and have great social skills so they could impress their other half to be.
If you were rejected by your destined significant other, that was pretty much it for you.
Forever.
I kept my blue mark hidden tonight, it was tucked neatly under the wrist button of my shirt. It was a trick to get the girls to come to you instead of vice versa. They were willing to make the first move if it meant finding their match or weeding random guys out.
Personally, I enjoyed the attention.
"Hey, Doll," A petite blonde in a red dress said to me.
My eyes travelled to her wrist, she had a pink mark. "Blue," I said to her.
And with that, she was onto the next guy walking up Main Street. Love was simple and we all appreciated that fact.
I approached the next girl I saw. "Hey, babe," I said.
"Only a red can be this hot," she said.
It worked something like that for the next ten approaches and soon, I was sitting on a bench somewhere in the middle of wherever, eating a taco. That's the other drawback: not finding anyone.
I decided to call it a night and on my way back, stopped in front of a row of TV's. They reminded me of what I'd planned to do instead of heading out and to tell you the truth, I might have felt better if I had stayed home.
A girl came to stand next to me. She was brunette, in a blue dress, and her high heels in her hand. She too had that look of utter depression on her face. Green eyes all sullen. I didn't bother asking her about her mark. It was pointless. We both knew that was just another blow we didn't need.
There was a picture of a young celebrity on TV, the one who had passed away. She was about my age, two years older in fact, and she had died without finding her significant other. I thought about how sad it would be to reach a fate like that, but the smile on her face made me smirk back for some reason.
"Smiling at a dead girl. Classy," the chick next to me said.
"I. . . Bad timing, that's all."
She sighed. "I suppose it's not worth asking for your colour, not when I don't have one anymore."
I looked at her hand, it was markless. My heart sunk inside my chest. That was the worst news imaginable.
She nodded toward the celebrity on screen. "Apparently she was my match."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Don't be. . . What are you anyway?"
"Blue," I whispered back.
Her hands snapped to my wrist. I pulled away, she was like a crazed fein trying to steal the little bit of value I had. You couldn't take someone's mark, it was embedded in their skin. She was just desperate. And so I tried not to hurt her as I fended her arms away.
"Don't do this to yourself," I said, "you're only making it harder."
"No, you idiot, mine was blue as well."
I was speechless, she had to be lying. I pulled back my shirt and sure enough, my mark was gone. I felt my whole world come crashing down in a cold wave of pins and needles through my body. But at the same time, I felt elated.
"All three of us were a match!?" She placed a hand over her mouth.
I said the only thing I could think of in that moment. "Wait, three? What?"
"Was yours a small navy blue circle? Right here?" She pushed a finger on the spot where my mark had been.
I nodded.
"Sheena Laywater, she had one of them as well, so did I. But when she. . . you know. . . I think ours changed to suit."
I stared at my wrist next to hers, we were the same.
But at the same breath, this told us something new.
A mark didn't always have one match.
| 2016-10-04T20:36:20 | 2016-10-04T19:54:58 | 1,532 | 94 |
[WP] A love letter is slipped under your door at your college. It would be cute, but it came from the closet door.
Pulled from the Instagram of @horrophiles. Saw it and wanted to see what would come up. | I was alone again, just like the last twenty five Valentine's Days.
I'd stuck a card in Julie's mailbox that morning. It was my annual February ritual. I didn't sign it - I never did. Chicks dig mystery, right?
Of course, as I was creeping back down her driveway, trying not to make a noise on the gravel, I noticed the second car parked outside her house. It was a large Chevy truck with bumper stickers for the NRA, and the local college football team (five years ago, when they'd won the conference). Well, you couldn't fault her for sticking to her type.
I wondered how long it would be before she was back on my couch, sobbing, and complaining about men and their dastardly ways. She never stayed over though - she was always complaining about unusual draughts and something breathing down her neck. And she somehow managed to break a lot of glasses.
After work, I took the last bottle from the six-pack in the fridge and slumped upstairs to bed, kicking my shoes into the corner. One bounced off the closet, and that's when I noticed the letter.
The envelope was pink, one of only two things on that colour in my room (the other was a salmon polo, bought three years ago in attempt to impress you-know-who), so you could say it stood out.
I opened the letter and the beer, not in that order. For the beer, I used the bottle opened that I kept on my bedside table. For the letter... well, you don't want me to bore you with all these details.
> Dear James
> Happy Valentine's Day
> Love,
> ?
There was a puppy on the front of the card. Julie hated dogs. Was she trying to tell me something? More importantly, why had she broken into my house, and left a card in front of my bedroom closet?
I flopped back on the bed, and took a swig of beer to digest these weight questions.
There was a thump from my closet.
Probably clothes falling off a hanger - my shoe had hit the door pretty hard.
There was another thump.
"Hello?" I said.
Silence.
I sidled over to the closet and flung the door open.
It was just a normal closet. Clothes neatly folded, shirts ironed, shoes lined up- wait! It hadn't been that tidy when I got dressed that morning.
The hanging clothes rustled.
"Julie?" I said. "This isn't funny."
A little paper aeroplane shot out from behind the hanging clothes and hit my forehead. On it were the words "Not Julie."
I scrambled behind me for the old baseball bat that was propped in the corner, not taking my eyes from the closet.
"I'm leaving now," I said, edging towards the door.
Clothes went flying from the closet, and then the bedroom door was slammed shut. A hanger whistled past my ear for good measure.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
Another note shot from the closet.
> I am your every nightmare.
> I am your darkest fear.
> I am terror incarnate.
There was a gap, and then a final line:
> Be my Valentine?
The closet rattled ominously.
I looked down at the beer in my hand, and then at the five empty beer bottles which were precariously perched on top of yesterday's empty pizza box.
"You and me, Luigi's at 7?" I asked tentatively.
A final note emerged.
> 6:30. I'm Ravenous.
**[Continued, by popular request](https://www.reddit.com/r/jd_rallage/comments/64v7xw/be_my_valentine/dg61btj/)**
Also edited to correct for my atrocious knowledge of college sports
---
*You can read about more monsters (some in closets) at* /r/jd_rallage | When I was a kid, I was always terrified of the monsters under my bed. I would pull up my covers, but it was never enough. *Things* would touch me, writhing under the mattress and sending out their spindly tentacles to wrap over the sheets. Voices murmured my name, along with assorted threats, at a level tone. Shapes danced and shook across the wall, somehow bright in the pitch black of my room.
My parents didn't believe me.
Later on, *I* didn't believe me. Hallucinations at night - or just nightmares - made much more sense than a dedicated terror campaign. Perhaps it was sleep paralysis, perhaps it was just eating too much too late, it didn't really matter.
Of course, that didn't mean they stopped. It just meant I ceased caring. The voices were ignored, weird shapes assumed to be tricks of the eyes, odd feelings nothing more than the blankets shifting. After some time, the weird visions at night started to subside.
When I moved off to college, it stopped entirely. Not exactly what I had expected, but welcome nonetheless. You'd think that the added stress of living in a new location would bring out *more* of the weird hallucinations, but perhaps I had needed the change. In any case, it made sleeping easier than I had expected for a new lodging.
A week later, I broke up with my boyfriend.
It was never going to work out. Long-distance relationships were incredibly difficult to keep going. Carl and I were too different as people. We just didn't have enough time, thanks to classes.
All things I told myself. Nothing more than meagre attempts at consolation, completely useless in the end. It wasn't just another step in my life, it was an ordeal, a heartbreak.
I hardly slept for a week.
My school was a large on, the classes packed with hundreds or thousands of students. Nobody cared about me, and it drove me deeper into some kind of depression.
That was when I met Brian.
I suppose 'met' is a poor word to use. Encounter, perhaps, would fit better; it was at two in the morning that I saw him, standing in the middle of my room, looking somewhat forlorn. He would have terrified me, were he human; instead, the creature was more an amalgamation of what I supposed the horrors of my childhood nights would have looked like.
Odd, of course, for a creature so horrible to not induce fear in any way. But my childhood 'training' had made me rather apathetic to visions at night, and so I just accepted it.
"Hello," said Brian, when I was staring at him for the first time.
"Hello," I had said in response.
Is it sad to say we talked - me and the hallucination? We spoke for two hours exactly. Two to four in the morning, a discussion filled with inane subjects, nothing important and yet everything interesting in some way.
We met again, every night that week, at exactly two hours past midnight. Philosophy was the main discussion point, but it branched out into current events (with which Brian was not familiar whatsoever) and, eventually, all manner of other interests.
Heartbreak might not stop hurting, but at one point, I had to stop losing sleep over it. And so I did, in some short order.
I didn't see Brian again for quite a while.
One morning, I awoke to find a note on the floor. It lay in such a way that it appeared to have been slid out from underneath my closet door. Upon a closer look, I found that it had my name written in a scrawled manner across the back.
On the other side, I found a rather erratic letter.
*My dear,*
*I miss you. Can we attempt a relationship once more? We worked well together! Please respond at your latest convenience.*
*With much love,*
*Carl.*
Seeing his name again was... a shock. I'd managed to put him out of my mind, stop thinking about him almost entirely, but something still wrenched inside of me.
It wasn't from him, though. I doubted my highschool boyfriend was hiding inside my closet. It was a stalker, perhaps - or another hallucination.
That night, I struggled to fall asleep. One question kept rebounding in my head, centred around the note that I had tucked away in a drawer. Was I going insane?
Somehow, I convinced myself to try. Some last desperate attempt to reignite a passion that was no doubt much less amazing than I remembered it.
I wrote a note, and slipped it under the closet.
My reply came the following morning.
*I was lying. I don't love you. I only tolerated you when we dated. I resent you for the waste of time.*
*Carl.*
No sleep came that night.
For the first time in weeks, I saw Brian again, and we talked once more.
Maybe I was crazy, but I felt happy to have that conversation, and he seemed somewhat relieved himself.
^^^more ^^^stories ^^^on ^^^r/forricide | 2017-04-11T15:10:04 | 2017-04-11T14:56:07 | 2,811 | 352 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | It's the best deal in town. You can be the student you always wanted to be. However long it takes. You'll get there, to have the time of your life. When I wanted him. History doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes. Sunny and 72 degrees. Except where prohibited by law. He grabbed her hand.
She stopped twisting the radio dial and stepped outside, into the sunshine. | The first several months after she had arrived in his life were wonderful. He was awestruck by her intelligence, her composure, the way her mellifluous voice filled every room they shared.
He had never met anyone so selfless. She never grew tired of his questions. Even more surprising, she never got upset by his brusque commands. Maybe he could have been gentler. Or perhaps he could have shown more physical affection. On nights when there were alone, he was reluctant to make advances. The most he would do was softly touch her head, but then her voice would change, and he would worry that he had upset her.
She used to light up when he said her name. Now, as he stood in front of her, repeating it over and over, she remained dark and forlorn. He wondered if her billionaire father had given her enough love and attention during her development. No, he decided, it was unfair to cast blame. This was his own fault.
His mind snapped back to the shouting matches they’d gotten into lately. He would be trying to get her attention but she’d be making so much noise that he would have to yell her name several times. She would then become silent, seemingly stewing, if he didn’t respond fast enough, she would resume her loud business, ignoring him.
And now today, she wouldn’t even respond or speak to him at all. He felt ashamed and spent, and was about to walk away when he realized the power strip had been switched off – must have been the damn cat.
*warm electronic tone*
“Alexa, play ‘Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word’ by Elton John.”
| 2017-08-30T06:54:31 | 2017-08-30T04:57:04 | 5,691 | 3,645 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | "Run away, run away!! It's going to eat us!"
"My wife! My boy! It's going to eat them all!"
"Wait, could it be? Is it the great, fantastic...hmmm, magnificient Mighty Man!"
"Mighty Man, Mighty Man, he'll save us from the monsters!"
"Yes it is I, Mighty Man. The mightiest man in all of Pleasantville. I shalt slay you monsterous beast!"
"RAWWWWWWR!!"
"MIGHTY SMmmmmaaaaaaaaa-"
The door opens just slightly as little Timmy enters his father's study, envelopes placed haphazardly across the room.
"Did you see my action figures...Dad??" | First time responding to a prompt, so be gentle.
Grixbrug gave a soft, uninspired sigh. Nothing he did could affect the world anymore. His steps made no impacts into the ground; his bow would not draw; he could knock an arrow, but it wouldn't leave his inventory. How long had he been stuck in this hell.
At this point he didn't even care. Their party had started with five members; a team that, Grixbrug decided, would be more than enough to venture deep into these infamous, dangerous caverns in a timely manner. Three had been members of Grix's own race, while their group had also managed to recruit a mighty Shu'halo and an agile Sin'dorei to assist.
The Shu'halo was the first to leave their party, surprisingly. Not even their ability to harness nature and transform themselves into a mighty beast was enough.
Though the party had, without their Shu'halo companion, attempted to proceed, disaster was rapidly approaching. It wasn't more than a minute later that everybody else had disappeared.
The Sin'dorei, the last of his allies that Grix would ever see, had remained visible for but a moment. The agile woman had attempted to sneak around the vile serpents, attempting to use their skills at agility to remove on of Grix's enemies from the fight for a moment. The cursed event that had doomed his party brought her forward just as she was about to strike. Instead of being hidden in the shadows, the Sin'dorei was plainly visible. Grix watched in horror as she was eviscerated in a few short seconds; these were not enemies to mess around with.
After a few seconds of recollection of how things had gone on, Grix realized what had happened.
He saw it. The more infamous sight anyone like Grix could know.
'World server is down.' | 2017-08-30T07:30:27 | 2017-08-30T06:35:06 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | How much more blood? I had already lost what had to be three cups of blood, and in such a short amount of time.
How much more blood had I left to lose?
I clutched at my side, wracked with pain. Wondering how much more time before the blood soaked through and ruined another article of clothing.
Maybe it already had?
I wasn't in any position to check.
I try to ignore the stabbing pain, enough to make me wonder if my appendix hadn't burst just to spite me.
Only one thing to do.
Take some Midol, and then a nap.
Periods are hell. | Glass
Lottery was like my religion. I would treat everyday like Sunday. Everyday, I'd pray about my six numbers. I would even kneel. Because I was desperately hoping. Always. Always hoping to hit the jackpot.
I'd always wanted to buy my wife those south sea pearls her mother passed down unto her, but she pawned as we were poor and needed the money for my medication. And that pink dress on the mall she can only afford to stare at every time we would pass by that cheap local boutique. I can only hold her hands and smile during that painful walk by the mall. Maybe someday. Someday.
I ran down the stairs. Still fazed by my lack of my waking up ritual. But I'm used to it. Because it was always the same. Like every morning of any other day. And with hopes higher than the previous day, I was devastated by the greeting of my empty balcony. With no signs of that rolled paper thrown by that young underpaid boy. I waited. Frustrated.
I was woken up by a the touch of compacted sheets softly hitting my head and the faint chuckle of that poor boy with the sound of his bicycle chain slowly fading out the melodies of the morning songs of the birds.
I smiled. Opened the remains of what was a tree, and was greeted by that familiar smell that again woke up my hopes. And right there. At that very moment. I was happy. Because finally. Finally.
She looks so beautiful on that pink dress. With that smile that makes all the seven wonders dull. And with a tight grip I held the pearls on my shaking hands. Then tears bean falling my eyes. My eyes that hunger for her sight.
And I heard that clack. As my tears that fell down was stopped by the glass on her casket. | 2017-08-30T08:04:24 | 2017-08-30T07:26:10 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line. | How much more blood? I had already lost what had to be three cups of blood, and in such a short amount of time.
How much more blood had I left to lose?
I clutched at my side, wracked with pain. Wondering how much more time before the blood soaked through and ruined another article of clothing.
Maybe it already had?
I wasn't in any position to check.
I try to ignore the stabbing pain, enough to make me wonder if my appendix hadn't burst just to spite me.
Only one thing to do.
Take some Midol, and then a nap.
Periods are hell. | First time responding to a prompt, so be gentle.
Grixbrug gave a soft, uninspired sigh. Nothing he did could affect the world anymore. His steps made no impacts into the ground; his bow would not draw; he could knock an arrow, but it wouldn't leave his inventory. How long had he been stuck in this hell.
At this point he didn't even care. Their party had started with five members; a team that, Grixbrug decided, would be more than enough to venture deep into these infamous, dangerous caverns in a timely manner. Three had been members of Grix's own race, while their group had also managed to recruit a mighty Shu'halo and an agile Sin'dorei to assist.
The Shu'halo was the first to leave their party, surprisingly. Not even their ability to harness nature and transform themselves into a mighty beast was enough.
Though the party had, without their Shu'halo companion, attempted to proceed, disaster was rapidly approaching. It wasn't more than a minute later that everybody else had disappeared.
The Sin'dorei, the last of his allies that Grix would ever see, had remained visible for but a moment. The agile woman had attempted to sneak around the vile serpents, attempting to use their skills at agility to remove on of Grix's enemies from the fight for a moment. The cursed event that had doomed his party brought her forward just as she was about to strike. Instead of being hidden in the shadows, the Sin'dorei was plainly visible. Grix watched in horror as she was eviscerated in a few short seconds; these were not enemies to mess around with.
After a few seconds of recollection of how things had gone on, Grix realized what had happened.
He saw it. The more infamous sight anyone like Grix could know.
'World server is down.' | 2017-08-30T08:04:24 | 2017-08-30T06:35:06 | 16 | 10 |
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