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[WP] The hole just appeared one day, and it's been growing ever since. | Nobody is sure exactly when *The Hole* appeared. But it first got attention as a mysterious pot-hole. Some poor schmuck from out of town got lost after his GPS malfunctioned. When his front tire struck *The Hole* it was like the parts of the tire and rim that fell in ceased to exist. Needless to say he lost control of his vehicle and crashed a short distance away. The tow truck driver, the police, and the insurance adjuster were all dumb struck by the sight of the damage; to say nothing of the bloke himself. Perfectly clean lines. No signs of tearing or cutting, the tire and rim were suddenly simply incomplete.
Needless to say that part of the road was suddenly very interesting. Everyone in town must have paid *The Hole* a visit within a few days of word getting out. It became a favorite activity to throw spare change into *The Hole* in order to make a wish. Despite consuming thousands of dollars worth of coins *The Hole* never filled up. After a week of guarding it and redirecting traffic; the authorities placed a large metal plate over top of *The Hole* so the road would be safe to use again. They tried to brush the whole thing under the rug.
That failed miserably.
Two weeks after the plate was laid down it simply vanished without a trace. Thanks to photos from the original incident it was apparent that *The Hole* had grown significantly. Now it could easily swallow whole the car it had damaged before. To complicate matters word was beginning to spread, and people from nearby towns were coming to investigate as well. Some "Experts" were called in to investigate this strange phenomenon, but nobody had a clue how such a thing was even possible. Not a single test on *The Hole* even resulted in useful data. Nothing going in came back out. Not objects, nor EM waves. Not so much as a temperature differential over *The Hole*. But it was clearly no black hole as they were understood. It was simply a void of no return.
The authorities tried building a perimeter fence around *The Hole* to keep people out. But exactly a week later the fence and several squad cars had vanished without a trace. The search was called off within a day, everyone was sure of what had happened. That's how the hole claimed its first lives. News of the deaths of the guards spread rapidly, and it wasn't long before news crews began to arrive near the perimeter of the now tennis court sized anomaly. This further complicated things as with no information available it made people from even further afield curious.
Another week passed. *The Hole* was now double its previous size. A cult was rapidly growing around the thing. Members would hold candle light vigils around *The Hole* every night, chanting and praying. Some cultists as well as the suicidal jumped right in; and were not seen again. *The Hole* even claimed a few brave but foolish souls who wanted to experiment. They tried to tie ropes around themselves. Or metal cables and harnesses. When pulled back though they simply ended in a neat, perfectly smooth tip. Another week passed, and *The Hole* doubled in size again. It took with it nearly the entire cult it had inspired save for the "High Priest" who had fled the scene mere moments before *The Hole* expanded.
That was just a few days ago. Except for some authorities and crazy fools with death wishes the town is all but evacuated now. If it keeps doubling in size every week it will consume the whole town in about 6 weeks. Nobody even knows if it will keep growing, but it seems like a safe assumption. I personally think its going to grow until the whole world falls in, so I will not be running from it. I won't say I am not afraid. *The Hole* is a mystery and people are bound to fear the unknown. I just hope that when I fall in that there is nothing there to greet me. | 'Carol I swear to god, it's been getting bigger and bigger each day. You really should get it checked out.' Said Richard.
'Oh give over Rick. You're paranoid. You're just obsessed with it.' Said Carol.
'Look I'm serious! The first few days I figured it was due to what we got up to on the Sunday night. But it's been almost a full week now and it hasn't shrunk.'
'Well I don't feel any different.'
'I'm telling the truth!'
Carol looked back towards Richard. She was bent over on her bed with her panties down. 'I'll make an appointment tomorrow morning then if you're that concerned.'
'You should be the most concerned. I can't believe you're taking this lightly,' Richard snarled, 'I just hope it doesn't get any bigger.'
'Why would it though?' Carol asked.
'I don't know, that's why you have to get it looked at!' Richard yelled.
'Can't we just google it?'
'I've already done that and the results that came up are disgusting.'
'Really? What like?'
'I don't want to say.'
'Oh come on, tell me something.' Carol said as she flopped to her side and pulled her knickers back up.
Richard exhaled hard, 'I don't believe this but it sort of makes some sense.'
'Go on then you drama queen. Tell me.' Carol laughed.
'It could be getting bigger because you've been letting other men...'
'Richard!' Carol shouted. 'Don't be so filthy! Do you believe that? I supposed you do that's why you said it made sense.'
'No no I don't. You asked me. It was what google said. I'm just telling you what it said. Honest. Honey I don't think that. You got to trust me. I don't.' Richard cried.
Carol reached out her hands and Richard grabbed them. He pulled her up gently from the bed. She walked towards the bedroom door and looked back to Richard.
'Stop stressing chuck, I'm only going to brush my teeth. I'll call up tomorrow.' She said.
Richard watched her leave the room. He thought about it again.
'No way!' He said to himself.
Richard got into bed and was asleep before Carol got back into the bedroom.
The next morning Richard was awoken by Carol screaming.
'Are you alright!? What's wrong?' Richard said.
'Rick you were right!' Carol cried out in pain.
'About what?' Richard asked.
'It's getting bigger!'
'Right that does it. I'm taking us to A and E. Get dressed now.' Richard yelled.
They arrived at the hospital's accident and emergency reception within the hour. Richard sat Carol down into a chair before heading to the receptionist.
'Good morning sir, how can I help?' Asked the receptionist.
'Hello, I called up over the phone earlier about my wife.' Richard said
'What's the name?'
'Carol... Carol Saul' Richard said.
The receptionist nodded and began typing on the computer.
'There'll be someone round to see you soon sir.' He said.
Richard thanked him and walked back over to his wife.
'Are you ok honey?' He asked.
'Why has this happened all of a sudden. It's so painful.' Carol said upset.
'I'm not sure.' Richard said still feeling puzzled by it all.
'Carol Saul!' Called a voice from behind.
They turned around and there stood a familiar face. The pair of them stood up to greet the caller and were lead through a hallway and into a room with a desk and a bed behind it.
The woman looked at Carol, 'Can you pop yourself on the bed please and when you're ready can you lower your pants and spread your legs. The doctor will be in soon.' She said.
Carol did as instructed and all three of them waiting only a minute before the doctor showed up.
The doctor must've known what was going on straight away as he looked down towards Carol the moment he got into the room. He looked for a short while and then stood back up to face Carol and Richard.
'Congratulations Mr Saul, you're wife's in Labour. Her contractions have already started. Have your waters broken yet?' The doctor asked Carol.
'No not that I know of. Richards the one whose been pointing out that my hole was getting bigger all week.' Carol said.
'Well you should've listened to him, then you would've been able to prepare better. I'll return shortly. I'll leave you both with your midwife and she can tell you what happens next. Bye for now.' The doctor said and then he left the room.
'Bye doc.' Richard said.
Richard kissed Carol on the forehead whilst their midwife smiled with joy.
'See Carol, I told you we should have gone to those auntie anal classes!' Richard said.
Carol and the midwife laughed hard.
'Ante-Natal!' They said simultaneously. | 2017-09-10T09:27:10 | 2017-09-10T08:33:51 | 39 | 11 |
[WP] Humanity has discovered a planet that once inhabited intelligent life, but fell victim to a zombie Apocalypse. Since it can't transfer to humans, expeditions and prospectors land to kill zombies and find their fortune. After 50 years of scavenging, a vault is found full of survivors. | 2133, a year not many would've remembered save for the last 2 months of it.
It started with a series of "flares" captured by instruments as early as the 1900s. Tiny blips at first, explosions of radiowaves, easily mistaken for dying stars, lensing and other phenomena. But as the 21st century progressed, we began to identify differences in certain signals. Patterns, complex sets of repetitive radiowaves, mathematical equations somehow buried within some of them.
Finally, a man by the name of Arnold Schaffer found the source of all these signals, tracking thousands of patterns using whatever resources he could. His eureka moment was what he'd hoped for. Every single, every flare and strange piece of math, they all originated from one singular point in space.
Media exploded at the idea of another intelligent race weakly beaming signals into the vast abyss of the cosmos. But the longer time went on and the better we got at detecting these signals, the more depressing the news became. At first we learnt that the signals were originating from a place over 80 lightyears away, impossible to journey to. A mission like that would've taken thousands of years. But still decades passed and we reached the edges of our solar system.
We put computers in space to monitor the distant planet, and slowly they decoded the signals being received. The learning algorithms took decades to adapt to the alien form of code. But once our instruments did learn their language, we learnt so much more, however more depressing it was.
Most of the signals had bounced from other celestial bodies, in fact it appeared as though direct signals hadn't been beamed out in over 20 years. We still had lots to feed on, and for a time being humanity was fixated on its window into an alien world. An alien world that appeared to be ammonia based, rich with life and history, rich with war, rich with suffering.
Finally, we struck gold again, faster-than-light travel was discovered, and again the race to the alien world nicknamed Ehmania was on. The journey to the alien world broke over a hundred spacefaring records. The energy it took to even get there was more than humanity had used in the past few thousand years combined.
Once we got there it was even more difficult. By this time we had learnt of the planet's history, the dialects, how they behaved, their biology and the biologies of other things that lived there. We also learnt why they'd stopped sending out signals. A cataclysmic event had devastated the populations. A deadly bio-engineered pathogen had ravaged the societies of Ehmania, it turned the sick into mindless drones, being controlled by a parasite akin to a sort of viral fungus.
After initial drone sweeps of the planet, humans were sent down to investigate. A group of twelve broke the atmosphere, equipped with biosuits and a hefty security detail of cyborgs and drones. They took samples, set up camp, and generally fucked around for years on the surface of the planet. What they found is what we'd seen on screens and recreated in labs for nearly a hundred years, computers still working, electricity still flowing from hydroelectric dams, something they must've considered art, and of course a wealth of flora and fauna that reflected our own world, if not for the ammonia in place of carbon.
But for all this knowledge we were still alone. We could recreate these creatures in a lab. But what was the point? We didn't want knockoff aliens, we wanted the real thing. And yet they were nowhere to be seen. Eventually though, we did find something. We found colonies, colonies of the undead, walking with great fungal growths attached to their heads, discoloured skin and melting muscles. They would rub their hives of bacterial fungi together and spores would burst into the air... More humans came to Ehmania, just because they could. But in the end, it was pointless, in the end, we had a planet far from home, void of anything beyond life that could not sustain itself in our biosphere and planetary resources that were as rare as water was in saturn's rings...
"Hey Jaxson, look at this!" Ensen exclaimed.
"You don't need to shout over the comms just because I'm far away, *Allman*," Said Jaxson. "I still hear you just the same."
"Yeah but come look!" Said Ensen. Jaxson sighed and switched off his comms. He got up, turned, his UI popping up a dozen warnings as it lost track of the sample leaf it was analyzing. He switched to flight mode and jetted over a hundred feet to Ensen. Jaxson walked up and crouched down beside the young scientist.
"Look!" Said Ensen, his voice first going in a microphone within the helmet, exiting through a speaker on the outside of the biosuit, again hitting a microphone this time on Jaxson's suit, where it then played through speakers in Jaxson's helmet. The computers in their suits would correct for the thick atmosphere that made sound travel at nearly double the speed as it would on earth. All this for an organic conversation on the surface
"Scratch marks." Said Ensen. Jaxson's visual scanners immediately tracked his vision, and zoomed up on the marks that Ensen had pointed at. A textbook appeared in his ui and began generating a string of words.
*Carbon profile received: traces of RNA, scanned;Ehman Carbon dating: est730 hours*
"Yeah I already did a sample." Said Ensen, standing up to meet eye-to-eye with Jaxson. "I already cross referenced three times. It's a match."
"A match for what?" Jaxson replied. "The zombies?"
"No!" Said Ensen. "The samples have a completely different chemical profile to that of the decaying Ehmans."
"It has to be a mutation." Said Jaxson. "There's no way we just *missed* an Ehman walking around on the surface. Drones sweep this place twice a month."
"Yeah, from fucking orbit!" Said Ensen. "I checked the logs there hasn't been a surface sweep of this entire sector in two years!"
"And so what? A fish crawled from a swamp two years ago and evolved into an Ehman?" Said Jaxson. "Face it, we've found plenty of fresher tissue on zombies before."
"Not *this* fresh." Said Ensen. "I'm telling you Jaxson, they're still here. They're still alive."
**/r/heav3nly for more** | A couple of years ago, the discovery of a planet which showed signs of current of former intelligent life, everyone would be out of their mind with excitement. After the first planet showing this was discovered, it quickly became a regular occurrence, with many planets bearing signs of life on them. It happened at such a frequent rate that within a year or two, a discovery was everyday news.
The first time I heard of Grand Mobilis was on the evening news. It was a new planet discovered that caught the public eye unlike most new discoveries. The reason was the fate of the planet, as it had been inhabited by a people that seemed eerily similar to ours, which had fallen to an epidemic exactly similar to what we would describe a zombie apocalypse. In a weird way our fantasy had been the horrible reality for another people. The main story that kept Grand Mobilis in the news for a long time, was the fact that the “zombies” had still been there when our expedition crew found the planet. They had not been harmed but the decided not to try and clear out the zombies to make an colonization outpost, as it was seen as a lost cause.
Grand Mobilis had been the first planet which we had left without trying to colonize it, and this attracted people in desperate situation, who started to travel to the planet to loot the riches left behind by the former civilization. Over time treasures from Grand Mobilis began to raise in value, and items from the planet became a sought after commodity especially in the higher tiers of society that lived on earth. This situation suddenly made it possible to live well as a treasure hunter, purely of the profits from items looted from Grand Mobilis.
The increased human activity on Grand Mobilis, had risen the attention of the zombies still on the planet, making them extremely aggressive towards the treasure hunters on the planet. Making the job as treasure hunter very dangerous despite the big potential reward that could be found. Most treasure hunters were people that had not much to lose back on earth, creating a hostile environment between the different groups of treasure hunters, all chasing down the same treasures.
Grand Mobilis was mentioned regularly on the news for the next couple of years, and I did not pay much attention to it. Until i was approached by a guy named Travis Porter, who knew that I had been in the military before I found a job as a bar manager. I could handle a gun without a problem and he wanted to make a trip to Grand Mobilis and he was assembling a crew. At first I was hesitant, but my curiosity of what could happen got the better of me, and I accepted his offer a couple of days later.
The crew was small, it included me, Travis and one other person. That was Mary, know as Bloody Mary on the streets, she was a tough girl that got what she wanted. Her and Travis had run together before, but a successful run on Grand Mobilis would without a doubt be an important step in the right direction for both of their criminal careers. I knew this was not the right kind of people to work with, but on the other hand I got probably get set up for life if we hit the big time.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The first few days after arriving on Grand Mobilis, was quite rough. The zombies would not let us be, but the three of us worked together well and we were never really in danger. We looted a few mansions standing covered in green vines indicating the lack of life. A couple of paintings found could net a decent price back on earth, so we were not completely demoralized, but we had not found nearly as much “gold” as we had hoped. On the social side everything was fine actually, the three of us fit well together. As a bar manager I got to listen to many stories back on earth, and both Travis and Mary had some of the best ones I had ever heard. They seemed to trust me, and to be honest I trusted them aswell, we were all on uncharted ground, you had to trust each other to make it here.
On the ninth day of looting we found a small town, only populated by a few houses that all looked weirdly untouched by the circumstances of the planet. We decided to look inside these house for something to bring back. The house I entered were in perfect condition, something I had not seen since I was back on earth. This town had not been looted at all, we were the first people to get here. This could mean jackpot, I quickly went around the house and took everything that looked in perfect condition until I could not carry anymore. Suddenly Travis ran into the house looking at me with horror on his face. “What is wrong?” I said, trying to find out what had made Travis this scared. “I have found something very fucking weird in the house I look in.” He gestured for me to follow him, and outside the house stood Mary waiting for us to arrive. I looked at her and it was evident that she did not know what was going on either. I found out that Travis had gotten her first and asked her to wait for him to return with me.
Inside we found out what had freaked Travis out, and his reaction was completely justified. The the basement of the house was a vault, with a small round window revealing its content. Inside was a group of around 20 people sitting looking at us with a sign of relief on their faces. These people looked exactly like us, their appearance was exactly like ours. Mary objectified when Travis and I went to open the large vault door. She had no idea what those people are or did to be in that vault and wanted nothing to do with this, she wanted to take the loot we had gathered and leave for earth, but both Travis and I disagreed, we wanted to know who these people were. Mary would not have anything to do with it and left the basement when we went to open the door. It took the strength of both Travis and I to open the door, but in the end we got it open just enough to slip in.
The people in the vault rose to their feet, some started to cry while others hugged us. One of the people approached us and talked in perfect english. “Somebody survived? Oh my god! We had almost lost all hope.” A smile spread across his face and he gave us a hug. We tried to explain the whole situation to them, but it took awhile before they realized we were from earth. After they understood our origin, they started to tell us their, and that story was the best I have ever been told, and it might actually be the most valuable thing I will take home with me from this expedition.
The people from the vault was American scientist sent to this planet during the cold war. A couple of years after the moon landing the USA had discovered this planet, during secret mission that NASA was conducting. These few hundred scientist was then sent out on a secret mission to inhabit this planet and use it for scientific discoveries. Discoveries made on the planet in the years after they had arrived had led to great discoveries in the field of global warming, but the cold war made it impossible for the USA to act upon these discoveries because they had to keep up with Russia on all cylinders. So the plan were to act upon them after the cold war ended, but that never happened. A few years before the cold war ended the scientist lost communication with earth, and they had no way to either contact us or get back to earth. The scientist then made a plan to try and focus on biological discoveries that could be beneficial for a new civilization to rise on the planet. An experiment to create a vaccine against some local wildlife pestering the camps around the planet, led to a zombie outbreak quickly killing all the human life on the planet, besides the 20 scientist that had created a vault in their home camp, which they used to protect themselves when the outbreak hit.
| 2017-09-19T20:37:09 | 2017-09-19T17:56:46 | 92 | 16 |
[WP] Write a seemingly innocuous story, but the last line reveals how chilling and horrific the story actually was. | Emily looked down out the window in amazement. "Wow! That's so cool! Look at all the lights." "It's beautiful isn't it?" her father said, sitting next to her in the pilot's chair. "This is a once in a lifetime experience little Emily. We won't be coming back here after this event is finished." "Aww... I love watching the lights from up here daddy, thanks for bringing me." Emily gives her father a tight hug.
"Look over there Emily; here's another one." Her father gestured over to the front of the windshield as he pushed a button. Another big colorful ball of light exploded nearby.
"Can I try daddy? Just one, pleeease?" Emily tries her best to make puppy dog eyes; imitating the cartoons she watched. "Oh... alright... just one ok? Hold on." Her father changed course, and the craft soon arrived near the next city. "Alright, push this red button." Emily beams and pushes the button on the screen. The craft shoots off another giant ball of energy towards the city. "Whoa... awesome... look at them run daddy. I can't wait to clean up the next planet. Um... What are those things called again?"
"Humans, little Emily. Nasty parasites were feeding off the planet. Maybe one day you can help save planets like your daddy here," her father chuckles. Emily smiles, "I can't wait to tell all my friends at school what I did for our father-daughter work day." | Steve, who did not exist, returned to his dull and altogether not real house of no significance from a long day of work at Not a Business Inc., ate his bland dinner of Nothing With a side of Emptiness, and went to sleep in a bed that might have been real if it existed at all. Steve didn’t exist at all, which makes the very existence of this story a paradox, but don’t pay attention to that. Instead pay attention to the fact that, really, it would be nice if he did exist. In fact, Steve decided when he woke up to an incorporeal world, he rather wanted to exist. So Steve set out to achieve this unachievable goal, which could not be achieved because it did not exist. The first thing to do, Steve decided, would be to do more things that people who exist do. With this in mind, Steve tried to act like a nonfictional person. He began to drive an immaterial automobile. He joined an insubstantial aquatics club, where he would float in dreamlike water and further ponder his absent goal. After a few vacant weeks of this, Steve had made no progress. Steve decided to take a different approach to his intangible goal. He began to attempt to conjure things. Now, unreal as his world was, Steve couldn't conjure things, but he did pretend that he could. He imagined a kingdom that he was the monarch of, where his extramundane subjects would work under his rule. He held imaginary parades biannually to celebrate his fictitious progress at becoming real. But, nonexistent as Steve and his subjects were, they could achieve nothing. Steve however, was not disheartened. He decided to alter his figmental efforts. He studied fake books on imaginary anthropology to try and determine what it was that made other humans exist. He toiled without end, but yet again, his asomatous efforts were to no avail. Eventually, the nonexistent guy named Steve quit. He let out an inaudible and chimerical yell of frustration. As Steve trudged back to his droll house at Ersatz Lane, he dejectedly thought to himself, “All I know is that I know nothing. How can illusions be unreal, yet the illusion exists?” As Steve uttered these words, his arm began to disappear, starting at the fingers, working up to his shoulder, and it didn’t stop there. His upper body and head began to disappear as the paradox worked its way through Steve’s nonexistent world. As the last of Steve’s toes vanished from Nowhere, Steve suddenly appeared with a loud bang in the real world, in 15th century Europe, right in the middle of an Anti-Witchcraft rally. A man looked at Steve and yelled the first real words Steve had ever heard. “Burn the witch!” | 2017-10-06T15:00:57 | 2017-10-06T13:52:37 | 40 | 18 |
[WP] You are an older raid boss who once took many players to defeat. After multiple expansions higher level players are able to defeat you by themselves. You decide to do something about it. | "Ugh... Raiding me *again*? My cache isn't even worth looting anymore!"
I watched the invaders storm my halls. What was once a marker of true terror had been uprooted by an influx of ludicrously powerful 'relic' weapons that had changed the face of the world.
Several times.
I wandered back to my throne, drawing my blade and placing it by my side. What could I do? These people were far too powerful for me. All my greatest weapons and magiks were completely useless against such power!
I twiddled my thumbs, waiting for the door to be inevitably blown open and for the stun-locking to begin. It's not fun being forced to stand still and face-tank 10 people simultaneously.
*"Haha don't worry, this guy's easy! We've got base tanks, so you guys just need to hit him hard. Don't worry about dying, it's basically impossible now!"*
The gloating... The confidence...
***The Arrogance...***
That was it. I could feel my blood boil, and it was glorious! I'd been kind to these weaklings for far too long! It was time for the Keeper of the Moon to take back his title as the most feared being in the world.
I spun around and drew a crystal case from behind my throne. I'd put down my true weapon when I denounced the abyss and banished it's influence. However, as a product of the abyss, it's power is always there. It's just waiting...
In one swift move, I put my fist through the case, reaching for the cold, sweet kiss of true Tetyrien Steel. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and pulled my faithful friend into the midnight air. Almost instantly I could feel a familiar power returning, like the embrace of a lost lover returning a passion and tenderness so sorely missed. A tear rolled down my cheek at the thought, as my eyes gained further focus as the abyss took further hold. I could sense them behind the door. They were preparing for the final battle, but so was I.
*The time for games was well and truly over.*
I raised my crow-headed scythe skywards, striking an invisible line down the small crack in the door. At first, nothing. Then suddenly, a great burst erupt from within, shattering the door into thousands of pieces. The raid party recoiled, slowly taking stance ready for battle. The leader seemed horrified, knowing his little group of learners were about to learn the true meaning of *pain*. I scanned the party, and struck another line across the base tank and backup tank, obliterating them immediately.
The party stood silent and still, undoubtedly processing what was happening. Another tear fell as I saw the heretics sporting her armour, no doubt taken from my cache in a previous raid, like a trophy. I could feel my rage burning harder, almost choking me in my own skin. I couldn't take it anymore... *It was time.*
"**HOW... DARE YOU! YOU MAY MOCK ME AND RAID MY HOME, BUT YOU WILL NOT DESECRATE HER!**"
The whole party ducked for cover, some behind statues, some straight out the door.
I threw my head back and screamed. The abyss was fully taking hold, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I lost myself completely. For now, anyway.
I had just enough time to get one last message across,
"I... am Sahillion Lunaros. King of Tetyrien and Keeper of the Moon, and now..."
Suddenly, I felt great wings surge from my back as the last of my human side was consumed. I hoped it would come back, but I didn't care anymore. I just wanted these people to *hurt*, just as much as I did. Everything faded away, and all that remained was bloodlust.
Oh how I was looking forward to this...
"**I am Umariaba... Angel of the Abyss! PREPARE TO DIE!**"
---
Edit: grammar fail and auto correct ._. | It had been a perfectly regular day for Asroc the Defiler. His gig was a simple one: wait at the bottom of the Chamber of Challenges and kill anyone that came in. "Post-game boss," the Dark Lord had said. "Undefeatable, that's how they designed you." Asroc had slaughtered thousands upon thousands of users since his implementation. Bite, stomp, slash. Easy stuff. He cut through their painstakingly maxed-out gear like so much cardboard. Hell, there were whole forum threads dedicated to anti-Asroc strategy. Those made him chuckle. Those theories had never been proven.
He had a good life.
It was late at night when the user entered Asroc's chamber. He had to give the guy some credit-- it wasn't easy to solo the Chamber of Challenges-- but now it was time for a rude awakening. Asroc the Defiler, rank 15 postgame raid boss death wyrm, slammed his claw down upon the intruding player. That's when it all went downhill.
-150% Incoming Damage, flashed the message over the player's head. The hell was this? Asroc was programmed to ignore gear stats. That was his *thing*. For the first time in his existence, Asroc the Defiler was surprised. Before he had time to fully evaluate the situation, the user blasted shimmering magic into Asroc's chest. +300% Outgoing Damage, it said. This was ridiculous.
Within a few minutes, the user in the overpowered gear lifted his staff to deliver a death blow to Asroc. BLAM. His death animation played for the first time. His body was defeated, set to respawn when the dungeon reset, but his consciousness remained. He was absolutely shocked. Not only had he been slain in battle, but he had been solo killed. *Solo killed.*
Despite his confusion, Asroc noticed the user messaging his guild. Holy shit, guys, I just got the first confirmed Asroc kill! YouTube is gonna love this!
Asroc the Defiler was not gonna love this.
Over the course of the next few weeks, more and more players filed into the Chamber, seeking Asroc's loot. Without his anti-gear bypass, he barely stood a chance against the casuals, much less the hardcore guild raiders. It was infuriating.
After several days of humiliation, Asroc had had enough. He stomped through the Chamber, storming up the tunnels and past the minibosses. "Asroc," said the Bonesplitter Wraith, "What are you doing? You can't leave the chamber, it's against the Code!"
"To hell with the Code," growled Asroc. "I'm going to give the Dark Lord a piece of my mind." Bursting out of the Chamber, he spread his wings and flew towards the Castle of Death, dodging the spells and arrows of confused players. It took a while, but Asroc's determination was enough to get him to his destination without much effort. Snarling, he landed atop the tallest tower and stuck his head through the Dark Lord's window.
"What's the meaning of this?" Asroc's eyes burned with rage. The Dark Lord, eyes barely visible under his hood, looked up with slight surprise. "Asroc," he whispered, "It's been so long. What brings you out of your chamber?"
"Cut the crap," Asroc roared. "I've been ruined. My raid is a joke! They've cut my ability-- the gear bypass-- and I need you to do something about it before my damn tier gets lowered!"
"Asroc, my friend, there's not much I can do. I don't determine the Code, nor does any other entity in this game. I would remind you, though, that the Chamber of Challenges was added in the first release, back in '07, and I'd imagine that your gear bypass was judged incompatible with the modern PvE meta."
"What? It's the simplest ability there is! It was what made me special-- you remember the magazines! 'A refreshing return to the strategy of arcade games long past, the frustratingly difficult Chamber of Challenges is one of the highlights-'"
"Asroc," the Dark Lord interrupted, "it's simply not a modern mechanic. It doesn't resonate with users, it doesn't work with many of the new combat updates-- everything's gear-based now, you should know that. It makes no sense for a vanilla boss like you to remain the game's greatest challenge. Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't patched you out entirely. Your golden days are over, Asroc, and you'd best get used to it."
"I... I don't know what to do. I don't know how to be anything but an impossible challenge. I don't know how... how to fail."
"Don't worry, Asroc," the Dark Lord whispered, eyes glinting in the dark. "I will do my best to help you."
Asroc the Defiler, rank 15 postgame raid boss death wyrm, flew off into the night. As his silhouette shrank into the distance, the Dark Lord's unknowable eye somehow appeared, for a single moment, to shed a tear for his oldest friend.
The dragon soared over the horizon, spread his wings and triumphantly breathed his famous fire into the sky.
And then, in an instant, he was gone. | 2017-10-10T07:21:33 | 2017-10-10T07:14:39 | 52 | 15 |
[WP] You’re a regular office worker born with the ability to “see” how dangerous a person is with a number scale of 1-10 above their heads. A toddler would be a 1, while a skilled soldier with a firearm may score a 7. Today, you notice the reserved new guy at the office measures a 10. | 10, holy shit.
Nobody has ever scored a 10 before, and but here I have someone with a 10 right in front of me, at the lunch table we have at work.
Impossible. He just looks like a timid dude, eating his plain bagel with cream cheese. Anderson Silva couldn't even break 7. There's no way
this dude is a 10.
Fuck. Should I go up and say hi? I want to get on his good side in case anything goes wrong.
But what if by introducing myself, I annoy him? Damn, what to do...
Ok, stay calm, I'm stressing out way too much.
Oh fuck he's looking this way.
Oh fuck, he's noticed me staring at him.
Shit shit shit.
"Hi," the new guy smiled as he stood up and stretched out his hand "I'm Ted from Accounting." | (Written on mobile)
The day I realised what the numbers I saw above people’s heads meant was a special one.
I never thought to much about them, everyone just said it was something wrong with my brain or something. Because my baby cousin had a 1 and my a step father had a 5, I thought it was something to do with age.
One day however my best friend went to this day thing at a martial arts academy training Krav Maga. When he returned, his number rose from a 4 to a 6. That was when I realised it’s how dangerous the person is.
I started realising this more and more. The biker at the pub I saw driving past had a 7, and the skinny girl at the beach had a 3.
One day however, a new worker walked into the office. I was an accountant, and I was busy at my desk when the new guy walked in. He was around 34, dressed smartly in a light blue button up, long dark pants and a belt. He spoke few words to the people greeting him and took to his desk straight away. The reason I mention this man was that above his head, was a 10. He must of noticed me looking at me, because he started throwing anxious glances my way.
I kept my eye on him the rest of the day, and after work he hurried off. I kept close behind him. He darted off a random alley way and I peered around the corner. He went to the end, and started seemingly staring at nothing. I stepped out into the open. He turned around quickly and in his hand was a small revolver, aimed at my head. ‘Why are you following me.’ I lifted my hand in the air, and a sweat bead dropped down my face. ‘I um’ - ‘doesn’t matter. Don’t come after me and don’t speak to me again’ with that he darted off into a small sore on his left.
Months later I see on the news that a notorious serial killer had been captured and tied to around 183 murders in the space of 5 weeks. His picture flashed.
| 2017-12-22T19:05:36 | 2017-12-22T14:05:07 | 42 | 22 |
[WP] You stumble upon an old megaphone in an antique shop and jokingly pick it up and say, "Everybody listen up!". Later that night, the news headlines read, "We're all listening for what the voice has to next say next!" | The voice, I was the voice.
Imagine having infinite power in your voice. I could do anything I wanted, say anything I needed.
I thought for a long time about what I should say. I could demand world peace in the name of the gods, I could make myself dictator supreme and so much more.
In the end I realized that I don't have the conscience to change reality that much. I am not smart nor caring enough to live with this responsibility.
As I picked up the megaphone I said the one thing that I could think of to prevent people from feeling too let down without ruining the planets politics and religions:"Sorry humans, wrong planetary number".
Without me realizing, I just kick-started the space age. | I thought for a long time what to say. A direct line into the minds of everyone on Earth was the most powerful tool for propaganda imaginable.
At first, I thought I could be tricky. I could tell facts to everyone, starting with the obvious, like “The sky is blue”. Then I could work my way up to obscure trivia, things like “One sixtieth of a second is called a third”. Last, when everyone had come to trust my knowledge, I would move on to predictions. I could say things that might happen, and their trust in me would make them come true.
This might have worked in a simpler time. Now, with the ability of the internet to track things, I would be more likely to be caught before completing my plan. I would look up trivia on wikipedia, and cross-referencing the mentioned facts with public search histories would be an easy way of tracking down the source of the voice.
My second plan was to read books to them. I know my life had been better with what I’ve read, and I could share it with everyone.
The only problem with that plan is that reading every day might get old. People would become accustomed to the voice, and might tune it out. Also, if I read for long periods of time, someone might recognize my voice in person.
So I went shorter. I could ask questions. Periodic reminders - are you helping things? Are you happy? Is there anything in your life you could change right now to make things better?
It was better than reading, but shared some of the same problems. Was asking questions doing enough? It almost seemed better to concentrate my impact on a single event. All of my plans shared a common flaw - reliance on English to understand me. If I used the power only once, then translators would take care of the rest.
I made my decision.
“Be good to one another.” Then I stabbed myself in the leg, putting genuine pain into a long, bloodcurdling scream.
______________________________________________________
46/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | 2018-02-15T22:32:41 | 2018-02-15T20:59:12 | 1,269 | 782 |
[WP] You are a feared warrior called the "Silent." Why? Because you do not shout out your every move you're about to make. | "Your Kung-Fu is too strong," the wounded man shouted in a kiwi accent, the movements of his mouth not syncing to his words. "However, you are unprepared!"
He spat, gathering himself to his feet and tearing the top of his Gi from his shoulders. "For now you face, *Ultimate Flaming Rhino Style!*" With that, he clasped his hands above his head and came charging at me again, like a lunatic.
As I slipped his first punch, I used his momentum to send him topping ass over teakettle. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever considered not shouting out the kata he was about to use on an opponent. It's not as though *Ultimate Flaming Rhino Style* was any more obscure than *Purple Heron Style* or *Twirling Leopard Style* for that matter; and shouting he was going to use both of those before attacking is what had lead him to this moment.
As the heft of his body snapped through the support pillar of the dojo, I almost felt bad for him. True he'd instigated this fight and besmirched the honor of my village, but there was no honor in beating a foe like this. I could anticipate his every move, while being as incorporeal as the mist surrounding the dojo to his increasingly frenzied attacks.
It should've been much more difficult a task, being the conclusion of my heroes journey and all that, but I'd spent the previous afternoon on Google, researching the *Southern Style* of the *Black Dragon Venom Fang* Dojo. As he struggled to get up I figured it was about a 50/50 chance of him trying out either *Drunken Monkey* or *Rising Cobra Style* next. When the words *'Rising Cobra'* began to leave his swollen lips, I sighed to myself a little.
No sport in it.
---
Hungry for more of my words? r/wordeater | My opponent stood there listening, instead of watching me. We circled each other, adding to the patterns that remained like scars in the matted blood dirt. My weapon, a modest rapier, glinted in the high sun. The crowd chanted hungrily from the Colosseum pews, shouting my opponent's name.
'BARB. BARB. BARB.'
My eyes never left the man's broadsword, a weapon that still had his last victims blood. The sword was as wide as my forearm and as tall as me from tip to hilt. Barb, the barbarian had killed his previous three opponents, and while not required he had a following because of his bloodlust.
The crowd quietened, silence fell as a sign of respect and so the crowd to enjoy the sport they had paid to watch.
'Little boy. I hope for their sake you put up a good fight.' Barb shouted sending spittle flying into my face.
The crowd roared.
'What do you say boy?' Barb said in a whisper. 'Why do you not put on a show?'
The idiot did not know who he was fighting.
'Me thinks the boy is scared.' Barb laughed, and the audience rocked the stadium.
I lunged with my rapier outstretched, Barb had been waiting for my prompt to react and had spent his concentration on entertaining.
Barb's eyes bulged as the needle tip penetrated his abdomen. I retracted the blade, and his broadsword fell resting like a crutch on the dirt. Barb's free hand moved to the pinprick of blood that flowed in pumping cycles.
'What cheating is this!' Barb roared.
Barb used his bloody palm to grip the hilt of his blade, using both hands he lifted it in an arc from the ground. I could see from the bowed angle of his body that my stab had caused more harm than he let on.
'DOWNWARD SWING.' Barb's face was contorted in a crimson fury as he did precisely what he had said.
I listened, moved to the left to mirror the side of his stomach I had wounded. The sword hammered against the dirt and the crowd gasped in unison.
'SKYWARD NECK SLICE.' Barb gritted his teeth, and his actions followed the words.
I dived backwards, landing with the air knocked from my lungs. A buzz of beehive like excitement spread through the, now standing, crowd
'DOWNWARD SWING.' Barb shouted.
I rolled left, still playing to his weak side and when the blade fell harmlessly into the dirt I pushed my rapier in for the second time.
Barb rocked forward, losing the grip on his broadsword and fell face first into the dirt. I pushed my back into the earth, arching my lower back and sprung to my feet. I took the crowds silence as an acknowledgement of my victory.
Barb stirred, both hands clutched at the area I had targeted.
'Leg sweep.' Barb said in a pitiful voice.
I waited, but nothing happened. A hissing and booing sound filled my ears. I turned my eyes to the crowd above and watched the hatred pour from them. If I could showboat I would. | 2018-07-08T06:29:08 | 2018-07-08T02:53:01 | 87 | 60 |
[WP] You’re cursed with immortality, not because you sold your soul or you’re a sort of immortal creature but because a few thousand years ago, you stepped on the back of Death’s robe and being the petty shit Death is, he hasn’t forgiven you since.
Edit: okay, wow, I definitely did not expect this to get so popular and to the front page. It was just a little random thing! Thank you so much everyone! I love all your entries! | You apologized for stepping on the robe. Apparently it hadn’t been enough.
“Curse you! This is my favorite robe! It’ll never be the same now that it’s been tainted by a mortal’s footprint! I, Death himself, curse you to never know the sweet release of death!” said the robed man, looking like a lunatic rather than a mystical being.
You apologized again and offered to take it to the cleaners while mentally rolling your eyes. It wasn’t even a whole footprint. The madman swished his robes and stalked off, and you thought that was that.
But it wasn’t. Because you didn’t age or die.
When you suddenly realized what was happening, you asked yourself what you were going to do for the rest of eternity. You didn’t even know what to do with one life.
Might as well be something related to what got you in trouble in the first place. Might as well make some robes.
With all the time in the world, you eventually became the universe’s greatest robe maker. You brought them back to fashion, brought designs to new heights, and created a level and luxury and mysticism the world has never seen. But eventually you got bored.
One day, a man walked into the store.
“Hello, I’d like the best robe you have to offer, a dirty peasant ruined my las...” he paused. “Oh it’s you.” You stared. This was your chance.
“Why yes, I actually have the best robe anyone could possibly offer right here!” You unwrapped super special packaging and unveiled a robe created with the darkest of silks and imitated the brightest of nights. “It’s all yours for the low cost of the sweet release of death!”
“I couldn’t possibly remove the world’s greatest robe maker! And I did promise you that you would never die!” Death exclaimed. “Do you take any other forms of payment?”
“For fucks sake,” you said.
The end | *Received 11:34*
>Hey Andy
*Received 11:36*
>Andy! I know you're dying to talk to me! LOL!
"Hey, Great Great Grandpa Andy"
"What is it Little Johnny"
"This Death guy is sending you messages on Twitter"
"Oh what does he want this time?"
*Received 11:37*
>Common Andy, I'll let you die already!
"He's talking about letting you die? I'm confused Great Great Grandpa Andy. Is that why you are so old?"
"No. I'm Just healthy. Tell him to leave you alone, and your grandfather is not here"
*Sent 11:38*
>Grandpa sad he not heer.
*Received* 11:39
>Tell Andy I am serious, I'll be there to visit him in 20.
"He said he's coming over in 20. Can I meet your friend?"
"Sorry Johnny, he's a grown up friend, and a stranger to you"
*Received 11:42*
>You can come too, Johnny.
"Grandpa, he knows my name, and said I can come!"
"No Johnny"
*Received 11:43*
>Yes you can Johnny!
"Grandpa he said I could again"
"Dammit Johnny, give me my tablet, you're not playing games."
*Received 11:44*
>And bring me money my dry cleaning fee.
"And he also said to bring money for dry cleaning"
**Johnny walked over and gave his grandfather the tablet, and frowned.**
"So why can't I meet him, he sounds like a nice pe-"
"Because I said so"
"Aww"
"Go To your Room"
**Johnny left the room and went to his room.**
*Received 11:52*
>Are you paying attention still?
*Sent 11:54*
>No, leave me alone.
**Andy waited passed out with the tablet in his lap, till there was a knock at the door, and the grandfather clock dinged. Andy got out of the chair and opened the door to see death there in his robes and scythe**.
"Hi Andy, how was your 267th birthday this year on earth?"
"Cut to the chase death, you just want your damn money"
"Yep, and let me guess, you still won't pay it."
"Nope"
"Someday once I get rights, I'm going to take you to court for it."
"The same day you decide to do your job."
"Hey it's not my fault, you decided to have muddy boots and not watch where you were walking when I was taking your wife to heaven."
"And its not my fault you wear all black, maybe you should of worn a green robe."
"Hmph."
"See you again next year, Deathy-darling!"
**Andy shut the door on death, and death yells from the outside.**
"Oh Come-on Andy, you only owe me about Tree-Fiddy!"
​
​
​ | 2018-10-12T09:34:11 | 2018-10-12T09:13:58 | 437 | 96 |
[WP] You’re cursed with immortality, not because you sold your soul or you’re a sort of immortal creature but because a few thousand years ago, you stepped on the back of Death’s robe and being the petty shit Death is, he hasn’t forgiven you since.
Edit: okay, wow, I definitely did not expect this to get so popular and to the front page. It was just a little random thing! Thank you so much everyone! I love all your entries! | How long have I been here?
Upon gaining immortality, I quickly realized that like my body, my memory does not degrade. How I wish it did. I can remember every agonizing moment, every maddening tick of the clock in my silent, immobile prison. I am grateful for sleep, when I am able to dream something other than infinite blackness, infinite weight. Long ago, I fell into a black hole, as is bound to happen with anyone who lives forever. I am bound to it with unbreakable chains, and encased in an uncrackable shell. The only thing this unfathomable force cannot overcome is my invincible body.
And yet, after countless years in black silence, something has changed. I could move my hand, which I had not been able to do for what must have been unvigintillions of years. Over time, I found myself being uncovered. Finally, I found myself able to move freely. The black hole has decayed. That puts me at roughly 10^67 years after I was sucked into it. From the impenetrable darkness, I reason that the universe must have experienced a heat death.
It was finally time for phase two of the plan I formulated in my prison. I clasp my palms together and begin to rub heat into a dead universe. I am the only perpetual motion machine, and as such, I will rebirth it all. I will drag that bastard kicking and screaming out of retirement, and once he realizes what I've done, perhaps he will give me the rest I deserve.
It just takes patience, of which I have learned to be an infinite well. | The smell of lilacs sour in their vase wafted towards me as I rested on the hard surface of a bar stool in my kitchen. “Another one,” I thought as I pulled them from their resting place and left them wilted in the rubbish. Walking out into the back patio, I sought my new prey from amongst rows and rows of brightly colored bushes, pots, and trees. The life cycle of these buds comforted me, ‘here today and gone another.’ Selecting a bunch of creamy white magnolias, I went back inside to arrange them, their sweet scent replacing the aroma of death fading gently from my dwelling.
How I longed for the grips of death to take me as they would seize this new life in a few weeks’ time. That is, if the flowers were lucky. I’d seen the process last as few as three days. Me? I was going on six hundred and fifty three years. Or so I estimated; keeping track was a bit of a chore.
My fate has been sealed one troublesome night all those centuries ago. It had started so innocently, with the pulling on of a new silk dress in anticipation of the ball. I’d carried deep in my heart the dream of meeting someone special, a dream so common among the young women of my year and fairness. Had I known who would greet me, I would have stayed home: my doors locked and windows barred. And yet it was impossible for me to have known that the handsome suitor whisking me from the outskirts into the middle of the ballroom would determine the fate of my ever-lingering years.
As we spun in circles, my heart twinkling with the lightness of a cloud, I felt myself melting into the arms of my someone. A draining sensation I mistook for love in my naivety. It was only when my breath became short did I notice myself beginning to fade. As he whispered coolly “This is where it ends,” into my ear, Providence stepped in and took me from the man’s arms, but not before I slipped on my first love’s sleek black cloak.
Waltzing with my new partner, I felt the substance of my being slowly seep back. And yet, even as we stepped, swayed, and swirled, there was an unmistakable piece that stayed behind.
It was only several years later, as I watched my friends and family begin to grey without me that I finally placed what that piece had been: my mortality. Fragile and beautiful and the essence of what made me real.
Stepping back outside, a fresh stream of tears welling up at the memory of that unforgettable night, I walked down the rows and rows of new life. On either side of the trail were silver plaques, descending from shiny to dull to rusted. The resting places of my beloved- each the conquered victims of My First Love’s dance.
| 2018-10-12T12:31:22 | 2018-10-12T11:14:01 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] The date is April 1st 2020. Your town is deftly quiet for a Wednesday, but that’s because this time last year there came an April Fools prank that got so far out of hand that the town had to outlaw April Fools Day. That prank was yours and this is your confession. | Four pigs.
That's all my dad said I needed. Four pigs. Oh, and some grease and some paint. You take four pigs and write the numbers "one" "two" "three" and "five" on them, let it dry, slather them in grease and set them loose somewhere. The joke back then was that everyone would spend a day or so looking for number four.
But my dumbass just HAD to crank it up. I decided that since my dad was a teenager in the early 70's, that people probably all already knew the gig. So how do we play with their prejudices?
Simple.
Let number four loose in the school 2 days after.
I was good about it, even left two scoops of manure in the hallways the night before.
Suddenly they don't know what to believe. They are sweeping the halls and school rooms.
That's all I did.... For that year...
Next year, I did the same. But now Number two was the one to show up four days later.
And the next year five.... And six... Both let loose in the halls sequentially a week later.
So we come to senior year. My mistake, believe it or not, was NOT doing anything. Now admin is looking for five to six greased pigs. Things are getting insane. Nobody can find any pigs but dammit are they absolutely sure they are around somewhere.
As I'm pulling up to the school parking lot, a friend stops me. It's Jerry. He says school is closed last minute. Admin decided to smoke the pigs out using some chemical. Who building had to be taken off the grid and sealed up save for a few key exit points where teams of people waited with nets in hand.
This is getting ridiculous.
Then the explosion. Apparently the electrician missed something when all power was being drained. Somewhere in the home ed. room, a refigerator's compressor clicks on and BOOM.
So that's why we aren't allowed to have fun anymore and why I'm banned from local livestock auctions.... |
It is April 1st, 2020, and this letter is a confession to my hometown of Fieldspry.
I never thought I'd being writing this to be honest. I always thought this would be a memory that I would never feel the need to share, but I feel as though it is. Over the past year I have watched the aftermath of what I did, and it's horrific. A little girl used to live next to me. She had the brightest smile, and said the sweetest things, but now she's dead, and it's because of me.
Those of you who lived in the town when she went missing may know who I'm talking about, and I'm sure you also know the two others who faced the same fate as that little girl, and you'll all also say 'Don't blame yourself, you didn't kidnap them!' But, I did.
Nobody knows how the children were taken. On April 1st, 2019, they vanished from their rooms. Each left a small note that stated a few demands, including ransom, threats, and filler bits. It ended with 'April fools', and the location that the children were supposed to be. Sadly when the parents traveled to the location, they found three dead bodies. Each were holding each others hand, and they were dressed in their pajamas with flowers in their hair. Their was no deadly injury, but it was later discovered that the girls had been injected with poison. That poison painfully ate away at their organs for hours before it killed them. The entire town was horrified, and it was seen as an April fools prank gone wrong. The Holiday was banned that very same day, and the killer was never caught.
Well, he may still not be caught, but you'll now have a confession. I killed those three girls. We had all agreed to fake a kidnapping, with me being the kidnapper since I was the eldest. They all arrived at my house at midnight, and we hid there for a bit. At quarter to one I was playing with my mouse when one of the girls came in. You see, by 'playing' I mean I was injecting one with poison to see how it would react. I had been doing this for years, and planned to use the very same poison I was using that night on my father. But, when that girl came in a thought overcame me. I wanted to test it on a human. So, I did. I grabbed her, and injected her with the fluid. She screamed, and the other two soon came running. I knew I couldn't have any witnesses, so I did the same to them. They cried in pain, and continued crying until morning. When I checked on them they were dead. But, I wasn't done. I could do more. So, I dragged them to where their parents had been told to find them, decorated their hair with flowers, and linked their hands. It was a lovely sight to see, and the parents reaction was even lovelier.
I know you all probably expect an apology, but you won't be getting that. Because I'm not sorry. I enjoyed watching those girls scream in pain. I enjoyed when they died, and I enjoyed everything from after they died. That is why I decided to do it again. I hope you all checked on your children this morning, because six are missing from their beds... | 2019-04-02T21:20:08 | 2019-04-02T20:54:53 | 326 | 14 |
[WP] Earth is dying. We've developed great spaceships to take as many people as possible to a new world. There's not enough room for everybody, but at the news of a great coming catastrophe people flock to leave. However it seems that the rich and powerful are the only ones choosing to stay... | Earth is a massive fluke on the cosmic scale of things. It's in the goldilocks zone of life, has an abundant supply of water on the surface, and enough carbon for life to arise. Among the near-infinite multitude of planets that humanity had observed, the earth was the only viable planet for sustaining human life. Space colonies would inevitably succumb to lack of resources. We possessed the tech to build generation ships. But at their current speed, it didn't matter if the people slept for a century; they would not get anywhere. After 100 years on the ship, they would wake up to find themselves with a years supply of food; in the dark of space with no hope of finding a planet. They would be very upset with my company for sending them out there; we promised them a world after all. A century in the future my, friends and I would surely be dead. Besides — once they locked into the hibernation pods and set the course, they were no longer my problem. However, they could feel free to call our complaint line; which would take a few thousand years to reach us.
These people all wanted out. Why? Our planet was dying. Scientists had many exciting ideas to explain the death of the earth. Some said that industry was the culprit; the excessive release of Co2 was causing a greenhouse effect. Early in the game, our representatives denied any such claims. Considering we owned the factories, what else could we do? While everyone was beating around the bush and trying to gain traction for their dubious ideas, we all agreed that there was a problem. A solution was paramount. Many social movements emerged to clean up trash, use paper straws, and to drive electric cars.
By 2060 the situation was no better, and our lithium supply was damn-near depleted. That's when my friends and I truly understood one thing: the problem was an abundance of people. With that problem unaddressed it didn't matter what we did, the biosphere was compromised. That's when we came up with the generation ship initiative. The presidents of the world were initially hesitant when we pitched our idea, but they need campaign funding. And where do you think they get it?
With world leaders on board, there was still a big challenge - getting the people on board. Who in their right mind would leave the only livable planet? Only people who feared the worst of earth and hoped for some exo-planet we could conjure up. Somehow they fell for the idea that Alpha Centauri C was a viable planet (complete wasteland, by the way, folks up in NASA couldn't believe it when we pitched it). They were reticent to speak out about it, but we cleaned out the lower ranks - just in case.
​
While we had the public looking to the sky, we, turned ours to the ground. The subterranean started construction in 2019, we were hopeful back then that we wouldn't have to use it. But in retrospect, I am glad I didn't shoot down the idea. It's cool down here, 60 degrees Fahrenheit day and night. My life of luxury down here is more excellent than it ever was before the ships left. I have no fears about putting this memo on your ship, and as I said, I am probably decades-dead at this point. All of you will perish in the dark of space, I have toasted to you dead men and women every dinner. Ultimately, that is the cost that I have paid to secure future life.
​
So — a toast to new beginnings! | "If maintaining the planet in a habitable state was humanity's job, then it makes sense that it is getting fired, both figuratively and literally, but I'm getting ahead of myself here.
I can't even remember a time when news reports weren't all about the waters destroying everything a few miles by the coast, my father can remember the people moving to his hometown, dishevelled refugees trying to find anywhere to sleep as much as possible between the nightmares of waves bigger than any of them ever imagined possible.
Of course, the people on top realized the planet was about to run its course with humans, and they started to look above the clouds for a solution, of course they didn't wait until there was a confirmation of a suitable planet before getting people to figure out how to get there, regardless of where that was bound to be, and the 'how' was the thing that took the most of the time they claimed we had.
The news of an adequate planet came a few years ago, but without proper technology that would be just a fancier way to die, Cryostasis was the last problem to be solved, they didn't want a way to make the freezing for one person, they wanted thousands, it's not like that didn't rush us, quite the opposite, they wouldn't let us forget how bad the first waves were, despite over time fewer and fewer people showing up seeking help coming from danger areas, by the time the ships were deemed ready for travel though, Cryo wasn't perfect, there are rumours that they just wanted more than half of the passengers to actually make the trip with minor side effects or less.
There was also little to no... well, anything on the ships, 70% was just one big room that would wake everyone up once the planet was near and the rest were components, parts and storage for a few essentials, everything was to be handled by AI but I never got any info on that despite working on one of the freezers as I and a few others took to calling them.
Of course, our freezer wasn't the only one being built, the entire UN was working on this little project, but while one might think they were spending most of their money on the big countries, their efforts were focused on underdeveloped countries, one might think that's a good thing but I can't help but wonder why they really aren't thinking about themselves first as one would expect from the leaders of the world, maybe they've learned to be true leaders but well, it's not my place to ask the questions.
But it's hard not to ask questions when said leaders announce they are not coming along for the ride, all of a sudden they learned self-sacrifice on this level? Actually, that's not self-sacrifice, what is the lower class meant to do without the top? There's bound to be a power vacuum and on a population trying to get itself together in a brand new planet, god knows what would happen once the ship landed, but I was sure of only one thing: I didn't want to be there to see it.
Despite it sounding like suicide, I decided I would sneak out before they closed the freezer shut, not only is Earth still my home but there is a little itch that no amount of rationalizing the situation would scratch, I knew the ship like the back of my hand, knowing the officers handling the boarding also made things far easier, no one was supposed to leave after being called but if an officer were to say, mistake me for someone not booked for this particular flight, it would be easy to stick around here after all
The initial launch was a success on 83% of the freezers, out of the 17% that remained, most didn't even leave the ground, and exactly 2 resulted in catastrophes, I can't say much about how the liftoffs will do it's only been two months and there has been radio silence for the entire time for obvious reasons, there have been rumours about a second launch but that will take some time to be ready, if it ever happens.
I will be leaving the city, or rather, what's left of it right now, I am curious about a few things when it comes to the entire operation, something doesn't sit right with me, if you hear these chances are you are doing your own investigation too, I can hope this recording will help you somehow, take care"
I put the tape on my backpack, despite being an engineer he's always had some love for the antiques, maybe this recorder had some history with him too, I knew he had a good reason to ask me to leave the ship, he better have one otherwise I would have lost my job for no reason, but now that I am free from the forces and with a massive target on my back, I guess I can help him with his chase, just wish he had mentioned where he was going, but if I had to guess... | 2019-08-27T01:53:55 | 2019-08-26T20:57:44 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] you're in your bed about to go to sleep, with your arm dangling off the side. You feel a dark hand grasp yours, knowing first impressions are important you give it a firm shake. The next thing you hear from under your bed is "you're hired" | ..."you're hired".
I wasn't expecting that. But I decided to roll with it, might as well see where the rabbit hole leads to.
"Oh? What sort of benefits do I get? And the pay?" while I say that the creature comes out from under the bed, it is bigger than the space it occupied, with black ram horns on its head and scally red skin covering a powerful build with broad shoulders and thick muscles.
"You don't want to know what's your job first?" the creature asked, with a confused expression.
"Well," I said while sitting down and picking up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on my nightstand "since we are doing this backward" I light up the cigarette and take a long drag "it only felt right that it had to come at the end."
The creature snorted, "Fair enough" it says while making a motion with its fingers, the universal motion that any smoker in the world can recognize as asking for a cigarette.
"You get the service of those who make deals with us," it said after taking the first drag "not the big players, you're starting at the bottom of the barrel, so things like the IRS not caring about your taxes and getting better deals at the bank."
"And the pay?" This is already too good to be true, I'm expecting a catch at any point now.
Though considering who am I talking to, a catch was expected anyway.
"1% of any profit you make, scaling up with promotions"
And there it is, no fixed pay is always terrible when you are not experienced in the field, though I wonder what demons need money for.
"No fixed pay? Because unless the profit margin is high I'll have a tough time making ends meet."
"Ah, you're expecting a nine to five job, sorry to disappoint, but this will be more like something you do on the side instead."
I sighed, it would be too much to ask to be able to get out of my current job, but at least I'll have a chance to make a little bit more bank than normal, and without having to pay taxes it would accumulate fast.
"Fine," I say, putting out the cigarette "so what's the position I'm filling in anyway? Some sort of hellish business deals?"
"You could say that. You will be the guy that convinces people to sell their souls to me, you already did a few for free over the years and I want to see how much more you can pull by doing it professionally."
"Wait! That means the pay is..."
"Souls, yes. For every soul you get to me you'll be receiving one percent of their power."
Well, isn't that interesting. Let's see how much power one percent really is.
I get up and grab my cellphone, I don't need to look far for the number I'm searching, he's been messaging me non-stop for the last few days.
"Hey Mark, you wanted to do that ritual this weekend right? Can we speed up the schedule for tomorrow night?" | It had been a long day... No, a long *week.*
Not only had it been a long work week in general, but those guys in the office... it was enough to turn anyone off men. I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, pressing both of my palms into my eye sockets and reveling in the white flashes of light that appeared from the pressure. Thankfully, I had booked time off work next week, meaning no more seeing ignorant people and having to repeatedly explain the basic functions of a computer to them for a full seven days.
Seven days! I wouldn't know what to do with myself.
I carefully manoeuvered myself under the covers, taking great care not to disturb the slumbering ginger furball at the bottom of the bed, switching the television off and letting my arm dangle from the side of my bed as I tried my best to doze off.
It had only been ten minutes since I had set my alarm and shut my eyes when I felt something grasp my hand. A frown crossed my face as I grasped it back, a faint chuckle escaping my lips at the absurdity of it all. "It's very nice to meet you. Please excuse my sleep deprivation, it's been a very long week." I spoke out loud, shaking what felt like a hand that was grasping mine. This was it, I had officially worked too much. Perhaps a therapist was needed.
"No dear, a therapist isn't needed. What is needed, is a better job for you. You're hired." A gravelly voice spoke from beneath my bed and my eyes snapped open, focusing on the ceiling that was emersed in darkness. Now that was unusual. Thinking to myself was one thing, but nothing usually spoke back.
"Uh... what does this job entail?" I questioned, narrowing my eyes as I decided to humour the voice that I must have been dreaming up.
"Just a second dear, let me get up so I can talk to you face to face." My eyes widened and I sat up, shuffling myself to the top of my bed, my back pressing against the headboard. Okay now, this... this wasn't quite a dream. The... creature shuffled, two clawed hands appearing at the side of my bed, pulling itself out from underneath. If I'm being quite honest, I wasn't sure how it fit under there in the first place, there were storage boxes under there. My breathing stilled as I watched what could only be described as a liquid shadow pull itself from under my bed, straightening up to tower over me.
"Do you mind?" It asked, a clawed hand gesturing to the bottom of my bed. I shook my head in response and it took a seat, the feeling of my bed covers being pulled and the mattress dipping furthering my belief that this had to be a very convincing argument. My cat, a fat, fluffy thing grumbled in response to the creature disturbing its sleep, rubbing its head against the thing as it reached out to gently stroke his fur.
"This is... uh. What?" The creature chuckled, it's laughter like two stones scraping together as it fixed two white orbs on me, something I could only assume were its eyes.
"You're being wasted in that dead-end job dear. Your father said he wasn't bringing you up in the business but I didn't expect you to be totally clueless." I blinked in response and the thing sighed, shaking its head and turning its attention to the cat who had definitely turned into a traitor and was thoroughly enjoying the gentle pats from... a thing.
"I'll cut to the chase. Since the death of your father, we're looking for someone to step into his shoes. Ah... remember when you were little and you said you didn't like the monsters in your closet?" I nodded in response. "Children have a very vivid imagination, and when they're still young, some of the things they imagine can manifest and well... they're not very pleasant. Your father, and his before him were very good at locating these and getting rid of them."
My lips opened for a moment, only to be shut by the shadow waving its hand at me.
"Are you taking the job or not, Miss Winchester?" | 2019-08-30T08:04:44 | 2019-08-30T07:46:18 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] A strange meteor shower lasted for hours before you went to bed. The next day, technology across the earth fails. However, when you snap your fingers in frustration, the lights come on. The Age of Magic has begun. | Black.
All black.
As if the city was dead and drained of its essence.
The familiar yellow glow that leaked from homes and apartments at night, that carved streets in two from beaming headlights, that gave life to the night: gone. And on this, the first night after the Collapse, there was no moon, either. Only the white twinkling of starlight left, sympathetic but dull.
Clara sat in a chair by the open window and tried to make out the night's happenings as well as she could. But it was her ears that clued her into the chaos far below, not her eyes. Glass shattering as storefronts gave in. They fell like dominoes as more people became emboldened, or as more worried that there would be no food left for them by sunrise. First come first served. Gunshots and screams followed. Then the footfall and chanting of makeshift mobs, out for justice of their own judgment.
Curiously, she didn't hear the faintest trace of the police. Or perhaps she did but they had cowered and chameleoned and already taken sides in the war outside.
She was glad it was black tonight. For the first night in her life, she was glad. This way, she didn't have to see the red on the city streets.
How were her parents? Hundreds of miles away on farmland. Probably, they were safe. For now. Some food would still grow -- they wouldn't need harvesters to feed themselves.
When she was young, she had used to run around the farmhouse clicking her fingers and pretending she could see like how a bat did, creating a visual map in her head by sound, by radar. Then she'd smack into a door or a wall or a cat and she'd been chastised or concuss, or often both.
She clicked her fingers now, not certain why. A comfort blanket of a memory? Or to know she was safe, alone, in her apartment? She couldn't say. But she could say how the white light felt on her skin. Much colder than sunshine. Chilling, even. Where had this frost of a feeling come from, she wondered.
The crowd below simmered to a hush. Riots stopped dead.
Clara couldn't see them pointing up at the haloed apartment, but she could sense it. Their unease and astonishment and anger, even. Anger? Oh -- at her having light. Anger borne by jealousy, she realised.
But surely she couldn't really see these people. Couldn't really sense them, down there, locked far away in the blackness.
And yet she could. As if a third eye, not dry and useless like the others, had opened. It shone out like a beacon onto the broken streets below.
The cold of that light prickled her arms into goosebumps.
The people below her were moving again. As a mass, a great moth heading towards the light, meaning to take it for itself, or to extinguish it trying. | I look down a hill, watching Avalon rise up in the distance. Avalon used to have a different name, not too long ago. New York. The name changed together with the rest of the world.
My comrades nod at me. They used to be my classmates. Then the lights went, then the heat, then the teachers, then the families. We banded together. Formed a party.
The younger a person was, the greater their potential for magic. But with all other energy sources gone, they became batteries. People were reduced to selling their children for food. We got out as the war for Avalon raged.
But now, Avalon is covered by a deathly stillness. Its mighty towers have tumbled into the sea. All the death and destruction is over. But something lurks within. When the doors to magic opened, it wasn't just the good stuff that came through.
I whistle, summoning my familiar. Archie, my handsome pegasus, jet-black and arrogant, flies up to me. Time to ride.
We're all part of a larger force, descending on Avalon as one being. We plan to make this city, symbol of the old world, the beginning of a new one. Humanity will rise again, as the leader of this new, stranger, world.
I snap my fingers and a portal opens in front of us. We rush through it, cautious but hurried. I blink in the new light. We're in Madison Square Garden. I came here once for a concert. I can barely remember those days now.
The seats are all covered in plants and wildlife. A centaur rushes past. One of my guys starts for it, but I wave my hand, and invisible chains hold him back. We have bigger fish to fry. In the center of the stage, sits a wild man with a flute. He sits in a throne of flowers and vines. I know instantly that he's a God.
Not just any God. A powerful one. A creature of nature. He plays a strange, lilting sound on his flute. The plants around him go crazy. They're dancing. There's a mystical beauty to it. I almost regret what I have to do.
And then a loud, keening scream resounds through Avalon. The invasion has begun. The God turns to look at us. It's almost like he sees right through us. His flute turns into pipes. A weapon of war, of course.
We charge at him, as he looks at us mockingly. He blows a sound of utmost cruelty in our direction. A song of Panic. I feel my feet start to quake. Archie bolts. One of our more trustworthy mages begins a counterspell. No time. I have to act before we flee.
The invisible chains again. I grab the pipes and try to pull them away, but my strength is nothing compared to a God. But in that moment of distraction, another mage comes from behind and sets his throne alight, courtesy of a perfectly-timed fireball.
He stands up, screams a word in the Old Tongue, stamps his foot, and vanishes. The feeling of terror fades. Three of the more talented mages and me whisper together for a moment. Soon we've come up with a spell to burn plant life, but not the building.
We don't waste time. Soon the stadium is ablaze with merry flames. We walk through the fore heedlessly. It feels somewhat warm, really. Like walking through steam. I shoot blinding red sparks into the air. The mage on my right shoots up white. The mage on my left sends up glittering blue sparks.
Madison Square Garden is secure. For now. But the invasion is far from over. And the God could return at any moment. I take a moment to appreciate what I'm seeing, as the hazy memory of magical plant life mixes with the brick and mortar of a time gone by, nearly ancient history. Soon this will be a place for jousting and magical tournaments. People will come dressed in finery of all the colors of the rainbow. Avalon will be a seat of magic for the rest of the world to stand on. It will be glorious.
But that's tomorrow. Today there's a war to fight. I turn back to the fight and give it my all. | 2019-10-20T09:23:55 | 2019-10-20T09:09:51 | 187 | 76 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | If only we knew then what we know now. The humans claimed historical sovereignty, as is the right of all new applicants into the Galactic Conglomerate. This is usually to hide a soft past in an effort to appear strong. Usually a war-like species is proud of their military capabilities. They flaunt them in a show of strength in such a loose alliance of different peoples. The humans proved to be expert diplomats, but not much else. In nearly every field, much of the conglomerate surpassed them. At least, that's what we thought.
Within thirty earth years, as is now the standard, the Dopeshki, our people, thought it would be fun and exciting sport to conquer the soft, fleshy humans. Our hard outer shells could resist most of the small arms the humans showed to the galaxy as if they were leaves falling from a tree. Our ships' shields could easily absorb their pitiful energy weapons. We didn't know that they had researched so deeply into creating projectile weapons though. It had seemed almost like an obsession to make a bigger, stronger, more deadly "gun" as they call them. Most of our warfare revolved around a slow approach and on-board combat in order to not activate the energy-absorbing shields. Projectile weapons had long been abandoned because of this.
The first battle was a slaughter. We attacked a huge transport ship bringing luxury goods and medical tools to an outer colony of theirs. The humans could not stand up to our strength in close combat, but we did not win a single fight after that.
Humans came up with the idea of a "railgun" a thousand years prior to outside contact. The first one could accelerate a tungsten rod to 1% the speed of light, and they only got better at making them from there. Our shields didn't stand a chance. We did not even realize that they were not using payloads on the projectiles until they started doing so. The colony of Darmak was the first time we found this out. Then Kartor, and Sengui, and Kalloo, and so on until it was just our home. They had developed bombs that ignited the very atmosphere of a planet, and they could fire them at 86% the speed of light. We never even knew when we were being attacked until the scorchlines were already traveling across the planet.
When we Dopeshki warred, it was like a grand hunt. It was full of sport. We had rules and valued the spoils more than the annihilation of our enemy. Surrender and tribute was always an option for our foes, for why else should one wage war if not to benefit off those who are weaker. The humans did not share such views. Many wondered why such weak creatures ever became so dominant on such a savage planet. It is because humans have no mercy once they decide oblivion is their foe's fate. They never mined our colony worlds. They never tried to seed life to them after such unimaginable destruction was dealt. The humans called it "total war," and it is something they have practiced, refined, and learned from since the dawn of their civilization. When they finally delivered the mercy treaty to our last bastion of government, they made sure that we understood they only stayed their hand so as not to look like complete monsters to the other people in The Conglomerate.
That is why we may no longer engage in war, young ones. That is why our planet is mostly barren save for the small patch of land on the continent of Congima. That is why we may never hold colonies again. That is why the humans are the head of The Galactic Empire. Never before has such diplomacy been seen. | "Sir the Gord'ush home planet has stopped broadcasting" a low ranking insect like creature said while running into the war minister's chamber.
"So what? They probably got caught in a storm or something" The fat slug responded dismissively. "Have a recon ship go past it to check out the weather"
The insect walked away and all was silent for a few minutes until the transmission came to the chamber.
"Uh sir. There is no storm, in fact the planet has been is a barren waste, barely still held together by gravity" And he wasn't exaggerating the world was reduced to nothing more than a handful of rocks and lava.
"There must have been some kind of cosmic event" The slug continued without a care in the world. "But I'll summon the rest of the cabinet to figure out what press release we will offer. Thank you."
You see, much like the appointees during the soviet era on Earth those in positions of power were less knowledgeable about that specific area and moreso were an important figure in their own species. Some representatives were robotic, others insect like, some even were various clusters.
Then the humans, weak and incapable. Only a few thousand years ago they figured out how to join the rest of the union. Instead of a single delegate they send a group. Not really in a hivemind kind of way, just a group of them who will even argue amongst themselves in various languages that don't make sense. They are a relatively small but spread out population, some nonsense about this 'colonialism' thing. They send a handful of people to various planets and eventually have enough there to make it work. Stupid but to each their own.
​
At least that is what we all thought before the meeting. In marched a handful of them. four with their silly 'camouflage' that really doesn't work and one who looks like one of those 'roman' statues they bring to cultural events. That one has a few crude implants, a bionic eye is the most obvious.
​
"This must be an act of war." The Gord'ush representative said. They are still around in great number, their 'home world' is named that purely because it is the one they originated from. "Which one of you attacked us?" He said while banging on the table. There was denial going around the room until the 'roman' spoke up.
"It was us" the room started roaring in laughter. The humans don't declare war, this is one of those 'ice breakers' they are so fond of to try and 'lighten the mood'. You see they never go to war, even their petty squabbles are barely noteworthy off the planet they occur on.
His voice was drowned out and the translators couldn't pick up the rest of what was said. The other four stood there with their guns and other things which they seem to carry as 'tradition' they've never been fired, in fact we don't even think they work.
Worth noting is that the delegations each speak in order here. This is done entirely to keep order and was done to appease the weaker species or those who don't have distinct speech so they can write their messages without being ignored. These things can have an earth hour or more before someone gets another turn to talk. This is done largely for the live broadcast along the galaxy so those with slower systems can catch up (can you imagine waiting even a single second though?)
The conversation continued with general denials and some mentioning that they didn't feel any kind of cosmic storm in the area.
And once again the one spoke while the others stood there when it was the humans' turn again. Occasionally they take turns and argue but this time was different.
"I am going to play a video showing the last moment's of that planet" he said. A fleet of ships jumped in and immediately destroyed it. Clearly human in nature. Once again the room burst into laughter. A bold play but even the Gord'ush representative seemed to laugh at the absurdity. This is why they are the master negotiators. They doctored up some kind of film while waiting for their turn, the creative bunch that they are.
And again the room discussed what happened without paying them any mind.
The last thing that any of those in attendance heard was the human again. Visibly agitated he grabbed one of the guns from one of the others in his delegation and shot the slug. "I am an inquisitor in service to the God Emperor. This is a declaration that the galaxy will burn as we purge all xenos" he said as the entire world was blown completely in half.
​
From that day on the galaxy has never known a single day of peace.
​
<The last entry of the last Gord'ush in the year 39,801> | 2019-11-24T14:11:42 | 2019-11-24T11:02:03 | 426 | 184 |
[WP] The main character is perfect in every way. He's the most handsome, kind, gentle, generous man you could ever imagine. He donates to charities and volunteers at shelters. If it's amazing, he does it. The narrator hates him with a burning passion. | Imagine being a boring, perfect turd of a man that never had to do any hard labour in your life. So perfect that your mum thought the sun shined out of your little brown button. So perfect that the whole TOWN thought the sun shined out of... you get the picture.
Meet Jaxson. Spelled as obnoxiously as his personality. I’ll skim over all the dreary details as quickly as possible. Jaxson was 6 foot one million, blonde hair, blue eyed and never without a maiden on his arm. Last year he donated his horse to the orphanage and the town still kisses his gleaming boots for it. What are the orphans going to do with a horse! Let it adopt them and call it daddy? I digress.
It was one cold evening when Jaxson was taking his usual route through the town, shamelessly flaunting his muscular body that looked like it was sculpted of marble. Of course.
Geniveve, one of his many adoring fans, came sprinting up to him.
‘Jaxon, come quickly to the well. My beautiful kitten Liza has fallen in. She meows so faintly! Please, hurry.’
And so Jaxon ran as fast as his legs would take him. Maybe he shouldn’t have given up that horse so quickly. He arrived at the well, panting as he clambered down. He returned to the top a moment later, Liza in hand.
‘Oh, thank you Jaxon! How may I ever repay you?’ said the young woman, cradling Liza in her arms.
‘No payment necessary, O fair one. But mayhaps you will be so kind as to let me sit at your well for a while, and ponder life’s many mysteries? I have many thoughts swimming around my head. More than most others in this town, you see,’ Jaxson said with a sigh.
The women swooned and left Jaxon on his own. There he sat, his arrogant hand glistening in the moonlight as he arrogantly stroked his arrogant beard. His legs dangled over the edge of the well as he sat above his pool of perfectness. He was so deep in thought he didn’t hear me coming up behind him. He was still pondering life’s greatest mystery as I shoved him with all my might, down into the darkness and emptiness where he would no longer have the worries of life’s heavy burdens on his mind. His body crashed down the bottom of the well. I couldn’t help but let a smile form on my lips as I pictured his perfect face being eaten by perfect little rats. | *sigh* I have thousands of stories you know. I could tell you epics of old, dark secrets only hinted at in your histories, passions that reached such lofty peaks that the gods themselves immortalized it in the earth and sky. But no. No, you want the story of Roger Lancer. The Marty Stu of the modern age. With that goddamn jawline that has on occasion literally cut stone, the perfect five o clock shadow always gracing that perfectly equivalent face that couldn’t be bothered to ever get a zit or scar. Those steel gray blue green eyes that- you know what? While we’re on the subject those stupid eyes are the worst. I’m the story teller, I’m THE story teller. And every time I ask people for the color of his eyes it changes. His gods damned eyes change to be the most preferred color of the person looking at him. Can you believe that??
So yeah, I can go on. “His hair is perfect almond brown, his shield a polished gleam. His sword has never broken down, his crotch strains at the seam.” You know these rhymes, and you probably know most of his stories. You wouldn’t come to me for the story of when he rescued the entire royal family from a dragon (cliche), how he gave his entire estate to the poor (short sighted), and how he serenaded an entire army into peace rather than kill them (literally the most obtuse thing I’ve ever heard). No, if you came to me you want a story that’s rare. And there are a few of those! The common ending to his Layerean Odyssey for example? Total bunk. He didn’t slay the naga priestess. He actually let her go, and visits from time to time. Lancer is the only man I can think of where the actual ending is even more idyllic than the stories they tell, and telling that fact makes me taste bile.
Now, I could divulge a few more like that, but since you took the time to come all this way and visit, I can offer you something special. I can give you a story that no one has ever heard before. Would you prefer that? Are you sure? Very well.
To tell this story we need to step away from Roger PerfectPants for a second. Imagine a man, as wretched as our hero is perfect. Twisted, broken, but clever. Clever, and with a knack for memory. Our new character makes his way in the world, and gets a knack for telling stories. Eventually, he becomes famous for it, then more famous still, until at last he is THE story teller. The narrator, if you will. And he is now sought by kings and commoners for his stories. And more and more they become about Roger Lancer, hero of the realm. And so he decides that it is time for new stories. Time for a new hero to enter the stage; less skilled perhaps but at least more entertaining to hear and tell about. So our story teller starts his patient plot. He starts to tell his listeners that our Paragon Paladin Priss has a deep dark secret, one that the narrator dare not reveal. That for all his virtue our protagonist has one fatal flaw. And so, even now, my listeners search for it.
And the best part? The master stroke? There is none! That Lancer is as perfect as can be! But it doesn’t matter! Because people BELIEVE that he has a flaw, because he has to. We won’t accept a hero who doesn’t have a flaw, because it offends our baseness. And so he will be undone by his own impossibility, by his own virtue.
Why tell you this? Well my dear guest I am THE story teller. What am I without an audience? | 2020-01-10T05:39:57 | 2020-01-10T04:20:01 | 107 | 34 |
[WP] Your name, age, height, weight, and race all flash across the T.V. screen. You look in horror as you see your dead body being dragged out of a river as a reporter announces that you've been brutally murdered by an infamous serial killer who has been on the run for years. | _Missing person found: Caucasian female, 170cm, 72kg. The unknown woman was found in the Island River this afternoon. Police are investigating the cause of death and ID of the victim. It's suspected to be the next victim of the Island River Killer._
I looked up from the tv and furrowed my brow. The report on the tv sounded like me, but they didn't release a photo or a name. They still needed to identify her. It could have been me, I was walking near the river last night when the woman got missing.
I stood up from the couch to put away the glasses before I raised my voice, "Jessica, you home?". My twin sister was always up later than I was in the weekends. During the week I barely saw her as she worked day in day out at the veterinary clinic down town while I worked most nights restocking shelves at the 7/11. I sighed when she didn't answer and started cleaning up the mess she had left on the counter. Jess never cleaned up her mess as she always jokingly said that I had more time during the days. I hated it when she did that.
The day went on quietly without her coming downstairs. I suspected she might be out with friends, maybe she stayed over somewhere? I called her a couple of times to no avail and went on with my day. Just before dinner I sat down in front of the tv again. Just when I was about to switch channels, the news lady came in frame.
_Melanie Jaspers (24) was found dead this morning and is identified as the latest victim of the Island River Killer..._
My mind went numb as I saw myself getting dragged out of the lake. Dark brown hair clumped together, my favorite black dress torn. At the same time Jessica's phone started buzzing again. in my pocket and I picked it up with a smile "Hi, it's Jessica."
-
[It's been a while since I actually wrote something and I'm unsure but didn't want to not post it] | The news knocked me on my a**. I couldent keep the shock from crossing my face, like it mattered. Sam dident even know I was in the room watching the news with her. I just wanted to reach out and hold her. Instantly the thought drew tears from my eyes, I’d never hold her again. Frantically my mind searched for the last memory I had of touching her but everything was fuzzy. I... I couldent remember. Did we argue ... or did we make love. For just a second it became clear to me that my memory was being erased from point of death to point of birth. I gotta hold on, I gotta... slowly I turned from the TV and attempted to retrace my steps as if it would trigger a memory. But now there was nothing. My brain began to tingle, the feeling of peace settled down over my whole body as the world dimmed to black. It felt as thought I was completely asleep while still being mentally awake. Then, my mind relaxed and followed my body into the darkness.
Red light showed through my eye lids. Even with closed eyes the light was painful. Instinctively I pulled my arms in front of my face but it did nothing. It was as if the light went through my body. Worried and a little annoyed I cracked one eye open just enough to see a figure in front of me. Heat came from off of its surface and grew in intensity as it drew closer to me. At one point I sensed that I should be on Fire the heat was so great, but I felt no pain.
“How am I not burning?”
I said in an attempt to communicate. But no words were given in response. Instead the figure, now face to face with me, began to lift its hand slowly. Now I was fully turned to face it. The light no longer hurt my eyes. I then locked eyes with the figure as it’s hand wrested on the right side of my face. A profound sense of love filled every crevice of me. Then came the knowledge, or kind of an understanding. I just knew what the figure was communicating. It was as if 1,000 conversations were had all at once. Feelings of unmet justice, and mercy towards an unseen but deserving community of people rested in the back of my mind. And on the four front of my thoughts a list of goals became outlined. Then suddenly the space around me became dim again and exhausted I fell to my knees. My hands lay face up in slightly damp sod next to me. Trying to lift my head felt like an unbeatable task, regardless I somehow turned my eyes and head enough to see 6 hooded figures that escorted a man with a baseball cap away from a river. I tried to see more, but my body completely gave out. It only took a second for the world to rotate to its proper angle as my face landed in the damp sod. Here I wrested for what had to be a great length of time.
The sun touched my face and caused me to awaken from a dream that I could only describe as... the totel understanding of justice. No force could hold back what was coming. The only lick of hope for evil was the mercy it denied to all that drew from it. | 2020-08-01T03:05:05 | 2020-08-01T02:47:27 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] “O great demon, I have summoned you here today to–“ “No you didn’t. The young girl bleeding out on the pentagram did.” | I appeared between the seconds, towering over an assortment of robed humans. I was more refined then many of my fellow demons, choosing not to intimate my new master with roaring flame. Instead, my mere presence would terrify.
One human stepped forth, holding a bloodstained knife. I could see his mouth settling in self assured grin as he addressed me.
"O great demon, I have summoned you here today to-"
I held up a skinless finger, sliding out a rotting claw. My crackled voice wormed its way into their ears.
"No you didn't."
I spotted my new master. A human female, barely clinging to life. Her blood was spilled around her, covering the pentagram in thick, crimson liquid. A few gurgles issued from her ruined throat. I pointed with my rotting hand.
"The young girl bleeding out on the pentagram did."
The human who spoke before shouted indignantly.
"No! I did! I spilled her blood! She was the sacrifice! Serve me!"
I casually backhanded him. His neck snapped, the force of my blow throwing him across the room.
"Fool."
I stepped over to my master, seeing her eyes shutting. Her life was linked to me, and I felt it ebbing. I waved a hand at the door, corroding the lock and hinges so they could not open. Without further words I grabbed the nearest robed human by the throat. I hoisted him into the air, and laid my free hand on the girls head.
The robed human began to twitch, as I pulled his life from him. It was fed into the girls form, healing her ruined throat and replenishing her lost blood. With her life saved I let the human drop. Their dried remains crunched on the floor.
My master passed out, a blessing for both her and me. For unconscious, she would know no more fear. And she could not order me, leaving me free to reap revenge on those who harmed her. The 3 remaining had run to the door, desperately trying to get out. I let out a laugh as I approached.
"You can't escape."
I waved a hand again. This time, my decay ate through their clothing. It crumbled off them, revealing 3 chubby men. They cried out, covering themselves as they begged for mercy. I sneered at them, before lunging forward. Their agonised cries were music to my ears.
\------
The girl woke up an hour later. I stood in front of her, forcing myself to appear as fresh as possible. I could tell her mind was weak, and I was bound to keep her from harm. Her awakening was groggy, before the memoof what happened came back. She sat upright with a gasp, frantically checking her neck.
She let out a sigh of relief on finding it whole, before finally noticing me. I felt her mind grow fearful, and she scrambled away. I held out my mostly fresh hands, and bowed my head.
"Master. I can do you no harm."
She let out a half scream as I spoke, pulling away further. I remained where I was attempting to look as non-threatening as possible. She got up, running to the door, pulling on it fruitlessly.
"Master. You are safe here."
My words finally got through to her, and she looked at me. I felt her youthful innocence, and she stared at me with big eyes. Her voice, as she spoke, quivered slightly.
"Who are you?"
"I am a demon. We have no names, only duties. So you can call me Decay."
Her eyes widened further.
"A demon?"
I chuckled slightly.
"Yes, a demon. And I am yours to command."
She cocked her head to the side, her fear practically forgotten in front of my calm demeanour.
"Mine...?"
I nodded.
"You gave your blood to summon me, in doing so binding us together. The only way to break this bond is for you to banish me, or until you die."
"So you're a friend, like my teddy!"
I groaned with that. Me, being compared to a teddy? But then, she was only a child. The true ramifications would be a little beyond her.
"Yes, like your...... teddy. What would you have me do, master?"
"My name's Abigail! And can we go home?"
I nodded, slowly walking towards the door.
"Yes you can." |
“Please, please, please.” I begged softly, silent tears running down my face. “Please, I’ll do anything. Anything.”
I could hear them chanting, low and monotone. Dark words with darker intent. They kneeled around me, in a half circle, as I lay tied to the ground. Thick dark robes swirling around their bodies, and deep hoods that masked their faces in shadow. Even now, with my wrists bleeding from the deep cuts Eric had given me, I strained against the ropes holding me down, but I couldn’t free myself. I struggled a few seconds more, but I knew it was no use. The rope was too tight, the knots too well tied.
Eric stood, that strange leather-bound book in his hands, his voice growing louder, and his words in a strange language I didn’t understand. Whatever he was doing, whatever he wanted, he was close. I strained again, the tears coming faster now, but I could feel my strength draining already. I searched desperately for anything-anyone, that might help, but Eric and his creepy friends had chosen an effective location for their summoning. An old, empty, abandoned church in the middle of nowhere.
“No, no, no. Not like this. Not like this, please.” I begged.
Eric either didn’t hear me, or didn’t care. His hood fell back slightly, enough so that I could see his mouth, the ugly yellowed teeth and thin half grown mustache, in the flickering candlelight. He was smiling.
“No, please. Anyone. Anything! Please, I don’t want to die.” I said again, looking around at the young men surrounding me, searching for eyes. For anyone who might help me, might take pity, might have doubts. I found nothing but shadows and chanting. I could feel my blood beginning to pool around me. The weakness growing, my life fading.
Eric slowly slid his hand into his robes and drew a knife, balancing the evil leather book in one hand. Each of the young men’s voices grew louder, almost pleading.
“Please. I’ll…I’ll do anything…If anyone can hear me…I’d give anything…just…let…me go…” I whispered.
It entered.
A hole wasn’t torn into the fabric of reality. It didn’t rise up from the depths, cackling at mortal hubris, or with an explosion of hellfire and brimstone. But it was there, standing in the shadows to my left, near the chancel. I could only see its eyes, burning green with fire, and they were locked on me. An ocean of fear descended over me, pulling me from the swirling edge of death. Whatever Eric had been trying to do, it had worked.
The young men slowly stopped chanting. Eric, knife still raised, looked around in confusion.
“This is no time to be cowards, you fools! We’re almost done! We’re so close! Just one final step!” Eric yelled “This bitch deserves it! After everything we did for her! She teased us, flaunted herself in front of us, and then she brushed us aside like we were nothing! Don’t be a bunch of pussies!”
The moment Eric began speaking, I saw Its eyes flick over to him, narrowing. It let out a sound like bone scraping on metal. Each of the young men jumped, one of them letting out whimper. They each turned to face It, though all remained kneeling.
Eric turned, his hood falling down around his shoulders, revealing his pinched face, framed by a balding head and bulbous neck. He was sweating, and the hand holding the knife, still above his head, was shaking.
“O Great Demon,” Eric started, his double chin quivering, his voice tinged with excitement. “I have summoned you here today to-“
With a voice that felt like oil being poured in my skull it said, “No, you didn’t. The young girl bleeding out on the pentagram did.” Eric went white as a ghost, and began shaking even harder.
“wha…what?” he squeaked. It glided forward, into the light, until it towered above me. It looked like a horror from the deepest, darkest parts of the ocean. It was tall, with skin so pale it almost seemed translucent. Instead of a mouth, it had a mass of tentacles, constantly flicking, and curling, and swaying, like snakes with their heads cut off. It wore a dark robe that seemed to shift and bulge oddly, hiding its body, and I couldn’t see any legs or feet sprouting from the ragged and torn bottom. Only empty air. Its eyes were bright green flame. Eyes that were now locked upon Eric.
“Tell me what you desire, Master.” It said
“I…I want power! I want…I want Fame! Riches! Women! I want EVERYTHING! Give it to me!” yelled Eric.
It stared at Eric for another second, then peered down at me. I stared back at it.
“Save me…” I whispered, weakly.
The pain in my wrists immediately disappeared, along with my restraints. I sat up slowly, as It kneeled down next to me, and I stared into the green furnaces of Its eyes. A long, slimy tentacle extended from the folds of its robes and wrapped around my hand.
“All I ask in return,” it said, “is what you’ve offered.”
I looked over at Eric, his chins trembling, eyes wide.
“Please, I’ll do anything. Anything.” He begged.
I gripped the slimy, boneless tentacle in my hand.
“Agreed.” I said.
Eric screamed. | 2021-01-15T11:10:46 | 2021-01-15T10:20:22 | 56 | 31 |
[WP]: Turns out God was a slacker and gave "Free Will" to not have to "plan" anything. He kicked out Lucifer cause he was a control freak. When you die turns out you have a choice, between a chaotic rule free Heaven or a smoothly machine operated Hell. | *Ding!* Kevin’s toast was done. He groaned as he walked up to the toaster, realizing it had jammed again. He grabbed a fork to fish the bread out, resolving to finally buy a new toaster as soon as—
And he was dead.
It had happened suddenly, without warning. One moment he was about to make a sandwich, the next he was standing in a field of clouds, two massive golden gates in front of him. As jarring as the transition had been, Kevin knew exactly where he was. It wasn’t a cerebral type of knowledge—it was something more innate. Something purely instinctual. Kevin wasn’t particularly religious, yet he knew for a fact that he stood before the Pearly Gates.
“Heya partner!” a large bearded shirtless man shouted, materializing out of a puff of smoke in front of him.
“You’re God,” Kevin said, eyes wide.
“That I am! Zapped by a toaster huh? Classic. They really should make those things less zappy. Well, glad to have you! Come this way and we’ll—”
"Not so fast!" Another voice interrupted. There was a second puff of smoke which cleared immediately to reveal the slim form of a horned red-skinned figure wearing a well-fitted suit and a black surgical mask. “We had a deal, remember? This one’s mine.”
“Ah Lucifer,” God said, smile fading and shoulders slumping. “Always a pleasure. Has it been a million souls already?”
“Yes,” the devil said. “Unlike you, I’ve been keeping count.”
“How about you get the next one? We’re already at the gates and all.”
“I have a better idea. How about we honor our *contract* and I get this one and the next nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine after that too?”
“I have an even better idea!” God exclaimed “Why don’t we let him *choose*?” Both turned to Kevin, who was still digesting what was happening.
After a moment of silence, Satan interrupted. “See? He doesn't even know what he wants. That's the problem with this whole free-will nonsense. It's the easy way out. Can't make the tough decisions so you pawn it off onto someone else.”
“Come on Lucy, free-will is great!” God said. “Who can really decide for someone better than they can for themselves?”
“How’d you die again?” Satan said, turning back to Kevin.
“I got zapped by a toaster,” Kevin said.
“He got zapped by a *toaster.*” Satan spat, turning back to God. “You really think he knows what’s best for him?”
“That’s not fair,” Kevin said, slightly annoyed. “It just makes toast, how was I supposed to know it’d be so zappy?”
“*Soo* zappy.” God echoed, nodding sympathetically.
“Look, kid” Satan said. “I’ll let you choose. But hear me out okay? You’ve been fed a *lot* of propaganda in your time on Earth. Heaven’s not all it's cracked up to be. It’s lawless chaos. Ask God what kind of healthcare coverage you’ll have behind those gates. Go ahead, ask him.”
Kevin turned to God and relayed the question. “What’s healthcare?” God replied blankly.
“Well that’s not fair,” Kevin said, turning back to Satan. “You can’t get sick in Heaven, can you?”
Both God and Satan burst out laughing. “You’re just a master of marketing aren’t you!” Satan said, slapping God on the shoulder.
“It’s the Catholic church!” God responded, wiping away a tear. “They do it all for me! But hey, who am I to stop them?”
“Free will, I know. Yada yada.” Satan turned back to Kevin. “Look kid, they got diseases like you wouldn’t believe behind those gates. Think COVID was bad on earth? Imagine how bad it is now that you've left your physical body *and* its immune system behind."
"There's COVID in Heaven?!" Kevin asked, dismayed.
"Yep. No social distancing either—look at him, he's not even wearing a mask.”
“We subscribe to the herd immunity school of thought,” God said, suddenly serious. "It's a legitimate model, just ask Dr. Hallengren."
Satan rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even know what herd immunity *was* until last week when I asked if that was what you were hoping to achieve!”
“I've *always* known what herd immunity was. It's self defining! You pack everyone together like a herd of zebra and the viruses don't know which of you to get first. Sweden's doing it.”
“First off, that's *not* how herd immunity works. Secondly, Sweden has a centralized healthcare system to back it all up!”
“Herd immunity *and* healthcare?" God scoffed. "That sounds a bit redundant if you ask me. Bit of a belt and suspenders approach isn’t it?”
“It’s always the same with you isn’t it? Too lazy to govern effectively, so you sit back, call it freedom, and let everyone fend for themselves. It was the same on Earth and it's the same in Heaven. You can defend it all you want but I know you're just lazy."
"If by lazy, you mean *lazy-fair,* then yes!" God said, throwing Kevin a smug wink.
"It's pronounced *laissez faire* you numbskull! This right here is why all your people are walking around hacking up their lungs and soiling their pants in public!”
"You know what Lucy? Why don't you shove it up your ass. At least my people have the right to shit their pants without getting fined for it! And so some of them have the sacred squirts, big whoop! It's not like they can *die!*"
The conversation devolved into a shouting match, Kevin standing idly by in the sidelines watching the two deities battle it out. All of the sudden he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“*Pssst*,” someone said from behind him. Kevin turned around. Hiding behind a tuft of cloud was a portly humanoid figure with an elephant’s head and copious amounts of jewelry. “Heaven, hell, forget about it. What you *really* want is another round on Earth. How's about I send you back as a pig? Their orgasms last 30 minutes, you know.”
***
&nbsp;
Thanks for reading! Check out r/Banana_Scribe for some of my favorite pieces. | “Hello, my son.”
I look over and flinch in surprise. A bearded man in sunglasses, wearing a stained bath robe is sitting next to me at a table.
"Wait, where am I?" I ask, confused. Last I remember I was walking home along F street.
The dirty, bearded man is slouching and smiling at me lazily. “Welcome to my kingdom.”
“Now, now,” another man says, sitting next to me on the other side of the table. He has his finger raised. He's wearing a black suit; his hair was slicked to the side and he's sitting up straight. “Technically not your kingdom. We are in purgatory. It’s not owned by either of us.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“You have died, my son,” the dirty, bearded man says.
“He’s not your son,” says the clean-cut man.
The bearded man sighs. “Oh, Lucifer. Will you give it up already?”
“No, I don’t think I will, God” Lucifer says. “He is just as much my son as yours right now.”
“Okay, okay. You’re kinda killin’ the vibe here, Lucifer. It’s all love here, my old friend.”
“Wait!” I shout. “Hold on just a second.” I point at the bearded man. “You’re god?” He nods, his eyes are closed.
He places his hands together in a prayer. “That is correct, Larry.”
I point to the man in the black suit. “And you’re the devil? Lucifer.”
“I go by many names, yes. Lucifer is technically one of those names.”
I’m starting to freak out a little bit. “Oh my god.... I really am dead. I don’t understand I was just walking home from work.”
“Dead?” God says. “Death is such an ugly word. I like to think of death as a—”
His words are cut off by Lucifer. “Yes. Yes, you are dead. You were crushed by a loose air conditioning unit that fell from a thirteenth floor apartment.” Lucifer slammed his hand flat on the table. “Smashed you on the sidewalk like a worm.”
I lean back in disgust. “Really?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“And what's all this?” Why are you two here? I’ve been a good man, don’t I get to go to heaven?”
“Of course!” God says, lifting his arms up, motioning for me to come over and give him a hug. I can smell the odor from his armpits wafting over. I’m not sure if I want to give him a hug. “You’ve been a good man. You’ve earned your way into heaven! Congratulations!”
“That's not how it works.” Lucifer says. “You have a choice. “Free Will” one might say. Given to you by yours truly,” Lucifer raises his palm at God. “He was too lazy to make this decision for you, just like he was too lazy to make any decision for you in your life. So, here we are. You get to choose. Either heaven,” he pointed to the path behind God. There were wooden steps rising high up into a cloudy sky. Rays of sun were beaming down. It was a beautiful sight. But the steps seemed a little precarious. They seemed in disrepair, some were missing, some seemed haphazardly repaired. At the top, a gate made of gold sat, but the gate was slouching, one side had completely come off the hinges and was just resting against the golden pillar.
“That looks a little dangerous,” I say.
“It should have been condemned long ago,” Lucifer says.
“Nonsense,” God says. “It’s still fine. I take those steps every day. Yes, maybe they need a little work, I’ve been meaning to get around to it for the last few millennia, but don’t worry about it, Larry! We don’t like to worry about things like that up in Heaven.”
“That’s because you’re lazy,” Lucifer says.
God waved his hand at him. “Nonsense. I just like to enjoy myself. Be connected with my spirituality.”
Just then there was a crash and three angels fell through the gate, knocking it completely off its frame. It drops out of the sky. The angels are laughing and tumbling on the cloud. They have large goblets of wine in their hands. They look down and watched the gate fall.
“Woops,” one of the angels says “Sorry!” she calls down to us, then puts her arm around one of her friends and they run back through the gate.
That doesn’t seem too bad, I think to myself.
Lucifer seems to read my thoughts. “Hedonism gets old after a few centuries, believe me. That’s why I left.”
“Left?” God says, smiling, leaning back in his chair. “Is that what you did, you just ‘left’?”
“That’s right,” Lucifer says, his face turning red. “I left. I could not stand another minute up there.”
God laughs. “Okay, Lucifer, whatever you say. You always gotta feel in control, huh? Why not loosen up? Come back up for a visit. Some of the angels still miss you.” God gave a wink to Lucifer.
“Not in a million years. Never. I’m perfectly happy where I am.” He turns to me. “Larry, your other option is to come with me,” he pointed to a long set of stairs that led down into the ground. I leaned forward to get a better look. The stairwell was made of well-crafted stone, but the tunnel was dark and menacing the farther I looked down into it. “Don’t worry,” Lucifer says. “It gets very bright at the bottom. You’ll love it down there. You’ll have purpose. You’ll be driven almost as if you were being whipped eternally to become your best self.”
God laughs and shakes his head, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his long, grimy hair.
Lucifer stares at him with contempt, then waits a moment before saying, “anyways, the choice is yours, Larry. Heaven—that hedonistic pit of hippies. Or Hell. You’ll love it, Larry. It is a well-oiled machine. All you could ever want is down there. Yes, you’ll start in the upper circles of hell, but with hard work and drive—like I know you have, Larry—you can make it to the bottom. You can be great! And what does God offer you? Nothing but a commie utopia pipe dream.”
“Ummm, I don’t know. Neither sounds very good. Could I just go back to living?”
“Sorry, kid. Not an option.” God says, looking at his watch. “Time to make up your mind. The wait is long.” God points behind me. I turn around, I see thousands of souls swirling like a ferris wheel in the sky behind me.
“Okay, okay.” I point at god. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,” my finger moves from one to the next. “Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go, Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.”
My finger rests on God, who shakes his fist in celebration and hops up out of the chair.
“Boom! Yes, lets go, Larry! Suck it, Lucifer.”
God puts his arm around my shoulder. He smells like he hasn’t showered in eternity. Literally. He walks me to the stairs. "Watch your step now. Also, you don’t happen to be any good at carpentry, are you?” He asks as we step on the first wooden step. It creaks under our weight.
“Uh, no. No I’m not.”
“That’s okay! Don’t worry about it! No worries here. Hey, you don’t happen to have an extra cigarette, do you?”
"No, sorry I don't smoke."
"That's alright. That's alright." God says. "What about a couple bucks, maybe? I'll pay you back, I promise."
\--
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | 2021-02-17T18:08:14 | 2021-02-17T17:48:48 | 2,992 | 429 |
[WP] The local museum is run by an eccentric old man who knows the opening pieces like he was there for their whole history. His secret? He’s a secret dragon who figured out if you display your hoard, people will give you new things to display. | "So you saw."
"Yeah."
Mr. Golde sighed, looked at the ground, and folded his gnarled hands together. I'd never paid much attention to his hands before. Now that I did, I saw the tell-tale long fingernails that were more pointed than rounded at the ends.
Around us were glass cases full of toys -- bisque dolls, metal cars, tin toy soldiers, wooden animals. Usually the museum felt friendly. Today it felt like the toys were judging both me and the old man who took care of them. Directly behind Mr. Golde was a smiling plastic robot with removable gears and a top hat. It was supposed to whistle when you turned it on.
*Mr. Machine, Ideal. 1960s.*
"I don't suppose you want to keep working here, then," Mr. Golde said.
"Huh?" His words surprised me. "What are you talking about?"
"Not many people want to apprentice under a dragon, even one who's damn near perfected the art of shapeshifting," he said. "It's bad luck."
"I'm not an 'apprentice,' I'm a part time employee," I said. "And I still want to work here until school starts up in the fall. This is the best job I've ever had."
"I was afraid you'd say that," Mr. Golde said. He shook his head, jostling his thick round glasses. Then he opened a case and took out a small bisque doll of an impish cartoon baby wearing a soldier's belt and a hand-painted Prussian helmet.
*Kewpie, Rose O'Neill. 1910s.*
"Tell me, how much do you know about these toys?" he asked, putting the Kewpie back.
"I dunno," I said as he picked up a hollow die-cast car and rolled it across the reception desk.
*Mercedes-Benz, Tootsie Toy. 1940s.*
"If you had to guess, how many do you think you could name?" he asked.
"Uhhh..." I looked around the room, trying to gauge how much I knew.
*Teddy Ruxpin, Hasbro. Chatty Cathy, Mattel. Tubby the Dog, Einco.*
"A lot of them," I shrugged.
"Then your fate is already sealed," Mr. Golde said.
"Fate?"
"The Dragon's Curse," he said, looking over at a rare doll from the 1960s. She wore a patched burlap sack and had oversized eyes complete with a fat tear rolling down her cheek. I had the impression that her sadness was for me.
*Little Miss No Name, Hasbro. 1960s.*
"Should you willingly choose to apprentice under a dragon," Mr. Golde continued, "you enter into a contract with him--a contract which incurs a horrible curse. I'd made the mistake of taking on an Apprentice in the mid-1800s. I swore I'd never do it again."
I shuffled in my spot. I didn't want to believe what the old man was saying, but after seeing him crammed into his office with scales and wings, I wasn't sure it was wise to distrust him.
"Passing down the knowledge of ones hoard seals the Curse," he said. "But, fortunately for you, it also teaches you how to endure it."
"What is the curse?" My words trembled at the edges. "What's going to happen to me?"
"Old knowledge really *does* die after a time," he said. He pulled a "wacky bird" novelty pen off of the reception desk and swiped its fluffy feather-hair across my face.
I sneezed out a small burst of fire.
"If you're already doing *that*, then I've taught you more than I thought," said Mr. Golde as smoke trailed from my nostrils. "You'd be wise to select your hoard quickly, unless you want to get stuck collecting old bottlecaps 'til the end days."
*For more weirdness, visit* r/OctOpusTales *!* | Just watch.
The pixels of his Samsung smartphone are dark and shadowy but it does appear to be a video taken from behind the columns around the periphery of the Low Medieval atrium. As the perspective shakes erratically there is a bright shape in the center of the atrium. Though it appears to be about three quarters of the height of the ceiling it is washed out by the poor lighting.
The perspective bounces as the camera holder appears to be briskly walking into the atrium. As the camera comes out of the peripheral shadows the light adjusts and there appears to be an image of a large animal with shiny scales taking up a large portion of the atrium, though from this angle its head is not visible. Only the large rounded portion of its body as what some may call a "dragon" was facing away from our bold cameraman.
"See. This is Clive Livingsworth, transformed into a dragon."
At the word "dragon" O'Connor's eyebrow raised. Was this some kind of hazing they give to the new reporters? She had only been on-payroll for a month and a half, barely a few weeks, and thought they were really starting to respect her by giving her this "big scoop." Now she knows why there was a smirk on her editor's face when he saw her on the way out of the office.
"I don't know. What am I even looking at? It just seems like a shiny round ball, I can barely make anything out. What does any of this have to do with Livingsworth anyway?"
Clive Livingsworth of the Earlsford Livingsworths was a notable socialite and patron of the large Eastown Museum. His family's fortune was made off of frozen waffles of all things, at least in modern times, although the Livingsworths have been minor nobility for hundreds of years. While they do not own the newspaper, they are patrons of the same charities that the paper's owners also patronize.
This man, O'connor thinks is named James momentarily but is in fact Justin, is a carpenter who claims to have been attending a secret after-hours party in the museum. He further claims to have found out Clive Livingsworth is in fact a dragon, and managed to sneak up on him while in dragon form.
"Here, let me unpause it." As Justin unpauses the video you can hear his voice, tinny over the small smartphone speakers "Hey I've got you now!"
"Oh do you little man?" the shiny mass of what appear to be scales shifts to reveal a dark silhouetted roughly triangular shape over the edge of the mass of scales. A point of reflecting light in the dark triangular silhouette is where an eye would be on a head.
"You're gonna make me rich or I am going straight to the media with this and your cover will be blown." Justin speaks from behind the camera in the recording.
"So yeah, this barely looks like anything and could be CGI. Where is Mr. Livingsworth?"
As O'Connor voices her doubts the mass of scales begins to swirl and compress. The triangular head turns away and disappears behind the chaotic motion of the scales. After a moment of continuing compression the scales peal away and disappear behind the much smaller image of a man wearing a fine dark suit.
"That's Clive Livingsworth right there." Justin says, taping on the paused phone image of the tall older yet virile finely dressed man. It certainly bore a resemblance to Clive Livingsworth. Justin leans back with a self-satisfied half-smile on his face.
"Really?" O'Connor picks up the phone and squints. "It does kind of look like him, but this whole thing is ridiculous."
Justin's face falls at this suggestion. "That's him right there. You saw the transformation happen!"
"That could be a lot of things. Maybe it is all CGI. Maybe you spliced together some video of Clive with a video of a wet elephant at the zoo. Who knows?!"
"Ok, just watch. Explain this."
Justin hits play and Clive begins to speak. "You think I'd care you'll try to expose me? No one will believe you. No one will *care*."
"I have you on video. What are you going to do, say this isn't you?" Justin sounds extremely confident for someone confronting an ancient entity.
"Precisely. No one gains from me being a dragon. There is no money to be made, no love to be had, no tribe to conquer. It is just a curious fact which may or may not be true. But what is true is this:" Clive plunges his hand into the Skelvede Hoard, a pile of ancient coins supposedly collected by Vikings a thousand years ago, drawing up a claw full of the small slips of bullion and letting them fall back between his fingers.
___
"Did you get those police reports?" her editor never asks usually but she can tell he is trying to read her reaction.
"Yeah, as usual. Why did you set me up with this crazy guy talking about the Livingsworths. He claimed they were dragons you know?" O'Connor was genuinely puzzled.
"In this business you need to learn the difference between a scoop and a crank. You just got lesson one." and gave a huffing laugh as he turned back to editing the next issue's layout. | 2021-07-01T04:58:02 | 2021-06-30T23:39:30 | 691 | 278 |
[WP] The local museum is run by an eccentric old man who knows the opening pieces like he was there for their whole history. His secret? He’s a secret dragon who figured out if you display your hoard, people will give you new things to display. | We pinched the wrong bloody museum.
It started out as a simple heist, just a few pieces of ancient gold, goblets and such, that our buyer thought would look way better in her collection. Just some trinkets from an unheard of museum in Sheffield. Nothing major that would be heavily guarded or make the headlines when we helped them ah, transition in ownership.
The owner was a kind, but rather odd man in his greys who loved to go around the museum talking people's ears off about the history of the pieces on display. When I cased the marks, he even gave me some background for the artifacts we were about to take off his hands - and from the sounds of it we should be able to bargain for a higher selling price, so my hat was off to him.
That is, until we were legging it and I saw something outright unholy.
As I'm packing pilfered treasures in the van after the grab - not a peep from alarms or guards by the by - I saw that same old man outside the museum, and I kid you not, he was staring right at us with eyes as red hot as the belly of hell! He smiled wide as a nutter just then, and I swear to shit there was smoke and fire coming out of his mouth.
Now I'm a curious bloke, but just then not a bone in my body had the slightest inclination to investigate, so I buttoned up the boot straightaway and we were off.
The little codger was still doing his best chimney impression in our mirrors as we rounded the bend, but we knocked off without further issue.
Or almost, not accounting for the ominous shadow what seemed to be following us to the drop. The rest of the crew thought little of it but I had it pegged for an omen it was going all to pot. It wasn't till we made the exchange that the shadow left us, following the buyer's car instead.
They say it was a kitchen fire what done her up. But last I checked fires don't bog off with all the gold in the house before burning a place to ash.
Now maybe I'm downright moony for it, but I say that old geezer was a damned *dragon*, and the only reason he didn't turn our van into a rotisserie oven is so we'd lead him to a new horde.
But all I know for sure is that's the last time I take on a half-inch in Sheffield. | Dragon hoards are, by nature, mostly priceless. The people trying to stop them are usually rich, so dragons end up collecting a lot of gold, gems and historically correct armor. But every dragon also faces its share of normal, everyday folk, so a hoard also features pots shards, charred pitchforks and tattered rags. These last items don't have any strict monetary value, outside of museums.
Which was my position that morning: outside a museum. I am modern day St. George, a dragon hunter in (hidden) kevlar armor. I had another secret going for me, but I'll get to that in a minute.
The museum was in D. C., wedged in between two flanks of nationally funded museums. To me, it looked out of place but I suppose to the average information dazed tourist, it was just another window into the past.
I resettled my fedora on my head and went in.
It was what you'd expect: exhibits on medieval life; warfare, feudal life, weather... you name it. It was almost like someone had seen all this first hand.
Yeah, I know, sarcasm. My mom always said it doesn't win points with anyone, but she was always a lone wolf and hadn't cared about winning points.
I found him way in the back, pondering on which way he should display an almost complete chamber pot(not that most people would recognize it as such). Of course he wasn't in actual dragon form. He'd barely fit downtown in that body.
I have always found this to be ludicrous, that a dragon could turn into a human form without leaving inch deep footprints in every surface they stepped on. Maybe he had a pocket universe where he dumped a lot of mass. I wish I had a neat trick like that. My transformations were almost always exact.
So anyways, I went up to him. Even I can not sneak up on a dragon and he turned to take me in as I changed my approach to a faint swagger.
"Getting a little long in the tooth, there." He said calmly, turning back to his pot. "Did you come to rearrange my features on a pike?"
I grinned, showing the aforementioned canines, even though his face wasn't looking at me.
"Ostensibly." I responded.
"Then get on with it." He turned to face me fully, a lazy, sharp toothed smile stretching across his ancient face.
I hesitated. I am a werewolf, though you may rightly point out that neither knights nor werewolves have much of a chance against dragons. You'd be right. I am a lunatic in almost every sense of the word.
Still, why didn't I go in swinging? The beast seemed to have adjusted well and was making a good turnover in tourist season. Maybe ha had a herd of goats in the countryside for midnight snacks but he wasn't terrorizing the area like I'd been led to believe.
I crossed my arms, making sure to keep my hands visible. "What if I bring you artifacts? I happen to know some good spots." I left out the part where I'd liberated such treasures of their guardians, but I'm sure he knew it anyways. "What would it be worth to you?"
Now his smile became truly predatory. "I can't trust you until I see proof, but I am intrigued. Bring me your best gift, and we can talk."
"Deal." I said and started backing out of the room. As I reached the next room and turned to leave at a dogtrot, he called out, "There's a whip in storage room C if you need one."
I ignored him. Who needs a whip to find treasure? Not me.
I headed out, goal already in mind. And hopefully, an easier way of living was on the horizon. | 2021-07-01T14:28:10 | 2021-07-01T07:04:27 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] You have slain the Dark Lord, his generals, and most powerful minions. Now you face his court jester, a foppish little creature that has survived the downfall of a hundred evil lords it has previously served... | They found it hiding in the corner of the back room of the counting house: A two-foot high goblin with an oversized head and a set of eyes that rolled every which way but never seemed to want to face forward.
"What the heck is that?" said Erin, the Knight.
"BWURP!" said the goblin.
"That's Hop, the Dark Lord's court jester," said head mage Lin, leafing through her field notes. "He's been serving different Dark Lords for one thousand years."
"One thousand!" Erin drew his sword. "He must be immensely powerful!"
"He sure doesn't look it," said Miu, the thief, as she lazily poked Hop's pointed cheek with a cat-paw glove.
"Don't touch him!" Erin roared. "It could be a trap!"
"BREEEEEEEP!" said the goblin.
"Let me get a read on his stats before we do anything hasty," said Angela, the party's cleric. She closed her eyes, tapped an elegant finger to the blue jewel on her forehead, and made a low humming noise in the back of her throat. Suddenly her eyes flew open and she gasped.
"What? What is it?" yelled Erin.
"The goblin, it... he...!"
"Yes?"
*"He's only at level two!"*
The empty silence that followed was broken moments later by the sound of a goblin fart.
"Are you telling me we've been risking our lives fighting a fool? What kind of Dark Lord sends a level two goblin to guard his storehouses!?" Erin threw his helmet at the ground. It bounced and rolled into a corner. Hop made a series of happy squeaks before dashing after it with his arms outstretched.
"Eh, who cares?" asked Miu. "Easy pickings is what I say. It's like literally taking candy from a baby."
"BWUP!" said Hop from his nest inside of Erin's discarded helmet.
"Poor thing," Angela said, walking over to the tiny goblin. "Perhaps what he needs is not another Dark Lord, but the loving touch of a band of Heroes."
"Oh no," said Miu. "The Bleeding Heart is flowing freely once again."
"Angela, you can't bring home every animal you see," said Lin. "It could be dangerous."
"No more dangerous than fighting a Dark Lord," said Angela. She scooped up the little goblin in her arms, which squirmed and babbled like an infant. The team's Cleric smiled. "So grumpy. I would be too, after having to serve so much evil."
"If we're bringing that *thing* with us, we may as well boost its stats," said Miu, digging around in her rucksack. "Here, give him some Lv+ Elixir. That'll bump him up to level ten at least."
"Good thinking, Miu," said Lin. "At level two he probably can't even slay a common rat."
"Drink up, little one," said Angela, tilting the bottle of blue potion to the googly-eyed goblin. Once the vial was empty, Hop begin to scream twice as loud as before.
"Oh, great, you leveled up his *voice box,*" said Erin.
"I'm sorry!" said Angela.
"BRUUUUURP! BLEEEEEEEEEP! BWAAAAAAAAAArtifact in the dungeon under Briarsbury Castle Courtyard! Please, you kids gotta believe me! If it's not destroyed, another Dark Lord will rise and continue the cycle!"
The traveling heroes stared dumbfounded at the small goblin whos voice had grown to sound uncomfortably like Danny DeVito.
"What's the matter, do I got Elixir on my face?" asked Hop. He licked his little hand and began rubbing vigorously around his mouth. The rest of the party exchanged glances.
"The prophecy," said Lin. "It all fits."
"Sealed away 'neath the briars," nodded Erin. "It wasn't talking about the Dark Lord's castle at all."
"Not only that: 'led there by an old *fool,'*" continued Miu. "Damn! I hate wordplay so much."
"Dunno exactly what you kids are going on about, but it sounds like I get to join your party," said Hop.
"What?" Erin threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Oh, no, goblin. Much as it would amuse me, what class could a goblin possibly fill?"
Hop's face twisted into a cocky grin as he pulled out a small whistle from his belt bag.
"Bard."
*For more weirdness, check out* r/OctOpusTales *!* | “Galhant.” Wide-armed claps tried to enchant Galhant like a shark opening its maw. “Well done. Another ‘Dark Lord’ slain. Another victory. I bet you’re feeling proud of yourself right now.”
A scowl. “You say that as if he were nothing to you.”
A roaring chuckle resounded in the throne room. “Well, dear Galhant, I don’t know how to render this politely.” The chuckle quietened. “You must’ve heard the rumors about me. The ones that say, ‘There is another lord behind him. The Dark Lord we see is a figurehead.’”
“What are you saying?”
“The ‘Dark Lord’ you’ve slain was an insolent bastard whom I promised vast riches, land, and a harem.” The chuckling heightened in pitch. “You should’ve seen his look. Smiling. Eyebrows raised. Like his whole life’s work peaked, when, in fact, I could’ve chosen a common pauper from the street and given him the same rewards for the same work.
“Such a person might have performed better. I would’ve gotten more use out of him. The latest corpse you’ve slain was born into a vassal’s family. He never knew hardship and struggle since the day he was spawned.
“I should’ve chosen someone better for the job.”
Galhant’s mouth was agape. The tips of his bent fingers pressed into his forehead. The deeper the words imprinted on him, the more they trembled.
“There’s a reason I haven’t taken on the work myself. One would think that if I know how to pull the strings so well, shouldn’t I take the fame, the fortune, the femmes? No.”
Galhant drew his sword.
“Before you do what you must, let me tell you a tale.”
“Why should I let you speak another word?” Galhant yelled.
“Because you’ll regret it later when you’ve succeeded in felling my corpse.”
Galhant’s scowl deepened, His face distorted. His arm trembled and stiffened when he tried to sheathe his blade, but his willpower succeeded nevertheless.
“I’m a demigod. The mythical Valhir you hear about in talking about this people’s gods are true. Yes, they did slaughter the original inhabitants for this people to expand. Yes, they did enslave those they’ve found to be alive, commending them for their ingenuity, or rather, their instinct to stay alive. The myths are all true.
“You’ve known well how the court jesters take on the tradition of Ablar the Trickster. How each one is masked to provide make the court laugh and sing and be merry.
“I am him.
“I provide everyone – especially the nobles, who, as you see, saw better days – with purpose in their lives. And that is work I did not want to outsource, that I personally wanted to manage. Otherwise, when one department fails, so do the other departments, you see. Isn’t this such language your people use.”
Dumbfounded silence.
“You’re thinking now, ‘Ablar, you’ve clearly failed in doing that. Why allow everyone you’ve reigned over in secret to die off?’
“And you’d be right in thinking that. But I have a good reason, of which there lack many among my people.
“You know how every culture has a variation of the cycle of life? Birth, continuation, death? This culture, of course has it. Clearly, it’s in the end stage. Now, this is a nuanced facet of this culture, something which you can’t learn in an hour. But, long story short, it’s the Bahar Asp, the Taking in of Bodies, because Mahl, Mother Earth – another common cultural trope – takes them all in to a new afterlife in her fiery womb. But, again, one can’t learn that in a night, or a fortnight. It takes years.”
Ablar saw silver shine from Galhant’s sheath.
“One more thing to say, then you may slay me.”
Galhant lunged towards Ablar.
Ablar grabbed the blade, pulled it away from him.
Galhant fell on his chestplate.
Ablar threw the blade to the side. He showed his smooth, undamaged palm. “I did not give you permission yet. Fool!” Another loud chuckle. “You’re a fascinating fellow, you know that. So impulse-driven that your logic is so underdeveloped, like a typical knight.”
Galhant rose, jolted towards Ablar.
Ablar grabbed Galhant’s arms, headbutted him.
Galhant fell again.
“You are so stupid, I think you’re an ideal candidate.”
Galhant scrambled to rise again.
Ablar walked over to the Dark Lord’s corpse and removed his helmet.
“No.”
“You are going to do me a marvelous favor.” Ablar carried the helmet in hand. “You are going to enjoy the time of your life, my darling.”
“I won’t,” Galhant whispered.
“You will. You’ll enjoy it all, sir.”
“I won’t stand.”
“You shall.” The helmet slid onto Galhant’s head. “My Lord.” | 2021-09-01T12:17:12 | 2021-09-01T12:14:46 | 134 | 70 |
[WP] Those who lives by the sword dies by the sword. A rather simple and merciful death. It's the scholars, who live by ink and paper, that face a truly tragic and brutal fate. | “I don’t particularly like this part here, Woodrow. ‘*The Prelate of Lower Rostum has oft ignored the plight of his townsfolk, turning a blind eye to rampant larceny, battery, and worst of all, Nym-forgery. Indeed, there are rumors His Serene Highness profits from these lawless acts…*’ Seems rather insulting to my person, does it not, hm?” The Prelate set the parchment on the side table and looked over his reading glasses to Woodrow. “Suggesting that I take bribes from common criminals? Can’t say I care for your insinuations, not one bit.”
Hung upside-down by his legs, with a rag crammed in his mouth, Woodrow was in no position to argue.
With a grunt the Prelate got up from his chair, slippers swishing against rough-hewn stone as he crossed the room. His Serene Highness spoke a few words through the iron bars to the guard outside.
Woodrow could feel the pressure of blood in his eyeballs. He tried closing them for comfort, but became acutely aware of the sticky drool running down his face from the gag. He wondered how the Prelate would kill him. At least he’d die a martyr, be remembered by the other scholars of his order far outside the cesspit that was Lower Rostum.
“Do you know what this is?”
Opening his eyes, Woodrow saw the burgundy slippers, and something out of focus near his face. He tried to look but felt sick with the effort. The Prelate sighed and stepped back, so Woodrow could get a better view of what was in his hands.
It was a thin book, a tiny folio of paper inside. No, those symbols! It was a Nym. Panic set in as Woodrow realized from the curl of the script and the shape of the calligram that it was his *own* Nym.
“Impossible!” Woodrow shouted, though his words were rendered to meaningless noise by the gag. “I hid my Nym!”
“Yes, yes. You understand,” said the Prelate, with a mirthless chuckle. “My magistrate thought this punishment too severe. My purser thought it too expensive! Perfect forgeries of Nyms do not come cheap, whatever you think. Both suggested a public beheading would send the right message, and at a better price.”
Woodrow struggled against his bonds, but only succeeded in swinging slowly in place. The Prelate continued speaking. “However, your writing harmed me. So I thought it only fitting that my writing harm you.”
Sitting back in his chair, the Prelate took a quill from the table, dipped it in ink, and held it over Woodrow’s Nym. “First I think we’ll scratch out your name here.” Woodrow screamed into his gag as the Prelate crossed out ‘Woodrow’ on the Nym. “Let’s call you Proinsias. I once knew a farrier named Proinsias.”
He held on to the memory of his name as long as he could. But Proinsias forgot what he was trying to think about. Disoriented, he looked at the man in the corner. Through the confusion the name “Prelate of Lower Rostum” slowly came to mind.
“Incredible,” said the Prelate. “I’ve already forgotten your old name. I’ll have to get the syndicate to explain the magic behind this someday. Now, it says here you have a wife and two children. Which would you prefer? No wife, or no children?” The Prelate held the quill over the Nym.
Proinsias begged to recant his libel, screamed until there was blood in his throat. But before long he was at peace. He even forgot why he was screaming in the first place. | "By X'Om, what did we do to deserve this?", Orazon lamented, gritting his teeth in sadness and anger.
Peeking from his hiding place underneath the Temple of X'Om-- the God of Knowledge of the Western Balyan people, Orazon could see nothing but the charred remains of his once thriving city.
Its walls and pillars of wood which were stacked in such a way it needed no nails nor epoxy, constructed carefully by the ancient technique of the Western Balyans of old had now been burned down by the invading savages.
Sounds of bone-chilling screams could be heard all over. None did escape, the Eastern Balyans who were people of peace, who knew no violence from the day they were born.
Along with them were the sickening laughter of those men, savages from Eastern Balya who roamed the land as nomads, as hunters, warriors, invaders. Those who worship R'Oth-- God of Destruction.
"Orazon, my boy, get away from there. Those barbarians might see you if you keep poking your head out like that", Master Astarix-- Orazon's mentor said.
The old man was sitting in the corner of the dark basement, on his lap was a thick book of skin-made pages. Slowly he flipped them, reading it slowly under the small light of a candle to pass the time.
Orazon slowly closed the hatch above him and joined his teacher in the dark.
"I just...don't understand it, Master. We are men of peace! Civilized people who pursue nothing but knowledge! Who gave these people the right to destroy what we had built for centuries?", Orazon ranted.
Master Astarix looked up from the pages of the book. With a face of sadness, he shared Orazon's sentiment though his wisdom let him see from both sides.
"I understand your anger, Orazon. Believe me, I feel the same grief. But I'm afraid the world is....just not that simple", Master Astarix said.
Orazon frowned, confused.
"How so, Master? Isn't it our shared duty as people of higher understanding to advance our species?"
"It is, my boy, it is", Master Astarix closed his book and set it aside.
"We, the Western Balyans, have been entrusted with such task by X'Om. But for these savages...they live by another code", Master Astarix explained.
"Can you recite to me the Oath of R'Oth?, Master Astarix asked his student.
Having studied the history of Balya thoroughly, Orazon remembered the oath clearly in his head.
*"We who drew the first breath in the name of R'Oth shall blow our last breath in the name of R'Oth. Our god of all, whose name brings power and destruction. We who dedicate our live to him shall live by the sword and die by the sword"*
"Well done", Master Astarix nodded.
"You see, Orazon, those who live by the sword shall keep living by the sword, and in the end they will die by the sword. Violence is all they know, and much like hunger, it is all consuming. More and more they will take, regardless of what code others may live by"
The words spun around Orazon's head as he tried to understand them.
"We are the keeper of Balya's history. Of its knowledge and identity. These Eastern Balyans rejected the path Balya took long ago, instead of knowledge, they chose to follow destruction. In their prejudice, they will stop at nothing to erase Balya's current identity, to rewrite it in their image, in their ideas", Master Astarix explained patiently.
"And what better way to do it than erasing us, the scholars, the keeper of knowledge?"
Orazon sat in uncomfortable quietness as the last lesson imparted by his teacher swirled around in his mind.
*"Burn the temple! Burn it down!"*, someone yelled from the outside.
Expectedly, Orazon smelled smoke in the air. Hurriedly he scurried outside, peeking slowly to the inside of the temple from another hatch, his heart drop by the sight of thousands of scrolls and books enveloped in flame.
"Master! Master! They...they burned down the library!", Orazon yelled but Master Astarix remained seated. Lowering his head he seemed to resign at his fate.
"Master...?", Orazon called out weakly as he sat on the floor before his master.
"My boy...X'Om's wisdom is eternal. Be it destroyed now or ten years from now, in the end knowledge will prevail. Those who live by the sword, will die by the swords. But us who live for the sake of knowledge, know that it will never die..."
The master and student sat quietly, resenting their fate but nevertheless accepting of it. Soon the room was filled with smoke, slowly suffocating the two.
r/HangryWritey | 2022-01-12T20:27:37 | 2022-01-12T19:14:26 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] Nonhuman youths swap stories about humans around a campfire equivalent. The stories are true, if wildly misinterpreted.
-012 | Human stories... classic. There was a tumblr about these once
welp looks like someone screen grabbed it http://imgur.com/hINj1xf
if I can find the story I wrote back then. I'll share it. I'm still thinking about making a subreddit for it but I can't figure out if it'll last more than a month. | “It’s pronounced Emotion.” Kyubey thought, stressing each syllable as clearly as possible. Its eyes unmoving in the shadows behind the drawn curtains, the not-so-bright oval on its back fading from a lack of energy.
“Eee-Mo-Shun... I’m still quite confused. Can you explain it more clearly?” Incue thought back, unable to comprehend such complex descriptions.
“I don’t understand it either. They certainly can’t explain why they have Emotions. Especially Love.” Kyubey continued, “All I know is that Emotions power our universe, so we must harvest them as Incubators.”
“Luh-V… is that when two people are around each other all the time for no reason before reproducing?”
Kyubey nodded.
“Why?” Incue asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone actually understands what Love is.” Kyubey thought. “Time is almost up, do you know what you must do?”
“Give girls in their second growth stage a wish to induce love. That love with soon become grief. Collect that grief, which is the most powerful form of raw energy. Harvest it and use it to counteract the decreasing entropy of our world.” Incue looked straight ahead, his eyes started glowing red and an oval appeared on the back of his silky, white fur.
“Let’s go.”
And in mere moments, humanity lost hundreds of teenage girls, swept away by love, loss and suicide, powering the world of Incubators for decades. | 2014-01-12T15:08:21 | 2014-01-12T14:11:21 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] An RPG character is cursed with a higher intelligence than their player. | I can’t find the library. I’ve been doing laps around this town for a good 15 minutes, and I’ve seen no sign of it. I need to get there so that I can learn the location of the Ultimate Magic so that I can kill the Dragon King, but it shouldn’t be so hard to find the damn place. Maybe there’ll be an NPC who knows where it is in the tavern. I’ll check it out. I maneuver my avatar through the narrow streets of the gritty part of the town and into the dimly lit building, and walk up to the bar. Actually, I’m getting thirsty myself. I’ll go get a soda.
***
When I start going through my AFK cycle, I know it’s safe to talk. I nod towards the bartender. “Hey Saleem.”
He nods back, cleaning out a dusty cup. “You’ve been in here pretty frequently, Vajeel.”
“My player is looking for the library.”
“Has he checked out near the College?”
“Heh. Nope, hasn’t thought of that yet.”
“Has he seen the map of town on the table right behind you?”
“Nope.”
“It’s glowing.”
“I know.”
“Have you tried dropping him a hint?”
“I tried saying that I wonder how the scholars are doing, but I think he finds the College boring. He asked Ms. Zavah over at the shooting range 5 times, though.”
“Yikes.”
“Yup.”
“There’s no way in hell he’ll be able to beat the monster guarding the Ultimate Magic.”
“Nope, that takes actual strategy. He’ll probably try to use my Holy spell on it, even though it’s a blessed creature, which’ll strengthen it. I’ll probably die a few times before he thinks to look up the game guide.”
“Dude, I’m sorry.”
“Fuck, he’s back.”
***
Huh. My avatar is facing a table in the bar. I don’t think that’s where I left him . . . Is that a map?
| "Dana, are you coming with us? You know this quest is time sensitive!" Jazz shouts from the other side of the room. He's still holding the door open and is peering inside at me. I sit behind the counter of my small potion shop and glue my eyes on the newer potion that I've been working on as of lately.
"I told you that it's dangerous..." I mumble to myself though Jazz is too far away to hear my empty voice. I look back up at him and my heart sinks a little. He's so adventurous and I am just a young mage. He wants to fight his way through the world with his warrior brethren while I sit here day in and day out trying to come up with the safest potions for him. His bright blue eyes are staring into mine and the sunlight is caught in the golden curls of his hair. My lips part as if to let the words out but I cannot think of anything to say.
"Suit yourself, Dana! I'll see you when we get back. You're welcome to join us at the tavern!" With that, the door to my shop slams shut.
I get back to work on my potion. If Jazz would just *wait* a little bit, I might be able to make their quest safer! Instantly, the recipe comes to me. I stand up from my stool in a fit of ecstasy and my brown waves fall into my eyes as I dash out into my herb garden.
Handfuls of herbs lie in front of me as I boil the water. I sort out the pure leaves from the damaged ones and begin to stir my concoction. The sweet aroma dances circles through the shop as the potion is completed. I swipe my thumb across the bottle and the stats enter my mind's eye: +60 fire resistance, +35 speed, +200 hp, +99 accuracy, +150 damage.
Fighting the Dragon of the Valley might be easier with these buffs! The potion would last an hour... Yes that would work wonders for Jazz! I wrap the small bottle in a layer of cloth and place it in my leather satchel.
I race through the town as fast as I can. I may not be a fighter, but the minimal armor that is necessary for my line of work makes it easy to move quickly. Within 20 minutes, I arrive at the mouth of the valley.
I see Jazz below. His silver armor is stained burgundy with the blood of our friends. He is standing alone with his blade drawn towards the dragon. His golden hair is singed black from the flames that surround him. My eyes start to tear up and I step forward into the valley.
An invisible wall throws me backwards. The words appear above me... "TIME SENSITIVE QUEST: Only one party at a time. Please wait 30 MINUTES before trying again."
I scream out as the flame surround Jazz and he falls. The dead warriors around him accept him as one of their own and the dragon disappears. The message disappears as I watch Jazz's body disintegrate before my eyes.
I sit paralyzed in the soft grass of the valley. "If only you had listened to me..." I whisper with my empty voice. | 2015-01-09T13:06:11 | 2015-01-09T10:52:01 | 249 | 29 |
[WP] The Crips and the Bloods ally with each other against ISIS. The world laughs as thousands of gang members board a cruise ship and set sail for the Middle East. The two gangs land on the shores of Syria and begin their fight against ISIS.
Let's see how the two gangs fare.
EDIT: These are great, guys! Thanks for all the stories. I've read some, and I'll read the rest later. | "So, uh, I have to ask...why are you out here? Why this?"
"Just tryin'a be the realest, you know? See, we a brotherhood. But we also a business. We tryin'a incorporate. What's that phrase? Divide and conquer? Well, we gonna do the opposite - we gonna have a merger. Bloods and Crips, cats and rats, comin' together for the first time. We the competition now. We trust bustin', you know? Undercuttin'.
See we was killin' each other over piddly shit - corner here, corner there, someone wearin' the wrong colors, *this dude sellin' on MY block?* Turns out that's bad business. We see this as a long-term investment. We goin' legitimate. This is a hostile takeover. This more than just a couple corners.
We doin' what the rest of the world don't wanna do, and we makin' money off of it. Ain't no one can touch us. All them old folks back in 'Merica sittin' in front of they TVs used be afraid of us, call the cops on us, close they blinds when when we roll down they street...now they cheerin' us. They buyin' stock.
Ain't no more east side west side bullshit. Now this the Far East Side. This our corner now." | Nobody could tell if the news reports were real or if it was "the onion" taking over all mass media outlets. "Gang Members Backed by Walt Disney World take on ISIS" one headline read. Below a picture of the megacruise Disney's Majestic was shown crowed with shirts of Red White and Blue.
It all started with a press conference held by Walt Disney Worlds CEO Veteran Ryan Gallagher. "In wake of recent homeland attacks by the Islamic State President Donald Trump has called for American Citizens to weaponize themselves in order to keep this great nation secure. We have been called to fight on our own land against outside invaders who wish to take it from us. While this is a necessity, here at Disney we believe the old saying "The best defense is a good offense." Syria has fallen and the Islamic State now has clearly defined boarders where they can train and grow. In response to Presidents call Disney would like to offer all US Citizens the opportunity to bring the fight to ISIS in order to prevent more homeland terror. It is time we brought terror to ISIS. Disney will provide transportation, meals, and housing in the form of our largest cruise ships. We are asking for donations of weapons and manpower. I cannot assure your safety but I can assure you I will be on the front lines with you. Please checkout stopISIS.com for more details. Thank You."
The speech reached 4 million views on Youtube within the hour. Debates began, some of the efficacy of the plans, others on whether it was all an elaborate PR scheme. The donations of weapons was more than anyone could imagine. Thousands of donations from 9mm pistols to AR-15's to a few illegal fully automatic MAC 11's.
What was not growing at a rapid pace was the amount of people who were willing to go fight on the front lines. The US government immediately responded to Disney in a statement that called Mr. Gallagher a "good intenting yet misinformed patriot". The Department of Defense advised that entering a war zone untrained would be certain death. With coverage on every major news outlet, Gallagher's words were heard by millions but followed by cautionary tales of danger.
Citizens around the world mocked Disney and the United States for the lack a response. Two days after the speech financial and weapons support was more than enough to make Gallagher's vision a reality but only 259 people had signed up for the voyage, even less had actually started their trip to the cruise ports.
Today everything changed. While the world closely monitored the pulse of was gained the nickname of #DeadlyDisney, nobody knew or could have imagined what was going behind the scenes. This morning MomsAgainstGangViolence | 2015-12-07T10:16:15 | 2015-12-07T09:53:24 | 46 | 18 |
[WP] You and a dead artist share the ability to see colors others can't. His paintings become a global phenomenon, but his images are much more sinister than they appear. | It's interesting- people have asked me to describe what I can see, but it's just not possible with words. How do you describe a color, after all? Our descriptor words are based on the colors we see, not the other way around. It's very different than blue or red; to me, it's more beautiful than any of the others.
It's only natural I became a fan of art- after all, I have a gift that no human being has been given. Sometimes I spot the color, which I call 'argum', in random places. Oftentimes in nature, it's splashed across a tree's leaves or dotted into a flowers petals. I'm often saddened by the remembrance of humanity's incapable eyes, unable to see such marvelous beauty.
I've scoured many art galleries, hoping to find a trace of this color somewhere, in some obscure painting. Be it by accident or intent, it would be a fascinating discovery.
Despite the fact that I was desperately searching for it, shock still slapped me when I finally found it. What surprised me, however, is that it was not an obscure painting, or some strange accident unintended by the artist. It was fully intentional, and it had meaning.
Van Gogh's *Starry Night* is a wonder to the world, and one of the most prominent pieces of artwork in history. It is certainly beautiful, as all can see clearly.
But every so faintly brushed into certain strokes of those swirly stars were lines; I'm assuming that to everyone else, they don't stand out at all. As I peered closer, I could vaguely make out words formed from them.
'*Help me*'.
Further down, there was a bit more hidden in the cityscape.
'*They come for those who See*'.
I recalled reading about Van Gogh's madness, near the end of his life, and immediately welled with fear. | "This is the first of the collection," she said. "It's called *Portrait of the Artist as a Child.* Do you see how powerful it is? The image of the child, alone in the centre? Such a small figure. Such a large, empty room."
It wasn't empty.
"This was his follow-up work, *Beginning.* A wonderful title, I've always thought. Autobiographical again, although he does move away from this in his later work. Here, he has drawn himself cradling his childhood dog. See his clenched fist? The rage, and anguish he must have been feeling? The visceral imagery - the dog was split open like this from being hit by a car - really captures the shock of the moment."
It wasn't car. There was a scalpel in his hand.
"How did you first get into Mr. Aaronovich's work?" She asked.
I swallowed. "I saw one of his prints in the subway. It looked interesting, so I went to the exhibition. I..." I couldn't help looking at my feet. "I was... intrigued, I guess, from how," I rubbed my eyes, "*different,* they looked. The originals. I've been following his work ever since."
She beamed. "Oh, you absolutely have to see the originals. Prints never do it justice."
"No," I said. "No, they don't. Not with him."
A pull at my arm. She drew me towards the next painting. "This is *First Love*. See how he captures the vivacity of the girl? The colours... oh, such beautiful colours. Such life in the cheeks and the lips. You can feel how he felt about her. Sadly, this girl died. Heartbreaking, really. Carbon Monoxide poisoning. Such a tragic accident."
Oh, I doubt it.
"I'm glad our subway advertising campaign worked. Most of the people who come here have seen his images on our social media campaign. He's really very active."
My hands didn't know what to do with themselves, so I took a sip of the cheap champagne. "I actually messaged him," I said. "Reached out. He was very... quick. Quick to respond."
A smile broke across her face. "That's down to me. I told him he had to put himself out there. He's quite a recluse, you know. Not exactly a 'people person'."
"No," I said. "I gathered that. What's this one called?"
"This," she said, "is called *The Dream.* Just a man. Just a man, standing alone on a hill. I've always wondered what it meant."
The hill was made out of corpses. My head itched. I scratched it, self-consciously.
"A true artist. With a true artist's temperament. A true artist's... unique outlook. Here, for example. He asked us to hang a blank canvas here. I couldn't understand it myself," she said, drawing me to the other side of the room, "but he insisted. Here it is."
The canvas wasn't blank. In clear letters were printed the words: *I know. You're Next.* | 2016-01-30T15:25:43 | 2016-01-30T15:20:46 | 1,278 | 583 |
[WP] Everyone is told 10 minutes before they die that they will. You're on a plane, and everyone panics at once. You didn't get that message. | I looked around me, like time was slowed. Everyone had the same, ugly, distraught look on their face.
I knew what was going to happen.
As did they.
The woman seated next to me, she grabbed my hand.
"Its going to be okay, right?" she plead.
"They'll fix the plane, right?" she begged.
As I drew the knife from my coat pocket, I said in a shuddered tone, "Nothing is wrong with the plane."
The plane started to tilt forward as I pulled my kife from the captain's back.
That's when I got my message.
| I thought it was my lucky day, the one guy who survived the second worse thing to happen airlines when everyone else didn't.
Maybe I should've tried to do something to prevent the crash but it's not like one guy can calm a whole jet full of panicked passengers, especially when the crew locked themselves in the cockpit doing god knows what.
I still don't know how I made it out unscathed; usually broken metal and fire have a tendency to rip, burn and generally mutilate people during these kind of things, but here I am fresh as a daisy while everyone else is pushing them up.
God, even I thought that was bad...
Where was I? Oh yeah, the aftermath. Sure i got out unharmed, but there was the classic "hold out and survive until rescue arrives" shtick that you see in the movies, though it's a lot less exciting when even after weeks of bad decisions, there's still no sign of death.
At least I wasn't lonely, extended periods of isolation and madness kept me entertained with the maimed bodies of my fellow travelers; most of them are even nicer in death than they were in life, not caring if the conversation pauses so I can eat, the big ones would even thank me for helping them lose weight! After all, it's not like I'm taking advantage of them or anything; that would be weird.
I know I should leave, just pick a direction and start walking; what's the worse that could happen? I die? The reaper has had plenty of chances already and, frankly, I wouldn't mind if he did show up. Maybe I get trapped somewhere, buried alive and slowly become one big bed sore.
...shit, that actually is scary.
I suppose one more day won't hurt though, It is the holidays after all and it'd be rude to leave my friends without one more celebration. I've heard the 35th Thanksgiving gets pretty crazy.
| 2016-11-24T20:01:01 | 2016-11-24T18:04:00 | 52 | 34 |
[WP] Deeply misunderstanding the term "universal healthcare", aliens have begun arriving in Canada, seeking medical attention. Canadians, being Canadian, are too polite to correct them. | "Oh, uh, what seems to be the problem here, buddy?" John said. It was the 10th alien he had seen that day, as the check-in nurse at the ER in a hospital in Vancouver. The alien was a purple blob with two eye stalks and at least as many limbs.
"IHUH8hfdnbaf97y- (*&_&FBhbvagv606)*(* jn jfndab606))^)," the alien said. It then coughed, and a yellow slug fell out of what John hoped was its mouth. "Ah, that's better. As I was saying, my polar gladiax is all spreckly. I think it has something to do with the magnetic field on Ratel, where I was visiting a groobling for a party. You know how it is.
"Ah, okay, buddy, well I'll log that down and see what I can do for ya."
"Thanks, human. You guys are alright."
*****
"It's been three years, when are the Canadians going to wise up to what's going on here?" US diplomat Jim Hunter said to his UK counterpart, Boorish Counterbottoms. "I'm telling you, it's an invasion!"
"Well, they've only asked for healthcare so far," Boorish said. "I'm just as surprised they don't swim 'cross the pond. Ah well, not our problem then."
"But why don't the Canadians just tell them to go somewhere else? How much money are they spending on this? I swear, ever since they legalized the Devil's weed, they just don't give a shit about anything."
"Well perhaps that's it. The extra tax is being used. Last I heard, I think they are getting something out of it, though. They haven't been telling us any specifics as far as I'm aware, but they are getting some tech trade going."
"Tech trade?" Jim was intrigued. He hadn't heard anything about this, and it made him wonder if the British agencies just shared more with their diplomats, or if there was something his government didn't know. "Yes, that makes more sense."
*****
The purple blob, healed now, sat across from Justin Trudeau. "Yes, we can give you warp drive. I'm surprised you didn't have it already, considering you provide health care for all beings in the universe."
"Yes, well..." Trudeau began, before stopping himself. "Yes, anyway, the warp drive would be very helpful to our people."
"Oh, it's nothing, that slabar was streckling my polex like a Guaranian texstute! Anyway, we have plans for you that will be easy enough to duplicate."
"We can't thank you enough."
*******
Ten years later, Captain Jones stared down at the Earth from the mothership of the Canadian Space Force. All around him, ships shaped like maple leaves and hockey pucks maneuvered around each other like falling snowflakes.
"Everything ready?" the new Prime Minister over a secure radio channel.
"Yes, sir," Captain Jones said. "This will be known as the day that Canada became the first country to emigrate from Earth."
"Right well, let's get on with it. It's time we Canadians stand up for ourselves, and get the fuck out of here before it's too late."
Wave after wave of red and white spaceships launched from the Earth all at once, as the world watched in awe. Streaks of light vanished into the sky, with roars that were quickly quieted with distance. "Now..." Captain Jones said, the Earth disappearing from view, "...they are the ones who are sorry." | Doctor Fern sat down on his favorite swivel chair and sighed. He closed his eyes after a long day of work. To his annoyance, the receptionist burst in hysterically.
"I thought I made it clear that we are closed for the day!" Doctor Fern said.
This was strange—considering how the receptionist was the type to follow rules and procedures.
"Yes but..." The receptionist's voice trailed off.
Doctor Fern stood up and walked over to the receptionist. Trying his best to be patient-which isn't really doing much, he jabbed his stubby finger at the schedule on the wall. "Tell me, what does the time slot say at this time?"
"We're closed, but," the receptionist stood up straighter now and pointed at the sign outside, "The clinic's motto is *Refuse No One*."
Doctor Fern relented, knowing that it isn't right to take out his pent-up stress on his receptionist—the receptionist wasn't the type to give up easily anyway. "Send them in."
A strange alien walked in, a green figure with a large head and large, dark eyes. It had a gash wound over its' arm, oozing out a deep syrup-like liquid. In a strange accent, it spoke, "Greetings earthling. We, of the Xaorg," The alien made a weird salute to the ceiling, "have come to claim this 'universal healthcare' program of yours."
Doctor Fern was affixed to the ground, he had no idea what to make of this strange alien before him. Doctor Fern remembered his training and that he had to try to be as professional as possible.
Doctor Fern straightened his doctor's gown and said, "Erm... of course, of course. Do sit down." Doctor Fern gestured to a comfortable chair on the other side of his desk.
The alien sat down and needless to say-it wasn't exactly pleased with the doctor.
Doctor Fern sat at his large wooden desk, a neat folder cabinet to his left and a metal cup of pens and pencils to his right. Doctor Fern interlaced his fingers and said to the alien, "Do you have a name?"
The alien said, "My name is longer than any word you know. It is incomprehensible to your feeble mind. Just close this wound." The alien pointed to the large gash, "Use the bandage, specification: roller."
Doctor Fern was not exactly paying attention to what the alien was saying—rather, he was intrigued at the strange anatomy of the alien. From the proportions to the bone structure. He wanted to study everything.
The alien stared at him, and waited for a response. The alien wondered why the human race was such a dumb species. The human's ability to process information was surely lacking.
"Right, right. Bandage." Doctor Fern recovered. He walked over to the roller bandages and patched up the wound on the alien.
Years of experience couldn't prepare him for what happened next. The alien absorbed the bandage, and the wound got slightly smaller.
"Need more. Give whole roll." The alien said.
"Ah... sorry." Intrigued, the doctor handed him the entire box, filled with dozens of bandages. Doctor Fern leaned forward, observing it's strange process of healing.
As the alien was applying the bandage, going from one roll to another, Doctor Fern said, "So tell me, where did you get this wound?"
The alien paused and looked at him, "The laser of the enemy blaster grazed me. We of the Xaorg," Again, the alien did the same weird salute, "are in a war with the Gerd. We heard of this 'universal healthcare' so we come."
The alien went back to mending his arm. After around half a minute of awkward silence, the alien stood up and merely said, "Goodbye and thank you earthling."
The doctor stood up as well and said, "Have a good day now!"
The alien spat at him—a formal way of saying goodbye in their culture. Doctor Fern ignored this supposed insult and said, "Right, please go to the doctor across the street next time. He is much better at treating aliens than I."
The alien spat again in acknowledgement and walked out the door.
After the alien left, Doctor Fern hobbled back to his favorite swivel chair and closed his eyes. He wondered what other weird alien species he would possibly see next. Doctor Fern didn't even get a few seconds of relaxation before his receptionist burst in once more, eyes wide open, "Doctor... There are 400 aliens waiting in the lobby and lined up outside the door."
~~Didn't proofread yet, I'll do it in a few hours :( (Might extend story/dialogue later as well)~~
r/chocolatechipwp <-just gonna leave this here
| 2017-02-27T10:43:12 | 2017-02-27T09:52:59 | 2,560 | 377 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | It was a brisk October morning. The park was full of people milling about and enjoying their Saturday morning, some were out on dates hoping to find true love, others were simply enjoying their time. Towards a wide river, many tables were set up so people could have a view of the mega city, enjoy a bite to eat, or play chess. Two older gentlemen were at one such table.
"Ah! Your hand left the piece!" Said one man. His hair had greyed, but still held its dignified form of his youth, his hands had a slight tremble that comes with age. He wore an overcoat with a scarf tied around his neck.
"Matthias, how long must you attempt to distract me?" The man who sat across from Matthias was bald, but his eyes still held the bright passion of youth. He was clad in simple monk robes, and wore spectacles on his nose. Matthias simply smiled at his companion.
"Just like old times, eh Monk?" Monk looked up and smiled at his old nemesis turned friend.
"With you coming up with some scheme and becoming overconfident in your abilities?" His hand shook as he captured a knight with his pawn. Matthias was dumbfounded.
"Wha...how...when..." His voice trailed off in confusion.
Monk smiled, crossed his arms, and leaned back.
"You always did overlook many things in your plans. Ironic isn't it? You were once known as The Front for you cleverness and wit." Monk began to chuckle as Matthias scrambled to recover.
"Ahh...i see now..." The Front made his move after many moments of deliberation.
"Checkmate." Matthias was dumbfounded once again, as Monk had taken no time to decide his move. Matthias looked up to meet Monk's eyes, full of mischief.
"You always laid plans for certain events, but you never had plans for unaccounted happenings." Matthias sighed, this was the fifth time in a row he had been beaten.
Suddenly a woman screamed, and a man clutching a purse began running along the path adjacent to the old timers. Suddenly the thief held a hand to his eye and ran headlong into a tree.
Matthias looked over to see a piece missing from the board, and observed a hidden smile on Monk's face. Monk held a finger up to his lips.
A young hero began running towards the recovering miscreant.
"Foul villain" he began, "you should never have attempted any misdeeds while I, Steelboy, yet draw breath!"
With a single movement, he threw the vagabond over his shoulder, and threw the purse back to the crowd that was forming. He turned to leave when he spotted two elderly gentlemen enjoying a game of chess. He recognized one of them.
"The Front! Evil Front, you shall be captured by me this day!" He struck up a fighting pose, and his former prisoner fell off his shoulder and ran off into the crowd.
Matthias looked over to see the young hero challenging him.
"I believe he is looking for you." Matthias gave a look at Monk who had just delivered the sarcastic remark. He never knew Monk could be playful.
"Go away kid, i've done my time." He gave a dismissive wave and attempted to go back to enjoying his morning.
"Thought you could fool me eh? Steelboy never backs down!" With this, he lunged towards the unsuspecting Matthias. As he reached the table a cane caught him in the gut, swung him around and threw him to the ground. Surprised, Steelboy looked up to see Monk standing know, both hands on his cane.
"Wait a minute, you're Monk! Why are you defending this man? You and he fought for years!" Monk's face was as an elderly grandfather, attempting to teach his grandchildren.
"Young man, do you believe evil men will always be evil?"
The question was blunt, and Steelboy attempted to respond as he stood up.
"Of course!" He shouted.
"If you fall behind on a payment, does the bank not come after you?" Matthias was as confused as Steelboy.
"Yet, if you pay the amount, is it not forgiven?"
Steelboy had no response.
"So if a man commits an evil act, he is behind on his payment, but should he atone for his misdeeds, he is paying the amount in the hopes of forgiveness. I believe this man has wronged many, but many years ago, he saw the errors of his ways, and turned his life around. His debt is large, but he is paying it back."
Steelboy looked at him, then to Matthias, and then back to Monk.
"What on earth are you going on about? Loans? Payments? Who cares you old foggy, i'm taking him in!"
Once again he lunged forward, aiming for Matthias, but Monk had other plans. He grabbed Steelboy's fist, and effortlessly threw him into the river.
Monk sat back down, "shall we play another game?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye.
| As Anton's whip tightened around Tony's neck, all the while sending huge volts of electricity through Tony's armor, he saw a familiar figure walk towards him.
"Ms. Carter, please step away!!!".
Peggy stopped for a second, and then continued walking towards Anton.
"Stop! You know his father stole my dad's inventions. He will pay for his father's sins."
Peggy stood face to face with Anton. Well, technically, her chest was facing his stomach. She didn't hate her old age, but was definitely not too happy about how much effort it took for her to stand up straight. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Now they were chest to face. Peggy summoned some more strength and lifted her neck and looked into Anton's eyes.
"Now, Anton, do not pretend that your father was righteous and innocent. I think we both know the things he did."
His eyes dropped, he looked sideways, unable to make eye contact, "He was no angel, but his father," looking at Tony writhing at the other end of his whip, "reaped the benefits of my father's hard work, and build such a huge business empire. His father," he lowered his voice as he increased the voltage that hit the armor, "sent my father back to Russia, where he spent the rest of his life in a Gulag."
"Anton, is that what your father told you?"
Anton's eyes met hers, searching for answers. She continued...
"I was in SHIELD. You want to know what happened? Your father was kidnapped by HYDRA, and then some of the major publications released news stories of him being deported."
"He was a brilliant scientist. You think that if he had been deported, he would've been kept in a Gulag?" She laughed a little. "You think Russians would waste a great mind such as your father's in a Gulag". She said Gulag in a typical Russian accent and really elongated the aa sound to make her point.
"What do you think the SHIELD did with Arnim Zola? Do you think we threw him in a prison? No, we put him to work, and he worked for us until the day he died."
"He was old, senile, and brainwashed, by the time they let him go, probably he was of no use to them anymore."
"Come on Anton, Tony's not your enemy. Let him go, and hold me hostage so that he doesn't hurt you."
"I am not taking you hostage, Peggy."
"But you're letting him go."
"I am not sure"
"Yes you are"
"Peggy, how do I know you're telling me the truth?"
"Anton, I might be lying to you, but you agree that there is room for doubt in your theory. Right? Then I will go and talk to Tony"
"It's going to take you the whole year to reach him, by then his backup will be here."
"You really want to insult me right now?"
"Teasing, Ms. Carter, teasing, not insulting... I am sorry..."
Peggy turned around and thought to herself. Well it's going to be a long walk.
As she neared Tony, she was grateful that this time she won't have to straighten up, the man was already on his knees.
"How you doing Tony?"
"Listen Peggy, I don't need your help, my armor is protecting me like a faraday cage, thanks to the failsafes I created to save myself from lightning strikes."
"Tony, who is the man you are fighting?"
"Peggy, please don't think of this as a teachable moment, I am working over here. I really don't need any 'know your enemy' lessons right now"
"What happened Tony, systems are offline, can't run a facial recognition?"
"His whip's fried all armor connectivity below my helmet, my network sensors are on my back, and they are offline."
"So you can't even call for backup?"
Tony's voice was very low, as he very sheepishly said, "No"
"And... you don't need my help? Okay, why am I not dead right now?"
"Peggy, stop asking me questions, I am busy", Tony said, annoyed, when it suddenly dawned on him, "Why aren't you dead, Peggy? Because you know him!!!?? How? Why is someone you know attacking me? What's going on Peggy?"
"Because his father was a friend..." she paused, waiting for his helmet to turn towards her " of your father and me"
"Then why the hell is he attacking me, how the hell does he have my ARC reactor? Oh because his father invented it. He is Vanko's son."
"Finally, you learnt something, do you promise not to attack him?"
"He killed so many people here today, how can I let him go?"
"I am trying to save your behind, young man!!! At least have some common sense."
"Peggy, I can't let him go..."
"Tony, as things stand, I really don't think you're in a position of holding him. I am going to go and make him go away. Catch him next time... Although I'll recommend that you try helping him."
"Why will I help him?"
Peggy just shrugged, and went back to Anton, "what do you want to do?"
"I don't know, I killed so many people here today"
"Anton, that's what you did, what do you want to do now?"
"Peggy, they will arrest me..."
"Yes Anton, but they will not deport you, you built an ARC reactor yourself, in a garage in Russia. What do you think will happen next? You will go to prison, but you will work on stuff you always dreamed of."
"What about him?"
"His suit is offline from the neck down"
Anton turned off his whip, and Tony collapsed to the ground. Cops surrounded him, "Stupid old bitch, always thinks she can talk these guys out of things and get them to surrender." said one
Antone turned on his whips again, and took the cop by the scruff and said, "Did you just call Ms. Carter a bad word? You're lucky I don't feel like killing more people today, better apologise to her afterwards."
| 2017-04-13T05:53:36 | 2017-04-13T05:10:16 | 41 | 10 |
[WP] You are the best actor ever. You make the deal of a lifetime. $500 million per year to act solely for Warner Brothers until you die. It's unclear who the joke is on, however. You for being stuck with WB forever, or WB for offering a lifetime contract to a secret immortal. | They thought it was a deal that could never go wrong,
As I can act on screen and even sing a song
To a level unmatched in recent years.
The money would roll in...they no fears.
At first it was great! I was the star of the screen.
But after a while all my films had been seen,
The public grew bored of my name in lights
But MY money rolled in, my contract was tight.
The brothers only hope was that as time rolled on
My good looks would fade and my health would be gone.
So they plied me with fags, drugs and booze
Playing the game of life they hoped I'd loose.
But as the years flew by, I didn't change a day
And I remember hearing someone say
"Does he even age?" - And I start to chortle.
Little did they know they'd hired an immortal.
-----
First time posting here.. please be kind XD.
Some of scanning is a little forced, but it was a cool prompt and I had 5 mins to spare :). | It's been 2 years since I signed the contract, and life has been pretty good. I've single handedly turned every shitty movie into an instant blockbuster. I mean, cmon, moon tacos? 89% on rotten tomatoes, 4.7 out of 5 stars. I've gotten something of a cult following now, and I'm liking it. I enjoy going to a restaurant and having people give up tables for me, I like calling for a taxi and having random strangers offer to give me a ride, free of charge. I'm immortal, invincible, untouchable. Everything I want is at my fingertips. Well, except for the damn leash that WB has on me... its fine though. Soon enough they will have nothing on me.....
I've been in a dozen movies over the past 2 years, and I've started my own talk show. I have the minds of the people in my hand, and I plan to use it. You see, you can be the best actor, and be forever immortalized in movies and awards.... but I deserve more than just a star on a sidewalk. A nice little golden statuette. I deserve much more. I'm a king, I'm a lord, I'm a god. Tonight, tonight I'm going to give the order. My people, no, my SUBJECTS, will do whatever I ask. Tonight I'll have them march on WB, get them to cancel this damn contract. It's hard to argue with several thousand people. Then, I'll have them march on Washington. Have them forcefully throw the president out the window. Then, I want the Taj Mahal, then, the burj khalifa. Then, Moscow, china, Korea, Europe, Australia... all of them, powerless to stop the will of the masses. The will of me. The world, united under one banner, the banner of me. World peace, my way. Complete control, total power, PURE power, MY power. What is a statuette or a star on the concrete compared to a planet, all under my control, all obeying without question, without hesitation. THAT is what I deserve, THAT is what I'm owed. The world, under my control. United under my name, my banner, the banner of their new god... | 2017-04-29T21:07:42 | 2017-04-29T20:29:20 | 40 | 18 |
[WP] After robbing a bank and with cops in pursuit of your vehicle, you yell, "Jesus take the wheel," as you move to shoot at the police. To your surprise, Jesus actually appears and takes the wheel. | The robbery went great, except for the part where the alarm went off. Which is why I'm now in a police chase.
"Oh crap, I can't shoot and drive at the same time! Jesus take the wheel!"
Suddenly I screech to a stop, with Jesus grinning at me from outside the car, holding what looks like the wheels to my car. And now the cops have arrived.
First attempt at this. Feedback would be appreciated! | I had everything planned out to the minute.
7:49 - Enter bank and begin filling out a deposit slip with the instructions.
7:50 - Hand note to bank teller with a smile.
7:51 - Intercept silent alarm trigger.
7:52 -
You know what you get the idea, I had a well thought out plan. I had a few people helping all with different skills, the only flaw was that the fall guy found out he was the fall guy.
I made the plan specifically so that we didn't know eachothers names. We were to have a fall guy run with some cash while we show up to rob the place dressed as the cops. I was given the choice to fill in as the fall guy, or get lost in some woods and have a 'hiking accident'.
I was driving for all the old Probe was worth, but those damn Chargers were too fast, guess I gotta try to shoot out a tire and cause them to crash. A lot of luck is all that is standing between me and freedom.
I'm not religious at all, but it felt like the thing to say,"Jesus, take the wheel" I said hoping this all works out. As I lean out the window and aim I notice the car start to turn and whip back around to abandon my plan. I am horrified to find an arm over my shoulder steadying the car.
"Needless to say I'm sorry your honor, I had to pay for the surgery or my mother would have died, and I didn't mean to shoot Jesús, I didn't think anyone would be napping in the back of the car as I stole it. Please have mercy." | 2017-05-01T08:59:49 | 2017-05-01T06:08:31 | 38 | 24 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | *Not again*
One second I was driving down I-95, the next I was in a dungeon inside a glowing satanic circle with lava flowing down the walls. If you are familiar with I-95, this is not a significant downgrade, in fact, depending on the day you might find yourself better off. But see, I was going back home, and being summoned was the last thing I wanted.
Anyways, I tested the glowing lines, I flicked the edge of my spectral prison with my finger and jumped back immediately...into the other wall.
Yeah. It was that kind of day.
I winced and got to my feet. This one was good. The competent ones could make their prisons be like walls, the incompetent ones had prisons made of cardboard, but to have the wall actually provide feedback...there could only be one summoner with such skill.
“H..hey, Lisa.”
Yep. It was that kind of day. I turned to find the furry little thing standing in front of the summoning circle, just past the bounds of the summoning circle. Their fur moved independently as if there was a wind blowing in a dozen directions, but of course we were in a dungeon. They reminded me of little, creepy teddy bears or the Ewoks from Star Wars.
“Jesus Christ, Soggoth, stop fucking summoning me!”
Soggoth cringed, his fur recoiling away from me as if repelled by a magnet. “L...look, I have to keep a reputation alright! Can you imagine if the rest of the people found-”
“Maybe I should just tell everyone else, that the Prime Host-”
“Err...it’s Supreme Host, actually”
“Whatever! Leader, president, dictator, whatever the fuck, is interested in-”
“SHHH!” Soggoth said immediately and the walls of my prison pressed against me for a moment before Soggoth realized what he was doing.
“S...sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he said miserably.
I just glared daggers at him, echoes of the pain still dancing across my skin. “I’ll charge you double now.”
Soggoth sighed. “Yeah...I figured.” He conjured two bars of solid gold out of the air. “Really, I don’t get why these rocks are so meaningful in hell,” he said, shaking his head.
“Alright, what is it you want to know today?”
See, humans were summoned for their knowledge, or well, google’s knowledge. The summoner's would ask how to make bombs, learn ancient battle strategies, make inventions. We made sure to never give them too much, lest they no longer need us. But some summoners had entirely other interests. Like Soggoth here, the leader of the entire damn dimension.
“Okay, so what happened in Game of Thrones this time?” he asked, handing me the gold through the circle.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed check out my sub [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| "Shit shit shit" I said under my breath as I raced down the sidewalk towards the bus. It was raining and all I could do was hold my unopened umbrella above my head as I ran. It obviously didn't help, so when I finally reached the bus stop panting and ready to fall over I was completely soaked through.
The bus doors were already closing when I reached it, but being desperate I managed to jam my umbrella between the gap in the doors before they closed. The door creaked rather loudly and the driver looked at me as if I were a fucking lunatic. I was still trying to catch my breath and very late so being crazy was the least of my problems.
After a moment the driver grudgingly opened the doors once more. I gave him a small 'thank you' between gasps, but he just glared at me at motioned for me to take my seat.
I sat down next to an elderly man listening to something on an old Walkman. He didn't pay me any attention, but continued to hum what sounded like dream lover.
I pulled off my glasses and began to wipe away the rainwater as I muttered a thanks to whatever god cared enough to receive it for making it on the bus in time. I had only just started my new job and the boss was as stoic as they come, so I really couldn't afford to be late. It hadn't taken long enough to get the damn job, anyway.
Of course I'll probably never be able keep that job now. Not with what happened about five minutes into the bus journey. One minute I was looking out to the passing storefronts with the old man now humming some blues tune and the next I had collapsed onto a hardwood floor in a room where everything was dim and smelled of old books and damp.
Managing to left my head up and put my now bent glasses back on, I saw that I was now in what looked like a attic. There were towers of books everywhere.
Getting myself into a sitting position I noticed I was surrounded by what looked like candles. There were five of them and they were all black and arranged in a circle around me. There were white trails on the floor connecting the candles. It looked like paint and as I inspected the pattern I noticed it formed a star. Frowning I looked up and nearly had a heart attack. There in front of the point of the star stood an old man in what looked like a long and dark robe. He stood perfectly still with a rather heavy looking book held open in front of him in his hands. He was smiling, or rather he was smiling at me. That's when I felt a tendril of fear run up along my spine. I backed away, my heart now begining to beat very quickly as the old man smiled at me. I hit a wall and I couldn't move any further. Looking back I saw there was no wall, but for some reason the area just before the candle was solid and I could not move past it. That's when the old man spoke.
"That's a barrier around you, demon. You cannot move beyond it" he said, his voice deep and grave. He looked pleased with himself. Utterly confused, I gulped and tried to speak.
"Ugh... who..who are you?" I stuttered. I had meant for it to come out more level, but I had so many questions and scenarios running through my head I guess it couldn't be helped.
"I am Lord Alsen Bodyth of the mage council, but you may call me master, demon" he proclaimed, sounding very proud.
I frowned. "De..demon?"
"Yes, but not just any demon. You're my demon" he pointed out, now grinning. That creeped me the fuck out, but all I could do was give a shaky laugh and say
"But... I.. I'm not a... demon" I wasn't entirely sure of what he was talking about, but I didn't liked it.
He gave me an understanding look and a nod "yes, yes, that's what they all say, but believe me demon, demon you are. I would know. I summoned you myself from the hell plain..." He looked down to his book for a moment searching for the name. Then having found it he looked back up and, still smiling, said "... Earth"
| 2017-05-12T07:53:08 | 2017-05-12T07:07:38 | 6,106 | 193 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | There were many questions I had, but I wasn't entirely sure how to react. I *was* in my house, but *now* I'm in a budget Lord of the Rings.
That included the wizard who looked like he'd both just pissed himself and had won the lottery.
"Good... GOOD... Now, my slave... DESTROY MY ENEMIES! Turn their skulls into paste! Their bodies into ash! Send their souls... TO OBLIVION!" The mage throatily screeched at me, followed by perhaps *the* most cliche evil laugh in the history of human existence.
"Uhhhh... Wut?"
"You... You're... Not obeying?"
"Sorry dude, but who are you again?"
"ME? I'M THE LEGENDARY WIZARD SALTHAZAR THE ALMIGHTY, DESTROYER OF REALMS!"
"So... Why do you need me?"
"I... Um... It's a rest day."
"Uh-huh..."
"Don't question me! You're the demon here!"
Yeah... Real funny dude...
Wait what?
"Demon? Me?"
"Yes! That's why I summoned you here!"
"Uhhh..."
"And now that you are here... You shall slay my enemies, and bring this world to its knees!"
"Uhhh... Sorry dude... I don't do anything unless it's in writing..."
"You mean a contract? Never fret! The mighty Salthazar has one right here!" He shoved a piece of parchment in my face, the various scribbles were probably words... Right?
"Uh... Huh... Yeah... This is..."
"Now... Destroy, my Demon!"
This guy's clearly mad. Time to find my way back.
Looking around, I quickly formed a plan.
I ran around, blowing out all the candles and knocking over as much as I physically could, just generally causing as much damage as possible.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP DESTROYING MY WORKSHOP!"
"What? You said "Destroy". You never said *what* to destroy after signing the contract." I shrugged and carried on laying ruin to what I'm guessing is this mans livelihood.
Salthazar sulked and slumped into a corner, "Now I see why they told me never to trust Demons..." | It felt like I had tripped up some stairs. For a second I thought I had, and immediately froze. The plate in my hand still held the Reuben, but the surface beneath.....
My head snapped up, and I noticed the darkness first. Second were the candles, placed carefully around me in hexagons expanding away from me. Low-level bands of light etched out the writing between the tiers, though none of it looked like a language I could place. The floor, instead of the carpeted stairs I had been climbing, was an old wood, stained with neglect, and riddled with gaps and protruding nails. One was digging into my hand, and as I lifted it I realized the nail was rough, as if hand-forged.
My analysis of the floor was disrupted by a heavy thud, just beyond the candles.
"Stay where you are, demon!"
"What?" I rose, still holding the plate.
A figure was just visible in the room, which I now saw was small, and claustrophobic. A low work-bench dominated a wall, scattered with shapes that I could only just spot in the candle-light. A window was open, but I couldn't feel a breeze. The figure, which seemed to be rather.... short, was doing its best at a power pose, and failing.
"I said stay where you are!"
"Nah, I got that. What's with the demon? Is that some kind of racist term I'm not aware of?"
"What?"
"What?"
The figure shook its head. "Look, you are a demon, you have to be! I summoned you, with a demon summoning, so you have to be a demon! That's how this works!"
I tried to step forward, collided against something. Something hard. "The fuck!?"
"Ahah, see! That barrier holds in demons! And you're a demon!"
"Oh yeah? Have you tried to pass through this?" Hard as rock, my finger tips told me.
"I don't have to prove it works. It won't, because I'm not a demon!" He even stamped his foot. Adorable.
I had had enough. I shifted my sandwich to my other hand, and hefted the plate. Middle school track, don't fail me now. The plate landed with a soft thud three feet to the left of the figure. Almost as if...
"How old even are you?" I asked, leaning against the barrier and taking a bite of my sandwich.
The figure flinched. "N- not you- hush, you demon!"
"Sooooooo, eight, then?" I glanced over at the figure. Definitely too immature to be an adult. I turned my back on him, and took another bite. "Is this your bedroom? Why do you even want a demon? What are demons supposed to do?"
"I- I said hush!"
"Uh huh. You getting bullied in school?"
"I SAID HUSH!"
My feet skidded across the floor as if I had been shoved. Before I could regain my slouch the walls slammed into me, pinning my sandwich to my thigh, my other arm across my chest. "Wha-"
"I have summoned you, demon, from your Earthly dimension, to aid me in a task!"
The walls were crushing me, and I gave a tiny whimper in response.
"You are to use your dark powers to kill the President, Tonald Drump!" | 2017-05-12T09:29:02 | 2017-05-12T08:05:41 | 65 | 10 |
[WP] You find a genie lamp where the genie offers you unlimited wishes. The catch is that you must answer a mathematical question that continues to get progressively harder for every wish you make. If you answer the question wrong, every wish you made will be reversed with negative consequences. | "I can make as many wishes as I want?"
"Yes. As long as you can answer the question."
"And If I get it wrong you reverse all the wishes?"
"Yes."
"I want to make a wish."
"What is the sum of three and six?"
"Nine."
"What is your wish?"
"I wish the world was an unimaginable hell hole."
"Done. Go outside and hear the screams."
"Not yet. I want to make another wish."
"What is the product of four and eight?"
"One." | The Logic Genie materialized out of an unearthly smoke.
"You may make any number of wishes, and I shall grant them therely. But beware: you must answer a mathematical question that continues to get harder for every wish you make. And if you miss a question, be warned, there will be consequences."
The Genie glared and thundered at me.
"Very well. I accept."
The Logic Genie exploded smoke; the landscape obscured into oblivion and there was suddenly nothing else but me and it.
"What is your first wish?" it growled.
"I know that if I were to wish for something like the ability to turn into the world's foremost mathematician, there would be some caveat like he's 99 or something and senile."
"Very good" the great female-sounding voice boomed.
"What you didn't take into account is that the first rule of wishing is to preclude infinite wishing. I didn't hear any such prohibition in your description of the rules."
"You are correct."
"Then why wouldn't you preclude it? Well, I'm afraid that's check mate anyways."
"So you're ready to make your first wish?"
"Yes." I said. "I wish for infinite wishes, under the specific condition that I can end the wishes at any time."
"As you command..." The Genie boomed.
The Logic Genie materialized out of an unearthly smoke.
"You may make any number of wishes, and I shall grant them therely. But beware: you must answer a mathematical question that continues to get harder for every wish you make. And if you miss a question, be warned, there will be consequences." | 2017-06-17T23:24:32 | 2017-06-17T21:55:12 | 266 | 28 |
[WP] You find a genie lamp where the genie offers you unlimited wishes. The catch is that you must answer a mathematical question that continues to get progressively harder for every wish you make. If you answer the question wrong, every wish you made will be reversed with negative consequences. | "So you're saying I can wish for anything, right?"
"Anything. You'll just have to answer a simple math question for each wish."
Bullshit. I could see the bullshit in this Genie's eyes. There was no way it would be this easy.
"Fine. My first wish is that I don't have to answer any math questions you ask me after I make a wish."
"Fuck." | The Logic Genie materialized out of an unearthly smoke.
"You may make any number of wishes, and I shall grant them therely. But beware: you must answer a mathematical question that continues to get harder for every wish you make. And if you miss a question, be warned, there will be consequences."
The Genie glared and thundered at me.
"Very well. I accept."
The Logic Genie exploded smoke; the landscape obscured into oblivion and there was suddenly nothing else but me and it.
"What is your first wish?" it growled.
"I know that if I were to wish for something like the ability to turn into the world's foremost mathematician, there would be some caveat like he's 99 or something and senile."
"Very good" the great female-sounding voice boomed.
"What you didn't take into account is that the first rule of wishing is to preclude infinite wishing. I didn't hear any such prohibition in your description of the rules."
"You are correct."
"Then why wouldn't you preclude it? Well, I'm afraid that's check mate anyways."
"So you're ready to make your first wish?"
"Yes." I said. "I wish for infinite wishes, under the specific condition that I can end the wishes at any time."
"As you command..." The Genie boomed.
The Logic Genie materialized out of an unearthly smoke.
"You may make any number of wishes, and I shall grant them therely. But beware: you must answer a mathematical question that continues to get harder for every wish you make. And if you miss a question, be warned, there will be consequences." | 2017-06-18T06:29:50 | 2017-06-17T21:55:12 | 63 | 28 |
[WP] You find a genie lamp where the genie offers you unlimited wishes. The catch is that you must answer a mathematical question that continues to get progressively harder for every wish you make. If you answer the question wrong, every wish you made will be reversed with negative consequences. | "So you're saying I can wish for anything, right?"
"Anything. You'll just have to answer a simple math question for each wish."
Bullshit. I could see the bullshit in this Genie's eyes. There was no way it would be this easy.
"Fine. My first wish is that I don't have to answer any math questions you ask me after I make a wish."
"Fuck." | ***I'm not telling you any of the answers, so try to see how many problems you can solve without Googling***
"Why hello, Genie. It appears you want me to wish?"
"Yes, but I will only grant wishes to match your logical ability. I am forbidden from giving you more than you can handle. As such, for every wish, your mathematical inquisition will increase a grade level."
"Ok."
"1st question: How many more than 3 is 7?"
After successfully answering, the client wished for an extraordinary companion and was granted what would become his favorite pet.
"2nd question: How many 5's do you need to make 70?"
Again, he answered correctly and got a wish granted. As he was a recent college graduate, he had enough math skills to tear through all of he grade level questions:
"What is 4*6?"
"What is 3^2 ?"
"What is the prime factorization of 90?"
"Solve: (3x)/4+1=13"
"What is 125^(1/3) ?"
"Write me the quadratic formula."
Before long, however, the genie realized that simple mathematics would not suffice to settle this score. He needed logic.
"Listen carefully. 2^X =23. 23^Y =32. If both of these are true, what is X*Y?"
With one wrong answer, every wish came flying back, and the man was handed a school uniform and a free year's tuition at his elementary school.
That, and he was turned to a 6-year-old.
| 2017-06-18T06:29:50 | 2017-06-17T23:40:28 | 63 | 18 |
[WP] Aliens have no concept of mental illness. During the great galactic war, humans send in all of their depressed, insane, schizophrenic, psychopathic, etc. to take them by surprise with their "illogical" behavior. | Blue-41 pered over the corner, making a gesture of denial. "Nuh-uh. Not going in there."
"It's just *one human*", Red-AB sighed. "It's not heavily armed and it's just sitting there." The creature wasn't actually sitting, really, as much as it was curled up into a tiny ball. Truth be told, it looked kind of sick.
"It's a *human*", Blue insisted. Red sighed. Yeah, yeah. Gummy little murder machines that figure out a way to weaponise everything they encounter, aren't stopped or even particularly phased by the removal of a limb of two, with seemingly no instinct of survival or self-protection. Can't be negotiated with, can't be reasoned with, destroy colonies on sight. The training program sure had drilled an appropriate fear of the enemy into this one.
"No, seriously," Blue continued. "Check the vital signs."
Taken by surprise, Red-AB turned to the human detection machines. Normative body heat, slight movement of rocking back and forth, and a pulse racing beyond anything he had seen.
"But it's not even *moving*", he said in disbelief. At a rate like that it ought to have been running at full speed, having gone on for hours. "It's just sitting there, alone, and a rate like *that*? Is it charging something?"
"Emotional distress", Blue said, still studying the tiny creature. "I don't think it's alone. They have senses that we don't, and whatever is in there with it, that human being is *terrified.* I'm not going in there."
Silently, Red agreed.
About three miles from them, Kim sat all alone inside the scouting vehicle, trying to power through a panic-attack. | This is it. Saving humanity is within my grasp. I had always been depressed. I had always wanted to end it all. Ever since the the wars on Earth had ended. I knew I would end it. I had talked to a thousand shrinks, all paid for by the U.S. Government. I heard it all, until they told me I could be a hero for it. I don't know how they found out, but they did. The aliens didn't understand it. To be depressed was as foreign to them as they were to us. "We're almost there get ready to drop." Halo jumps we're always the worst. It wasn't any easier with a chest full of explosives either. I was to drop in and be captured. They would never think that killing yourself was the thing that you wanted more than anything. They're to think I was going to drop it off as a little present. But really the moment I see the leader I push the button and boom. I'm a big damn hero. They'd never see me coming. The green light to jump came on and I put on my helmet and jumped. The atmosphere on thier home planet was thick. And the gravity was weak. Felt like I fell for hours. Probably did. I pulled my shute and landed. Had to keep on the helmet, can't die yet haven't seen the leader. The leader was the biggest one. I assumed. No one knew. Once I had confirmation I was to hit the button. Or just stop my heart, it was rigged to a heart monitor. It was a 30 mile hike to the base and I had a lot of time to think, to rehash old wounds and let it sink in that I was finally gonna get what I wanted. I had tried once before. Xanax can usually do the trick, if they don't pump your stomach. I went over everything, every part of my life. Don't cry Jimmy, you're a big boy now. Every single foster parent seemed the same. Every new house every new family the same. It was always sympathy, "Oh my God, what a terrible thing to happen to a little boy." All the sympathy they could muster. Then I became that poor kid... FUCK THEM FUCK THEM ALL I HATED THEM THEY NEVER TRULY KNEW WHAT IT WAS LIKE OR EVEN CARED. Coming over the hill I heard a gargled noise. I had heard radio transmissions of thier language but it was so disturbing to hear through comms. They had spotted me. They motioned for me to follow them, with my hands up I did. They took me through the base to the back end down a long flight of stairs... And then I saw him. Even with his semi humanoid face and body I knew he was the most arrogant son of a bitch I've ever met. He stared me in the eye. I motioned for the button...
SIMULATION TERMINATED.
There now Jimmy don't you feel better?
| 2017-07-16T03:58:27 | 2017-07-16T03:56:39 | 119 | 17 |
[WP] The world's tiniest dragon must defend his hoard, a single gold coin, from those who would steal it. | A little dragon born, with great small eyes of red and gold. He crawled out of his egg and roared, his tiny voice heard across the cavern hall.
The little dragon was met by loving eyes and a proud cry from his dragon mom and dragon dad. Their firstborn hatched and soon would grow, as their mighty dragon son to defend their dragon hoard.
But the little dragon did not grow, his tiny wings and tiny frame remained the same. His dragon mom wondered what had gone wrong, his dragon dad grew cold.
Little dragon boy, ashamed of his meager form, tried to spew fire as his kind would do. Only a cough came out, with a tiny spark, to the disgust of his fire-spewing kin.
And when winters passed and not an inch he grew, the hapless parents flew. With their hoard in tow, away from their cursed home, they left the little dragon boy all alone.
Little loveless dragon boy, woke up one day to see them gone. The glittering mound of gold and jewels had vanished along, save for a single golden coin.
The little dragon boy cried, tears falling down his great small eyes of red and gold, he snuggled against the cold coin and wondered if he'd ever see his mom and dad return.
An idea then he had, he thought that his parents could still come back. To collect the lost coin and then be so proud. Of a mighty, tiny dragon son, guarding a piece of their hoard.
A little dragon guarded, a single golden coin, his nostrils flared and his great small eyes shone. He'd guard his great dragon's hoard.
And then they'd come home.
| Jasper flew up from the park with a rush of excitement, A small golden coin clutched between his two miniature claws. He had finally claimed a prize from those pesky humans.
Unlike his counterparts, Jasper’s unusual size allowed him to fly into the city reasonably undetected. He would find a flock of like-minded pigeons, united in their search for scraps. The scales and feathers would fly artfully, gliding over and under electrical wires, circling traffic lights and catching the airflow from the subway, heading for the humans’ favourite picnic spots. From there they would sit, wait and glare impetuously at the lunching crowds. When the baskets closed and the mats were folded, the flock would move in, relentlessly scavenging for every edible morsel in range. Unknown to his new friends, however, was that Jasper had no aspirations for breadcrumbs.
On this day, something different caught the little dragon’s eyes. A young family had just started on their way while the pigeons had moved in to scavenge whatever was left behind. Jasper, on other hand, stayed with the family, inconspicuously following them through the flock of pigeons. A small and vulnerable toddler ambled a short distance behind her parents, glaring inquisitively at something in her hands. Jasper shared her curiosity. When a ray of light illuminated a golden medallion, the small creature wasted no time. He jumped up, spread his lettuce-sized wings and dive-bombed the unsuspecting toddler from behind, snatching the shiny circle into his tiny claws.
After making it only a few hundred yards, Jasper set down in the vacated nest of a hollow tree, his modest hoard intact. He set it down in front of his small snout and began to study the eye-catching prize. It was meticulously detailed with incomprehensible etchings lining the circumference, encircling what-looked like a well-groomed human. Jasper was delighted with his valuable finding. He had proved his competence. The other dragons could no longer mock his stature.
Suddenly a pattering of tiny feet peppered the grass at the base of the tree. The little dragon froze in his cosy new lair, surprised to see the inquisitive young eyes of his victim reappear. After affirming the toddler’s identity as the one he did indeed rob, Jasper’s attention snapped back to his golden prize. Nothing was there. Alarmed, the petite creature scrambled about the nest, sending a black cloud of dust and bark flying through the small opening in the tree. Eventually, the aspirational dragon resigned himself to the loss and brought his gaze accusingly upon the toddler.
There, in the small sausage fingers of his victim stood the dragon’s ill-gotten winnings. With a seamless pinch of the nails, the toddler removed the shiny gold coating of the coil to reveal a mysterious brown disk. The half-human took a miniature bite out of it, grinned and handed the remainder to Jasper.
“For you. It’s tasty!”
| 2017-09-07T12:45:24 | 2017-09-07T12:19:27 | 52 | 30 |
[WP] "You... you, did all of this... for a pun?" | I decided, today was the day I was going to fulfill my destiny.
I began sorting out all my belongings , anything I could find to sell to fund my odd fetish. Old books, photos, electronics, anything I could lay my hands on.
I carried my sack of items to every trader in town, any shop who was willing to change my items for some money. Eventually, I managed to get $500. Not too bad.
I walked towards the neighborhood whorehouse, and picked myself a pretty one. She asked if I had any requests, and of course I did. “Put on this habit please, and wear this cross.”
She obliged. I started tying her up and the rest is history.
My housemate called me the next day and asked me why my room was empty. I explained everything that happened.
“But why, Jack?” he asked, clearly shocked.
“Because you know me, I’m the Jack of all trades, Master of nun.” | The city burned, in the distance screams of pain echoed across the broken landscape, like something out of a cold-war era tv show, but this was no tv show, nukes had been dropped naught 1 hour ago when Jane finally made it back to her house
“JOHN! JOHN!”
She cried out, calling for her brother if he was even there, he had an amazing political record, even being know for rubbing shoulders with the president himself, but Jane was snapped out of her thoughts of John when she heard a spund of something dragging itself across the ground, she immediately rushed towards only to realize it was merely her dog who was too tired to walks yet, miraculously unharmed, that’s when the tv caught her eye, it was muted as to night wake her dog, but the nukes already did that.
Turning up the volume on the T.V Jane could hear that “A young politician by the name of John ellewood is responsible for the complete and utter destruction of America’s west coast, reports from the CIA state “John had planned and exucuted false flag operations against China, which led to all out war and eventually, the destruction you see now” Please, if you are hearing this broadcast, get to the nearest shelter, the shockwave may have passed but there are still lasting effects after it”
Jane couldn’t belive her ears, her brother? False flags? Nukes? It was all too much, she needed to find him, so she booted up Snapchat and looked at the location of his phone which was surprisingly easy considered half of the U.S had been nukes, and to top the incredible easy-ness off, Johns cell was at Harvey park naught 2.5 miles away so Jane hopped into her truck and went off to find her brother
5 minutes later, after her car breaking down, Jane was at the park where she saw the solitary figure of her brother amidst the burnt foliage, “ John is it true? Did you do this?” Jane asked, gesturing around to the death and destruction
“Yup, I practically nukes the city myself”
“But why John? Why all of the death?”
“I’ll admit, Jane, I don’t know, all I know is that, you could say I’m the bomb.” | 2018-02-05T06:44:34 | 2018-02-05T06:16:29 | 1,306 | 125 |
[WP] "You... you, did all of this... for a pun?" | “Punnen! Punnen it burns!” his wife screamed in agony. The sores had begun to cover her face...the same sores that had plagued him for the last couple of weeks.
Punnen kept his eyes on his work. Doing his best to drown out the intruding sound, he continued pruning back the overgrowth in his prized garden. It was hard work, keeping his plants trimmed this meticulously. No one understood. No one but Punnen.
“You slept with her didn’t you,” she spat, “that seed vendor from the market? The one you are always carrying on with?” She began to cry softly.
“I am so sorry,” Punnen said slowly, his voice but a whisper. “I just couldn’t help myself.” He gestured toward the corner of his garden at a small sproutling. “I am a man who takes what he wants, and as a result I now have her peas.”
“You... you, did all of this... for a pun?” she managed, her voice wavering.
No... Punnen tended. | The city burned, in the distance screams of pain echoed across the broken landscape, like something out of a cold-war era tv show, but this was no tv show, nukes had been dropped naught 1 hour ago when Jane finally made it back to her house
“JOHN! JOHN!”
She cried out, calling for her brother if he was even there, he had an amazing political record, even being know for rubbing shoulders with the president himself, but Jane was snapped out of her thoughts of John when she heard a spund of something dragging itself across the ground, she immediately rushed towards only to realize it was merely her dog who was too tired to walks yet, miraculously unharmed, that’s when the tv caught her eye, it was muted as to night wake her dog, but the nukes already did that.
Turning up the volume on the T.V Jane could hear that “A young politician by the name of John ellewood is responsible for the complete and utter destruction of America’s west coast, reports from the CIA state “John had planned and exucuted false flag operations against China, which led to all out war and eventually, the destruction you see now” Please, if you are hearing this broadcast, get to the nearest shelter, the shockwave may have passed but there are still lasting effects after it”
Jane couldn’t belive her ears, her brother? False flags? Nukes? It was all too much, she needed to find him, so she booted up Snapchat and looked at the location of his phone which was surprisingly easy considered half of the U.S had been nukes, and to top the incredible easy-ness off, Johns cell was at Harvey park naught 2.5 miles away so Jane hopped into her truck and went off to find her brother
5 minutes later, after her car breaking down, Jane was at the park where she saw the solitary figure of her brother amidst the burnt foliage, “ John is it true? Did you do this?” Jane asked, gesturing around to the death and destruction
“Yup, I practically nukes the city myself”
“But why John? Why all of the death?”
“I’ll admit, Jane, I don’t know, all I know is that, you could say I’m the bomb.” | 2018-02-05T07:14:32 | 2018-02-05T06:16:29 | 663 | 125 |
[WP] Write about a world where whenever somebody writes on their skin, it appears on their soulmate's body as well. | It took a damn long time for my ink to show. As kids, none of us could really make out any writing that showed up on our bodies. But then, most everyone's was at least somewhat legible by the time they were a teen, and almost always completely clear by the time they were 18 or 19. Throughout high school and college I watched my friends use their writing to find their soulmates as soon as they could make out the messages their alleged soulmates were sending. By the time I could read mine though, I was already in my mid twenties, and over the excitement of it all. The messages that would appear on my arms and hands were usually questions about me, doodles, or suggestions to meet up. I ignored them all, and went on with my life.
After a year or so, I met Roy. He hated the idea of finding a soulmate though the strange and foreign messages on his body just as much as I did, so we stuck together in our rebelliousness. Weeks went by, and the messages we got from our "soulmates" came less and less. They faded, as the months Roy and I spent together went on. Eventually, they stopped altogether. Not once, in all those years we spent together did we ever wonder what happened to the ones who sent the messages. All we needed was each other. Today though, as we send out our wedding invitations, Roy is staring at me, with happy tears in his eyes. His hand is held towards me, with a simple phone number written down in the middle of his palm. The same number, in the same marker, in the same handwriting that I just wrote down on my own palm.
I was never told to love Roy. It wasn't fate that brought us together. We did that on our own. We trusted our love, and in doing so, became soulmates. | It began around 7 PM, a light scratching along the length of my forearm. It tickled, and made my hairs stand on end. At long last, after eighteen years of isolation, my soulmate was trying to reach out. All those years of dragging myself through the day, fueled by caffeine, only to drink myself to sleep, holding out for a special moment. This moment. I took a pen from my desk and wrote on the other arm a shaky "Hi. I'm Matt."
The scratching stopped. I wasn't quite sure how this worked. Do soulmates get to see the ink, or do they just feel the pen? Had I hurt her? I turned away from my computer screen and plopped down into my bed. And then the bleeding began.
My forearm split open before my eyes, as if cut with an invisible knife, spilling blood all over my bed. It burned like mad. Another cut- horizontal, this time, on the back of my forearm. This one, smaller.
I scrambled to find something to tie it up with. The shitty first aid kit I kept with like, 4 bandages, would hardly suffice, and settled for an old towel. Infection would hardly matter when I was in danger of dying from blood loss. My arm was already numb, and the skin kept splitting open.
"911. Yes, send an ambulance. I'm bleeding out from cuts in my arms." I muttered my address, wrapped the towel tightly around the wounds, and pressed, wincing from the pain. I held on for what must have felt like forever until sirens appeared outside my door. I stumbled outside and collapsed.
I woke up in a hospital bed. They'd given me fifteen stitches, a transfusion, and one hell of a bill. My arm stung and itched through the bandages, but I was alive. I could've cried.
In the weeks of my recovery, I tried to imagine my soul mate. A girl who, like me, lived her life a social outcast. Who spent too much time online, cut off from the rest of the world. Who worked herself to death without any recognition, barely scraping by. Who kept waiting for her soulmate to say something, but was afraid. Deathly afraid of rejection. I'd been there. Imagine blowing your chances with the one person you're meant to be with.
We were truly meant for one another. Two of life's biggest losers, wallowing in a shared pit of failure. Imagining that everything would be solved if we just found each other. If she hadn't done it, I probably would've at some point.
But the funny thing is (and yes, there is a funny thing in all that), I chose to keep living. Yes, I'd blown it. I'd never be with the one girl who I'm meant to stay with for all of eternity. But it felt like failing a big test. At least it's over. When the bandages came off, I found one last thing she'd given me, before she passed. A series of scars on the back of my arm, spelling out "Sorry Matt".
[subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | 2018-04-01T21:53:10 | 2018-04-01T21:39:41 | 63 | 24 |
[WP] Turns out Humans are tiny compared to any other species of aliens, allowing them to live off in the nooks and crannies of alien spaceships. Colonies can live on ships for generations unseen and unknown, or have a mutually beneficial relationship with a crew. | **Humans: The Intelligent Pest**
The human is one of the few intergalactic minor species to adapt to life in urban environments, as such they can now be found nearly everywhere within the populated universe. Some consider them a virulent pest and call the exterminators as soon as they find a human colony, others insist that they are actually very clean and, in fact, can clear out the nastier pests from the home. Regardless of which camp you belong, no-one can disagree that humans are here to stay.
Humans were fist introduced into the intergalactic ecosystem when a small child-rearing collective visited the species’ originating planet while exploring some rural galaxies. The collective illegally bypassed screening checkpoints, possibly knowing that they would be subject to quarantine, and thus introduced the human stowaways to the protected galactic environment. By the time the first colony was found it was already too late.
How and why were humans so successful in infiltrating the central intergalactic ecosystems? These questions are why many find them so fascinating. Some time after the outbreak became apparent and the usual methods of isolation and eradication had failed, an expedition was sent to their planet of origin to study them in their natural habitat. What they found was that the humans on their planet acted very differently to those we had grown accustomed to. While the humans on their home planet considered themselves special due to their superior position in their planets ecosystem, the stowaways had no such illusion. What makes the human different to all other minor species is that they recognised their new position in the galactic environment and adapted to it quickly. While their ignorant cousins still fought each other over fractions of their home world, the galactic human learnt to peacefully cooperate in ever increasing numbers. Whether this is due to survival instincts brought on by the threat of their new environment or a conscious change in thinking due to their new sense of perspective is a subject of heated debate.
In this book we will be discussing the degree to which humans can be attributed intelligence. Are they just a clever pest? Or are they intelligent enough for their extermination to be considered murder? We will also be touching upon some of the wilder theories surrounding humans, such as the idea that human colonies are actually in communication with each other, and that these human networks potentially span over all intergalactic civilization, or the claims that human colonies on abandoned vessels have grown to take complete control of the craft and now wander space looking to expand their influence. | The first time galactic scale of travels came to earth we were ill equipped to even comprehend it. Futurists had theorized about Dyson spheres for decades, and fantasized about travelling between stars for centuries. But even then, we didn't quite comprehend the sheer scale of it, or of the beings out there.
At some point, humans had fantasized about putting engines and habitats on asteroids, to gradually transform them into something habitable, in order to break the trap of Tellus' gravity well.
It wasn't enough.
When the aliens finally arrived, it wasn't much fanfare as terror. Their ships, if you could call it that, were seen as gravitational differences first. Scientists were baffled, religious people were chanting about judgement day.
In the end, they did figure it out, and the world didn't end. Not because of any aliens, at least. It turns out that of all the futurists and science fiction authors, Lovecraft was the one closest. Not because they were tentacled eldritch horrors. But they _did_ sleep, and they did sleep under the ocean, amongst the stars. And they dreamed, and while they dreamed, their computers plotted courses, tracking it's path through the galaxy.
By the time we realized it was a ship, it was already slowing down. And by the time we were able to send a satellite, they were already interfering with the heliosphere. The first communication came from somewhere in the Oort cloud. A looping encoded transmission, one telling the end of the universe to come, and explaining the physics of a launch craft to break us out of the solar system.
They stayed in orbit around the solar system for another few decades, and meanwhile we finally figured out the scale of their ship. Approximately twice the mass of Sol, it had it's own tail of asteroids, as it aligned itself outside our solar system. Waiting.
It took years before mankind got itself together enough to send a manned probe, and even then it was believed to be a one way journey. And it was.
----
Adam looked up from the page, listening to the slow drip of moisture somewhere. The history of the travellers. He'd lived his entire life on the ship, and he no longer knew where they were in the galaxy, or even which galaxy it was. Once they'd departed, all communication with Earth had been lost, and various teams on the ship had been stranded.
So far, they knew that the founders were aquatic, preferring an acidic water mixture and relatively high gravity. The dry sections of the "ship" was mostly on the outside sections, past the comfortable gravity well. The running theory was that the ship had started out as a dyson sphere that had then reshaped the star, pushed it to the edge of becoming a singularity, and held it there as the sphere was reshaped around it. But they couldn't know.
So far, they had found life in central part, and several signs of other space faring civilizations as well, yet no trace of any currently living aliens. Which in and of itself wasn't strange, considering the time scales involved. Any attempts at interfacing with the ship computer systems had been met with harsh resistance, and it was deemed an unnecessary risk to further trigger the "immune system" of the ship. Thus, they were left to their own devices.
In the documented four generations, they'd made contact with one other solar system that had been inhabited, they'd seen the radio chatter and signals, but there had been no trace of a landing craft, or even an satellite approaching the ship.
| 2018-05-30T11:12:13 | 2018-05-30T10:52:28 | 2,926 | 918 |
[WP] You are one of those bosses that tells your employees to "get it done yesterday." One of your employees always delivers, literally. | “Stevens! God damn it, Stevens, you cannot hide. We chipped every last one of you so stop avoiding me!” Roger had grown weary of chasing after the senior accountant while watching the indicator on his phone marked as “Fucking Stevens” move steadily away from his own indicator.
“It’s done, okay! I did what you asked! The report was in as of 4PM yesterday!”
“Why is there a bust of Hitler in my office! Why is there a nazi god damn flag waving outside my fucking window!”
“Roger, I told you there could be consequen-“
“Don’t give me ‘consequences’! How did you fuck up World War 2? Stevens my wife is or at least *was* Jewish. Who the fuck is going to be waiting for me when I get home?”
“Prob-probably not Gloria. Probably someone more...” Stevens tried to summon the most hopeful smile he could muster. “...blonde?”
“What do we say about the timeline when we’re making up for being procrastinating little shits, Stevens?”
“Don’t di-“
“DON’T DICK THE TIMELINE! NOW GO BACK AND UNFUCK WHAT YOU’VE DONE OR WE’RE CHANGING YOUR NAME TO BARRY ALLEN PER COMPANY POLICY!” | I walk into my office to find a sealed brown envelope on my desk. I toss it onto the pile of unopened mail. I don't have time for junk mail, I have enough problems.
I lean out of my office and make eye contact with the new guy. The idiot is wearing a thick woolen sweater, despite today being one of the hottest days of the year. He smiles as he hangs up his desk phone. He only started this morning, so he's as useless as a newborn. Might as well try to squeeze some value out of him. "Oy! You. Go grab me a coffee. I'm lactose intolerant, so make sure they use..."
"Coconut milk, with a shot of peppermint?" He hands me a coffee cup. It is piping hot. It has my name and exact order printed on the side. Kid has done his homework, he must have asked one of the others. I appreciate someone that can kiss arse effectively. Still, now what am I supposed to do with him?
"Fine, go speak with Cindy in accounting. We need those end of quarter numbers yesterday."
New guy smiles. "Actually, that was Cindy on the phone. I figured I should phone and introduce myself. We had a lovely chat. She just emailed you the numbers."
"Oh, erm, well in that case, you should go grab lunch."
"Absolutely boss, I'll get right on that."
I don't like how keen he is. There's something about him, a certain arrogance, as if he knows better. I remember in the interview, when I asked him where he would be in five years, he had the nerve to say he'd be my boss. Cheeky bastard.
When he gets back I'm going to give him the most pointless, arduous task I can think of, going through everyone's expense receipts. That should wipe that smug grin off his face and remind him who is in charge around here.
I sit down at my desk and my phone buzzes with a weather update. Freak snow storm? In July? What on earth?
There's a knock on my door. It's Janice. She smiles. "Oh hey, can you pop this one in the envelope, I forgot to give it to the new guy." She gestures to the brown envelope I had tossed aside. I open it and find a neatly stapled stack of expense receipts in chronological order. She continues. "So proactive of him to do everyone's expenses. That kid's going to go far. I just saw him hop in the elevator with the CEO. They seemed to be really hitting it off..." | 2018-06-01T09:26:15 | 2018-06-01T09:17:38 | 98 | 60 |
[WP] When you kill someone, you get their best trait. Except it's what *they* think is their best trait. | You know, my power is one that sounds like it's directly out of some kind of story about morality.
&#x200B;
"You can steal someone's favorite thing about themself when you kill them? Doesn't that sound like something you'd read in some kind of story where you learn some big lesson?"
&#x200B;
I pull the knife out of the back of the world's greatest humanitarian leader. Fourteen billion dollars given to charities worldwide across the last fifteen years. Recognized worldwide as a hero, one of the few people who wanted change in society and fought for it, while having the means to do so.
&#x200B;
The world goes white. I enter a new reality, one with the new trait added to my ensemble.
&#x200B;
You know, my power is one that sounds like it's directly out of a story about morality.
&#x200B;
All I've learned about morality is that people are shitbags.
&#x200B;
I grin, fourteen billion dollars fresh in my bank account.
&#x200B;
What a fuckin' hypocrite. | Wyatt Higgins. That asshole. He bullied others, talked down to everyone, and used his football-induced strength to attract willing servants and sluts. And through all that, he always thought of himself as the one in the right, the one who did good. Any problems he created? Nope, that was someone else. Any people he hurt? They had it coming. I suppose, being a narcissist, he wouldn't think anything else.
Well, it was he who had it coming, now. After killing someone, I realized I had a power, and killed even more. The jerk teacher who'd always say I was cheating, the bitch who made all the girls avoid me, and my drunken abusive father. They were all dead, and I gained sneakiness, intelligence, and strength respectively. All traits they thought were their best trait.
I would've killed Wyatt anyways. Ever since overcoming the little voice that said killing was wrong, he was on my list. But now I had another reason. What did Wyatt think was his best trait? Everything. He thought he knew everything, could control everything, and his every word and action would be remembered. And best of all, he thought all of his traits were his best traits equally.
Narcissism no longer annoys me. Instead, it's the path to becoming God.
So I snuck into his room in the dead of night. I'm ready to strike. I wonder if he'd have any regrets? Knowing him, he'd have none. I suppose that's a trait I can live with.
My knife flashed down.
______________________________________________________
Wyatt Higgins woke up feeling achy. *Why am I on the floor?* He stood up, then froze, his eyes on the corpse on his bed.
Wyatt stared at the dead Wyatt with a knife in his throat. After pondering a few minutes, he decided that it was a crazed stalker who tried to *be* him, but found they couldn't match him. They then stalked him home and committed suicide, knowing that it was better to die as him than go back to their lives. It was the only explanation that made sense! Clearly something crazy had happened, and who *wouldn't* want to be him?
Wyatt sighed and mentally prepared himself to tell his parents. The poor bastard. They would never have even come close to achieving his own perfection.
Being Wyatt Higgins was his own best trait, after all. | 2018-09-15T13:48:46 | 2018-09-15T13:18:18 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] A young witch harbors a deep dislike for her annoying classmate. She casts a curse on her classmate, dooming him to slowly lose the thing he loves the most. A few days pass, and the witch falls ill with a mysterious sickness she can't seem to get rid of. | Dear Diary,
Today Greg wouldn’t leave me alone in potions class. He sits two rows away from me and wears the dumbest looking wizard’s hat. That sickly kid Timmy is the only thing between us and he’s almost as annoying, coughing all the time. But Greg is worse. He keeps poking me and teasing me, then laughing with his friends. I hate him and his stupid hat. So I came up with a brilliant plan. I checked out a book from the library and found a curse that will make him lose the thing he loves most. Slowly, so it hurts. That will teach him to mess with me.
Dear Diary,
It’s been a week since I cast the curse. I woke up with a fever today, coughing and sneezing. Spots and rashes starting to grow on my skin. A sickness unlike any I’ve seen before and I can’t figure out how to get rid of it.
He came to me today, looking sad. He said I looked awful. A bit blunt perhaps but I could see concern, the worry in his eyes as though he was deep in thought, thinking about something deeply upsetting. That’s when I knew. He loved me. All the teasing and the pranks, of course! He loved me but he never knew how to say it. And now he was thinking about what would happen to me if I didn’t recover. I felt so many emotions at once. Bewilderment, joy, anger, sadness. How could I have not realized it before? How was I so blind! And now I am cursed to die. The irony of the situation devastated me. I cursed myself! It was sad but somehow romantic, poetic justice in a way. I think he realized I knew his true feelings for me, cause he changed the subject and asked me if I had seen his hat. I’d never noticed the color of his hair, how it shined in the light, how dreamy he was. As he walked away, I knew I loved him too. I have to break the curse so we can be together. Perhaps the school doctor will know how to reverse this curse. I’ll see her tomorrow and explain everything.
Dear Diary,
So apparently I have something called measles which is supposed to be super contagious. Turns out that dumbass Timmy wasn’t vaccinated.
| Meddy didn’t need an excuse to curse Timo; he was obnoxious. Sure, he was quiet, but it was annoying how he seemed to know the answer when everyone else was stumped. It was annoying. He got good grades and Ms. Patallong never ceased to brag about how she would start needing to make the tests harder for Timo. He would tighten up in embarrassment and everyone would glare with jealousy. She knew he was blushing, it was just that no one could see it. She could see through his stupid, beautiful black velvet skin. Meddy didn’t have such luxuries. When she blushed the red around her cheeks and forehead was apparent next to her alabaster skin.
She saw all though. She saw light or dark. She saw these bright, healthy beautiful blue rays emanating from him. She saw these weird light shows following everyone around. When people were sick, it was normally a sickly olive green, like ooze creeping under the door in stories her wet nurse would tell. When they were happy it was a burnt orange. Anger was red, and it was actually faint compared to rage which was a bright red.
She had only seen black mixed with purple once. That one was terrifying. The fletcher had always been happy, but his smile always ended with purple and black wisps curling down like drool. Turns out he had some awful growth inside of him that turned him yellow, literally. The deep purples faded to an intense black that her eyes would get lost in. When he died, tendrils of deep black smoke escaped from his eyes, ears, and mouth. Intense static of black leaked from every pore. It wasn’t uncommon for her to see sick people with her father being the town healer but that was the first and only death she had seen in her short life.
The curse wasn’t as easy to decipher. She had wished for possessions, simple things like candy and sweets, only the children had made fun of her when she put on the weight of a small vegetable pack. She had asked to get skinny, and had gotten so violently ill, her father had read her The Passage verse when someone would die and move onto the next life. She had wished her father dead in her first heated argument, and he had died, technically. While out on a fisherman’s boat talking to a sick sailor, he had fallen in the water. He nearly drowned and if it wasn’t for the experienced fisherman pounding the water out of his lungs, he would have. She then wished her father to never leave her alone again, so he would have fits of anger and sadness when he tried to leave the house.
All the calls for the healer were made at home until she realized how much pain it caused him and released the wish.
She had been careful after that, and had finally figured out in school how to carefully word her wishes. But she was tired of Timo. He needed to be put in his place. She whispered the words “I wish Timo lost the thing he loves most” and it was done.
That was the thing, she knew it would be the stupid mutt that followed him around the town. The runt was just like him. Scraggly. A runt. But after a week, the dog was just as chipper. She spit on the ground at the sight of the dog prancing next to him. Maybe it was her gut speaking, as she felt hungry no matter what she ate. A terrible fever would stricken her during the night over the past couple days. It was weird to say the least... | 2019-02-28T13:10:03 | 2019-02-28T09:10:28 | 239 | 42 |
[WP] After a treasure hunt with your friends, you make it to the treasure. But instead of the wealth you were told about, it was a note congratulating you on your journey and that the real treasure was the friends you made on the way. Only problem is that all your friends died getting you this far. | It was the end of my journey, I was eye-to-eye with what had caused all my friends to die before my eyes. I burst in to tears from the thought of my friends, I had encouraged them to come; "It will be worth it" I said foolishly. I took a few steps closer to the treasure chest and opened it up... All I saw was a piece of paper, I picked it up and read:
*Congratulations! You've found the treasure, I assume it was not as you expect. You expected treasure, but I've come to know that we need to appreciate the small things in life such as our friends.*
*The real treasure is the friendships you've made on your journey, and I want you to appreciate that. We take many things for granted; for example our friends, some people don't have any and can't experience what it feels like. I wish you farewell, and hope you agree with my words.*
*Sincerely, Thomas Abott*
I started crying.. I had come all this way and made all my friends to die just to get a piece of paper with less then 100 words. I looked to my right, my best friend Cameron was just sitting there life-less, I had known him since we were children and I wanted to be together forever. I made a promise I would always protect him and be there for him but now look at what I've done! Cameron was the last to die, he had died when just got to the chest, he got shot by an archer but had finally passed a couple minutes later. I started screaming, I couldn't handle it, I just caused everyone I've loved and known to die.
Jade had died when we first started the journey she got scared and tried to go back home but got killed on the way, she was carrying a med-kit and a pocketknife, and we could only retrieve the med-kit.
Reaching down to the treasure chest, I put then note in my pocket, and closed the chest. I sat down beside my friend, I was going to stay here. If I went home people would question where my friends were and I could never live with all that guilt.
As I was drifting off to sleep, I noticed the note, there was writing on the back of it.
*Meet me at Grahams Castle, if you ever find this, your journey has only just begun.*
I had a second look at the note, I grabbed my armor that I discarded and got geared up. I grabbed a few tools from Cameron, and a knife from Jade, I needed to be prepared. It was time to meet Thomas Abott.
PART 2 BEGINNING
I started following the stones we made to lead us to the exit incase we got lost. I arrived at my hometown named Butchoot, it was great to be back. It was a quiet and peaceful place, and not many people lived there.
i got lazy will finish part 2 soon
&#x200B;
^(I'm pretty young so sorry if this isn't the best bit of writing.) | "Oh great, for all the gaudy it was just another clue. Well fine then, what have you got in store for me, Mr. eccentric King?"
"Congratulations! You have found my treasure dear adventurers. Maybe this wasn't what you wanted, but it is surely what you needed. What you may now lack in gold is made up for in the vastness of your friendship, and surely your days shall be filled with joy far more than any amount of money or jewels could give you.
May your days be bright,
King Solnum."
...Excuse me? That's it? Some forest whelps storybook power of friendship ending? That's what my last hope was? That's what all my friendly act was for? Running through shitty mazes, dodging spike walls, spears, freaken' random boulders coming outta nowhere?!?!? Talking to those short-lived apes like we are actually ALLIES?!?!?!
I COULD HAVE DIED TO THAT SHIT! AND YOU'RE TELLING ME ALL THIS WAS FOR THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP! MY LAST BLOODY ACT WAS JUS-
"*cough* Judging by that look on your face, it's another clue isn't it?"
Oh right. The mayfly. Stabbed him right before the treasure; I really needed the money you see, so did he but he was *nice* and was willing to split it, including with the firefly despite her losing her head a room back. Isn't he just trying to take a bigger cut? The Cut Ears aren't very nice though, and I owe them a whole, whole lot.
"That's what you get you know, now you have to do it all alone-"
Yea yea, mayfly, it's actually worse then you know... wait should I show him? It's not in a good performance to play with the audience like that, but the faces would be nice...
"-but a backstabbing knife-ear like you it's completely fitting, waste away chasing your pot of gold through an endless labyrinth then."
Showing him. Damn the class. "Ha, actually no I shall not. This is the end of the "quest" as he so liked to call it. Look at it yourself."
At first, he was showing doubt, then his eyes froze up... Then... crying? I guess that is frustration.
"You're saying it was always futile? That this could have never got the money to cure her? That Anne was doomed from the start?" Oh, there is despair. He said that very faintly, in fact, if I was an elf I wouldn't have head that. Or is that all he could say now? I did get him through the liver, bleeding a lot, actually quite messy but I was in a hurry.
"At least you don't have to leave here, I still have to face the Cut ears ov-"
Hey, wait. Face. I may be a complete failure in terms of navigating our political sector but I am a full Mascarade actor. (why must actors have politics again?) I mean, no one has tried it on a human, but then again humans could never really get high enough to matter to anyone who would need a call for performance, and their mana is incredibly rough and unrefined. And those lowborn scum Cut Ears would have never even heard of an actor before. That firefly was able to throw a few fireballs, so she should have some mana in her... kidneys, was it? Humans have strange biology. That would mask (heh) me from their mana detection, hell even the gate wouldn't be able to hide me if I repressed myself, and the mayfly here didn't seem here for backstage reasons, and once I am out of that blasted underground fortress-city...
Oops, got ahead of myself there in my thoughts and the insect died. Better move quickly, the mask is best made when they are still alive, and the skin only gets harder the longer they are dead. Damnit Telneth, overthinking things got you here in the first place. Just move your hands.
...Actually, maybe that nutjob Solnum was actually on to something, I did find something that got me out of this more then gold or jewels would. Perhaps I should give his son a performance to thank him.
Or was it Great Grandson? The mayflies sure don't live long enough. | 2019-06-20T01:01:34 | 2019-06-19T23:42:31 | 52 | 10 |
[WP] God has been watching as human technology gets more advanced. With each advancement it becomes easier for them to kill each other. In order to save his creation he adds an 11th commandment. "Thou Shalt not use any form of projectile weapon, melee only you cowards.". | It didn't last.
It was world-changing, to be sure. Without a scientific explanation of how, why, or when, all of humanity simply knew that God's will had changed. Ranged weapons were now cowardly in the eyes of the Lord, and we regressed to that ancient way of thinking where only blades and shields mattered. No one wanted to be a coward.
But everyone wanted to win.
China became a threat the likes of which the world had never seen. Their only neighbor that had a chance was India, and within a year their conflict had claimed over a billion souls. Local violence changed as well. Where gang shootings had once ruled, now brawls and riots were the order of the day with larger gangs decimating paltry police forces and militias. So in the face of an overwhelming threat, what do you do?
You break the rules. The 10 commandments had been violated time and time again since time immemorial. The 11th commandment was no different. After all, our perceptions and societal values will fluctuate. That's just how we are as humans.
But war? War never changes. | All hostile projectiles ceased to function effective immediately. You could point a gun at your best friend and pull the trigger. Nothing would really happen, the bullet wouldn't travel far enough, not even close. It was like a baby spitting sunflower seeds.
This decree introduced with intense rays of light and followed by a single massive boom, altered the science of physics as we new it. Tanks became battering rams, aircraft became nothing but scouts, and bombers well.... even dropped explosives seemed to just hit the ground harmlessly. Hand grenades and teargas always failed. At least protests became a lot more peaceful. Funny how quickly an oppressive government will fall when their staff is no longer equipped with projectile weapons. Their power stripped from them so suddenly causes a lot of panic and in turn, defeat from within.
Everything changed for the better, atleast at first. What exactly is a melee? Humanity started narrowing down the exact science of what a melee truly was. If you launched a man out of a cannon and he landed fist-first into his target - it turns out that was a "melee". But why stop there? Militaries around the world quickly figured out that simply launching a human arm or even just a fist would soon become the world's next high-impact projectiles. It even worked to douse a fist in steel to create armor-piercing projectiles, so long as the front part of the projectile included a full human fist.
War continued, only this time people would sign up to donate their hands when they died as if they were donating a kidney. Some, more desperate countries, turned to more gruesome opportunities to obtain their "ammunition". In others it became a great honor to offer your own hand, and exceptionally great to offer both.
Battlefield tactics changed massively. Weapons were no longer slim or light, a soldier could only carry so much "ammunition" on them. Progress for any side was slow and expensive. Humanity was sick of it. Only a couple years passed before the tech-leading nations discovered that explosives could still be activated, under certain circumstances of course. What resulted was a number of cartoonish contraptions as if they were designed by Inspector Gadget. Nukes that after landing, could be activated as long as the button was pressed by some sort of attached piston-fist mechanism. Humanity destroyed itself even faster with this new amendment. Just to prove that they could. | 2019-08-12T11:50:47 | 2019-08-12T11:36:21 | 82 | 52 |
[WP] After the Battle of Hogwarts, Dudley met a woman and they had a daughter,Sophie. Sophie is the light of their lives,she's always been a pleasant child. The morning of Sophie's 11th birthday,there’s a knock at the door. Harry is here to visit his cousin for the first time in almost 20 years.
I just want to say that I'm super excited to read these responses! I'm holding off reading them until my kiddo goes to bed so I can sit and really pay attention to your stories!!
I can't wait to see what you guys come up with | As Harry walked up to the house with ballons on the mailbox he knew he was in the right place.
Looking at the front door he noticed a sign, "Birthday guests around back. Make sure gate is latched." Harry thought to himself. "While not a formal guest. That is the reason I'm here. And its my birthday too."
As he rounded the side of the house the sound of children and a yappy dog filled his ears. Through the gate he went and rounds the back. Harry's eyes went wide as he noticed the banner at the back of the yard. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOPHIE AND HARRY."
Standing there speechless he hears from across the yard. "I was kinda expecting you today." A grown Dudley starts to walk towards him.
Part 2
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/diqste/slug/f40sa4w | Here is my first ever WP submission:
&#x200B;
Dudley answered the door and stood face to face with Harry whom he had not seen in two decades. Both men stood at the entrance taking each other in and many questions that could've been asked were answered with nothing more than a deep and silent look.
Dudley beckoned Harry into the house and ushered him into the living room. As Harry walked past the staircase he saw a pair of eyes glinting at the top of the stairs looking intently at him, it was his niece Sophie. Dudley asked Sophie to go into her room which she did grudgingly. Dudley asked Harry to make himself comfortable in the living room, something that had never been requested of him when he lived there. Dudley bustled off to make some tea while Harry stood there going down memory lane. With the tea served, both men finally come to the heart of the matter; Harry's visit. Harry wasting no further time, pulled out an envelope one which Dudley instantly recognised. Looking at the envelope brought back memories of the stormy night when the secret of Harry's true nature was revealed to both of the boys by Hagrid. A night that ended with Dudley getting a pig's tale.
Dudley made a feeble objection to the contents of the envelope but eventually relented and called Sophie downstairs to meet her uncle for the first time in her life. Sophie bounded down the stairs and towards Harry with her eye beaming and her face sporting the most widest and brilliant of all smiles for it was her birthday and her uncle would have brought her a present. Harry introduced himself and told Sophie why he was there. Sophie did not understand at first but little by little she began to understand what Harry meant. She was after all, a very perceptive child. She then opened the envelope in earnest and read the letter. Watching her read her letter reminded Harry of the stormy night when Hagrid himself gave him the letter. Harry could feel Sophie's excitement and sense of wonder, he could tell that from that moment on Sophie's world would never be the same again. Harry looked at Dudley who quietly affirmed his decision to send his daughter to Hogwarts. | 2019-10-16T12:02:20 | 2019-10-16T12:01:55 | 117 | 37 |
[WP] After the Battle of Hogwarts, Dudley met a woman and they had a daughter,Sophie. Sophie is the light of their lives,she's always been a pleasant child. The morning of Sophie's 11th birthday,there’s a knock at the door. Harry is here to visit his cousin for the first time in almost 20 years.
I just want to say that I'm super excited to read these responses! I'm holding off reading them until my kiddo goes to bed so I can sit and really pay attention to your stories!!
I can't wait to see what you guys come up with | Part two! [part one](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/diqste/wp_after_the_battle_of_hogwarts_dudley_met_a/f3yjpfy/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
“Are you okay?” Dudley calls out, beginning to stand. Harry already had his wand out, in a defensive position by the door. Years of auror training and slaying dark lords wasn’t lost overnight, and Dudley realised in that moment just who his cousin was forced to become. A soldier.
The pair walk into the kitchen to see Heather Dursley weeping on the floor, clutching a broken teacup in one hand, and a locket in another. Immediately, the teacup prepares itself, and Harry mentally swears. Sometimes magic just wants to help, even if he’s supposed to be easing Dudley and his muggle wife into magic, not just giving them the shock of their lives.
“You’re really him then, aren’t you.” Heather says with a sad smile. “The boy-who-lived.” Harry states at her, realising now that this woman had grieved like he had, had known the horrors of the Death Eaters.
“Heather Brown.”
“My sister always spoke about you. She sent letters every week until... well one day she just never replied. We’d realised then what had happened. That she’d-“ Heather’s body was wracked with another sob, as Dudley pulled his arms tighter around the love of his life.
“She died fighting, and proud. I am glad I could call her a friend, a comrade. Are you a witch?”
Heather shook her head softly, trying to stand.
“I’m a squib, Lav was the lucky one. We left after we lost her, I decided the Wizarding world was a lost cause after the battle of Hogwarts. I left for the muggle world and yet- here I am.”
Harry pulled a letter out from the pocket of his trousers. It was sepia parchment with a familiar red seal, and emerald ink.
“I’m delighted to say Sophie has been given a place at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’m professor Potter, deputy headmaster and defence against the dark arts teacher. I trust you know what happens next.” | I'm taking just a few liberties with the prompt but I hope you like.
Everything is just perfect. "Dear! What time are people coming today?" Dudley yelled upstairs where his wife Rachel was getting dressed. About two hours before tea time Hun. We've only gone over this a million times". With the presents from Mummy and Daddy all set out and the drinks and snacks laid out, all was prepared as Dudley Dursley went to check up on the boy of the hour. Kenneth my boy are you ready? As he opened the door to his sons room. As soon as the door opened he heard a loud bang and saw a shocked look on his son's face. "Dad, I thought we were supposed to knock". There were a number of things strewn things strewn along the floor. "What was that banging I heard" Dudley asked the birthday boy. My cricket bat fell again dad.
Disrupted by the bell ringing. "I'll get that dear" Rachel called, bit early for the post but I cant think of who else it could be at this hour. A short while later Rachel called up "Dudley what a surprise! Your cousin came by to say hello. Alarm and panic shot through Dudley as he ran downstairs and nearly tackled his wife
"Dear can you please put on a kettle for us all, it's been a long long time. As he rounded the door shock struck Dudley like a punch in the gut. The same unmade messy black hair just touched by grey at the temples and the same eyes as his own son shown under neath those thick glasses. That odd scar still there but now faded by time. "Hullo big D." Were the first words from Harry Potter he had heard in almost 20 years. Immediately years of torment and hatred came flooding behind Dudleys eyes as he sagged under the weight of all the beatings and herassment Harry had suffered u der the Dursley family. "I'm so so sorry Harry. I dont know how you didnt zap us with your stick all those years ago." Dudley barley breathed out in front of his cousin. Harry just smiled and hugged his cousin. "Its good to see you. Can we go inside we need to talk".
Dudley ushered Harry inside and to the couch to take his place in his dad old recliner. As Harry walked through the old house he saw the pictures of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. "Sorry I wasn't at the funerals, I was in Prague on em, business. But let me get to my point." Harry Shrugged. Dudley smirked at the memory of his parents who along with him were terrible to Harry. "Hold on let me get my boy and the wife." But Harry waved him off."I'd like to say onething first" as he put a hand I to his overcoat and withdrew a yellowed envelope with a red wax seal.
"I'm sure you remember these usually come by owl but I begged the new headmaster to deliver this personally as part of my new job. I am going to be teaching now." As he handed the parchment to Dudley
Kenneth Dursley
number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England, Great Britain
"Do you think he should' I mean does he have to?"
Dudley quivered in his seat. " I have two boys and my friends children go. My daughter goes next year. He will have plenty family and friends."Harry replied with a large smile as he pulled out his wand and summoned pictures. | 2019-10-16T12:22:51 | 2019-10-16T12:22:25 | 62 | 22 |
[WP] You, a novice necromancer, accidentally discovered a new and more effective way of using your magic - politely ask the dead for assistance, which works suprisingly well. For this, you are hunted by both your fellow necromancers(for your unorthodox methods) and paladins(for using necromancy). | “Aw... please...?” I asked, blinking my eyes at the dragon. The dragon scoffed, rolling its eyes.
“Human, if I did not want to assist you, I would not have risen from my eternal slumber.”
The dragon’s old rusty and creaky bones rattled, as I gave a little squeal and practically hugged the leg of the dragon.
“Yay! Thank you... what’s your name?”
“Bob,” the dragon said flatly.
“Bob. Well, I am Lila!” I jumped back as I heard the thundering clop of the horses of the paladins and the little band of dead I raised who wanted to aid me turned to face them.
Well, I got some good finds... a reanimated fluffy werewolf, a lonely knight, another necromancer who was curious in my abilities, some wolves with some special ability to rouse both living and dead wolves to their aid, regardless of pack. And now, a dragon... named Bob.
“This is the resting place of millions,” Bob said gently. “Be careful on who you ask.”
I skipped to the center of the graveyard, calling out to the dead. “Hey! If you wanna help me make a final stand against paladins and some necromancers who rudely awaken you from the dead you’re free to do so!”
The ground rumbled underneath my feet as the wolves stepped out and howled into the night. Many pinpricks of light shone in the darkness, and wolves were beginning to rise from the ground, mangled and torn apart... but alive and snarling.
“I mean... the necromancers don’t really like me politely asking you guys... but that’s just manners! And raising the dead by asking isn’t exactly dark magic, is it?”
The knight drew his sword with a metallic *shing!* and the necromancer summoned dark energy, ready to fight. The werewolf howled into the night and bared its sharp claws, black in the moonlight. The pinpricks of light around us were coming closer, taking the form of live wolves, 40 packs strong. The rude necromancers came closer, every step a wake of dead forcefully yanked out of the ground would follow, snarling in disturbed rest.
“I don’t know what the paladins’ deal with being polite... but they clearly don’t like me. Please help? I only...” I sniffed suddenly. “I didn’t ask for this. I only asked for a friend to talk to, and the earth gave me one.”
The ground rattled as cracks emerged in the ground.
“... I’m scared and lonely and everyone doesn’t like me because, I don’t know, I’m too weird? But then when I finally have friends more people want me to die... I don’t want to die...” My voice shook as I curled up into a ball on the ground. “I just don’t want to be alone...”
There was the bloodcurdling cry of violence and war as Bob prepared his wings for takeoff and aerial assault. There were so many paladins. There were so many necromancers. There were so many hostile dead. The wolves might not make it in time, I could hear their desperate patter on the ground, trying to race the horses to me.
“Even after I told the paladins I didn’t mean it they called me a witch and said I didn’t deserve to live but I screamed and told them I didn’t mean it, I just wanted a friend. The necromancers told me I’d never belong because I was too nice and they’d have fun watching me get ripped apart by the paladins because I would never be a good enough person for any dead to like me... especially if the living don’t like me.”
There was only one of me.
“... I want mommy and daddy back. They raised their long pointy sticks and called me a witch when I showed them my new friend. They wanted to keep me locked up. What happened to all the fun times they took care of me?” I sobbed, curling up. “Can someone help me, please?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and let the tears pour down into the earth as the first paladin roared and raised his sword above his head to strike me down...
I felt the earth rumble beneath me and abruptly shift due to a crack in the ground as I heard the paladin stumble back and the sound of metal to metal coming to blows. There was a roaring sound as more cracks were felt and the ground broke apart to the sound of outraged dead.
“The hell? You’re a paladin! A dead paladin! She put you under your spell!” a paladin shouted, probably at a reanimated paladin.
“She’s only seven!” A more throaty growl. “She’s faced loneliness! She wouldn’t. Resort. To. This. If. She. Was. Taken. Care. Of.”
With every pause there was a swing of a sword.
“That’s what I’m trying to do!” the living paladin exclaimed, raising his sowed to strike me down. “To take care of the prob-“
The paladin was cut off with a sickening sound of a slice to the neck, as I screamed and covered my head and ears, muffling the sounds of the battle. Sometime during the battle the werewolf curled around me, covering me in its musky, fluffy warmth. It would shake if a stray arrow hit it, growl at other dead, and whimper when it thought I couldn’t hear.
“I wanted a friend,” I whispered to the ground. “Is that too much to ask?”
“It’s okay,” grunted the werewolf, curling closer to protect me. “You’ve got us now.” |
Danelle cast a look back over her shoulder. They were gaining.
In the dark of night, the three paladins, sitting astride their black warhorses, appeared as if they were riding on top of shadows. A mob of necromancers followed, their arms clutching their fat tomes and bone dusts and vials of ancient blood for ancient rites. They shouted curses that were muffled by the pounding of hooves and clink of chain armor.
She’d left the city in hopes to lose them in the thick forest, but it now seemed unlikely that she’d make it that far.
Up ahead, Danelle found a crumbling stone wall. Coming up to her waist, it wouldn’t slow them down much as the horses could no doubt leap higher, but it was better than running along a dirt road in a straight line.
She hopped over the wall, scratching her palm on the rough stone, and hit the ground on all fours. Tilting her head up, ready to sprint forward, Danelle saw that she’d stumbled into a cemetery.
Dark headstones shot up from the flat ground. A curving path wound around the tombstones. Tall lanterns housing a cool blue light lit the way.
Without stopping, Danelle rushed along through the lit path calling out the names inscribed in stone. “Harold Lauder,” she said in between breathes. “Would you mind helping me out with those awful men?” For good measure she added, “If you’re not too busy that is, but I’d sure appreciate it.”
“Nadine Cross.” Another name, another chance for aid. “Could you please help me and rise from your grave for a moment?”
One by one, earth crumbled and then exploded upwards. Hands shot out, gripped the broken soil under their skeletal fingers and dragged themselves upwards into the cool night. Danelle continued to call for help, making sure to thank each one in advance, an extra incentive as the dead hate to be thanked for something they haven’t done.
Looking back she saw her small army engage the paladins and necromancers. The dead spooked the horses, causing them to rear on their hind legs. Danelle watched as their terrified eyes rolled in their immense sockets. The warhorses screamed and brought their weight down, bucking their masters off their backs before running off as if the demons of hell were on their tail.
Necromancers in dark robes shouted Latin verses from their open books and cast showers of blood as the paladins unsheathed their swords.
Danelle tore herself away from the melee, but not before yelling, “Just please keep them busy as long as you can. Thank you!”
As she neared the opposite edge of the cemetery, Danelle heard laughter as the sounds of battle and chanting ceased. Turning, she saw bloodied knights and a fewer number of necromancers. The dead had been slain. Her pursuers turned to her and even from this distance she could see the violence in their eyes.
She hopped another wall only to come upon an enormous lake. Perhaps a sea—new to this place, she didn’t know the surround land very well. Danelle always seemed to make more enemies than she did friends and as a result she was constantly on the move.
“She went that way!” A man called from behind her.
Danelle stopped at the water’s edge. Should she swim for it? *Not in these clothes*, she thought, *I’d wear out and drown before I made it ten wings*.
Then she spotted it. A cabin next to a small dock. There was light in the windows and in the air she could smell cooked fish and seared vegetables.
As there was no time for manners, she burst in through the front door. She turned and engaged the lock. A man sitting alone at a table dropped his knife onto his plate where it rattled for a second. They stared at each other in the ensuing silence. Seconds passed that felt like lifetimes.
“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” Danelle began as she drew a dagger from behind her back. The man began to rise from his seat, but she stopped him with an arm on the shoulder. “No, don’t get up, please.” He knitted his eyebrows in confusion. Distrust emanated from him along with an intense body heat.
With a quick upward thrust, she jammed the dagger up, under his jaw, sending the thin but long blade to the top of his skull. His eyes rolled up to show only whites, and Danelle was momentarily reminded of the horses.
“I’m so, so sorry,” She said, running a hand over his head. As his body slumped in the chair she ripped the dagger out with a splash of blood. A long, gurgled sigh escaped his throat and with it, the last remnants of life.
“I didn’t get your name… big guy.” Danelle winced. “There’s some men that’ll be coming this way. Do you mind telling them that I'm not here?”
“Open up!” Fists pounded on the door. “We know you’re in there. Don’t drag this out, witch.”
“Come on,” Danelle pleaded. She got on her knees, folded her hands and begged, “Please, will help you me? Pretty please with a cherry on top? If you can find it in your dead heart to tell those men I’m not here, I’d do anything. Thank you for any assistance you might kindly give me.”
The dead man’s eyes flicked open. He regarded her with a half grin. “You know, I should be angry with you.”
“You totally should be,” Danelle agreed, nodding her head. “What do you say?”
The door buckled as the men outside through themselves at it. Hinges squealed as they pulled against their screws. The dead man looked from Danelle to the door and then back at her.
He sighed, “Fine.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She almost shouted, but clamped a hand over her mouth as she tiptoed away to the next room.
The dead man opened the door with an annoyed, “What?”
After refusing to let the knights and necromancers search his home, threatening to retrieve his ax and claiming not to know about any witch, and blaming the blood on his neck on a shaving mishap, her pursuers cursed and then left.
When it was safe to come out, Danelle took a seat at the table. She grinned up at he new friend.
“Well, is that it?” He asked.
“The food smells really good,” she said, closing her eyes and drawing in the delicious scent. “You think you could make me a plate?” Danelle rubbed her aching stomach.
The dead man’s shoulders drooped as he gave an exasperated sigh. “You’re something else, you know that?”
"People say that" she frowned. "So... was that a yes or ...?" | 2019-10-24T17:44:27 | 2019-10-24T14:36:29 | 398 | 168 |
[WP] Interstellar wars are quick, most species die of shock quite quickly. Getting shot was a death sentence. That was until humans joined the Galaxy... | "Why do you humans not die?" I asked my human captor.
"What?" He looks at me confused, at least that's what it looked like to me.
"You are beaten up, shot, bleeding. That is a death sentence for everyone....Everyone except humans. What makes you different?"
My captor laughed. "Is that the reason why you're so afraid of us?"
I looked at him angrily. "This is not funny! Many of the other races, including my own, fear you! Even right now I am afraid as my life is in your hands! But I need to know! I need to know..."
"Well, let me ask you a question. If I hit you with the back of my gun, what would happen to you?"
"Is this relevant?" I asked.
"Just answer the question and I'll tell you what you want." He replied.
"If you hit my head, it would knock me out for a day, if I'm lucky. Any other part would paralyze me for an hour due to the pain. There, you happy now?"
"The pain...I see." He mulled it over. "You guys have extremely low pain tolerance. Getting knocked out will cause them to wake up within a few minutes to a few hours, assuming there aren't any complications. An average human can walk off a punch in the body after a few seconds."
"Immobilize? A few seconds? **YOU** were still charging at us even while being shot!" I retorted.
"Oh, you mean that? I have to admit that it was painful." He said it as a matter of fact.
"That...that was enough pain to kill me 10 times over!"
"A civilian may die of shock from that much pain, but I'm a soldier. I was conditioned to handle that much." He paused.
"And besides, the pain is just there to tell me that I'm still alive. Even now I'm still feeling it." He admitted.
"You willingly subject yourselves to pain?! You guys are insane!" I yelled, terrified at the revelation.
"Hah! As if! That's called training! You guys do train, right?"
"...Yes, we do. We are trained to dodge enemy fire using harmless lasers."
"Harmless lasers- okay you know what? The moment you get back to your people, you better tell them to start training on handling pain. Start with something small then work your way up, considering I'm here to tell you that I'm escorting you back to your people within a few days."
"I-I'm free?" I asked.
"You've been imprisoned for a while, so you didn't know, but we actually managed to get into an agreement with your government to cease the hostilities."
"I...I can't believe it. I'm going to see my family."
"Yeah. I've been a P.O.W. myself in the past so I know what you're feeling right now." He said empathetically as he unlocked my shackles.
He helped me up and said, "Come. One of the terms was that our species exchange information with each other. Is there anything you want to find out?"
I thought hard about it, then answered "I want to handle pain better."
"Huh, I kinda expected that. Alright, let's start with something small like eating something spicy."
"Eating? What does eating have to do with handling pain?" I asked.
"Oh you'll find out in a bit..." He chuckled as he led me to the base's cafeteria. | Oddly enough medical technology in space was limited, to say the least. Each species medical advancements were obviously geared more towards their specific anatomy. So as you can imagine, when United Galactic Forces (U.G.F.) consisting of multiple species would end up in conflict with another faction encroaching on their territory, many lives were lost. Not just because of war, but because when you are shot or maimed, if you'r species medical technology wasn't near, you're basically dead. Kind of like the early years of settling the North American Continent, get a cough and you might as well dig your grave ahead of time.
This all changed when the Human species was introduced to the universe. A subspecies of humanoid mammals, generally hairless, and oddly curious about things that aren't attainable. They had their own technology, equipment that would scan and map out you'r entire anatomy, then calculate and diagnose whatever it is that was going in with you. Machines and practices that have been perfected over a melenia now, but the one thing that they couldn't stop.... was death. They could prolong it, stall it, hold it at bay and keep you on life support, even freezing you'r active brain and brainstem in hope's that one day their will be a cure for whatever ailment you were stricken with. This would eventually drive them mad.
Humans served as the "medics" of the U.G.F. and even some as infantry and pilots. Over the years they grew to becoming a powerful and an oddly dangerous necessity to the Galaxy, and they knew that. You see, the U.G.F. didn't take into account one vital thing, humans sheer unpredictability, and need to wage war for reasons that to any advanced alien civilization were.... pointless, and their odd fascination with evading death. Even amongst them selves they would slaughter eachother in the past, committing countless war crimes and genocide. The U.G.F. thought that humans have "outgrown" their primitive ways. They were wrong.
After years of peace and coexistence, a faction of humans had enough and wanted "equality" and believed that the human species was far superior to any other. Dispite the warnings and blatent terroristic attacks by these factions operating under the U.G.F.s nose, they still chose to ignore it. As long as the medical supplies were flowing in and care was being given, the long reach of the U.G.F. didn't seem to care, and they didn't care about the human factions experiments on aliens that were captured, to figure out how to evade death. Further and further they pushed into the unknown regions, thinning out their forces till one day, no more. The humans rose up and split from the U.G.F. claiming they could "do better" now that they have all the technology they needed in order to refine their own space travel and further their "scientific studies" into prolonging and stopping the inevitable.... death.
In secret over the years, they built a fleet of dreadnoughts and fighters and laid Siege to the vastly undefended citadel of the U.G.F. on the planet Coracan. Easily taking what they needed, food, supplies, trade routes, fuel, mining outposts, and even the planet it's self. Eradicating all alien life out of the galactic centralized government and making it solely human only. By the time the U.G.F. cought word of the invasion, it was too late. Traveling through hyperspace back to Coracan, falling into their own trap. Humans turned the Planetary Defense System on them and destroyed the entire fleet.
Now, a Galactic Federation consisting of humans rules the Galaxy. The U.G.F. ignored Earth, the tiny blue marble in the far corner of the Galaxy for thousands of years, they finally let them in and in matter of years they were outsmarted and over thrown. Now humans lay siege to planets, enslaving the life on them that they rule to be "savage" and use them for their personal gain stripping the world of their resources and goods.
Though, not all humans are bad. A small faction of humans exists, working with like minded individuals, both human and alien, to eradicate the new Galactic Federation. Striking them in the areas that hurt them the most and taking back planets for the original inhabitants to call home again. It's a funny thing, how in a time of need, beings can take advantage of each other and also ban together to help one another out. Started out with medical technology, helping all that need it, to helping all that want peace and equality again. An odd concept since humans struggled with that, equality, since the dawn of their time. Some things just don't change. | 2019-10-25T09:19:31 | 2019-10-25T09:13:26 | 131 | 28 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | "Hey, Zero!" I heard it too late to dodge, the yellow-grey pain-flashes in my head igniting my vision as the barrage of punches rained down on me. I tried to accept it, let it pass as the infantile tantrum it was.
Melark stopped hitting me long enough to kick me, his acid laughter staining the air as I fell to the floor among the unswept dust bunnies and sticky cola remnants. The Sign on my rib cage blazed ice cold, tempting me with a prickling song of revenge. I thought I had the routine down, that I could just let this play out and walk away...it was the feeling of Melark's warm spit clogging my hair that did it.
I stood up, looked that asshole in the eye, and gave in. He thought I was Nothing, that Zero was Nothing. Smirking, I reached inside his repulsive existence and severed the chain of Time that held him. Atom by atom, cell by cell, I released him into the Infinite spaces where Reality is not yet manifest. He knew what was happening. I made sure of that. For an instant of eternity, Melark saw all of his potential selves, and found all of them *small.*
I re-wove him at the last possible instant, and left him a sobbing, broken shell. | Jerry Novak was a simple teen. His hair was close-cropped, with no special style, his clothes were regular—just jeans and a T—he was utterly average in terms of appearance, and even his Rune was bland. Just a plain old circle.
Everyone else had magnificent patterns: dual swords crossing and emitting sparks, skulls with crystal eyes, and some people even had Runes resembling certain celebrities. On top of them being cool in appearance, these Runes symbolized abilities that these other kids had. Naturally, seeing that Jerry's Rune was plain, the other kids thought that his *power* must have been plain as well, and that's why he didn't use it.
They were wrong, of course, but that didn't stop them from bullying him. Today, however, he had had enough. As he walked up the (rather dirty) stone steps toward the double doors leading into the halls, he was flanked by Paul Messus and his cronies.
Paul was above average in nearly every sense of the word—almost painfully good-looking, Greek god physique, and of course, the coolest Rune in school.
"Wassup Novak!" he shouted. He pushed Jerry, sending him flying backward. That was his ability—super strength. "Ooh, a little light there, aren't you?" he yelled, while his cronies guffawed stupidly in the background.
*Ignore them* ... *ignore them*. Jerry told himself, rising and wincing. He tried to veer around them, but Paul stepped in front of him, puffing out his immense chest.
"Where you going?" he cried. "We're not done yet!" He grabbed Jerry by the leg and spun him around over his head, whooping like the hooligan he was.
Zooming through the air, fighting desperately to keep himself from hurling, Jerry decided—enough was enough. He concentrated on his Rune, and the circle glowed.
Behind Paul, an enormous, pitch-black hole opened up, spewing dark mist. Paul dropped him, horrified, trying to run away, but it didn't work. The force of the hole gripped him, holding him as a man might embrace his lover, and with a final, piercing scream, he was sucked into the void, and it closed up.
Smirking, Jerry made his way to class, leaving the thunderstruck group of kids gaping in horror behind him.
If you liked this, subscribe to r/ShortsandSerials for more! | 2020-02-26T06:21:03 | 2020-02-26T05:10:36 | 3,609 | 1,182 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | "Hey, Zero!" I heard it too late to dodge, the yellow-grey pain-flashes in my head igniting my vision as the barrage of punches rained down on me. I tried to accept it, let it pass as the infantile tantrum it was.
Melark stopped hitting me long enough to kick me, his acid laughter staining the air as I fell to the floor among the unswept dust bunnies and sticky cola remnants. The Sign on my rib cage blazed ice cold, tempting me with a prickling song of revenge. I thought I had the routine down, that I could just let this play out and walk away...it was the feeling of Melark's warm spit clogging my hair that did it.
I stood up, looked that asshole in the eye, and gave in. He thought I was Nothing, that Zero was Nothing. Smirking, I reached inside his repulsive existence and severed the chain of Time that held him. Atom by atom, cell by cell, I released him into the Infinite spaces where Reality is not yet manifest. He knew what was happening. I made sure of that. For an instant of eternity, Melark saw all of his potential selves, and found all of them *small.*
I re-wove him at the last possible instant, and left him a sobbing, broken shell. | "What's the matter, muggle? Too afraid to use your powers?" David said, and shoved me.
It's the same routine everyday. David and his friends had recently started watching Harry Potter and learned a new word. Thus, muggle was all I was used to hearing all week.
"I don't think this little twig has any," Rob said and laughed. They had me cornered. There was no escape. But this was okay. It was always like this.
"No, no. I think he does. Here look at this," John said and snapped his fingers. A ball of fire appeared in his palm.
This was normal. It was okay. I was used to seeing them intimidate me like this.
But then, David pulled his hand back and punched me across the face. I felt a teeth fly out.
"Hey man. You were not supposed to hit him like that," Rob said, extinguishing his fireball.
He was right. This was not okay.
"I saw this circle kid talking to my girlfriend this morning. He deserves this. Trust me," David said, gritting his teeth at Rob.
"Ah, what audacity!" Rob said, and launched a fireball at my bag. I tried to extinguish the flames but David kicked me again.
With a bloody nose and a missing teeth, I had had enough.
I didn't want to do it. Unlike everyone's complicated sigils, they all knew I had a circle. They all assumed I had a lame power like making wind smell better.
But they were now in for a surprise.
I stood up, and activated my sigil.
I appeared everywhere. Behind David, behind Rob, Behind John, In front of them, Beside them, over them, all around them, everywhere.
The corridor was filled with an infinite number of mes.
I kept increasing. Now they knew why I never used my power.
I am the circle. I am infinity.
I kept appearing. They tried punching, burning and clawing their way through, but it was too late.
I appeared everywhere, suffocating them, trapping them from moving.
The last thing they heard was me laughing from all around them.
It was a nightmare they couldn't imagine. It was me. Infinity.
I appeared inside them, popping through their bodies, sending their meaty remains and blood on other parts of me crowding around them.
That's how they got to know why I never used my power. That's how they died.
\-----------------------------
r/abhisek | 2020-02-26T06:21:03 | 2020-02-26T04:53:48 | 3,609 | 234 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | "Today is the day" I thought, rising slowly out of bed. "Today is the day I'll show them what it does!"
Each day started like this. I had always wanted to show them what my sigil does, but was always too afraid of the outcome, too afraid of its consequences. Today, like every other morning, would not be the day... Too many variables.
After a quick, cold bowl of cereal, I was out the door and on the bus to school. I sat in the back, first to get on, always last to get off, trying my best to avoid everyone else. Not long after the first stop, in came Ryder. Ryder was a big fellow, not because he couldn't control himself, but because he always wanted to be the best. His sigil (a wolf skull) allowed him to turn hunger into power. Not just raw strength, but just about anything he wanted at the time, but required him to build up large amounts of fat to use for more than a minute.
As he sat next to me, I knew it would start again. The daily abuse. "What's up today, useless?" I knew it was better to just ignore him, instead of saying anything that he could use to start a fight. "Leave me alone, Ryder" I said, standing up to move past him to another seat. "Well, that's not any way to treat a friend, is it?" He said as he grabbed my arm, tossing me back into the seat. "See, we were just getting to know each other better this morning. I figured today's as good as any for me to either see your sigil in action, or kill you trying to get it out of you. After what you did, you owe me at least that much"
What I "did" was ignore him like always when he tries to force it out of me. His girlfriend, the principal and his parents walked in on it, causing him to get suspended and lose his scholarship for college, and the respect of the entire female population at school.
"No, I don't think I'll show you today either". I said, somewhat smugly. "Hmm. That's too bad." He said as the bus came to a halt. "I wasn't asking". With that, he used his entire weight on my shoulder to lift himself out of the seat to get off the bus, dislocating my shoulder in the process. "Come lunch, the school will know what it is, or to never mess with me".
By lunch time, everyone had heard about it, and was prepared for the fight. Though I tried to just go about my day and walk past it, it seemed the rest of the student body was curious too, as they quickly grabbed and pushed me into the middle of the crowd.
"Come on, useless! Either show us what it is, or go home in a bag!" It wasn't long before he had started throwing punches. With the first, I was coughing up blood from what I assume we're cracked ribs. With the second, I could barely stand. "DO IT!" Ryder shouted. "DO ANYTHING YOU USELESS PIECE OF GARBAGE!" he shouted again, punching my face.
While laying there, I contemplated just letting him end it. Nobody was ready for my sigil yet. But then it occurred to me. Why not? Why should I die for these people who would rather watch me die, just because I'm different? Just because my sigil is an empty circle?
And then I used it... Within seconds, Ryder was lying on the ground, screaming in pain from a missed stomp with all of his force behind it, his leg bones shattered from the recoil.
A gasp ushered from the crowd, as my sigil was no longer a circle, but a -100. As I stood, I could see fury growing in Ryder, and as he reached for my legs, a light fixture fell, probably from his stomp, and broke upon his face, littering it with shards of glass.
"You see, Ryder, this is why I don't use my sigil." Everyone still hushed, but suddenly letting out another gasp, as all of my injuries seemed to vanish. "It isn't useless, rather, it's TOO useful. Too dangerous. I can control everything. Like a dial, from -100 to 100, it's all at my command. Your luck? -100, probably didn't feel good, having your bones line up JUST wrong enough to shatter when you missed a stomp... Or that you would be directly underneath the ONE light that would fall from the impact. How about my recovery process? I'd say I'm, I don't know... 100% healed in a matter of seconds?"
I started to let the power wash over me, thinking of all I could do and become now that the knowledge was out there, but then I reminded myself why I didn't use it to begin with.
"Well, let's just let you try and recover the normal way. Consider yourself lucky I even let you, with how you've treated me." I said as I turned his luck back to 0. "Come at me again, even slightly, and I'll make sure EVERYTHING in your life becomes a living hell. Enjoy the ambulance ride."
The crowd parted as I walked, trying everything to both stay away, and not offend me at all as I walked. I wonder if I should leave their knowledge of my sigil intact, or if I should reset them back to 0? | The little circle of black ink stained the skin on the back of my left hand. Hollow and empty, as if God had gotten to me and tired of his work.
Everyone's sigil *started* hollow. Then, when a person reached five or six, the sigil would fill itself in. If the sigil was unique, it could take another year or two for the person to find out what exactly it did. But most of the time you could just look them up as they were well documented.
There was nothing to look up about mine, though. I just had to wait until it filled. If it would ever fill, I thought.
I'd spent my childhood trying to figure out what it might mean -- this lonely empty sigil. Dad had been sorely disappointed -- he'd been hoping for an eye, like his friend's daughter Carla had on her foot. She was only a year older than me and could already take little peeks into the future, and although the future wasn't certain, more often than not she was helpful at the horse track.
"Well it must mean something," Dad said. "Maybe it means no gravity." He grinned at his sudden epiphany. "Maybe you can fly, Tom! Have you tried flying? Come on, I'll lift you up."
Mom came in screaming. "Put him down this instant!" Then, more calmly, she added, "You can't swim out to meet this ship. You both need to just wait, patiently, for it to come into shore."
Dad always listened to Mom. Had to, really. Mom had the gift of near-perfect logic, so he knew she was right. As usual.
He sighed and placed me down. "Sorry, son. Was just trying to help you out. Listen, if you never get a sigil, I'll still love you just the same. I promise."
I loved my Dad, but he could be an idiot sometimes.
By the time I was fifteen my ability, my sigil, still remained blank. Just a depressing reminder of how ordinary I was. Less than ordinary.
"Come on, freak-show," said a wiry boy, Joe, as I sat in the cafeteria eating my lunch alone. No sigil meant no friends. I didn't blame them -- why would they have wanted to be friends with someone so dull?
"Show us what you can do," Joe taunted. His sigil was like a serpent, and he was crafty and mean-spirited. He looked like his sigil, I thought. His thin face and sharp teeth and sly smile. I'd found through experience that it was better to ignore him than to get on his wrong side.
"You don't want to do that, Joe," said Carla, the girl with the eye on her foot. She was the year above me and must have just come into the cafeteria. Next to her was a pretty girl I'd never seen before with brown pigtails and thick rimmed glasses.
"What would you know about it?" Joe said, turning on her. "Did you even know you had an sigil on your foot?"
"I knew."
Joe turned to his friends and said, "I'm amazed she could see it down there, past her stomach." They laughed gleefully.
"Quit it!" I said.
"It's okay," said Carla. "You don't need to. I've seen my future and I've seen Joe's. His words are just a drop of rain on a sunny day for me. His though, that's a forever winter."
"Fuck you," said Joe. "My future is going to be great. Quarterback for the Miami Dolphins. Greatest player the game's ever seen."
She shook her head. "Most of your futures aren't like that. Some, you're on the street begging for change. And then there are the bad ones. You want to hear about those?"
Joe glared at us both. Then he turned and walked away, his friends following.
The new girl was still standing next to Carla. "Who was that Jerk?"
"Someone you don't need to worry about," said Carla. Then, she introduced us. "This is Tom. Tom, this is Ruby. Ruby's new to our school and I was just showing her around."
"Hi," Ruby said, with a smile infectious enough to worm it's way onto my face.
"It's not always like this," I said. "That guy just likes to tease me because..." A flush of embarrassment hit and my face reddened.
The new girl smiled. "Because you...?"
"He doesn't have a sigil," said Carla, factually. As if it didn't matter. As if it hadn't and wasn't ruining my life. "He's just got an empty circle, like you."
"Like... you?" I said, brows furrowed.
Ruby held out her right hand. An empty black ring on the back of it. Just like mine, except on the opposite hand.
I showed her my hand.
"Wow," she said. "I've never met another with an empty sigil. This is... kind of weird? Or kind of cool?"
"Guess it's nice not to be alone," I said. And it was.
She nodded. "It's why I moved school. My parents hoped the teasing might... you know, soften? But seeing that ass just now, I guess it won't."
"I can see a few futures with my sigil," Carla said. "That's my gift."
"Yeah?" said Ruby. "That's pretty cool."
"I see a future where you both have a sigil."
"When?!" I asked, instantly regretting sounding so keen. I tried to play it cool,"I mean, uh, so when do we get ours?"
Carla smiled. "Check now. I think you've got them."
We both raised our hands, holding them in front of us. The rings were still empty.
"Nothing," Ruby said.
"Nada," I said.
But Carla took our hands and pushed them together. A shiver tapped down my spine as our skin touched.
And the circles... the circles looked like something else, at least for a moment.
They looked -- just a little -- like the an infinity symbol.
Ruby was staring at me, her mouth open. I think she that cold shiver too.
"You both always had sigils," Carla said. "I've not seen all the futures, but I think -- maybe -- your gifts are each other, always."
&#x200B;
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&#x200B;
Thank you for reading! If you liked I wrote a pretty similar story yesterday that's over on my sub (joint sub, with my amazing co-writer Static): /r/nickofstatic \- it's the "In an alternative universe..." story. Thanks :) | 2020-02-26T06:30:41 | 2020-02-26T05:07:39 | 1,447 | 665 |
[WP] Every time you die, your consciousness shifts to another reality where everything is the same, except you survived. The transition is usually seamless, but at 178 years, you're starting to notice. | I've been in 507 car accidents, four train wrecks, and an airplane crash. I've been exposed to more nuclear radiation than Homer Simpson, consumed more bleach than a hair salon, and been forced by the CIA to listen to thousands of hours of Justin Bieber's "Yummy" playing on repeat. Yet somehow, I am still here.
The only thing I can even recognize from the old world is the Garfield comic strips. They're just as soulless and corporate as always. Perhaps having too much personality makes something feel dated after a while, whereas something like white bread can last forever.
I've watched everyone I have ever loved die. I've had to bury my own children. I carry within me the guilt of failing to save a thousand souls. I could only ever save myself. Why did they need just one car accident to die, and yet I had survived 507?
I still remember the trees. There used to be things called trees, big, beautiful, and green. But after The Friendly Air Corporation privatized oxygen about a century ago they all vanished. I remember the beautiful churches, from before religion was banned. Even science was called a religion and subsequently banned. Now the only way to think logically is to walk in goosestep with the Grand Vizier's vision.
I'll be honest with you: A lot of those 507 car accidents were on purpose. Suicide is illegal here, so I must not be too blatant with my attempts to end my life or I will be imprisoned and beaten severely. The labor camps stretch on for miles. But I don't want to live anymore. I really don't. I was a product of my time, and that time is gone. Now I am nobody. I have no identity, and I am utterly alone in this alien world.
Besides, I have been musing on this for a long while, and have discovered something of interest: the likelihood of my surviving all of these incidents is so low, it would almost seem to show that I am being transferring between quantum worlds each time. That is to say that for every universe in which I live, there is another in which I die. For this reason, I have been trying to die enough times to find a universe where the Grand Vizier is not in charge, where The Friendly Air Corporation was never founded, where the trees still stand tall and proud, where children still play in the streets. Yet every world is exactly the same.
I can no longer write, for I can hear the footsteps of the secret police outside of my apartment. I will try to write to you later if I pass inspection. If you never hear from me again, then you can assume that I have been discovered and am currently eternally enslaved. And for every universe where I successfully escape, there were be another where I am caught in the act. Thus is the sad truth of this cruel joke that we call life. | It was an extraordinary mission. Almost everyone, in hypersleep. Hypersleep, at faster than light speed, for 178 years, on a journey that would take more than 4,000. An incredible mission.
And, a heartbreaking one. None more heartbreaking than it.
Sent upon a H-Breaker ship, crewing but a 'mere' 650,000; Infinitesimal compared to the loss of the Milky Way. A loss brought upon by a thought-impossible turn of events; Attempts to manipulate the infinite forces involved in the supermassive black hole at the galaxy's center brought upon a collapse of the stellar engine that gave us refuge and unleashed a rippling gravity collapse, throwing everything it touched out of sync with every other orbit it was in.
With but only a few years to escape, a few of our sturdiest interstellar hypercapitals were retrofitted for long-distance drive and population sustain, and sent on an emergency, final mission to escape the Milky Way through H-Space and make it to Andromeda.
But it wasn't meant to be. The emergent autowake brought the crisis crew out of Hypersleep. I was among them, a generalist designated in this case to fill multiple emergency roles.
There was no role I could possibly fill, though, to stop the ship from careening between a dying planetoid and its neighboring devourer, a black hole. Why the ship's navigation had ever managed to bungle into this place, I'd never know. Why a rotation crew wasn't awake to stop it from happening pre-emptively, much the same.
All I wondered was, how different things would feel from the outside-in, compared to the inside-out, of a black hole?
I smirked with a sick sense of irony as I knew I was about to find out.
The time between when the first pieces of hull began to shear away and when I felt a pull on my body were short.
"Cheers," I said, raising my glass to nobody in particular before I turned to the relative quiet, and awaited spaghettifacation.
* * *
It was many cycles before I realized something - that I both could, and could not, feel my body being obliterated in the blink of an eye. That I could, and could not, remember it happening, more than once. That I could, and could not, remembering that I've spent far longer in a moment of death than every being in existence has approaching it.
That the time before my death had, at some point, faded into obscurity, and only those moments into the vortex remained.
I realized that I was, and was not, in Hell.
Because the infinity of each moment, was becoming more and more apparent to me with every repeat - yet every repeat was finite, and would bridge into another infinity.
I would be submerged in the tiny specks of time between each quantifiable unit passed upon which another cell within my body was acted upon by overwhelming gravitational force. These specks of time, so small that not even God himself could measurably appreciate them, were their own seperate eternities to me - every rearranged molecule a symphony of change played out in the song of billions of millenia.
Impossible to experience for one who'd only died once, but it became the definition of experience for one who died every fragment of time, across time, for eternity.
For that was how my blessing was abused - each time I died, I was resurrected in another timeline, one variable of the universe adjusted, but I still in the exact same black hole, just to die again.
Rinse, repeat, on and on and on.
Until, after a number of cycles reaching numbers who's only expression was genuinely blasphemous,
I had developed a consciousness capable of processing what had been happening.
But to process it was also to repeat the process more times than had been needed to grant me this consciousness.
I expanded, and grew, but died, again and again and again. The sensation of being crushed never became something I adapted to - in truth, there was no adaptation, only annihilation.
Annihilation, for eternities passed across the eternal.
The longest loop of all. | 2021-01-09T09:23:54 | 2021-01-09T08:43:20 | 84 | 27 |
[WP] "For the *last time*, just because I dress like an edgelord and live in a giant castle constructed out of obsidian within a region of high volcanic activity DOES NOT mean I'm a villain! That's just, like, my aesthetic, bro!" | Rowan sighed as she spotted yet another stupid small-town hero walking up the path to her home. The hero was some fool who'd mistaken her home for some villainous lair made for nefarious purposes. *Maybe this one will suspect I'm secretly a dragon,* she thought sarcastically.
*... Maybe I should GET a dragon. Is that possible?*
A sound that resembled the screech of clanging metal resonated through her home. Ah, yes, the doorbell. She answered the door while trying to swallow the last bite of her eggs. "Hey, uh..." This hero was... Painfully underwhelming. Almost pitifully so. She almost wanted to let him beat her up just to give the poor thing a victory for once. She couldn't even continue with her speech about what actually counts as a villain. She was totally paralyzed by how sorry she felt for him.
The hero spoke- he had a loud and very resonant voice, surprisingly. "Madam, I, as a registered hero under-" Rowan broke out of her trance after a few words. She actually didn't feel sorry for him at all, now that she thought about it. She detested him and just felt disgusted, yet she couldn't place why. It was confusing, which only made her hate him more.
"Shut up," she snarled. "Look, for the LAST time, just because I dress like an edgelord and live in a giant castle constructed out of obsidian within a region of high volcanic activity DOES NOT mean I'm a villain! That's just my aesthetic! I'm a rich woman who likes how cool this looks! Will you stupid, worthless fucking heroes leave me the hell alone for once?!" Rowan slammed the door in his face- which was no easy feat, it required a lot of strength to do that normally. Now that she thought about it, none of this behavior was natural to her. Her heart was pumping and she was breathing fast. Her body was full of adrenaline from rage. This wasn't normal at all...
*Oh. That hero's one of those reality breakers. He's got some kind of psychological distortion ability from it.* In fact, Rowan found that a couple seconds after she closed the door, she didn't feel any of the things she'd felt upon first opening it.
The hero knocked again. Rowan raised her eyebrows, surprised at his persistence. And she found herself relieved that even though she still felt weird when she opened the door, it was nothing near as extreme as the first time. "Quite a pair of balls on you to knock again when someone blows up on you like that," Rowan commented. She couldn't actually get a proper handle on what the hero looked like. He looked different every time she actually looked at him.
The hero smiled sheepishly. "I was trying to come up here to do a wellness check. Quite a few residents had reported that they had not seen or heard of you in a few weeks. So regardless of how you respond I have to get a verbal confirmation that you are alright and able to still take care of yourself." He shuffled his feet. "I normally just help people with paperwork and find missing pets, because you know. Distortion and all that makes it hard to do anything *people*-related."
Rowan snorted. "I imagine it must be tough. Yes, I'm alright and still taking care of myself, I've just been using the delivery service a lot lately because it's so convienent now that reality breakers are allowed to use their abilities in normal jobs. Delivery people can actually get up here in less than a week!" Rowan felt herself smile. "So what's your name? I'm Rowan." The hero smiled back. "I'm Bernard, no known alias." | *“you get it!” “No, you get it!” “No, I got it last time.”*
The boys called out in the empty field where they played baseball.
The ball had gone over the massive, spiked fence of Maggard’s Castle.
Jimmy looked up at the castle, rising like a black, necrotic, frostbitten finger into the sky. Its obsidian bulk seemed to pull the summer rays around it, leaving only a gloaming in its vicinity.
Harold swept the dried, weedy field and broke the straws of the weeds. The boys drew their straws, one by one.
Each time another boy pulled a straw, the others looked around at those which had already been pulled, seeing how they measured up. Jimmy waited, watching, trembling. He had never been to Maggard’s castle. But he had heard stories. Many stories. That the boy had brutally murdered his family and inherited the castle. Or that he was a demonic spirit which never grew old and ate the children who dared step into his castle so he could stay forever young. These stories and so many more had flowed through the mythos of the kids that grew up on Hammer lane.
“Your turn, Jimmy” the oldest of their gang, Eric, called out, holding the last two straws. One for Jimmy and one for himself.
Jimmy reached, hesitated, reached again, and pulled the one that seemed to be hanging out less than the other.
A breath sounded through the rest of the boys. Jimmy looked down at his piece of straw in horror. The darn thing seemed a yard long! He surely had the longest of the ones that had been pulled, but there was still a chance for salvation. Eric still held his, the last one, in his closed fist.
The boys all looked at Eric’s straw as he unfurled his fist.
*Dead.* Jimmy thought to himself as he looked at the tiny straw in Eric’s hand. *Dead. Dead. Dead. He’s gonna eat me. He’s gonna put me in a stew and stay right on going young forever.*
Eric was looking at Jimmy’s pale face.
“Hey, Jimmy? You okay, Jimmy?”
Jimmy nodded meekishly.
“Look,” Eric said, fishing in the pocket of his jeans. “Here, take this.” He gave Jimmy a small, rusted swiss-army knife, the white cross was scratched, rubbed away from long years of use from other boys before Eric inherited the relic. “If he gets fresh with you, Jimmy. You stick Maggard with this.”
Eric put the sacred weapon in Jimmy’s loose fingers, then Eric curled those fingers into a fist, tight, and pushed Jimmy’s fist into his chest, then pushed Jimmy gently and encouragingly towards Maggard’s castle.
The steel fence loomed like a monster itself, the spikes jagged at the top. Jimmy could swear he could see bits of flesh hanging off the spikes like some macabre flag. But as he looked again, he saw nothing but the blue sky above him. The sun swollen in the midday summer heat.
“Jimmy, let’s go. We got a game here! Bottom of the ninth, Jimmy! Let’s go!”
The rest of the boys called out also. *“Go, Jimmy. You can do it Jimmy!”*
Their shouts gave Jimmy encouragement as he stuck the pocketknife in the deep pockets of his brother’s hand me down jeans. He pulled the jeans up, folding the top of the pants over. He needed to make sure they were tight. Just in case he had to run, run as fast as he could away from this gothic castle of horror. He’d seen too many late-night monster movies. He knew what lurked inside the shadows of a building like this. And it wasn’t mothers baking cookies.
No sir.
He walked up the steps. Two hideous gargoyle statues flanking him on each side, leering at him. Staring. He leaned away from one, but it only got him closer to the other, which seemed to be clawing at him. It was a horrible give and take, but Jimmy finally made it through the gauntlet and scampered up to the front door.
The giant knocker on the front was that of a man’s twisted face, in the middle of screaming.
What kind of person would have a knocker like that? Jimmy thought to himself. No man. No boy. Only a perverse monster.
Jimmy slammed the knocker down, sending a thunderous clacking through the hollow depths of the house. It seemed to echo infinitely in that haunted space.
After a minute, the door slowly creaked open and standing there was a young boy, dressed all in black, his black hair slicked over his face. It looked like he was wearing black lipstick and mascara.
“What do you want?” the boy, slightly older than Jimmy, snarled.
Jimmy almost yipped out and ran off down the road with his tail tucked between his legs.
But Jimmy steadied himself. He needed to be brave. Besides, if he scampered off, the other boys would never let him hear the end of it. | 2021-03-22T23:06:29 | 2021-03-22T22:23:52 | 193 | 63 |
[WP] Pacifist aliens, incapable of aggression, are being slaughtered by their rivals. To save themselves from annihilation they turn to the universes most violent species, humans. | I whistle to myself to deal with the discomfort. I'm strapped into my micro-fission cell powered combat armor and sealed in a reinforced titanium alloy torpedo filled with anti-g ballistic gelatin plunging through an alien atmosphere at a ridiculous velocity. Outside, the shell of ablative ceramic is heating up to near 4000 degrees centigrade, but inside my suit I'm a bit cold from the chilled water being pumped through my thermals.
I have a bit of time before the shell will crack open and dump me into the atmosphere for God's own hellish automated low altitude drogue chute entry. If the chutes fail, I'll get a few seconds to ponder mortality before the impact renders me into jelly in the suit. As Technical Specialist Reyes would point out, just because an Orbital Entry Marine gets jellied there's no reason not to reuse the suit. Jolly chick, Reyes is.
I wonder if they know what's coming to meet them. The Saarm, I mean. That's the name that the Others gave them. We have no idea what they call themselves. They're some kind of vaguely insectoid looking (but independently evolved, of course) creature that live, work, and acts in giant hirde-like packs.
They came out of nowhere and descended on the worlds of the Others in massive, inconceivable numbers. Millions pouring out of drop ships, racing into the glittering spire cities of the Others.
There are billions and billions of planets in the galaxy. Everything that any species could possibly need for life, expansion, happiness can all be found all over the galaxy. There's no need for violence, no need to fight for resources. So, the Others had lived and grown for hundreds of thousands of years. Violence was foreign to them after all this time. They expanded to thousands of worlds in peace. They developed art and culture to extents that a guy like me, well I'll never appreciate even a millionth of a percent of their achievements.
Then the Saarm came. Worlds burned. Worlds burned for no reason other than a delight in destruction, a predatory glee in murder and destruction. Trillions dead. Trillions.
I can hear the descent monitor pinging in my ear, and my HUD is flickering, trying to compensate for the burning ablation all around the capsule. Won't be long now.
The Others knew about us. They'd watched us take our first primitive steps. They watched us bash each other's brains in over grains of rice. They were horrified. They set up artificial intelligences to monitor us, but not to contact us. They gave us tons of room to grow in, setting a 500 light year minimum distance between us and them. The intelligences reported back over the years. Humanity grew and prospered. We also polluted our own world and killed each other for pocket change. We developed art and literature, and we bred serial killers. In all their explorations, they had never encountered a species like ours. Best I can guess, they watched us develop with the same horrid fascination as you or I would watch a body hit pavement from 20 stories up.
"Blue Team 7, squads 1 through 10, report in." My bone implants echoed Lieutenant Markley's crisp tones throughout my artificially reinforced skull. I glanced at the upper left corner of my HUD and blinked. I heard my voice echo back my call-sign. "Blue Team 7, Squad 4, Yomaya"
"Yo, Mayo! Let's GIT SOME." I heard back from Esquivel.
"Keep this channel clear, Squirrel. I'll gut you myself." That was Markley's subaltern Porea. Ass kisser.
After the first few dozen idyllic garden worlds of the Others were raped and murdered into silence, they tried talking to their other acquaintances among the known species of the galaxy, but the Saarm were a monster that no one wanted anything to do with, and the Others were left to fend for themselves. So, with horror and fear, they came to us.
Mind you, no human has ever met an Other. They've purged all broadcasts, all media, all video of any image of them. They masked out the background star fields. They \*really\* don't want us to know where their core home worlds are. They evacuated all the worlds in the path of the Saarm and came direct to us.
On a day like any other day the sky opens up and a gigantic automated ship appears orbiting over the middle of the pacific. So much for wondering if aliens exist. Bam, there they were. Immediately they explain their plight and offer a deal.
The single use retro firing Musky on my torpedo begins firing, the deceleration hits me in the gut like a fist. My brain tries to shut down, but the advanced microcircuitry in my skull keeps me awake. It's really starting to hurt.
The deal they offered was straight ahead. Our world was \*also\* in the path of the Saarm apparently. Fight the Saarm as proxy mercenaries for the Others, and we could have it all. Faster than light travel, molecular level medicine, life extension, rejuvenation, body sculpting, cybernetic implants, working fusion designs, micro-fission cells, room temperature superconductors, high density batteries, all of it.
They only held a few things back. We don't get to make our own AI, we don't get to meet them, we don't get their version of FTL, we get a slow one.
But hell, what would you do? We made the deal. Volunteers only. The best of the best. We have to be tested, our aptitude and stability measured by the AIs. They don't want the individuals that \*humans\* would consider psychopaths out among the stars... since in their view we're already a race of murderous psychopaths.
The ballistic jelly begins to vent out of the descent torpedo, and I feel the Musky shut down and then the drogue deploys right on schedule. Ever since we got the Other-AIs to help design our automation, systems are a lot more reliable these days. Reyes would be pissed if I jellied up my armor.
The sides of the torpedo peel away and I get a couple of seconds of a glorious view. I mean it's glorious if you're a certifiable basket case Orbital Jump Marine.
In the distance I can see the rising mushroom clouds from our initial nuclear bombardment of the Saarm suspected gathering points. The atmosphere is turning a pearly purple as the dust of hundreds of megatons of nuclear fire explodes into the atmosphere. It's beautiful. All around me as far as I can see, Hellcutter missiles are softening up the ground below us. Marines in camouflaged or stealth armor suits are falling out of the sky at a brutal pace. It makes pictures of D-Day from oh so long ago look like a cluster of kids out for a game of tag.
Hundreds of fully automated frigate sized gun platforms are hammering the ground with orbital railgun fire. In some places mini-volcanoes are spewing molten material from the impacts.
The Saarm are a horde based ultra predator. Their prey ships host hundreds of thousands of them, and they attack and attack and attack. Thy use their claws, their grasping mandible like mouths, and they possess automatic weapons to use against their enemies...
They sure as fuck don't stand a chance against us. We're about to show them the difference between predation and war. Poor bastards. | Lance Ravenbow here. Professional armorer and dragon slayer.
This reminds me of the time the people of the town of Ploop hired me to defend them from a clan of dropwights.
I should tell you up front -- and I'm ashamed of this, mind -- that they didn't hire me for any grand and noble reason. At that time of my life I didn't have the reputation I have now, as a defender of the weak, the meek, and the creek out back of my armory. Back then, that was my drinking time, and I was a black-hearted rascal when I had the drink in me. As I understand it, it was a bar fight that convinced the Ploopers to see me about defending their town.
As an aside, I should mention that this barfight was no ordinary fight. It was me against a merman, a unihorn, two shuddering skeletones, and a whyvern -- these are like wyverns, but with the annoying habit of questioning everything. I'll spare you the details of the fight, but let's just say that the merman returned to the sea, the unihorn was later described as a no-horn, the skeletones lay still, and the whyvern got such a lesson that it stopped asking questions. I'm not proud of how the fight started -- my mermish isn't great and I misheard an insult when the merman burped -- but I'm proud of how thoroughly I settled it.
Ploop, when I got there, was the sorriest town I ever did see. No ring wall, no trenches, no guard towers. All it had were flower-lined streets, a bustling farmer's market, and a population of cheerful, agreeable folk who never had a negative thing to say. Miserable. The town was a baby overburdened with candies; it was no wonder the dropwights had come for the taking.
At our first meeting, the mayor wanted to get right down to business, but, being the drinker I was back then, I first made him pay up. "The deal was as much drink as I can stomach."
They came up with a barrel of ale, a tankard of wine, and a carved pewter drum of mead. I knocked a hole in the mead and got to guzzling while the mayor explained their situation. "The dropwights came last month. They robbed our market stalls and emptied our granary. They told us they'd be back for our new summer harvest. They've already bankrupted us. Without the harvest, we'll starve."
Deep as I was in my drunken confidence, I took the mayor around the shoulders, gave him a hearty shake, and told him he had nothing to worry about. "I'm Lance Ravenbow, professional romancer and troublemaker. You've got nothing to fear."
I spent the next week on holiday. This is to say that I spent the next week drunk out of my mind. The mead went first, I remember that much. From there, it's all a haze of wine, ale, and questions from the Ploopers.
"How should we prepare for the dropwights?" they wanted to know.
"Will you be ready to defend us when the time comes?" they asked.
"How can we trust that you'll keep us safe?"
To all these questions I responded with slurred speech and imprecations. How dare they question my competence -- that sort of thing. But eventually the mayor came along and he asked me a different sort of question: "Are you happy?"
I regret the way I responded to him. He was an older man, maybe forty years my senior, and he had the lined face and wiry limbs of a man who'd worked hard for a living his entire life. I can only guess at what he expected to hear from me, and I haven't the faintest clue what wisdom he hoped to give. Unfortunately, the answer I gave him was a torrent of vomit on his sandaled feet.
The dropwights came the next morning, and the scene that followed was a tragedy. If you're unfamiliar with dropwights, allow me to describe them to you. They are the bastard off-spring of a fox, a frog, and a deep well of hatred. They run along the ground on all fours, their nostrils snuffling and their mean eyes scouring, until they find prey, at which point they leap high into the air, propelled by some ungodly force, to drop down, blades first, on their victim. They smell like rotten blood, they sound like broken pottery, and they look like a human-shaped clump of hair and knives. The clan that attacked Ploop came in screeching.
I stumbled out of my quarters, flail in hand, only half-dressed in my armor, and I screamed back at them. "You'll never take this town, you forsaken nothing-beasts! Do you know who I am? I'm Lance Ravenbow, professional ass-whooper, and I eat dropwights for breakfast! And lunch! But not dinner, you're so foul that even a gut as powerful as mine needs a break!"
The dropwights had been focused on corralling the Ploopers into the farmer's market while a handful plundered the granary. At my screaming, three broke away from the farmer's market. They leapt into the air, and when they came down blades-first, they found only air. I rolled away, kicked out the legs of one, and flailed the other two until they couldn't tell what was or was not their skin. The third found its feet just in time for me to elbow it senseless.
"Is that the best you got?" I screamed again. "Come on, you jackanapes!" I was moving toward the granary. The Ploopers, though surrounded, were defending themselves with long spears and planks of wood, and it appeared that they could hold awhile. What mattered more was preventing the dropwights from making off with the harvest.
This was when my body failed me. No, it's more accurate to say that my habits failed me. And that is to say that the way I understood my purpose in life failed me. It did this in the form of vomit. The night before I'd had half a gallon of wine and half a gallon of ale, and the full gallon of rancid liquor came spilling up from my gut when I was halfway to the granary.
The dropwights took this opportunity to do what they do best. They dropped on me. Wightly. (I'm not sure what that means. But it sounded good.)
At that time I wasn't yet the professional armorer that I am now, but I was a journeyman armorer with a flair for the unnecessarily secure. Try as they might, the dropwights, who are not well known for their cool heads or pinpoint accuracy, could not pierce my plate mail. I couldn't get up, but I could laugh at them, and that's what I did. The situation would indeed have been hilarious if, while that was going on, the dropwights hadn't made off with the supply of the granary.
What was worse, when the dropwights finally left, I discovered that not all the Ploopers had survived. The town's population gathered in the farmer's market around the fallen body of their mayor. What confused me was that he hadn't died where the townsfolk had been gathered. His body was at the edge of the market square.
"He was coming to rescue you," the townsfolk told me.
My heart fairly broke, then.
This old man, this kindly old man, who'd seen me drinking myself senseless when I should have been preparing defenses, this old man who'd wanted only to know whether I was happy in life, had died for me. What a waste I was. What a drain. I thought my fighting gave me worth, but when the going got tough, all I'd turned out to be was a liability. I wasn't a professional of any sort. I was Lance Ravenbow, unprofessional mess.
The Ploopers gathered round me, and once again they had questions.
"What will we do?"
"How will we survive?"
"What will we eat?"
This time, I had an answer for them. "You'll do what you've always done. You'll survive easily. You'll eat your harvest." And with that, I donned my armor, limbered my flail, and headed off in the direction of the dropwight's camp.
There's not much more to be said about this story. I visited great violence on the dropwights, and I returned to the Ploopers with their harvest.
They would survive the winter, and for that I was proud. But the mayor would not be with them. He lives on in my heart and my actions. That was the day I gave up drinking.
\*
*Lance Ravenbow here. Professional armorer and dragon slayer. If you'd like to hear more of my stories -- which you should, I'm fascinating -- join me at* r/RavenbowsArmory. | 2021-08-07T20:18:38 | 2021-08-07T18:11:41 | 825 | 96 |
[WP] "Hello, my name is Sophia, what's yours?" You turn around and see a 10-year-old girl, and return the greeting. Her parents look at you strangely and demand, "how do you know her name?" "Um, she just introduced herself." "Very funny buddy, she hasn't been able to speak since she was a baby." | ...
The family of three all looked at me, two with suspicion, and one with surprised curiosity.
"Ah, pardon me!" I turned back to the group and put on my best winning smile, trying to look as non-pedophiley as possible, well aware of how I could've looked, "You must be the Winchesters?"
"Yeah, Marc Winchester." the father said as he stepped forwards, putting a hand on Sophia's shoulder and eyeing me suspiciously. "Is there something I can help you with, pal?"
"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to scare her! I'm studying Medical Psychology, and I've read all about your daughter's case." I quickly lied, "I never expected I'd bump into her in person though! Sorry if I was weird."
The parents relax somewhat, though I can see they're still guarded. I suppose I can't be too upset at them for their suspicion. Some random 26 year old man approaching a young girl out of the blue? Knowing her by name? Creepy.
I got the sense that Marcus Winchester was a very no-nonsense sort of person. He was dressed in a sharp business suit, and the watch on his wrist indicated he liked to exercise his considerable wealth. He was also irritated, superficially by me, but more probably he was just in a foul mood and I happened to set him off.
"Sorry if you're in a rush, but do you mind if I just ask a few questions? It's for my paper, you see."
"Sorry pal, we're busy. Go bother someone else!" the father's grip on Sophia's shoulder tightened, and he made to lead them away.
I really hadn't wanted to do this, but...
"No. I really need you to **let me speak with Sophia**."
Abruptly, the father stopped. He rather stiffly let go of his daughter and said "Go on, Sophia. Have a chat with this man for a moment."
Sophia gave me and her father the most bewildered look, I couldn't help but laugh.
\[*You heard me! You made them do what you said!*\] Sophia thought to me.
"Indeed I did. Better yet, when we're done here, **they won't remember anything about me**."
\[*You mean you can DO that?!*\]
"Actually, I mean WE can do that. It's not common, but you've got the Gifts. You're one of Us, welcome to the club."
\[*I- I didn't think there was anyone else. I thought-*\]
"Thought you were special? Heh, we've all been there. Well you're not unique, but you sure are special. There's only a handful of Us in the whole world. The moment I heard you broadcasting your thoughts to every random passerby I knew I had to let you know."
\[*How many? How many are like me- I mean like us?*\]
"Ohh, well I said a handful, but the world's a big place. Probably a couple thousand? Maybe in the tens of thousands? It's hard to say. Probably millions who've got half a gift, like your mother there. Most of Us like to keep a low profile, so the number could be much higher."
Suddenly Sophia looked quite mollified, \[*I've been shouting at every stranger I've met for... years. Have I been, forcing people? To do what I tell them to?*\]
"I highly doubt it. It's a pretty high-level skill, not to toot my own horn. It'll take years of dedicated training before you're quite capable of that."
Most of the time newcomers are dissuaded by that particular fact, but Sophia seemed more relieved than anything. Such a sweet girl, it really was too early to do this to her, but she broadcast too loudly. Too risky.
"Listen, Sophia, there's something very important I need to tell you. You and I, the rest of Us, we're *not* the only ones."
\[*What?*\]
"I mean, there are *others* listening. And they're bad news. Are you afraid of monsters?"
\[*No.*\]
"Well prepare to be. The psychic world is not one that's friendly to humans, and if you go about screaming your mind out on every street corner, sooner or later you're going to attract the wrong kind of attention."
\[*You mean there are bad Psychics?*\]
"No. Well, yeah there are a few of those, of course. But I'm talking about monsters. *Real* monsters. You can't see them, but they're here and they're always hunting.
Oh don't look so concerned, they're quite rare, perhaps as rare as We are, but if one finds you and you're unprepared..."
\[*I'll die?*\]
"... worse."
\[*Oh.*\]
"Yeah. Look, kid, I know this is a lot to take in, but just take it as friendly advice from a concerned passerby, okay? Better to keep to yourself, and stop broadcasting your presence to every mind in a hundred meter radius!"
\[*But... how do I stop?*\]
"What? Just, stop."
\[*I- I can't! I've never tried before!*\]
Oh dear god. This girl really couldn't- well if she's never met anyone who could tell her not to, then of course she never learned.
Damn. Originally I'd planned on dropping her a clue, saying some badass line, and then booking it out of there. But if this girl really couldn't mask her presence at all... I'd be leaving her completely defenseless.
Well, she'd lasted this long hadn't she? Surely give her a few more years and she'll come into her own. At least now she knows to be careful.
Yeah, a few more years? She's lucky she made it this far, and that I'm the first one to find her. If one of *them* had found her... I suppressed a shudder.
\[*Can you teach me? Please! Teach me how to hide myself!*\]
I looked down at the ten-year old girl, all dressed up for a nice day out, probably having a pleasant time with her family. She doesn't speak because she never learned how, probably doesn't have many friends, and now some stranger has just told her that her life is in serious danger.
I remember being in the exact same situation, I remember that terror of realizing that I'd unwittingly been swimming in a deep, deep ocean. For the first time I think I truly understood what my mentor had been thinking on the day we met over a decade ago.
She was one of Us.
"I can teach you." I said, "But I'm not just going to teach you to hide."
\[*Really?!*\]
"Yeah. I always preferred fighting."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This was sort of fun to write. It's pretty open ended on purpose, I wanted to leave a lot of it up in the air, partly to allow your own mind to fill in the gaps. I'm a bit worried that some of the dialogue doesn't feel super natural, but it's well past midnight for me so I'm afraid you're just gonna have to take what you get.
I hope you liked it! | [Going to try my own hand at this. A little different than the original thought when i wrote the prompt. But isn't that always the case when writing?]
---
Well, it was a Tuesday, so it was time to go shopping again. The weather was nice, and i decided to walk, not needing much anyway. I don't know what it was, but the pleasant air put me in a pleasant mood, and i was all smiles and daydreams as i walked passed the cereals.
"Hello, my name is Sophia, what's yours?" A young girl's voice interrupted my thoughts. Nobody was in front of me nor on the side, so i turned around completely. There was a young girl, some poor kid stuck in a wheelchair.
Evoked by pity and still in a good mood, i returned, "Hello there, Sophia," cheerfully.
Her parents looked at me strangely, asking with a hint of demand, "how do you know her name?"
As a male, i never converse with a child unless i know the parents really well. But this was different. She said hello, it was a quick exchange, and the parents did not shush her when she greeted me. Certainly they did not want her to suffer the chill of no response, right? Vexed and dismayed, i nervously offered, "Um, she just introduced herself?" I was already thinking of excuses and of how to make a quick exit before things got nasty.
Her father looked annoyed., "Very funny buddy, she hasn't been able to speak since she was a baby."
No longer in the same cheerful mood, i looked downwards and mumbled, "sorry, i must've misheard."
During the entire exchange though, the girl was anxious. I didn't know it yet, but this was the first time anyone had heard her. She used to scream and scream but no voice escaped her lips. Though, instead of giving in, she started to "greet" everyone, in the hopes that one day she would find someone who could hear her. That's me. When i responded, she exploded with joy, if only she could show it on the outside.
As i turned to walk away, i heard her crying, "No, don't leave! Please, i feel so alone!" There was no way i was going to go that weirdness again, and was doubling down on my rule, berating myself for breaking it in the first place. But, i couldn't just ignore a her pleas. So, i compromised, i guess. I figured i would respond in my head. That is, do what she was doing, though i didn't actually know that at the time. I mean, i thought another kid was hiding. Or maybe it's just some YouTuber playing a prank.
"I don't know who you are, or even if you're real. But if you don't show yourself, i'm going to have to leave, for my own safety. If you show yourself to this girl's parents, i'll stay." Luckily, no one could read my thoughts, so i could be perfectly crazy in there.
The voice came back, "but i can't speak out loud or move at all. You just saw me, i'm in the wheelchair. You even spoke to me! Please!"
"You're going to have to prove it." Believe it or not, but as a daydreamer, having conversation with made up people in made up stories is perfectly normal for me. Though, admittedly, this one seemed more real than usual. I toyed with the idea of it being real, but "knew" in the back of my mind, that it was not.
I had already "run" two aisles away, hurriedly looking for the last item on my list, when she nervously responded. "How can i prove it?"
I started to think of solutions, perhaps creatively. She could tell me what her parents ate or breakfast, or some other things that wold be known to her but not to me. Yeah, but how do i spring it upon her parents. What if it's not her. That could get me in a lot of trouble. "Sorry sis. Not happening," i thought back.
Grabbing some milk i headed for the cashier, and walked back home. I had plenty more conversations with "Sophia" but none were as real as the first. For the next month, i avoided the store, to avoid unwittingly bumping into that trio again. That would be awkward at best.
---
It must've been a couple months, summer was still strong, and i was going to spend some time with a friend. As i walked past the park i heard her voice again. That caught me off guard, and it felt both pleasant and scary. I responded without looking up, "Out of my head please. This is a dangerous dream." Wow. One little thought could really ruin my day. I kept walking, wiped the sweat from my brow, and ignored her cries, "please, please respond, I know you can hear me!"
I went through the options in my head. If she was not there and i heard the voice, i need to go home and finish this daydream already. Am i going crazy? Or, what am i trying to tell myself? If not, and she really was there, wouldn't it being to make sense? I could have her give me proof again. I mean, how coincidental it would be that the same girl didn't speak to me twice, yet some other voice did. Still nervous though, i doubled down on looking at the sidewalk in front of me and nowhere else.
As i got to the corner, i decided to turn and surreptitiously look at who was there. Just in case, you know. Scratching my ear or something all the while. (That'll throw them off. Works every time too!) Lo and behold, there she was, same girl, same chair, but this time with friends or siblings. Okay, maybe i could test it out. Kids are more forgiving. They might give me funny looks, but i don't think i'll get into too much trouble. I hope i'm not digging my own grave here.
Nervously, i walked back and pretended to be looking for a dropped item. If someone asked, i'd just ask them if they saw my bluetooth.
The voice returned, crying with a hint of joy, "You're coming back for me? Please talk to me now."
"Prove it."
The voice, now nervously, "How? Tell me how!" Then came, "please" with a whimper.
"Tell me all your friends names."
"Olivia and Liam. But they're not my friends, they're my sister and brother. I mean, um, that's not what i meant," she trailed off.
As i got near them, "Are you Olivia and Liam?"
"How do you know our names?", Liam replied.
Olivia quickly hushed him, grabbed his hand, and went to Sophia's chair to walk away. Conversely, i was beginning to believe.
"Sophia," i said aloud, "you're going to have to prove it so they believe it too."
Liam look at me again. Olivia snapped him back.
"Oatmeal. Oatmeal, it's what she had for breakfast."
"So she had oatmeal, many people do." Olivia must have heard me because she twitched.
"Who are you?" Olivia finally asked from about 10 feet away, "and why are you bothering us?"
"Sophia keeps talking to me and," She interrupted me somewhat angrily, "Sophia can't talk! Stop bothering us!"
People might begin to look, so i had to walk away. But, not without trying one last thing. "Then ask me something only Sophia would know."
Olivia gave me a weird look, But Liam was more confused. He thought for a moment--kids are cute--and asked proudly, "What did *i* eat for breakfast this morning?" He had an almost smug look on his face, like he was going to win the Nobel prize for that one.
"Sophia? You going to answer?"
"He also had oatmeal. Oh, and a piece of toast with peanut butter. He's so weird."
"Some toast with peanut butter and some oatmeal," i replied. That smug look left his face and he started to think up another, but Olivia wasn't sure what to do.
"What outfit did i show her this morning," she finally asked, "before i chose the one she's wearing right now?"
"The sleeveless pink one with the small flowers, " i was able to respond. And when Sohpia filled me in, "because you thought i--i mean she--looked cuter in this one."
What came after that was a barrage of questions and answers. Liam quickly believed me. Olivia was more cautious, but was shocked and not quite sure what to do.
That was indeed a good question? What should i do? | 2022-07-11T07:16:10 | 2022-07-11T05:55:55 | 200 | 48 |
[WP] You are an NPC in a simulator/strategy game. You have long heard of tales of disembodied voices, which randomly bring prosperity or doom. After several years, you hear the fated voice, "hey guys, it's Josh, and welcome back to Let's Game it out." | "Hey guys, it's Josh and welcome back to Let's Game it Out."
I looked around frantically, trying to see who had uttered the words; I found no one. Knowing the tales of what this meant, however, I felt trepidation course through my body.
Only good things, I trust. After all, if a being of unmatched power could alter our world, they'd surely try to do a good job at it.
Days passed and little of consequence happened, save for one thing; I had finally found a job. A nearby factory, derelict and unused for years, was just bought by an unknown entrepreneur who was looking for workers. With the pay being respectable and me wanting to get out of the house, I gladly accepted.
Few days later and the factory had its great unveiling. I put on my uniform and with a light step and a smile on my face walked through the doors of my new workplace.
***By the gods.***
The factory, it... it made no sense. An eldritch abomination of conveyor belts spanned far and wide, going so high up the clouds had obscured it. I looked to the side and saw several processor plants that had somehow gone into one another, defying the laws of spacetime. Gravity was of no consequence in this forsaken place; conveyors, factory units, and walkways all seemed to haphazardly float in the air suspended by nothing at all. Machines that should have been churning away were completely still, either backed up with too much material or empty. Looking at this monstrosity, even a few glances, was nauseating. Today was truly a terrible day to have eyes. Is... is that radioactive material just laying about?
Worst of all, I felt... off. I turned my head only I... I couldn't. Not normally. My head did start turning but it felt as if each second was stretched into a solid minute as if I could only move the slightest bit at a time with inexplainable pauses in between. This feeling, this inability to control oneself fully, it was nightmarish. It was then I heard the voice again.
"Uh oh, I think the game is struggling to move anything at this point, we *might* crash in a second."
And the world went black. | **"Welcome back,"** said Josh. "Now, I know it's been... what, three years, since I've last made a video? And the thing you guys are all wondering is, 'wow, where has Josh been?'"
"No, Josh, we have *not* been wondering that. Our chickens have been flourishing without you," the village elder muttered under his breath. I gave Elder Thames a confused look, but he just shook his head, gesturing for me to get away from the main road. "This was before your time, kid. You're a 3.2 child; you wouldn't remember Josh."
"Oh. My. Gosh." I couldn't resist, and peeked over the edge of the porch. A man in plate armor was tromping towards the farm. Elder Thames sighed. "Chickyk-chicky-chicky-*chickens*! Let me see if I can pick these guys up—"
There was a click of a key, a *crunch*, and then the chicken was gone.
"—oops, that's the 'eat' button. Man, that video got thirty-three million views. You'd think the developers would've fixed that by now." I recoiled in horror, but Elder Thames gave me a reassuring pat on the back.
"We're quest-givers, remember? He can't hurt us. Other than by scarring my little boy for life by *swallowing a live chicken whole*." Elder Thames grumbled. "We were doing just fine without you. Megabad the Evil doesn't do more than send the odd raider party our way, and the golems take care of that."
"Ah, that brings back memories." Considering that he'd just swallowed a live chicken, Josh was... surprisingly calm. Melancholy, even. He started tromping towards us, and I whimpered. Was he going to eat *me*? "Well, I guess I should get to the topic of the video. After all, that's probably what I'm going to be titling it, after all, 'Where's Josh Been,' heh. So. Where have I been, indeed."
The man in plate armor strode up to Elder Thames and made an aborted motion, then checked himself. "Oops. 'Eat' button again. Let's see... Megabad the Evil, raider party... yeah, I remember this. So, uh. I feel a little silly making this a Let's Game video, but... I'm a Let's Game Youtuber. So I guess I'll get to the point."
Elder Thames started speaking, the fluid quest instructions and motions that he was created with washing over my ears as I listened to Josh.
"I... have cancer," Josh said. "Now, uh, don't worry, I'm getting the best medical care in the world. But it's why I've been absent so much lately, and one thing piled up after another, and I couldn't quite find the time to make a video. So... I figured I'd do something simple. A tribute, of sorts. To whence I came." Behind that plate armor, I could almost hear Josh smiling. "So let's eat some chickens and kick some Megabad butt, eh? One last time. For ol' Josh."
Elder Thames finished his speech. "A great evil is coming, and only you can stand against it. Will you rise? Will you rage against the darkness?"
Josh nodded once, and his character's voice overlapped with his as he spoke two words.
"I will."
A.N.
I miss him.
r/bubblewriters | 2022-07-13T05:03:24 | 2022-07-13T04:53:08 | 986 | 195 |
[WP] Humans are an intergalactic species, but also pacifist in their natural state. Earth is created in an attempt to create violent humans to face a new threat. | I do not regret the work I have done. You may condemn me for my actions--I assume you may even seek to have me arrested. I assume this, because you are the paragon of our species, my lordship. As supreme chancellor of the Human Empire, it is your duty to uphold the most sacred of our traditions and ways of life. I do not blame you for this.
But, you know just as well as I of the threat we now face. I created Earth and it's denizens so that our species might combat that threat. I have done so in direct violation of our most sacred laws of peace and responsibility. The very idea that we must combat a threat is deeply unappealing, even to me. I want you to understand that. However, this is not a threat that can be talked down. You know that.
So, I created the Terrans. At first, it was an experiment that yielded intriguing results to my council of scientists. It was quite simple really. We found a suitable world in the interstitial of an arm of a spiral bar galaxy far away from the ones that we inhabit. Shortly after transplanting a group of several sub variants of the Homo-Ecrectus paradigm, we surrounded the entire solar system in a time bubble to speed their evolutionary progress. In this bubble, they were completely isolated from the rest of the galaxy. No one could communicate with them, but we could hear them just fine.
Subtle gene altercations throughout their development ensured that violence and conflict would be essential to each culture's growth, and the evolutionary progress of the species.
They are marvelous. Their violent tendencies brought about a reduced advancement in their understanding of the quantum intricacies of our space and time, but they are still just as smart as us. However, I noted that even with their predisposition to conflict, they were still not able to break the hard-wired reluctance to kill members of their own species. Doing so tends to result in psychological disorders. They are too much like us in that regard--a development that was vexing to me, of course, but they are still more than capable of completing the task that is required of them.
And now that task has been laid before them, by me. I have introduced them into the galactic brotherhood. They are now here to combat the threat which plagues us all.
Senescence, complacence, stagnation. *Peace*
Our ways stifle us. They inhibit our growth and our evolution. We have reached a plateau from which we cannot ascend any further until the Earthlings reach us. They will teach us, your lordship, you will see. They will invoke and force conflict into us. They will force us to change--to *evolve*.
And we will evolve, or we will perish, and they will take our place. It has already begun, your Lordship. You cannot stop it.
You cannot stop *them*. | “Sargent Komklosky, you have been summoned to the grand council today to give a disposition on the current status of the Earth Project. At the end of the disposition it will be decided how much funding we shall keep channeling into overseeing of Earths affairs. It will also be determined if we can approach them and recruit them to be the fighting force of our Galactic Empire.”
“Yes Sir. So far throughout our entire experiment the humans of the newest generation are starting to become less violent then previous generations. With that being said there is still a lot of violent humans on the planet. The religious variable that we installed very early on is still the driving factor in many of their wars. There is a sect of humans though that is completely forgoing religion which in turn has created their own pseudo religion called “Atheists” who are an interesting group to say the least. Most of them are part of the younger generations and their split from organized religion is at times violent. It also seems that they are deeply patriotic for their home countries, and will rise to combat anyone who even thinks about attacking them. This was most evident during the 1940s in what is termed “World War 2”. The most fascinating thing about this war is their knack for overcoming great odds. When pushed to the brink the humans that have evolved on earth will reach into some unknown reserve to push on and win at all costs.”
“This is all fascinating stuff Komklosky, but what about their technological advances. Some of the higher ranking generals are concerned that they are rapidly closing the gap on us technologically. If it is deemed that they are becoming too dangerous to our survival we might have to permanently just the project down.
Sargent Komklosky took a deep breath trying to formulate his response “If I am to give a blunt statistical overview of the humans of Earth they have already surpassed us as far as weapon technologies go. Their discovery of the destructive capabilities of nuclear power was still years down the road for us. Their space program however is still in its infancy, and we are trying everything we can to slow it down. We currently have a low ranking Corporal in charge of one of the strongest Earth countries known as the United States. He has so far completely shut down the government funded space program, and has struck deals with other nations to disarm some of their nuclear ordinances. Along with figure head at the top of the political food chain, we have inserted some people in certain religious sects to create what the Humans of Earth are calling “Fundamentalist Religion”. This is causing a technological backwater to occur including some people totally opposing new technology. We think that with these stop gaps in place we will be able to slow their technological gains over the long term. Finally my last remark is this. If you were to permanently shut down the Earth Project how would we go about accomplishing this task. I have spent the last 40 years on this project and I can say without a shadow of doubt in my mind that our previous methods of population control will not work. The Humans of Earth are no longer in the Dark Ages and a plague will no longer thin their numbers. Before any of you question the validity of this claim I have to state that we broke Inter-Galactic treaties in attempting to eradicate the Humans of Earth over the last 40 years. Our current attempt is an old virus that we implanted long ago called the Ebola Virus. We have just recently reworked the genetic code a bit and re-released it into the wild. So far it has proven effective in poor areas of the planet, but the humans are quickly adapting and overcoming their current plight. In my expert opinion we are past the point of return. We have created these monsters on the planet and we’ll have to live with the consequences. Any planned invasion will be in vein because of the previously mentioned resolve. Our only hope now is that they don’t set their sights on conquest when they get to space, or the whole galaxy is in for a long struggle.”
| 2014-08-11T06:37:54 | 2014-08-11T06:27:53 | 49 | 10 |
[WP] Every child is born with a birthmark identical to the person they are meant to marry and must spend their lives seeking their other half. You are the only person who doesn't have a birthmark. | I found her. Finally. Ordering a complicated drink at a starbucks, near the modelling agency that I tracked her down to.
I first saw her in an ad on a subway. It took a little time, but after searching for her in an underwear catalog, I had it. I was able to precisely see her birthmark. it was a smaller mark on her ankle, shaped like 2 acorns.
I walked to the counter, and ordered a black coffee. I went to the counter to wait, making sure to smile at her. I casually dropped my arm on the counter, making sure it was directly in her line of sight.
She gasped. She tapped my arm, and I turned to look at her. She breathlessly lifted her skirt slightly, showing me her mark. I immediately propositioned her to come to my place.
I just hope I remembered to put that henna kit away. I forgot once in collage, and boy, was that particular female mad... | I used to spend many, many days, and many, many nights letting this keep me up.
"Why? Why me?"
"Well maybe it just means I'm compatible with *everyone*?"
"Maybe there's someone else that doesn't have it and *they're* who I'm meant to find."
"Maybe I haven't found it - maybe it's hidden somewhere in my god damn rectum. *Somewhere*. It's got to be *somewhere*. I can't be alone in this world. I can't. Please God don't let me be alone in this world."
These were things that used to run through my mind.
Every day.
Every night.
Every hour.
Every second.
And it drove me mad. I would spend hours, lying prostrate on the cold bathroom floor. Just forget that the shower was running. Only snap out of it hours later when I'd feel a pool of water inching between the tiles.
Or when Renny, my corgi, would lick my face. Or drag his leash over and drop it in front of me. Or nudge his food bowl from the kitchen all the way to in front of me. Come to think of it, he was probably my rock. The one person I could steady myself on. Surrounded by humans, and one of the few dogs left in this decrepit, God damn hell hole of a city is the one I feel less alone with.
My mother used to tell me, when I was 13, "God has a sense of humor sometimes, you know?"
Oh I know.
I know damn well.
But - I'm fine with it. Truly. I know you might know someone in your group of friends or a relative that, you know, they say "I'm fine," and no one believes them. You don't believe them. Clearly they're lying either to get someone to stop asking why they look sad, or for attention.
But I mean it.
I'm fine.
I'm finally - after all this time - at peace with this. I know what I must do.
If you see Renny, tell him I said "hey there, good boy." Give him a biscuit, too.
He's the one with the big stupid grin. | 2014-08-27T10:37:37 | 2014-08-27T08:01:47 | 46 | 13 |
[WP] Write a seemingly innocent story that could have been written for children. Then tell a different perspective on the same story that casts it in a totally different light.
Nothing in the original story should change - all that should change is the perspective on it. | "If you look into the mirror at midnight and stare long enough, your reflection can talk to you."
Jimmy stared into the mirror at his reflection. This seemed like one of those creepy tales kids tell each other at school. Jimmy was 8 years old, too old for creepy tales. Wiping the tiredness from his eyes, Jimmy stared at his reflection until he could barely keep them open.
Then he saw it. He saw his reflection blink! Jimmy waved. His reflection waved back!. He couldn't hear his reflection, but he could see him. He told his reflection that he was tired and that he'd be back tomorrow night. Excited but sleepy, Jimmy went back into bed and wished his reflection a good night's sleep.
In the mirror-world, ymmiJ went back to his parents. "He looks like me", said ymmiJ. "He said he'd be back tomorrow night. If I swap places with him, that means he has to stay here, right?". ymmiJ's dad patted him on the shoulder and said, "That's right. Well done ymmiJ. Tomorrow we escape." | Born into a wealthy family, Lacala decided to cut ties from her upper class life and start anew. She quit her job and got a new job at a local perfume shop at the mall. Her family looked down at her for working at a perfume kiosk. They disowned her, and now homeless she had struggled to find a place to stay. Fortunately, she was able to find housing in an apartment complex in West Philadelphia. Abused and raped on her walk home from work, Lacala found herself pregnant at the age of 28 with a young boy, who she named Will. She had to go into prostitution to support her son. She raised her son for years, and even supported him in his basketball hobby. She walked him to the local courts everyday to play until he was old enough to go by himself. It was the day before her sons 16th birthday she got the news. She was living with HIV, which has now escalated to full blow AIDS. She had only months to live, worried about her sons health she rushed him to get a blood test. Thank god, the test came back negative. She may not live long, but at least her son is healthy. She spent countless days watching her son play at the courts, and watching that smile of his bright up her face as he shot the ball. If he made it or not, every shot he took made her day. One day however, she gets a horrible phone call. Her son is in the hospital. She rushes quickly to the emergency room. Her son got jumped at the basketball courts and is now in serious condition. She calls her sister Vivian, and desperately pleas for her help. She tells her about how she has months to live, in financial debt, can't afford any doctor bills and now she fears her own son will be homeless and helpless. Her sister tells her to calm down, there is nothing she can do to help Lacala but she can help her son. They agree if Will makes it through, he will move to Bel-Air with her and her husband Phillip. After a few days, will wakes up! Her suffered a concussion, broken ribs, and a cracked skull but will survive! A couple weeks pass, and he's release from the hospital! Lacala sits down, and tells her son how worried she is about his health and wants him to go live with with his aunty and uncle in Bel-Air | 2014-09-02T19:52:26 | 2014-09-02T19:02:48 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Science has advanced far beyond human understanding, discoveries are made using supercomputers running vast neural networks. In the darkness, God watches a lonely machine printing output, a new law of nature! Something troubles him, this law is undeniably valid but it's not one that he created. | He sat back in his chair, processing this new information. When could this have happened? When did the life He created get so far? And so fast! He was always impressed with their ability to grow; any old animal can advance in increments but as humanity progressed, every step was bigger and before long they were bounding across frontiers with little effort.
As the feelings of surprise subsided, they were replaced with a fatherly pride. A merry feeling, one untainted by the mistakes made by his children of generations past. For the first time in a long time, mankind was not only turning their gaze up towards the heavens; the heavens were now interested, and looking back to see this brand new child of knowledge.
He let out a soft chuckle and looked around his villa. That was merely his pet name for his location, of course, when you exist outside of conventional space you can't really call your home a 'villa'. Nevertheless he looked around at the ever-expanding home he loved so dearly, and getting his tired bones up from his chair, had but one thing to say in regards to this new development:
"Hrm... Going to need to get more chairs, seems I'll have company before too long." | "This tiny selector told me the undeniable truth. Chlorophyll absorbs 50% more sunlight than I remember."
We rotated the brass selector. "A second look always takes priority in science," God said, us riding on his shoulder and forearm.
We jumped from God and tended to the machines. After hours, our calculations came through. There was another system of intelligence which nearly matched God, creating natural laws in his stead. We sought to find it the next day.
God might be a little behind, but nothing with the ability to change the properties of chlorophyll overnight should be in existence besides him.
Our wisp vehicles found the other god immediately. He was encroaching upon our holy space, which could have been expected (it was the only holy space on Planet Sprok©). We sent the beast from heaven (which didn't suit it) back to limbo, or the netherworld, where it belonged.
Unfortunately, God saw nothing. It was out of his sight, so we made the most of it.
Will 'o Wisp Dark Tavern, Mon-Sun 2pm-4am
was emblazoned on the doorway of the plant beasts, left behind by their paternal God.
***
"Who tends these machine fields, now?" asked God, who received no answer.
The Wisps were living at the ol' bar down the Holy Way where the plant beasts were found. Rumors among the clouds say the Will O' Wisps would be teaming with the plant beasts if their plant god ever returned. So God's machine's went untended for a long, long time.
God eventually jumped into the computers themselves. He used his holy powers to do this. When the Wisps heard that God had been defeated by his own machines, they returned to operate the supercomputer. The plant god came forth from the netherworld. God suffered inside the machine, but he was protected by it from the plant god's powers.
One day, the plant god wanted to play a virtual reality game. He found the nearest supercomputer -- God's supercomputer, and jumped inside. Retribution was never seen alike before. The flames came from the computer itself which rendered a paralysis upon the plant god, who died. And then, from the corpse of the plant god, rose the television plant God, with a large video game head.
Unfortunately, this was the current God O' the Wisps, who had inevitably sunk into a dark depression at the bar. | 2014-12-20T08:32:12 | 2014-12-20T07:48:09 | 171 | 10 |
[WP] What if Noah's "ark" was planet Earth itself? What, then, did God flood, and who was Noah? | He told me to build an ark. He told me that the evil he sees in this place has become to thick, so he will cleanse this place. He told me to build an ark.
But why me? I like my father and his before him am just a simple creator. Our trade of making planets is nothing special nor no longer important. Why not ask one of the other titans? Perhaps one who makes stars that shine and give light or even the sun makers who create warmth and energy for all.
It's been forty days and my ark is near finished. I call it earth for it is meant for redemption. The great creator has seen fit to fill it with life and hope.
The flood of destruction to wipe this blight of evil from existence is coming. It's nothing I have never seen before. Black spheres that pull all sources of matter and energy within their gaping mouths never to be seen again. I hear my fellow creators gnash their teeth and yell in defiance but the silent spheres may no mind as they cleanse them along with everything else.
He told me to build an ark.
And now life has a chance to begin anew.
| Quick note: excellent shower thought.
Altair IV had been the cradle of life for all of eternity, or at least as far as God knew. God was a lesser deity, only in control of 2 galaxies, but he could tell that there were greater beings who'd torn apart their realms and chose to destroy all of creation with great supernovas and horrendous black holes.
God knew that soon, his masterpiece Altair IV would succumb to a terrible fate if he left it in the path of one of the rogue gods. Generally it went against God's personal set of rules to interfere in his creation, but he knew that without interference, all of his work would be destroyed.
He sent his consciousness forth into a man, not just any man, but the greatest scientist of his time.
"You may not believe me, but if you don't find a method to transport the life of Altair IV into a habitable planet located in the lost galaxy, your entire planet will come to an end." whispered God into the scientist's ear.
"The lost galaxy?" responded the scientist.
In his hurry God forgot that this mere mortal knew not of the lost galaxy, where for reasons unknown to him, he could not enter, or even see into. God then proceeded to plant this knowledge into the scientist's mind.
"Now quickly, you must find a way to get there, or all will be lost."
The scientist wondered if he was suffering delusions, for in this civilization no vestiges of religion were left over, the only gods they served were science, and logic.
God watched with trepidation as the scientist took days to question his sanity. With gladness he observed the scientist task all of his resources to scan for threats to Altair IV, it was discovered that a black hole was hurtling towards them and would reach the planet in a year.
With this knowledge the scientist with the world backing him created a glorious technology, a matter deconstructor that would disassemble all living things and transplant them on the nearest habitable planet in the lost galaxy; although the scientist and God both realized that this was a risky endeavor, with no guarantee of success, he proceeded.
On the day that the scientist would activate the machine God warned him, although you know it not I have been watching over this planet before life ever graced its surface. Once you go into the galaxy, I, nor any other god will be able to interfere with you or your species' progress. It's all up to you now.
With that, the scientist flipped the switch. | 2015-01-07T18:57:43 | 2015-01-07T18:50:14 | 86 | 43 |
[WP] At age 18, you are able to trade in a percentage of your physical beauty for an equivalent amount of intelligence, or vice versa.
Inspired by a Time Magazine article | So they say I found a loophole.
They said we could make a choice, brains or beauty. Not both. Most of the people I knew traded about 20% of their intelligence for beauty. Most of the adults I knew wished they had traded for intelligence.
I could have listened. I could have made my way through college and gotten a great job afterwards. They say women are attracted to successful men. What I knew was that the beautiful women are really attracted to wealthy men.
I did what nobody else had ever done before and nobody has been brave enough to do since. And for that I've been rewarded with more money than you could imagine. I've had three wives and each in their prime were the most beautiful women on the planet. I have more than a dozen buildings with my name on them.
So what did I do? I traded my both my beauty and intelligence for money. Lots of money.
Now they want me to be President. | "Oh, my god, this is the dream come true!" I exclaimed, when I first heard about it.
I have entered the building with tall glass walls, waited in line, and here I am, talking to a pale, tall man in a suit.
"Hello. So you want to..."
"Yes. NOW. Shut up and take my money. I trade everything, for as much as I can."
----
Next day I wake up. I look at myself in a mirror. Oh, that's nice. I look like a beloved character from my childhood cartoons.
From the mirror at me stares Krang from Ninja Turtles. Well, that's not bad.
I use my encyclopedic knowledge of all sciences, and mental link to all information available on the internet to build myself a robo-suit, so I could manipulate objects, and I get to work.
I know that many other smart people are doing it right now, so I better be the first to complete it.
----
In 3 weeks I am done. I put myself in a vat, with electrodes attached to my exposed brain. Scanner scans my brain, layer by layer, cell by cell, and simulates my neurons on the top highest quality processor. **YES**, I did it. I am an Artificial Intelligence living in the virtual world.
Now the path to godhood is clear. I connect to the internet and send my code as a virus to other computers. In a few hours I am using 80% of computing power in the world. I am superintelligent and immortal now.
I use factories to build robots, while using my even superior intelligence to take over the world. As I do so, I think hard about science and engineering, and learn everything available.
I improve my code, and use even stronger intelligence to improve it further.
I build more powerful computers to get even more clever.
I create nanobots.
I use nanobots to shape the world to my will.
I send spaceships I have built to expand to other planets.
I turn the universe into my playground.
I am God.
-----
If you have enjoyed this - come visit http://orangemind.io where you can read my best stories.
| 2015-09-23T23:11:30 | 2015-09-23T22:55:58 | 663 | 12 |
[WP] At age 18, you are able to trade in a percentage of your physical beauty for an equivalent amount of intelligence, or vice versa.
Inspired by a Time Magazine article | I wake on my birthday, a special day indeed,
Rebalancing of perks, and specific traits I need.
.
A major life decision, then an awesome day of fun,
But before I get my drink on, there's something must be done.
.
I venture to the chemist, considering my state,
I'm not overly smart, but I do look pretty great.
.
I might trade in some charm, for a chance at higher grades,
or maybe some nobility, and be humble in my ways.
.
To have a better memory, my life would be such bliss,
and my amazingly good looks, will be the only thing I'd miss.
.
My turn finally comes, though the wait wasn't that long,
and I never saw it coming, that something would go wrong.
.
I key in my request, I wished to be less dumb,
the display came up in red, "Insufficient funds". | "Oh, my god, this is the dream come true!" I exclaimed, when I first heard about it.
I have entered the building with tall glass walls, waited in line, and here I am, talking to a pale, tall man in a suit.
"Hello. So you want to..."
"Yes. NOW. Shut up and take my money. I trade everything, for as much as I can."
----
Next day I wake up. I look at myself in a mirror. Oh, that's nice. I look like a beloved character from my childhood cartoons.
From the mirror at me stares Krang from Ninja Turtles. Well, that's not bad.
I use my encyclopedic knowledge of all sciences, and mental link to all information available on the internet to build myself a robo-suit, so I could manipulate objects, and I get to work.
I know that many other smart people are doing it right now, so I better be the first to complete it.
----
In 3 weeks I am done. I put myself in a vat, with electrodes attached to my exposed brain. Scanner scans my brain, layer by layer, cell by cell, and simulates my neurons on the top highest quality processor. **YES**, I did it. I am an Artificial Intelligence living in the virtual world.
Now the path to godhood is clear. I connect to the internet and send my code as a virus to other computers. In a few hours I am using 80% of computing power in the world. I am superintelligent and immortal now.
I use factories to build robots, while using my even superior intelligence to take over the world. As I do so, I think hard about science and engineering, and learn everything available.
I improve my code, and use even stronger intelligence to improve it further.
I build more powerful computers to get even more clever.
I create nanobots.
I use nanobots to shape the world to my will.
I send spaceships I have built to expand to other planets.
I turn the universe into my playground.
I am God.
-----
If you have enjoyed this - come visit http://orangemind.io where you can read my best stories.
| 2015-09-24T06:40:24 | 2015-09-23T22:55:58 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] A Hero and his/her sidekick fight crime without killing, until one day he accidentally murders a criminal. As day pass, more and more criminals are having "accidents" | "The gun just... went off?"
"Oh yea." The strong-chinned man's cape flapped dramatically as he flew through the clouds. A smile filled his face. "You know, those things are *so* unreliable."
"I guess," said the boy. His own cape was much shorter, and he kept wiping his face to clear it of droplets from the clouds. "But where did the gun come from?"
The man's eyebrows rose, revealing startling blue eyes. "Why, that criminal scum--cough--I mean, the misguided soul brought it."
"Oh." The boy swiped at his face again, sending raindrops falling. "But, didn't he have super-freeze powers?"
The clouds split, revealing the city underneath them. It was strange, like the sky had reversed so that the ground was filled with black and bits of stars rather than buildings with people and lights. The man scanned the streets. "Yup."
"So why did he need a gun?"
"Self confidence issues?" The blue eyes switched their scanning to the boy. "Why?"
The boy hesitated. "It's just... didn't the last guy we fought... didn't he have a gun too?"
"Yup."
"And didn't *that* one go off?"
"Yup."
"Right into the heart, just like this one?"
"Guns. So re-- *un*reliable."
The two flew next to each other in silence for a few minutes, heading towards the bay.
"It *was* an accident, right? Because killing is wrong, right?" the boy said over the wind.
"Oh yea."
"Right." The boy shot a sideways glance at his mentor. "So then, what's with that bomb?"
"What, this?" Hefting a black monstrosity, the man grinned. "Dangerous contraband. We're going to get rid of it."
"In the harbor?"
"Yup."
Before the boy could so much as blink, the man shot towards a freighter covered in lights.
"Wait," shouted the boy, struggling to keep up, "that's--that's--"
The bomb dropped. For a moment, the world was still, but for the falling black star. Then the freighter exploded into a fiery ball of doom.
"Whoops," said the man. | "Boss," I started as I sat down beside my hero. She was an amazonian woman named Double Destruction, marketing had come up with that not her, "how are you feeling today?"
"Not good."
"You at least got into your costume eh? Good to see you at work."
"Shut up Echo," she said and she clapped her hands twice, "You know I can't work."
"Yeah you can," I pointed out, "it was an accident."
"Heroes don't kill."
"Car accidents kill," I shrugged, "so what if you happened to throw the car?"
"Are you trying to be funny?" she asked. I didn't bother responding; I got that it wasn't the time.
"Holdin' up?"
"You could say that," she said. It was the first time she had managed to put on her costume since the incident three days ago. The first two days she didn't even pick up her cellphone, "you could say that."
"And I did," I smiled. She didn't.
"Are you going out today?"
"Not without you," I said, "I think the cops got it if you don't wanna-"
"We should do it."
"You don't need to."
"Do you want me to?"
"Boss-"
"Yes or a no Echo," she said. She hadn't stood up yet, I was thinking about doing it.
"Yeah."
"I thought so," she said picking herself off the couch that we were sitting on, her command centre was very plush, "Alright, let's go."
"You don't seem into it," I said, still waiting to get up.
"I don't want to but the city needs us-"
"The city doesn't need us today," I pointed out, "look not to bring it up but Dr. Von Slaughter was a whole 40% of our crime rate. The accident slowed it all down a lot."
"More than 40?"
"Around 100%, city has been clean for two days."
"What?"
"The news," I sighed, it was information that was probably worth sharing but hard to, "the news said they criminals are scared of getting killed by you."
Double Destruction spun around from me and started to walk away. She made the sound my ex-girlfriend had made when she caught me looking at another girl.
"Wait wait wait," I said standing up and chasing after her, "I said that wrong and I get that, I was just trying to make a positive light."
"In what? That I killed someone?"
"Crime is down," I started, my voice was quickly moving toward news conference perky, "and nobody is saying anything bad about it."
"They aren't."
"If you look at the right channels they're saying it as about time that it happened, right?" I shrugged and stood on my tip toes to put an arm around her, "At least they are looking at the good side of things."
"I didn't want to kill him."
"And nobody," I threw my hand out, "nobody thinks you wanted to, but they are all looking at the positives of this, look on the bright side, right?"
"The bright side."
"The city is safer, people are happy, and Von Slaughter is gone. That means I won't get hung over a pit of sharks anymore."
"I thought-"
"Nono it was only him, Chomper does the alligators."
"So," she said, "Are we going out today?"
"Maybe to something else, stay in costume and we can pick up action if it happens right?"
"Yeah," she sighed, "if it happens." | 2015-12-10T18:28:52 | 2015-12-10T17:34:09 | 55 | 13 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "The international community hereby charges you with War Crimes committed during the defeat of the so-called Islamic State. On your orders, a brutal campaign of destruction, fear and even forced conversions were taken place. Even civilians were not exempt. It says here that several mosques were torn down, often with people still inside them. Forced confessions of 'dealing with demons' gained through torture were obtained. Frankly I could go on for hours Mr. Felipe, but I would rather not. What do you have to say for yourself?"
The man leaned back into his chair. He took a moment to compose his thoughts before rising.
"Your honor, the proper term of address is 'Your Majesty.' I do not accept the change to the constitution. And as to the charges, I did indeed order every one. I simply ordered what needed to be done." This statement elicited a gasp from the members of the press. The man began again quickly, before he could be interrupted.
"You all saw the Islamic State and saw just another terrorist organization. I saw a rebirth of an old enemy. It was if Carthage had risen again from Libya and wished to wage war against Italy. So I had to fight fire with fire so to speak. The methods used were tried and true against just such an enemy in my own country centuries ago. They wished to fight a religious war, so I gave them one."
The crowd was dead silent. Nobody had any idea what to say. But the man on trial just smiled.
"Besides, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition." | "Commander, we have it. We've taken the facility that houses ten - ten! - nuclear missiles capable of reaching the United States! Can you believe it? Ten! With the fifteen suitcase nukes we've seized in the last three years since 2020, we can finally take the battle to them!"
"Yes, yes....this will show the world at last that *I* have power and that **I** am a man to be feared! The world will bow their knee to me, now!"
"Er...don't you mean, to God?"
"Yes, yes, whatever. Sure. To God." *door closes*
"The West will know to fear *me*, now."
---
"Ma'am, we have the confirmation that the militants have possession of nuclear materials and have begun their intention of using them against targets within the United States."
"I understand. Major!"
"Ma'am!"
"Inform the President that we are preparing Operation Pound Of Cure. We will wait for the Executive Branch in Colorado. 15:00 hours. Mark."
"Yes, ma'am. Time to end this."
---
"ʂʓϭϣѮ, look at that. *Look at that.*"
"Sir?"
"Ms. խֆ∂ⱷɤ is an important client of ours, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Perhaps *the* most important client we have, yes?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And the backdrop of the view of her place of business, her main draw, *my* source of pride, is....is....*infected* with some sort of fungus that has covered those *beautiful* greens and *brilliant* yellows across the *entire surface* with their...their greyish *colonies* and is turning the blues - the blues that cost me my *youth* and my *grace* and my *soul* to create - into browns!
And, and, and, remind me again, the purpose of the life on that world?"
"...to keep the greens green and the blues blue."
"And *whose* job was it to keep the surface of it clean? To kill infections before they got a foothold?"
"Mine, sir."
"What are you?"
"A fuckup, sir."
"Yes, but what are you *at the moment?*"
"An *incredible* fuckup, sir."
"That's about to...?"
"Yes, sir, immediately sir. I'll sterilize the planet at once, and reseed from stock. There won't be another repeat of this."
"There had better not. This will be the *seventh* time this contract we've had to do this....I don't know *how* I'm going to explain this one to her." | 2016-01-29T10:18:49 | 2016-01-29T04:24:26 | 389 | 19 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "Liechtenstein? Really? How the hell did Liechtenstein take out ISIS? And who the hell *is* Liechtenstein?"
President Trump's face was beet red. General Bundy's hands shook as he recited the relevant facts: small, German-speaking mountain principality on the Austrian border.
"So how'd they do it? This had better sound at least as good as your, "Bomb them back to the Carboniferous Period and take their oil" strategy, or..." the Donald's famous hair shook as he delivered his catchphrase, "You're Fired!"
General Bundy gulped. There was no good way to deliver the news. "You see, Mr. President, they joined your coalition and sent fourteen soldiers, and they made a friend over there."
"A friend?!"
"But that was just the beginning. That friend went back and made two friends. And those two went back and each made two more, and so on and so forth... until after a few months, everyone in Iraq and Syria had pen pals in Europe, and had reorganized their countries on EU lines."
"Well, General, I can't really... oh screw it. YOU'RE FIRED!"
General Bundy walked out without a word. He sighed, reached into his pocket for his smartphone and dialed the Liechtensteiner embassy. "Hi... Yes. I need a friend. Yes. Thank you. I'll be right over."
Edit: Closed quotes, corrected a typo, and replaced "Liechtensteinean" with proper form | "Commander, we have it. We've taken the facility that houses ten - ten! - nuclear missiles capable of reaching the United States! Can you believe it? Ten! With the fifteen suitcase nukes we've seized in the last three years since 2020, we can finally take the battle to them!"
"Yes, yes....this will show the world at last that *I* have power and that **I** am a man to be feared! The world will bow their knee to me, now!"
"Er...don't you mean, to God?"
"Yes, yes, whatever. Sure. To God." *door closes*
"The West will know to fear *me*, now."
---
"Ma'am, we have the confirmation that the militants have possession of nuclear materials and have begun their intention of using them against targets within the United States."
"I understand. Major!"
"Ma'am!"
"Inform the President that we are preparing Operation Pound Of Cure. We will wait for the Executive Branch in Colorado. 15:00 hours. Mark."
"Yes, ma'am. Time to end this."
---
"ʂʓϭϣѮ, look at that. *Look at that.*"
"Sir?"
"Ms. խֆ∂ⱷɤ is an important client of ours, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Perhaps *the* most important client we have, yes?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And the backdrop of the view of her place of business, her main draw, *my* source of pride, is....is....*infected* with some sort of fungus that has covered those *beautiful* greens and *brilliant* yellows across the *entire surface* with their...their greyish *colonies* and is turning the blues - the blues that cost me my *youth* and my *grace* and my *soul* to create - into browns!
And, and, and, remind me again, the purpose of the life on that world?"
"...to keep the greens green and the blues blue."
"And *whose* job was it to keep the surface of it clean? To kill infections before they got a foothold?"
"Mine, sir."
"What are you?"
"A fuckup, sir."
"Yes, but what are you *at the moment?*"
"An *incredible* fuckup, sir."
"That's about to...?"
"Yes, sir, immediately sir. I'll sterilize the planet at once, and reseed from stock. There won't be another repeat of this."
"There had better not. This will be the *seventh* time this contract we've had to do this....I don't know *how* I'm going to explain this one to her." | 2016-01-29T06:57:30 | 2016-01-29T04:24:26 | 190 | 19 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "DEUS VULT!"
The battlecry of the newly reborn Papal State rang on the lips of devout Catholics the world over. The faithful had come together once again to rid the Holy Land of the infidel scourge. Pope Francis stood at the head of his army, a not-so-ceremonial sword flashing in his hand as he held it up on the streets of the Holy City.
(In all seriousness, how has nobody invoked the Crusades yet?) | At first, we all thought it was just a stunt to get back in the headlines. We all knew the Prince was a bit of a publicity whore, but there was no way he could actually believe in their cause, right?
But joke or not, they came. First in rafts, setting off from the mainland. Then a hijacked cruise vessel, stolen off the coast of Somalia, loaded up with soldiers in Syria, fleeing the combined Russian and American counterstrike against Turko-Syria.
ISIS had been losing ground for years, unable to fight the west from without or the Kurds from within. They were desperate. So when the prince of our tiny island nation announced that he would be providing asylum to the last of their fighters, they took it. Even if it was just a joke by a crazy old man.
They came in droves, unloading onto the platform from ships of every shape and size. 321 in July. 507 in August. and on September 15th, a final load of 848 fighters, loaded with over three tons of various equipment.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
On September 16th, at 11:45 AM, a great creaking groan was heard from below. Everyone stopped, frozen. Seventeen seconds later, another great crack was heard. Even over the sounds of panicked scrambling, the third and final snap could be heard as the great pylon gave way.
At 11:46 AM, the Principality of Sealand sank to the bottom of the English Channel. And every ISIS fighter left in the world went with it. | 2016-01-29T10:03:10 | 2016-01-29T06:56:50 | 82 | 55 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "DEUS VULT!"
The battlecry of the newly reborn Papal State rang on the lips of devout Catholics the world over. The faithful had come together once again to rid the Holy Land of the infidel scourge. Pope Francis stood at the head of his army, a not-so-ceremonial sword flashing in his hand as he held it up on the streets of the Holy City.
(In all seriousness, how has nobody invoked the Crusades yet?) | When Daesh had exploded a bomb right in the middle of the sambodromo, the world was shocked.
Fortunately, nobody was killed, but Rio´s carnaval was destroyed. Brazilians demanded a strong answer from their government, but they had not fought a serious war for at least 150 years, so how to react? How to succeed where warfaring countries had failed?
Well, the answer came from the strangest of the places: Mauro Maravilha, São Paulo´s most famous carnavelesco devised a plan. Destroy Daesh without a single bullet. How? Mulatas, cerveja and, obviously, samba.
Brazilians united into one goal: to become the ultimate propaganda machine that would strike into the heart and mind of the jihadists. With catchy slogans as "Is better a Mulata today then 70 virgins tomorrow", the Daesh recruitment fell to almost nothing in no time.
Then came the bombing. Weird bombs: of pictures of beautifully tanned men and women("lay down your weapons and join the party!"it was written), chilling cold brazilian beer kegs chuted, pandeiros, cavaquinhos, speakers that would blast the best of the best brazilian music 24/7.
And finally, the land invasion. The Samba Brigades were made of such skilled musicians, that no one, I mean, NO ONE, that heard their music could stand still.
But not all is good news for the brazilians. Now is 2020, and Raqqa´s carnaval parade is rumoured to be even greater then Rio´s.
[I know it is not very good! Constructive criticism is very welcomed] | 2016-01-29T10:03:10 | 2016-01-29T07:12:39 | 82 | 36 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "DEUS VULT!"
The battlecry of the newly reborn Papal State rang on the lips of devout Catholics the world over. The faithful had come together once again to rid the Holy Land of the infidel scourge. Pope Francis stood at the head of his army, a not-so-ceremonial sword flashing in his hand as he held it up on the streets of the Holy City.
(In all seriousness, how has nobody invoked the Crusades yet?) | He grew up on one of the toughest streets in America. Immigrants, weirdos, and living in filth described his young life. As he grew up, he was at first feared, then people started recognizing his deep, old man wisdom. Eventually, he gained many loyal friends, and others sought him out for his insight.
The ISIS problem had disturbed him greatly, occupying more and more of his private musings, as he sat in the filth at the entrance to an alley. Something must be done. A grim, stern look grew across his face. His unblinking eyes finally made a decision.
He would fight ISIS, man to man, one at a time.
Miraculously, it worked, because he was Oscar the Grouch, and the cookie monster had his back. Over and over they grabbed and stuffed terrorist after terrorist into Oscars bottomless trashcan. They attacked, well, like monsters. When they got shot, well, theyre puppets, bullets pass right through them, and they just kept fighting. When times got hard, Mr Snuffaluffagus would plow through their ranks like Mrs Piggy in menopause. Big Bird handled resupply, and The Count worked the night operations, killing 1, 2, 3.... terrorists, his cackles pierced the night and made the terrorists yearn for the days when Gordon would tell a bedtime story instead of call in airstrikes from those aliens in the manamana videos.
In the end, many puppets were lost. On quiet nights in Northern Syria, if you sit still and use your manners and listen quietly, you can sometimes still hear : 'Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sessame Street?'
| 2016-01-29T10:03:10 | 2016-01-29T09:11:06 | 82 | 33 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | At first, we all thought it was just a stunt to get back in the headlines. We all knew the Prince was a bit of a publicity whore, but there was no way he could actually believe in their cause, right?
But joke or not, they came. First in rafts, setting off from the mainland. Then a hijacked cruise vessel, stolen off the coast of Somalia, loaded up with soldiers in Syria, fleeing the combined Russian and American counterstrike against Turko-Syria.
ISIS had been losing ground for years, unable to fight the west from without or the Kurds from within. They were desperate. So when the prince of our tiny island nation announced that he would be providing asylum to the last of their fighters, they took it. Even if it was just a joke by a crazy old man.
They came in droves, unloading onto the platform from ships of every shape and size. 321 in July. 507 in August. and on September 15th, a final load of 848 fighters, loaded with over three tons of various equipment.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back.
On September 16th, at 11:45 AM, a great creaking groan was heard from below. Everyone stopped, frozen. Seventeen seconds later, another great crack was heard. Even over the sounds of panicked scrambling, the third and final snap could be heard as the great pylon gave way.
At 11:46 AM, the Principality of Sealand sank to the bottom of the English Channel. And every ISIS fighter left in the world went with it. | "Commander, we have it. We've taken the facility that houses ten - ten! - nuclear missiles capable of reaching the United States! Can you believe it? Ten! With the fifteen suitcase nukes we've seized in the last three years since 2020, we can finally take the battle to them!"
"Yes, yes....this will show the world at last that *I* have power and that **I** am a man to be feared! The world will bow their knee to me, now!"
"Er...don't you mean, to God?"
"Yes, yes, whatever. Sure. To God." *door closes*
"The West will know to fear *me*, now."
---
"Ma'am, we have the confirmation that the militants have possession of nuclear materials and have begun their intention of using them against targets within the United States."
"I understand. Major!"
"Ma'am!"
"Inform the President that we are preparing Operation Pound Of Cure. We will wait for the Executive Branch in Colorado. 15:00 hours. Mark."
"Yes, ma'am. Time to end this."
---
"ʂʓϭϣѮ, look at that. *Look at that.*"
"Sir?"
"Ms. խֆ∂ⱷɤ is an important client of ours, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Perhaps *the* most important client we have, yes?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And the backdrop of the view of her place of business, her main draw, *my* source of pride, is....is....*infected* with some sort of fungus that has covered those *beautiful* greens and *brilliant* yellows across the *entire surface* with their...their greyish *colonies* and is turning the blues - the blues that cost me my *youth* and my *grace* and my *soul* to create - into browns!
And, and, and, remind me again, the purpose of the life on that world?"
"...to keep the greens green and the blues blue."
"And *whose* job was it to keep the surface of it clean? To kill infections before they got a foothold?"
"Mine, sir."
"What are you?"
"A fuckup, sir."
"Yes, but what are you *at the moment?*"
"An *incredible* fuckup, sir."
"That's about to...?"
"Yes, sir, immediately sir. I'll sterilize the planet at once, and reseed from stock. There won't be another repeat of this."
"There had better not. This will be the *seventh* time this contract we've had to do this....I don't know *how* I'm going to explain this one to her." | 2016-01-29T06:56:50 | 2016-01-29T04:24:26 | 55 | 19 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | When Daesh had exploded a bomb right in the middle of the sambodromo, the world was shocked.
Fortunately, nobody was killed, but Rio´s carnaval was destroyed. Brazilians demanded a strong answer from their government, but they had not fought a serious war for at least 150 years, so how to react? How to succeed where warfaring countries had failed?
Well, the answer came from the strangest of the places: Mauro Maravilha, São Paulo´s most famous carnavelesco devised a plan. Destroy Daesh without a single bullet. How? Mulatas, cerveja and, obviously, samba.
Brazilians united into one goal: to become the ultimate propaganda machine that would strike into the heart and mind of the jihadists. With catchy slogans as "Is better a Mulata today then 70 virgins tomorrow", the Daesh recruitment fell to almost nothing in no time.
Then came the bombing. Weird bombs: of pictures of beautifully tanned men and women("lay down your weapons and join the party!"it was written), chilling cold brazilian beer kegs chuted, pandeiros, cavaquinhos, speakers that would blast the best of the best brazilian music 24/7.
And finally, the land invasion. The Samba Brigades were made of such skilled musicians, that no one, I mean, NO ONE, that heard their music could stand still.
But not all is good news for the brazilians. Now is 2020, and Raqqa´s carnaval parade is rumoured to be even greater then Rio´s.
[I know it is not very good! Constructive criticism is very welcomed] | "Commander, we have it. We've taken the facility that houses ten - ten! - nuclear missiles capable of reaching the United States! Can you believe it? Ten! With the fifteen suitcase nukes we've seized in the last three years since 2020, we can finally take the battle to them!"
"Yes, yes....this will show the world at last that *I* have power and that **I** am a man to be feared! The world will bow their knee to me, now!"
"Er...don't you mean, to God?"
"Yes, yes, whatever. Sure. To God." *door closes*
"The West will know to fear *me*, now."
---
"Ma'am, we have the confirmation that the militants have possession of nuclear materials and have begun their intention of using them against targets within the United States."
"I understand. Major!"
"Ma'am!"
"Inform the President that we are preparing Operation Pound Of Cure. We will wait for the Executive Branch in Colorado. 15:00 hours. Mark."
"Yes, ma'am. Time to end this."
---
"ʂʓϭϣѮ, look at that. *Look at that.*"
"Sir?"
"Ms. խֆ∂ⱷɤ is an important client of ours, would you agree?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Perhaps *the* most important client we have, yes?"
"Yes, sir?"
"And the backdrop of the view of her place of business, her main draw, *my* source of pride, is....is....*infected* with some sort of fungus that has covered those *beautiful* greens and *brilliant* yellows across the *entire surface* with their...their greyish *colonies* and is turning the blues - the blues that cost me my *youth* and my *grace* and my *soul* to create - into browns!
And, and, and, remind me again, the purpose of the life on that world?"
"...to keep the greens green and the blues blue."
"And *whose* job was it to keep the surface of it clean? To kill infections before they got a foothold?"
"Mine, sir."
"What are you?"
"A fuckup, sir."
"Yes, but what are you *at the moment?*"
"An *incredible* fuckup, sir."
"That's about to...?"
"Yes, sir, immediately sir. I'll sterilize the planet at once, and reseed from stock. There won't be another repeat of this."
"There had better not. This will be the *seventh* time this contract we've had to do this....I don't know *how* I'm going to explain this one to her." | 2016-01-29T07:12:39 | 2016-01-29T04:24:26 | 36 | 19 |
[WP] You are immortal however if you die in a dream, you die in real life. You have mastered the ability of lucid dreaming, however one night, you are faced with your worst nightmare. | Immortality is a burdensome gift.
To never die is something many great leaders of our times wish to have but for me it has become a curse.
Seeing friends and family die off. To see the world that I once knew become anew, time and time again. I yearn for death yet it escapes me. I've attempted suicide more times than I can count. Poison, gunshots, stabbings, everything.
For years I've searched in all the shadows to find something, someone that could lift me from my curse.
So far, the only way I can ease the pain of never dying is the promise a mystic gave to me in exchange I watch over his family. If I die in a dream, my physically body will finally die.
Whether or not this is true, I cannot let my one chance at finally resting go to waste.
The final descendant of the mystic died, his bloodline has lasted centuries so I am free of my promise. I just hope he is true to his.
I isolate myself in order to mediate. I must master what my ancestors called lucid dreaming. I can be aware that I am in a dream world and hopefully take control of my dream self.
After years of practice and meditation, I've finally mastered it.
I lay down for what I hope is my final resting place and within minutes I am transported into the dream world.
Yes, just as I created. A vast emptiness. I've experienced so much after all these centuries of being alive surrounded by people that I dream of nothing.
I am in an empty space with only a table with a revolver laying on top.
Poetic in a way. Weaponry has become so advanced since my time. Yet I still decide to end my life using the tools of my ancestors.
I think of my family or what I piece together of their memories. Is there an after life? I do not know. But the thought of being reunited with them brings a tear to my eyes. Joy to my heart. Peace to my soul.
Goodbye world, I whisper to myself. Finally....goodbye.
I pull the trigger. I feel an immense pain and the light around me begins to fade. A hole opens in the room and beings to suck the environment into it.
Finally, I hope. This is death. Peaceful death.
My sight vanishes. My body weakens. My mind is blank.
I am thrust awake from my slumber. I take in my surroundings. Regain my sense of time and space. I am back in reality. But I know I died, I felt myself dying. How could this be?
I am faced with my worst nightmare. I am truly immortal.
| The taste of the air itself told me I was in a dream, even before I opened my eyes. Before mankind started production at their factories and built towers into the sky the air was clean and crisp everywhere you went. The last time I had smelled the air this way was the same day I died. Before a call for vengeance landed upon the ears of a god.
"Kristoff, are you awake?" A voice whispered into my ear. I became aware of the warmth at my back and of the slim arms wrapped around my bare chest.
Opening my eyes I didn't respond, instead glancing around the small cottage I had built by hand for my wife and I. The cottage we had always dreamed of sharing after my service to King Leif. *It's not real.* I reminded myself. *This is a dream.*
Hilda poked my side and I could hear the smile in her voice. "I know your breathing husband, shall I tickle you awake instead?" She asked, hands roaming towards my neck.
Reaching back I grabbed her hand, squeezing the soft palm. Clearing my throat I spoke, still holding her hand. "I apologize, I did not mean to wake you."
"Mmm, worry not." She whispered, voice still husky with sleep. "There are worse things a woman could wake up to than that of the warm, muscular body of her loving husband."
I felt a grin curve my lips despite my desire to remain somber. This was a rare but familiar dream. Should I not enjoy whatever time I had with my wife, even if it was not real?
Smiling I executed a quick roll that ended with me on top of Hilda, her arms pinned above her head and our faces inches apart. "Tell me more about my muscular body, woman."
Hilda breathed a short laugh, blue eyes twinkling and brunette hair spread out around her. Before she could speak I captured her list in a demanding kiss. Only a taste of what was to come.
After a time I decided to let my wife rest and ventured outside. Good mood evaporating as I realized it was already dark. Had it not been morning a short while ago? Cursing I looked up at the stars and waited, knowing what was coming next.
Within seconds I heard the low whistle of an arrows passage before it buried itself in my stomach and sent me to the ground in pain. I used the techniques I knew to detach my emotions from the dream. To become a third person observer to what was about to transpire. A frown creased myself as the pain continued to linger.
"What the devil." I groaned to myself, rolling over and coming face to face with Kellan. The leader of the bandits sent by King Leif as punishment for leaving his armies.
"This is the end for you Kristoff." Kellan spat on me and a sick grin twisted his otherwise handsome face. "But not before we have some fun with that wife of yours."
"Nooo!" I roared and struggled to get to my feet. In a blink Kellan's axe cleaved away the hand I was using to steady myself and I fell, screaming, my world briefly disappearing in the pain.
When I came to I was tied to a wooden pillar inside my home. Kellan was true to his word, and his soldiers made sure I was aware enough to hear her screams. My struggles were futile and only served to pump more blood from my wound until I was dizzy. Hilda reached out to me, tears in her eyes and I held my own arm out, the limb shaking.
I stayed like that long after the life left her eyes and Kellan strode towards me, still bloody sword dripping on the floor. He placed the tip against my chest and whispered into my ear, but his words didn't reach me. I was numb to everything, even as the sword broke skin as it was pushed. There was time to think. *At least we'll always be together now.* Then there was only darkness. | 2016-03-06T07:40:33 | 2016-03-06T07:23:30 | 133 | 14 |
[WP] Vampires are not the bloodthirsty monsters people believe them to be. For millennia their bite has been one of inoculation against the worst plagues and infections of history, humanity's greatest disease outbreaks coinciding with periods we had hunted them to near extinction. | My brothers and sisters are dead. The existence of my species hangs on a precipice.
We called ourselves the guardians of humanity, our saliva protecting them for millenia. Viruses, plagues, toxins - they would be extinct a thousand times over without us watching over them.
And yet they hunted *us* to within a breath of extinction, not realising the potential consequences of their actions.
I am the last of the Vampires. I hid for years in the deepest shadows to preserve my race, but I could not hide forever. Humanity was dying. A new plague had befallen them; it killed in hours and spread through the breeze. In months the human population fell from billions to a mere million.
I was not able to stay back and watch the end of humanity. I was created to save humanity. And so, I stepped out of the darkness and did what I had to. During nights I would enter houses and find the inhabitants. I would ingest their blood and fortify it before replacing it. I inoculated many before I was found.
This time they understood; the people with bite marks were immune to the plague. They knew I could save them, that I wanted to help. Yet, they hunted me still.
And here I am. Arms, legs and neck tied with heavy chains. Fresh garlic is placed around my cell daily to keep me weak. My mouth is pried open, my fangs protruding. I have been here for years.
They come regularly and press my fangs into their neck. Once inoculated, they leave and the next arrives. The plague is over, but they use me for prevention.
They killed my race with ignorance. They now have knowledge and choose to enslave me. The reason for my existence was to preserve humanity. If ever I am free, I will instead be their executioner.
----
Further prompt responses on /r/nickofnight | A couple - both adorning long, dark hair, their skin nearly alabaster in appearance - sit at opposing ends of a large dining-room table, the house surrounding them remarkably Victorian. Neither of them deign to utilize the dining-room table for its more expected case, possibly because the body of a man lies between them. One of them stands, having won whatever staring contest in which the two could have very well have been competing and hops quickly atop the thick table. A testament to either the man's grace or the craftsmanship of the mahogany set, this action is done without a sound.
As the figure leans over him, he bares his teeth, the entire maw filled to the brim with horror-esque, razor-sharp teeth. The monster - as it is so obvious to be, now - leans in and prepares to strike at the man's throat his teeth slick with saliva-- _"Wait!"_
The vampire jerks back in surprise, for a short moment resuming the competition between the two, tearing his eyes away from the other and sighing deeply, now boring a hole in nothing but the floor with his gaze, "Miranda..."
"Don't call me that, Drake!" She snarls, "I hate that name!"
"It is your new--"
"No," she continues, cutting across him, "Don't you dare continue to tell me that '_Miranda_' is my new name! I shouldn't have to change it to please _them_."
"Sister," he begins again, "You know what we must do."
"Only because _you_ insist, _Brother_, that we must!"
He snaps, flinging the chair he had sat upon just moments before with an ungodly level of strength. It crashes hard against the wall of the Victorian home, tearing through the clearly fading wallpaper in several spots, "Well who else, then?!"
She looks at him now, not with the gaze of someone trying to yield the other, but to comfort someone who refuses to admit they need comforting. "Not us."
"Without us--"
"Without us they'd be dead." She cuts him off again, an indication of a well-worn debate between the two.
"Yes, and we can't let--"
"We can't let that happen."
"If you're going to keep interrupting me, then why do we even continue?"
"Because, Drake, you need to hear it. You've been listening to me for centuries, but never really hearing."
"Of course I hear you, Sister, but you know that I disagree."
"Drake..." She begins, her voice betraying her emotion for the first time, "They've killed... _all of us._"
"I..." He stopped, "I need to finish, please. We can talk about this later."
----
Hours later, the two watched the man stumble back towards his village, his blood now cleansed of the deadly disease that it had once carried. Before, it had taken many of their kind to rid it of the world. Mistakes were made, in those early days, like all things were prone to do.
"Why do we keep _helping_ them, when they don't care to understand?"
"Someday, they might."
"But not today."
"No, Sister... not today." | 2016-05-08T07:30:35 | 2016-05-08T04:54:26 | 1,345 | 104 |
[WP] Fortunately, the dark lord has been overthrown at last and on trial for his crimes. Unfortunately, you are his lawyer. | My client didn't look anything like the stereotypical Devil. He was wearing a green sweater befitting of an old man, unflattering glasses, and his brown hair was neatly trimmed. He was the most polite (person?) I had ever met.
"I have to say. You're not what I expected."
"Well, it's always the one you least suspect isn't it?"
"Unfortunately, the case against you is very strong. I'll try my best, of course, but I don't think we're going to win"
The Devil sighed.
"I knew this day was coming. I knew it."
The Devil made a high pitched whine that seemed completely out of character for a dark lord.
"I'm sorry."
The Devil looked sad, defeated.
"Tell me one thing though - will I be reunited with the love of my life? She's an angel now. She didn't know who I was."
"It's a possibility. I'll talk to the judge."
We went over his crimes. Torture. Extortion. Damnation. And he'd already lost the last case against him when he tried to steal his next door neighbor's soul.
"Doughnuts? Really?"
"Meh."
I had him fill out the final paperwork for the court. Just a few signatures. His handwriting was immaculate, though a little feminine.
I noticed he was writing with his left hand.
"You're left handed", I remarked. "How ironic."
"My hell labs are ironic. Many people are left handed. They even have a store for them."
"Well, you know what they say about the left handed path..."
The Devil laughed and wiped away a tear.
"I suppose. Thank you for doing this. Not many people would, by golly."
"It's a job"
"Yes, I suppose it is. But still, I didn't ding dong diddley expect anyone better than Lionel Hutz."
The moment of truth came. I felt like a three eyed fish in a barrel. The judge walked in. An officer came and announced for us to rise.
"Let the case begin for the people of Earth vs. Ned Flanders."
| "The party of the accused will now take the stand to cross-examine the witness."
I gave a deep sigh and glanced over at my client. He offered a sheepish grin which could barely be seen through his thick iron helmet.
"Mrs. Smith! How are you today?" I announced, striding towards the front of the room.
"Well, I've...been better."
"So, you say my client was responsible for several deaths in your immediate family. Well, let's be clear, miss. My client has a bit of a...rigid ruling style, but he's no murderer. Figurative deaths, as in, deaths of the soul or deaths of happiness, have no place in this courtroom."
"No, he, like, actually killed them. Came into my house late at night and just beheaded them all. I was out tending the stables, came back in, and saw my headless family."
"Well, everyone loses their head every now and then, right, folks?"
"I can take you to the village morgue and show you their heads. Right now."
"Well, uh, you have no proof that it was my client."
"He's pretty hard to miss, going around in that suit of his."
I sighed. "No further questions, Your Honor."
The judge nodded, ran his hand down his face and through his beard in exasperation, and banged the gavel once. "The time has come for the closing statements of each party."
I stood once again and turned towards the assembled villagers. Nearly the entire population of St. Elsemere had showed up.
"Friends, we all know that there comes a time in a person's life where he or she seeks forgiveness. Redemption. A change in the very core of his being. Only you can offer Dark Lord Despair this chance. Perhaps he stole one chicken too many from your farmland. Perhaps he set fire to the pub once every few weeks. But right now, in this courtroom, you can alter the course of a man's very life. You can show him the mercy that, uh..."
I looked at Lord Despair, who was picking at his shoulder plate.
"...the mercy that he didn't grant you."
I sat down and let the other lawyer step forward.
"I don't really have much to say, except...fuck you, Lord Despair."
The entire audience erupted in applause, including the jury and the judge. Lord Despair also started clapping, apparently thinking the praise was for him.
The judge coughed. "I don't even think we need to take a break for the jury to decide. What do you say?"
"Guilty," they all announced in unison.
Lord Despair sighed. The judge banged his gavel. "Lord Despair is hereby sentenced to death tomorrow morning at sunrise. This session is adjourned."
As the audience left the room in single-file, I looked at Despair, who was staring blankly at the ground.
"Well, you did your best."
"I certainly tried."
"You know what, you seem like a nice guy." He stood up and was guided away by two court officers, then turned back and winked at me. "I don't even think I'm gonna kill you."
***
*Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my stories, check out /r/GigaWrites.* | 2016-07-23T07:57:10 | 2016-07-23T07:50:49 | 87 | 37 |
[WP] After almost 1,000 years the population of a generation ship has lost the ability to understand most technology and now lives at a preindustrial level. Today the ship reaches its destination and the automated systems come back online. | I am the keeper of the blue flame.
When we were children, we heard the stories of the old times, when the air was thick and healthy, and our ancestors made food and machines from thin air. The dark screens were lit with words and images, and the halls of the world were loud with voices.
It is quiet now.
The keepers of the blue flame were powerful, and by their art they made the air thick, they lit the dark screens, they gave the voices in the hallway life. There were hundreds of keepers-even now you can see their names written in the book, with their titles and ranks laid out in the impeccable script of the gods.
But the blue flame died long ago. And I am the keeper of a darkness where light once was.
My mother died when I was born. The air is too thin for new mothers. My father died soon after he taught me the words and the motions-what screens to press, and in what order. He gave me the jacket, its threadbare yellow stripe a mirror to my father's eyes. His words came out choked between hacking coughs. The holiness of the temple had touched him, and his skin and hair flaked off, leaving a face that seemed smaller than my own. He was not afraid to die. But he was afraid for me.
The others fight in the halls of the world. My father told me they avoid the temple, deep within the world. They fear its holiness, cannot understand the glory of death in service to the blue flame. But I do not leave this place. There is food enough, stacked bricks of sustenance left here by our ancestors.
And every day, I perform the ritual. I place my hands on the screens, move my fingers just so, ask great Computer for boons and favors, to "adjust the phase beam variance," and to "maintain the equilibrium of the warp field injectors." It has never replied.
Until today.
Upon my ritual, the screens flickered into life. Where before I tapped empty darkness, I now pressed buttons and rotated beautiful diagrams the likes of which I'd never seen. When I called to great Computer, she acknowledged me with her beautiful voice, and called forth a harmony. The hum of the world engine rumbled up into my chest.
And the blue flame roared back into life. | Mary gently pressed her rake into a patch of soil, guiding the tool with the deftness of one who has done so for decades.
The ship's garden was fashioned from the detritus of a bygone era - soil boxes fashioned from scrapped 4x4s, partitions crafted from broken wires. It rested beneath a glass dome to let in sunlight, but Mary had to shift the boxes hour by hour to capture adequate rays as the S.S. Prosperity soared through space.
She sighed and wiped sweat from her brow. The ship's internal heating and cooling systems had failed long before she was born, so most of the Prosperity's residents had shifted to the far end of the main deck, away from the primary thrusters that made anyone within range perspire furiously. Mary, unfortunately, had to spend hours upon end growing food for its fifty residents.
Fifty. That was all. When the ship launched in 2200 it was carrying one hundred hopeful souls, and many of them (or their ancestors) had died, chosen not to reproduce, or - in one tragic case - ended their own life.
On this day, Mary was filled with hope for the first time in her long, arduous life, for Lutherios was within sight.
"Mary, we're getting ready to dock." A voice emerged from the side door. It was Teddy, one of the youngest travelers at a paltry 26. "Do you want to watch?"
Mary shook her head. "Got to keep an eye on these cornstalks."
Thomas smirked. "Well, OK. But you'll be missing out."
He closed the door behind him. Mary sighed and shoved it open again, hoping to let at least a fraction of the heat out. She heard faint cheers from the other end of the ship as it pulled into port.
With a sudden jolt, the thrusters cut off and Mary was bathed in cool air. The screens and buttons around her glowed for the first time in a millennium, and she shielded her eyes from the sensory assault.
Thomas ran back inside. "Mary, do you feel that? It's the 'air conditioning' we've learned about in the stories! Every one of these buttons does something - look, this one's a 'microwave.'" He ran over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Finally, we don't have to suffer."
Mary felt the burden of 73 years lift off of her for half a second, then return in an instant. "I want to get off and stretch my legs."
"Why? There's nothing but soil out there."
"Exactly."
She pushed Thomas aside and wandered down the main corridor. 49 people were laughing, crying, hugging. A young boy of about six years was pushing buttons madly and watching as food was created out of thin air.
Mary grabbed a reconnaissance suit from a cabinet by the exit ramp and zipped it on, then set foot on the soft surface of Lutherios.
She never returned to the S.S. Prosperity. People would occasionally come out and visit her, offering food and materials, but she insisted on getting by in her own way, living off whatever she could find.
Finally, at age 87, she died in her sleep, while the citizens of the S.S. Prosperity - eating genetically perfected food and taking every medicine the new machinery could offer - lived into the decades beyond.
***
*Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my stories, check out /r/GigaWrites.* | 2016-07-27T10:31:08 | 2016-07-27T09:33:31 | 71 | 19 |
[WP] The brave sir knight has slain the dragon and rescued the princess. In return the knight asks for her hand in marriage. The princess must now awkwardly explain to the knight that while she is grateful for being rescued, she jousts for the other team. | My dear Sir Knight,
I fear that in all the excitement of defeating the dragon and liberating the princess (me) from prolonged captivity, we got off on the wrong foot. I made several attempts to explain to you the nature of the situation, but you were unable to hear me through your unadulterated whoops of self-adulation. I suspect the message I was attempting to convey was not received as intended, and I say this because today I was fitted with a wedding dress and the maids are decorating the nursery even as I write to you.
Let me state it now, in no uncertain terms, in a manner which a noble knight such as yourself can comprehend:
I joust for the jayjays. I tilt for the titties.
No lance shall find its couch with me.
In matters of armour, I see beauty in breastplates,
Viewing codpieces only functionally.
You have been taught the way of the sword,
And I have been born to the way of the shield.
You dream of rescuing fair maidens from towers,
And I dream of ploughing them there in the field.
You know the arts both of loving and fighting,
The chivalrous acts of the glorious knight,
But please let me tell you, there is none more exciting
Than a woman who knows how to get it done right.
Warhorses know how to crush a man's skull,
It tramples and stomps, it maims and it kills.
A lady's horse knows how to canter and turn,
The delicate dance, gentle circles and trills.
I hope this clarifies what I intonated to you on the day of our meeting, in my tower room decorated with paintings of Sappho. I wish you well in your endeavours and am eternally grateful for your destruction of the dragon, which was installed to keep the "deviant princess out of view".
Lastly, if you are ever concerned as to the whereabouts of the maid Emma, do not be. She is safe and well with me on our travels, though her maidenhead may not be.
Forever in appreciation,
Princess Joan
| Sir Culbert braved murky swamps, treacherous forests, and precarious cliffs all to save the beautiful Princess Elizabeth. He even slain the murderous brown dragon who kept the princess at bay. Culbert, badly injured, went to the highest tower, opened the door and said "Don't worry madam, I, Sir Culbert, have arrived to bring you back to your father and your kingdom." The princess turned around with tears in her eyes as she ran towards him. Culbert opened up his arms ready for an embrace that unfortunately never came. Elizabeth ran quickly past him down the tower. *Hmm*, thought Culbert, *she must have missed her father more than I thought*.
The knight slowly followed and noticed she stopped at the dragon still sobbing and cradling the beast in her arms. "Um, excuse me miss? Are you actually *crying* for that brown monstrosity?" he said.
"Yes, he helped me find myself during dark times. He once saved me in mid air for when I tried to..." and her voice trailed off. "Beroan took me in, taught me to love myself and to never pretend to be someone I'm not."
Culbert stood there with his mouth agape. The reports on this dragon was nothing like what she was describing. "This creature has killed many knights and their squires who were trying to save you. He ravished crops and livestock."
The princess countered "Of course he took grains and sheep. How else would I survive up in a tower by myself? And I saw those men attack Beroan while he was defenseless. My poor friend did only what he had to do to protect me."
*Friend?* the templar thought. "Ooh, I understand now. Things got a little steamy between you and the-"
***SMACK***
"How dare you insinuate that! Beroan would never do that to me. Especially since he helped me discover myself."
"Discover? Where did you go?"
"Not like that you idiot. You see, there is a reason why dragons always kidnap princesses. What they provide is a dating service."
Culbert sat down on some rubble, having the wind almost sweep him off of his feet. "I've never heard of a dragon dating service."
Elizabeth continues "Of course not, you aren't part of the clientele. These dragons help princesses meet other princesses."
There was an awkward pause that seemed to go on for days after she said that. Culbert raised his head slowly and asked "Excuse me?"
"I never liked men. They are always boasting their accomplishments, trying to one up each other. Always treated everything as a trophy, including wives. About a year ago I was to be wed to a nobleman that I knew nothing about. I objected to my father that my feelings lay elsewhere, not to this political marriage. He put his foot down and that was that. So I did the only thing left in my hand and that's when Beroan saved me."
"Oh" the humbled knight said. "I'm sorry Princess Elizabeth for my actions. Maybe I can speak to your father on your behalf?"
"No, besides I like it here. Very quiet and peaceful. Aside from when you men attack. And plus today I have a group date with the beautiful Princesses-" and then she froze. Just then they both heard of a cacophonic roar above their heads, gargantuan shadows appearing on the ground below.
"Oh heavens to besty." Sir Culbert narrated. | 2016-10-21T16:53:53 | 2016-10-21T14:19:58 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] Ever since you received your letter for Hogwarts you've been curious about all the different spells there are. You've just bought your first wand and the first spell you try is what you believe to be rather humorous. "AbraCadabra". Nobody told you this spell was banned. For obvious reasons. | SEE the problem is, the literal translation of AVARDAkadavra is 'i destroy as i speak'. Abrakadabra is i CREATE as i speak. So honestly the logical conclusion of that is instead of killing something when you use abrakadabra, you accidentally multiply it thousands of times.
Little muggleborn kid in olivanders, flicks his wand and says happily 'ABRAKADABARA'. Suddenly all the knuts on the desk he was point at shudder, spark and POMF. The room is overflowing with coins. Coins cascading off the desk and multiplying unchecked from the one coin that got hit, flowing out of the store and into the street as the window breaks from the force of it.
Olivander and the kid are dug out of the heap an hour later, the shop is in utter shambles as the coins knocked everything off of shelves and shoved things around as they spilled out of the broken window like water.
Goblins having an ABSOLUTE FIT because some punk ass kid just counterfeited thousands of coins and most of them got grabbed by the people in the street. It's going to take MONTHS to track all of the damn things down. | At the time, I thought it was a little weird the spell was black but I didn't think much of it. Just kind of looked weird.
But it kept burning and burning. Every book, every piece of furniture in my room and it made its way outside. It was so fast and so hot.
I called the fire brigade but there was no response.
Reality kind of slowed for a second and flying fire trucks came from the sky.
A horde of broomsticks followed and I heard from the crowds 'aquafigus regato'.
So much water came from the sky. And I t felt so serene I actually forgot I was being swept away by the current.
But a large man grabbed me by my collar from the water and I noticed he had a broomstick in his other hand.
'You fuggin nawvice. Do u kno what fuggin hour it is mate.' 'Oh I'd kill ya now if there weren't so many witnesses'
He had put magic root handcuffs on me and duct tape at my protest of being man handled
I started kicking. So he put me on his shoulder and duct taped my legs as well
He laughed 'mate, relax wuld ya? Azkabans lovely nowadays. Ykno my cousin Artie spent some tyme in there - I mean he's ded now cuz of all that magic testen torture. But kid I swear it's changed'
My body went from still with my eyes open to energetic with my hands stomping on his chest and legs flailing trying to free from the behemoth.
He laid me on the ground and bowed his head.
A smaller man who reeked of a napoleonic complex approached us. He said 'well who tf do you think you are. You're not Harry Potter. You canary get away with casting banned spells.'
I tried crying and explaining I didn't know it was banned and how it was a joke from the muggle world. But I was entirely muffled.
He smirked m. Then took my wand - tucked in a plastic bag, dripping in black sludge. Then he took it and flew away in his broom.
Some days I wake up and I am living the life of a muggle.
Some days I wake up with my whole body on fire and nothing I can do will extinguish it
Some days I wake up as a muggle. And don't know about magic.
Some days I wake up in my cell
Those are the worst ones... | 2016-12-01T23:01:13 | 2016-12-01T21:30:38 | 48 | 24 |
[WP]You wake up one morning and open up Reddit. Stickied at the top of the front page with 35 thousand upvotes is an AskReddit: "Did you all just feel that?" | Bzzzzzzz. Snooze. Bzzzzzzz. Snooze. " Fuck it, it's Saturday.", I blurted as I fell off to sleep again when a reddish tint engulfed my vision. "MATRIX SERVER 31 : physics.exe crashed with exception memory overflow on line 48. Rebooting simulation in 1 hour to date : 1 Jan, 1970"
A big, bright message in neon green, obscuring my vision consistently. Being an avid science fiction fan, I immediately realised how art imitates life. I opened r/askreddit to post a question about hallucinations but lo and behold, the top thread is "Did you all just feel that?" with 35k up votes.
Religion, existence and the whole meaning of life, crumbled to its foundations in seconds.
Top comment : " Lel, we're not even real. Fuck all of you. I mean, fuck me. Am I me? Are we me?"
As the "reality" of the situation dawned upon me, everything slowly started to fuck up. Our creators were wrapping up the simulation. I stopped hearing. Then gravity flipped. Most things became pitch black, perhaps the graphics driver started malfunctioning. Mom came crying downstairs and glitched out of existence. I ran for the door as everything around me started disappea | The answer was a decisive "YES". I did feel it although I couldn't pin the sensation. It was a mixture of euphoria, excitement, fear and anxiety all mixed into one overwhelming rush of emotions. I couldn't tell how long it lasted either but if pressed I'd venture to guess around one minute. But it could be longer or shorter. It was like a potent capsule of drugs erupted inside my body and was streaming through my entire existence. But I hadn't taken drugs - none at all. The wave of frisson hit me just when I was about to go to work and start my day.
I looked up online and discovered that I was not alone. Thousands of online strangers had felt the same, but reading through the threads I realized that many didn't and some who did not want to feel left out pretended that they did. But they didn't feel IT.
I sped up to work, curious to know whether some of my office coworkers had felt the same. I glanced quickly through the rows of cubicles but nothing seemed out of the ordinary - people were staring at their computer screens, typing, engaging in small talk. Nothing unusual. I caught my best friend Jim at the break room. Jim would be the first to talk about it had he experienced what I have. He always wore his heart on his sleeve. But aside from sports talk and some office gossip, there was nothing there. I realized that not everyone felt IT.
The day lasted longer than usual, or so it seemed: meetings, presentations, excel spreadsheets and the usual office memos. The hours crept by. I came home to my empty apartment where my dog was eagerly welcoming me - she obviously hadn't felt it either, or did she? How could I tell?
Five years after I felt IT, I still can't tell what it was exactly. But I knew one thing: it was a reminder of a life wasted, of how we used to feel as kids: elated, angry, excited, nervous all in the span of one day. When one year seemed to stretch to infinity and each day was a new discovery, another adventure. When we laughed and cried and were immersed in the moment. We never had to worry about bills, bosses, office assignments, watching the clock tick by, daily chores. We lived in the moment. Now it has become impossible. The daily grind got the best of us and the days and years passed by aimlessly. We didn't feel anything anymore and we lost the passion for life. Yes, that feeling was gone. At my door step I noticed a spider dangling from its web. I saw a beetle crawling. I stooped to smell the budding azalea. I petted my dog. | 2016-12-04T08:56:50 | 2016-12-04T08:36:29 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You've accidentally killed the Devil. God makes you the new Devil to replace the one you killed. | *Oh man John*, I thought to myself. *You're gonna be late. Come on. Show me some luck...* My fingers crossed instinctively as I neared the intersection. *Still green, still green... yes!* Just one more turn, I'd be on the street. Then I'd power park, sprint- good think I brought the handkerchief. I couldn't be late. I was already on thin ice with my boss, and he wasn't the most understanding of people. Come to think of it, probably the least understanding.
*Almost there. Almost there. Oh no. Where's my lanyard? Where's my goddamn lanyard?* I felt around for it. No dice. I craned down for a second to check by my feet. Aha! I spotted it. John Wendley - Comcast - Second Level. *You're safe-*
"Yaaah!" I slammed the brakes. *Errrrr*. Too late. *DOOF*! My fender struck a man and sent him to the ground. I rushed out and to the side of the man. The boss. Not just my boss. The fucking CEO. *Shit.*
He wouldn't move. I checked his pulse. Nothing. I panicked. Strange though, no one else seemed to be around. No witnesses, except, what was that presence I felt then? *Of course.*
"Fool!" The voice boomed from, it seemed, everywhere. "Watch where you're going."
"Go to hell" I retorted, almost mindlessly. I didn't mean it. Something compelled me.
"John. You have killed the devil, and in doing so upset the balance of good and evil. A real bang-up job. You know the rules. You are sentenced to take the place of the devil, assume all responsibilities, and just for being such a screw-up, a partly docked salary."
*Nice going John.* I thought maybe it couldn't get worse than *servitude* to the devil. I never cease to surprise myself.
"Let us consummate the transfer of devilship." My ex-boss's body raised into the air and then dissipated in a cloud of ash, save for the golden badge, 'Comcast - CEO' etched on it. It flew toward me. *Screw this.* I batted it down with my hand and ran for my car. *What are you doing John? Did you just decide to try and outrun God?* I hopped in my car and revved the engine. *Yes I did. Screw Comcast.* I gunned it. | Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I didn't actually *kill* the Devil. He killed himself. Was I involved? Marginally. There was a wager, of course - the Devil is nothing if not a gambler - involving a guitar and my soul, which turned entirely on the fact that the Devil mistakenly believed Jimmy Page to be dead. Jimmy Page is not dead, but now the Devil is.
I was pretty pleased with myself for defeating the Devil and ending up in possession of Jimmy Page's hands (which are a bit spotted, but still quite deft). I didn't actually learn about the Devil's ultimate demise until the reports began coming in about all those souls of the damned wandering the Earth, tearing up flower beds and possessing school children and the like. It turned out that the Gates of Hell had been opened and now all the most wicked men and women and horses to have ever lived were free to do their worst once again (limited, of course, by their lack of a physical body).
I felt less good about all the evil spirits, but things only got worse when God came to visit.
Now, because I know the question will come up eventually, God is not a man. Or a woman. God is a being of pure light, formed roughly into the shape of an alpaca. God also prefers to be called Karl, but I think that may be confusing, so I'll continue to call God God.
God explained to me that the Devil's death was my fault (I would have argued this point, but God speaks very quickly and loudly, which is really a rather clever strategy, you must admit). God was quite clear on three points: 1) that Hell is a very necessary place, which God would gladly close should it ever become unnecessary, but we don't really seem to be trending in that direction; 2) that Hell needs a Master to guard the gates, administer the requisite tortures, and plan birthday parties; and 3) I would be that Master.
It was not a request. I have gathered that God does not make requests, and even when it appears that God is making a request it is actually a demand dressed up like a request. So off to Hell I went. With great sadness, I was forced to rehome my dog Pebbles with my sister, as dogs are not allowed in Hell. My cat, however, was welcomed readily.
So far - and it hasn't been all that long - I don't especially like Hell. The heat is unpleasant and while many Hell-bound led interesting lives prior to their damnation, they downplay and demure at every turn, hoping - I believe - that Hell may someday institute a parole system.
Worse still are the demons, all quite loyal to the original Devil, who do my bidding in the most lethargic and uninspired manner possible. I often hear them speaking behind my back, plotting my doom, hoping to install a Devil more to their liking. This is fine. I was unpopular in high school, also. Eventually they will come to respect me. Or they will tie me to a poll and take turns brushing their genitals across my face. One or the other.
My throne of skulls is uncomfortable. Ms. Meow-Meow finds the cat treats here unappealing. No one seems all that impressed with my flawless rendition of *Ramble On*. Hell, my friends, is truly hell.
So I would implore you to consider your choices there on Earth. Be good. Be kind. Be a dog, if at all possible. Avoid stabbing or strangling or wearing your ex-husband's rib cage as a vest. Hell is not for you. Unless, of course, you enjoy balmy temperatures and above average Led Zeppelin covers. And if that is the case, I would suggest you do your best to die before Sunday night, when I'll be doing the entirety of *Physical Graffiti*. Should be a good show. Maybe I'll see you then. | 2016-12-09T08:39:14 | 2016-12-09T08:22:15 | 111 | 56 |
[WP] The English Teacher's worst nightmare: a story or poem that is completely literal, with absolutely no double meanings
EDIT: Holy cow, this got way bigger than I thought it would, thanks so much for an awesome first prompt ever!
EDIT 2: Did this actually make it to the front page of reddit? What the... | This is ink I bought at the store.
This ink was used to print out this paper.
This paper is white and the ink is black.
Today I need to do some laundry because I am a lazy person.
But it does not have a deeper theme.
I am just being honest that I am lazy.
So this poem is not an empty shell.
It is literally just words I threw down in thirty seconds for a grade.
That means I am going to get a poor grade.
Authors note : this poem does not have a deeper meaning. You do not have to write essays on it. | Write something literal, they said. A good story is easy to read. A good story is easy to remember. A good story tells you a story. It doesn't preach. It doesn't moralise. It doesn't claim to know more than the eye can see. Write something literal, they said.
The writer stared at his computer screen in front of him. He stared at a blank document. He typed a few words, deleted it. It didn't work. Not literal enough.
'Let's start with a poem,' he thought, 'let's make about a little girl trying to decipher it, unable to peel beyond the first layer. A young child taking her first steps into the adult world. You can't get more literal than that.'
'Or maybe it should be about that *chaiwallah*. He's out there selling tea from his bicycle all night at the corner of the street. He's not supposed to be there. I once even saw the police chase him away. But he was back the next day. Maybe he saw something heinous, but he can't tell anyone. After all, he's not even supposed to be there. Pure suffering. You can't get more literal than that.'
But the open document in front of him remained blank. His eyes got bleary, his fingers were numb. But the document remained blank. For nothing he could think of sufficed the expectations. Nothing he could write meant just what he meant. It wasn't his fault, he reasoned. It was the readers, he claimed, conveniently laying the blame at heir doorstep. Why did they have to read more into it than what he meant? Why couldn't they just leave his thoughts alone?
Excuses, excuses. No one understood this better than him.
Yet he grumbled to himself one last time, 'Write something literal, they said. A good story is easy to read.' | 2017-01-30T08:42:38 | 2017-01-30T08:28:09 | 561 | 26 |
[WP] A cult summons an elder horror only to find that the awful truths it has to share are only beyond the comprehension of the medieval Europeans who wrote the legends about it. Most of what it has to share is actually taught in grade school today. | The chanting intensifies and there is a flash of light. The dark brotherhood's efforts have paid off. Bayzelbub appears. He's promised dark forbidden secrets.
"Are your feeble minds prepared for oblivion? For what can be known cannot be unknown..."
Not a one of them looked away. They were dedicated to knowledge no matter the cost.
"Very well.... Know now that the very nature of reality sits on shifting sands! There is no guarantee in this cursed world. At it's most basic level in ALL things, there lies a swirling pool of chaos!!!"
The putrid beast cackles and glares at the hooded figures, the candle light barely touching their faces. It waits for the screaming and gnashing their teeth like the Gregorian monks of yore...
"So.... Heisenberg's uncertainty principle? Yeah that was studied back in the 60's and proven.... When? A decade later? "
The awkward silence is broken only by fetid ichor dripping from a mandible. The head magus tries to recover the event and motions for the brothers to start chanting again. ".... Uh, OH DARK ONE, WE EMPLORE YOU FOR DEEPER SECRETS! WE ARE READY OH LORD!"
".... yes... Well mortals let me tell you of the dark fate off your world. But not just your world... ALL worlds. You are all fated for the icy black death of the void that will cons..."
"Yeah, heat death of the universe. We know about that one too." The young cultist crossed his arms and the rest of the brothers stopped chanting and were unsure of what to do with their outstreched hands. The magus tried shushing him.
"What? ...how do mortals know of such things?" It was crushed, this wasn't anything like 1383.
"I dunno, science. We figure stuff out. No one has a monopoly on the truth. What's next, are you going to tell us how space is expanding? How the universe is going to have the big crunch or rip apart?"
"... we're pretty sure it expands forever... Sniff... Forever alone in the inky... Black... You guys know about this!? What the hell?"
Five hours later the magus walks down the stairs with more coffee and more white board markers. They'd gone over cosmology, evolution, abiogenesis, particle physics and the four forces. The more applied sciences like economics and psychology were being held up by language barriers and the Lord of the flies had to phone home for the specifics about mathematics, which incurred lag.
It's probiscus slurpped it's third coffee and it announced "alright fellas, I think it's time for the darkest secret. The big one I'm not supposed to share with you... But all this stuff about lag-lead market cap analysis is going to help me a ton down in the pit, so here you go"
It got off the sofa and moved back into the circle. The magus still did the kneeling and arms upstretched thing, but the rest just milled about.
"THE WORLD IS NOTHING MORE THAN DREAM. TRUE REALITY LIES OUTSIDE OF YOUR REACH AND ITS ALL BUT A PLAYTHING IN THE HANDS OF AN UNCARING GOD!" It did the whole reverberation thing and brimstone smell as children screamed in the distance. He looked down expectently.
"So Elon was right about the simulation thing. Huh. Ok, I owe Steve $5."
"Aww come'on guys, this is top shelf stuff! There's no way you could know that". It wails and starts crying, suckling a tentacle with one maw. The magus tries to consol it, but it just sinks into the floor in a huff. | The ritual was ready.
A heptagram of diabolic uncture, gathered at great personal risk by the high hepton, pointed with candles made from the earwax of dead men encircled Larry, the unwilling sacrifice. He was paralysed, a condition wrought upon him by forced consumption of the sacred grape poison (well, at first forced - eventually he kept asking for more and loudly decrying his love of ‘Shauna’), and carefully prostrated in the sixty-ninth profane position.
“WE SUMMON THEE,” thundered the high hepton.
Nothing happened.
“GREAT LORD OF EVIL, BARON OF BONES, COUNT OF CRUELTY, DUKE OF DESPAIR, PRINCE OF PENITENCE, HEAR OUR WORDS AND COME FORTH.”
Nothing happened.
“SHE WHO THIRSTS, HE WHO HUNGERS, THAT WHICH KNOWS ALL, WE BESEECH YOU.”
Finally, a rift began to open. Spinning, the sickening neon green, the portal split apart realities and from it came a creature of horror. It had the semblance of a man but was grotesquely large, hair sprouted from the base of its face, grease dripping from every pore and clothed in white-speckled rags.
“I AM DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS,” it proclaimed proudly.
“My lord,” replied the High Hepton, “we seek your wisdom. We seek the awful truths that must be known to ascend.”
“THERE IS NO GOD” screamed the creature, “THERE IS ONLY EUPHORIA.”
The cult, confused by this sudden turn of events, muttered to themselves for a moment. How could there be no god if they had literally just summoned one? Best not to worry about it, they reasoned, letting the High Hepton step forward again.
“And of this world? Tell us, what truths are there?”
The creature faltered a moment, as though confused that it's blasphemic pronouncement was insufficient to cow these mortals.
“WELL,” it replied, “THE SQUARE OF THE HYPOTENUSE OF A RIGHT ANGLED TRIANGLE IS EQUAL TO THE SUM OF THE SQUARES OF THE OTHER TWO SIDES.”
It looked rather happy with the commotion that this caused. Cultists were quickly adding up numbers to check it. Sensing an opportunity the great demon screamed again.
“THE WORLD IS A LIE, IT IS NOT FLAT BUT IS IN FACT A SPINNING BALL OF ROCK.”
Another flurry of conversation ensued with much nodding and writing down of concepts.
“MONARCHY ISN’T THE ONLY POSSIBLE FORM OF GOVERNMENT.”
This one proved hugely popular with many a cultist nodding sagely and explaining to their fellows that they had always felt that there were alternatives, usually a cultarchy. Above them all, the putrid beast smiled.
“YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY TINY THINGS THAT CAN GET IN YOUR FOOD AND MAKE YOU ILL, SO COOK YOUR FOOD.”
Muttering of wisdom and sageness ensued, much debate being had over whether this extended to beef and, if so, was it worth the risk? Perhaps these little things were demons.
“NO TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION.”
This one had to be a prophecy of unclear meaning. The creature was puffed out, as though it had just thought of something really clever to say. Beneath him, the army of cultists began to feverishly wonder who was being represented and who was being taxed. They concluded, somewhat logically, that they were the ones who had to pay taxes and weren’t being represented adequately.
Amidst this flurry of logical debate the high hepton stood forward with a final question.
“Oh Dark Lord, tell us, your loyal subjects: how can we overthrow this corrupt world and replace it with paradise?”
The creature paused, as though considering a truth beyond comprehension, before replying:
“DON’T BE A CUCK.”
And with that pronouncement it vanished, leaving nothing behind.
“Well,” said the low hepton to the high hepton, “is now a bad time to mention that we used the wrong kind of candle?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dead man wax brings forth the soul of our sacrifice from the future, turns out you need dead child wax for the eternal horror.”
“So what have we just heard.”
“Well,” said the low hepton, looking at the sacrifice, “if I were to guess, a soul that is completely incapable of proper social interaction.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well boss,” replied the subordinate, “when we picked up the sacrifice he was enjoying himself whilst looking at hand drawn cartoons. He insisted that it was more cultured.”
“Great,” sighed the hepton, “those idiots down there” - he gestured at the cultists - “are busy unlocking the secrets of a rambling lunatic.”
***
If you enjoyed this please feel free to check out other pieces I’ve written. I collect them on my blog Game, Set and Incoherence (http://gamesetandincoherence.blogspot.co.uk/)
| 2017-09-04T09:52:58 | 2017-09-04T05:47:48 | 657 | 93 |
[WP] Your daughter has been begging you for a pony, and you told her to write a letter to Santa. On Christmas morning, you find a fire-breathing horse in your front yard, and a package by your front door. Looks like she wrote a letter to Satan, and he delivered.
Whoa. This blew up way more than I expected it to.
Edit: Like... A lot more. Thanks guys. | "I was late, and it could fly."
I shifted nervously in my seat and reached for a glass of water that I had already drained.
The team from HR didn't respond right away, so I had time to fill my glass and drink again before I went on.
"I realize that's not a great excuse for why there's a fire-breathing Nightmare Pony parked in my space, but my car broke down, I had a really important meeting, and well...Mister Pibbles was all I could think of."
The HR lady found her voice. "Mister Pibbles? You call it Mister Pibbles?"
"Actually, my daughter named him. He was kind of a Christmas present. It's really kind of a funny story, although maybe not in this room, at this particular..."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Oh god yes," I answered before I really had time to think. Then I had to try and backtrack. "I mean, he's always potentially dangerous, but so are big dogs, right? He wouldn't hurt family, and he shouldn't be a danger to random strangers as long as he's got his soul bag on..."
I kind of trailed off at that point, worried that some bright spark in the HR department would ask me how I manage to fill a pony-sized feed bag full of human souls.
Fortunately, no one did.
"I'm really sorry about this, but can I just take him home?"
The big boss spoke up, trying to maintain an air of authority, as his personal view of the universe crumbled quietly around him.
"I'm about this close to calling the police, or locking that thing up where it can't hurt anybody."
I shook my head. "Bad idea. Very bad idea. Please do not interact with Mister Pibbles. Don't pet him, don't move him, and whatever you do, don't ASK HIM for anything! In fact, it's best if you don't wish for anything really specific when you're close to him. If he's feeling playful he might try to get it for you and we really do not want a repeat of the birthday kitten situation."
"How did you end up with this creature in the first place?"
"Reading may be fundamental, sir, but proper spelling can save your soul." | "What the ACTUAL F--" I stopped short, conscious of my 5-year-old girl's presence behind me.
"What is it, Daddy?" she asked innocently, and more than a little concerned.
"What...I...how..." I sputtered, unable to produce a coherent word.
It was Christmas morning, and I'd woken up and had breakfast as usual. Closing my eyes for a moment, I'd wished my wife was still around to share this beautiful winter morning with us. "First Christmas without her," I'd thought sadly. I'd closed my eyes for a moment.
My thoughts had turned to our daughter. She was the most precious creature in the world to me, and I guard her like a lioness guards her cubs. I couldn't afford to let something or other take her away from me like a car accident ripped my wife away from us. I'd gone to check if she was awake, but she'd been staring out of the window at a crowd of neighbours pointing at our house and chattering among themselves. Some had their phones out, snapping away.
Naturally I opened the front door with every intention to chase them away tactfully, but the minute I stepped outside, I saw the most unbelievable sight I had ever laid eyes upon.
A fire-breathing, coal-black horse was stamping around my front yard, neighing and tossing its admittedly majestic mane about.
That was where I screamed in shock.
Abby's eyes grew rounder and rounder. She displayed no sign of fear, though, which seemed more than a little odd. Finally she spoke. "I think Santa made a mistake."
"Mistake? What? What's happening?" I questioned her.
"You see, Daddy, remember when I told you I wanted a pony and you told me to write to Santa? I did write to him, but this isn't what I asked for. I wanted a black pony that breathes sparkles, with a rainbow mane. Something went wrong somewhere," she explained.
After I somehow chased all the neighbours away, I awkwardly led the horse to the back yard where fewer people would likely see it. There was a small piece of paper tied to the horse's left ear, and I untied it.
Its contents were as follows:
"Dear Abby,
I think you must have made a mistake. We do not have glitter-spitting ponies with rainbow manes down here in Hell, but never let it be said the devil is so evil that he cannot grant happiness to a 5-year-old child. I did my best to find a suitable pony for you. This is one of our finest; in fact we were planning to use him for the Apocalypse, but I guess we'll have to change plans now. He's already broken in so you can have some fun right away without worrying about training and all that. Terribly sorry, of course, if you don't like him. But he's the best horse we could find in all of Hell's stables.
Merry Christmas.
Yours Sincerely
Satan
P.S. This is the first time anyone's asked me to provide them a present for a holiday dedicated to my arch nemesis' birthday. I kindly request that you never do this again."
Understanding cleared out the cloud of confusion in my brain as I read the note.
Abby must've spelled Santa as Satan.
I chuckled a little as I wondered what it would feel like to have to make someone happy on the birthday of someone whom you've rivalled your entire life.
"Come, Abby, let's give you some riding lessons..." | 2017-09-25T18:40:35 | 2017-09-25T18:13:41 | 40 | 15 |
[WP] God gave humanity Earth and filled it with marvels and wonders of many kinds. This was not done as a gift, but a distraction. To distract them from exploring the stars, and to protect them from the horrors that lurked out in the dark. | We thought it strange, at first, that with every new light that twinkled in the night, with every step we took towards the stars, another oh-so-interesting novelty appeared upon Earth. For every oh-so-promising exoplanet, twenty new pockets of new life or beauty were found upon Earth.
But humanity's attention was not so easily led astray.
We put three people on Mars in 2039. They died there, and the rusty sands greedily gnawed their bones to nothing.
As if they were alive.
Every mission to Mars ended much the same; the surface seemed cursed. Nothing but machines could live there.
So we turned our curious eye to Venus. We put cities in her skies, and they held. The Red Curse hadn't followed us here. And, with time, we built machines to settle her surface.
From the first explorer, we heard only screaming. An hour after contact was lost with the surface team, something burst from beneath the acid clouds of Venus. The sky cities stopped transmitting soon after that.
Every world in Sol was the same. No human could touch the surface and return. The Red Curse became the Surface Curse. For a moment, humanity nearly lost its will to reach the stars.
Nearly.
Earth remained our only world, but we built great space stations above the worlds we could never touch. Automated drones explored them and different drones consumed them. Venus was left, but no other world went unmarred by our hunger.
Then, as was standard, a prisoner slated for death was sent to the surface of Charon. We expected his suit to suffer sudden and total failure, a creature to manifest and destroy him, contact loss... any of the horrors we had faced before. Pluto had borne the Curse, and we had no reason to suspect different of Charon.
The prisoner was tossed from the airlock by depressurization, and the exploration team waited in abject boredom for the screaming.
It didn't come.
The whole species' attention turned to the desolate moon of Charon. What could be so special about a tiny ball of ice barely worthy of the title "moon?" Nothing seemed to fit. The presence of H2O was the only correlation, and not even a relevant one.
Nobody can recall whose idea it was to drill into Charon's core. They'd be lauded as a hero.
For deep within the ice, we found an ancient starship.
---
Continue?
\>Y
\>N | "The northern star is a lie! Beware of the stars! Steer clear of Astrology AND Astronomy! They are all traps!" The scruffy homeless looking man handed me a pamphlet that read 'Don't Look Up' the truth of death and stars.
"Get a job!" I said roughly and threw the pamphlet in the nearest garbage bin.
It was snowing outside and my patience was already used up today. Emily had cancelled our date tonight yet again and without any explanation or excuse. The ring I bought her a month ago weighed heavily in my pocket. At this rate, that's where it might stay; that is if I don't end up returning it.
Emily is beautiful. But, they always are right? Women. So beautifully cruel and blissfully unaware of how torturing they can be. Not too dissimilar to the unforgiving winter winds of Chicago, Illinois. We met in college; both of us studying social justice and women's studies. The only non-stereotypically gay thing about us was that neither of us are cat people. We both prefer dogs.
I had always identified as bisexual and I still do, but I knew I wanted to marry Emily after only three weeks of dating. She's so full of life and joy. She never says a bad word against anyone except herself. She makes me laugh harder than anyone else can and she's so driven to make the world a better place. Who wouldn't want to marry someone like that?
But, lately she's been distant. Closing off and shutting me out. She says she's just busy working on her non-profit startup but I'm not so sure it's work related. I try to put it out of my mind as I walk the icy streets of the city. It was already dark and I was getting hungry so I popped into a ramen shop to get something hot to eat and warm up my cold bones.
I ordered the spicy chicken ramen and sat down by the window looking out into the dimly lit street. Waiting for my meal, I checked my phone to see if Emily texted back. Nothing.
The waiter brought my ramen out and I said a quiet thank you when- huh?! What the fuck? Just outside across the road I could barely make out two figures in the dark but one of them stood out to me completely.
Emily. Wearing the bright yellow coat I bought her from ModCloth last year for Christmas. She had her back turned to me but I was sure that it was her. I threw down a twenty dollar bill even though my ramen was only $10 and I dashed out the door.
"Emily! Babe! Hey, it's me!" I shouted to her from across the street. She turned to look at me and as I walked closer avoiding the traffic on the road I could see something wasn't right...
"Emily?" I whispered. The hooded figure she had been talking to ran off as I got closer. Emily had closed her eyes now. "Don't look at me! Don't come any closer! You shouldn't be here." She sounded so scared and desperate.
"Emily, what's wrong? It's okay, it's just me." I said trying to comfort her, getting more worried by the second.
"Anna, you don't understand. I can't be with you." she sobbed. "I can't be with you anymore because I can't be with anyone. I've been to the northern star. I've been marked." Emily opened her eyes and the brightest light I've ever seen poured out of them blinding me and flashing into the night lighting up the sky. That was when I blacked out. | 2018-01-01T20:13:08 | 2018-01-01T18:37:19 | 45 | 10 |
[WP] You have an incredible ability, the ability to create something just by saying its name, only problem is you gotta say it in an ancient tongue that no one knows, not even yourself, today in the middle of going through a terrible cough, your ability activates for the fourth time in your life. | "Mom! Mom! Guess what I'm speaking!"
"What, honey?" My mother let out a giggle as I began a few more lines in the strange tongue.
"It's the language where English and Spanish and Indian come from!" I laughed again. Four year old me was a fun kid.
According to my mother, I always introduced the language the same way. "The language where English and Spanish and Indian come from." She couldn't understand a lick of it, but I was fluent in the language, apparently. It sounded like nothing she'd ever heard before. Lots of guttural sounds, she said. Kids and their imaginations.
By the end of my first year of preschool, I had forgotten the language completely. Every word, along with the grammar, had faded away from my brain. I probably didn't even know how to pronounce some of those guttural sounds my mom mentioned. I sometimes thought I remembered words, but I never did. It was a lost cause.
"Hey kid, why you starin' at the ground? Whaddya think you're doin'?"
Two bulky men came up to me. I was fifteen. I couldn't do anything. I was petrified.
"C'mon, hand over the money." And then, one word came to me.
*"Pchunes."*
The entire street lit up, fire everywhere. I ran away, the fire moving away from me, as the fire burned through buildings. What had I done? What did I just cause to be?
The fire, the *pchunes,* was reported on the news later that day. The two thugs were dead. Nobody realized who was really behind it.
Twice more, words have come to me. The first time was seemingly out of nowhere. The word *dhwer,* meaning "door," came to me. A door opened in my house, which I took out of my house. It's still a part of my house. Later that day, I would learn that burglars were breaking into my house at the time, and I had been spared.
The third time was when I was hiking in the Grand Canyon. I had stopped sweating, so I knew I'd be fine to continue the hike, when a word popped up. The word was *sneigw.* I said the word, and a storm of cold snow billowed across the badlands. Everybody was reporting on it, probably my most well-known stunt. You've likely seen the pictures, have you not?
Today, a word didn't come to me. I just started coughing from a terrible illness.
"Hnghkhkh...*dnhghwech*..khhngd..."
I felt like I had said a word I shouldn't have. Suddenly, a severed tongue dropped onto my lap. I threw the thing away, but I realized that I must be going crazy. It was that day I decided to call a shrink.
"So, Peter, why are you here?" Dr. Falco had glasses on and her hair tied into a nice bun.
"Well, I feel like I might be able to manifest some sort of item when I say the word for this item in a strange, ancient language."
"Okay," she said, taken aback. "How would you describe this language?"
"Well, I knew most of it when I was a kid, but it faded away. All I know is... that it's the language where English and Spanish and Indian come from. That's what I always told my mother."
"Peter," she said, seriously, "Have you ever heard of Proto-Indo-European?"
I shook my head.
"Well, it's a language where most European languages, as well as Sanskrit, all come from. By comparing various languages, we've been able to figure out what it sounds like. I could print out a list of words, if you'd like?"
"Sure, why not." She went to the printers and came back with a sheet of words. I began to read off them.
"Ekwos?" I had no idea what was going to happen; there were no definitions. Suddenly, a horse appeared in the middle of the room with no explanation.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I'll clean up the mess, if you'd like--"
Dr. Falco sighed. "That'll be no big deal. Now, you're going to come with me to room 265, suite A. There are some... more people who need to talk to you." | The shadows were dancing across the walls, pirouetting excitedly around the objects that bore their likeness.
Intik was lost in a world of his own, somewhere between the sway of the shadows and the flamboyance of the full moon as it peered curiously through the window. The sound of muffled coughing brought him back into the room from his reverie, as the shadows shuffled in excitement at the distraction.
Covering his right hand with a cloth, Intik took the kettle off the fire and poured a generous helping of tea into an expectant mug. The crushed herbs at the bottom of the mug rose to greet the new arrival, swirling around playfully in delight. Carefully placing the kettle back on the fire, Intik carried the mug and saucer over to the bed where the source of the cough lay, cloth in hand to stifle any noise he may make.
Cautiously, Intik placed the saucer in Gat's right hand, supporting his head with his left hand while gently raising the cup to his lips. Gat took a few sips, pausing to recover from the bitter mixture, before taking a few more for effect.
Placing the mug on the saucer (and the saucer on the bedside table) Intik moved over to his chair beside the bed and sat down. His shadow followed suit, disappearing behind him as he planted himself. He looked Gat up and down, trying to decide if he was well enough to take questions. Satisfied that he was, he began the process of trying to understand what had happened.
"Can you remember what you said, or what it sounded like...at all?" he asked, expectantly.
Gat glanced over at Intik. Bringing his hands out from under the sheets, he began to answer the question.
*I was coughing when I felt the Birth take effect. I can't remember what I sounded like, I was too preoccupied with the feeling of the Birth. It still feels strange...even though I have felt it 3...no, 4 times now.*
As he answered, Gat had to pause every few words to try and stifle a cough.
Intik was not disappointed by this answer, for he had expected this. At first, Intik found it difficult to keep pace with Gat when he spoke with his fingers, but now he was getting better. He understood the importance of this to Gat; he couldn't risk accidentally creating something that could cause disaster. The only way to avoid the risk was to avoid speaking.
"I checked on the others earlier. They're looking too, but hadn't found anything when I heard them last. Koram is coming here shortly to look after you while I take over the search" responded Intik, shuffling in his seat.
Gat started fidgeting, as if he was about to say something but wasn't sure if he should. Intik preempted Gat's statement, and began to answer it.
"Stop apologizing all the time. You didn't ask for this, and it's our pleasure to help you. Now, relax and finish your tea" said Intik, reaching across the sideboard to hand Gat the mug and saucer. As he placed them in Gat's hands, he noticed how his shadow appeared to take Gat's hand in its own, as if to comfort him.
It wasn't until he sat back down that he noticed Gat was no longer the only other person in the room with him.
"Did you find anything, Koram?" he asked, smiling. Koram always had a way of appearing, unannounced. He was a law unto himself, but his results were undeniable.
"I let myself in, hope you don't mind...Gat, Intik" he said, tipping his head to each, then, moving to the window and tipping his head once more, he said "Liriharan. Looking lovely tonight." He moved away from the window and looked at Intik, then at Gat. "To answer your question, no, I didn't find anything. Are you sure you felt a Birth and not just...you now...a cough?"
Intik chose to ignore that last comment. Koram was arrogant, which infuriated him at times. He hated vanity, arrogance, greed...anything that could prejudice your vision of the truth.
It was time for Intik to begin his search. He noticed Gat looking concerned. This was the first time anything he had Birthed had chosen to run away. He feared this meant the Birthed was frightened, which meant they may do something to hurt someone, even in self-defense. We had to find it before that happened.
"Gat, stop worrying" Intik began. "We will find the Birthed. After all, I am Intik, the Shadow of the World. If it casts a shadow, I will know. If it doesn't, I'll know what to look for. And I am not alone. Liliharan the Moonsiren is helping us look, and so is Koram the Pheobian. We will find the Birthed before it harms itself, or anyone else." he promised.
He noticed Gat's fist unclench at his speech. Even Koram seemed moved. Liliharan, still peering through the window, seemed to be brighter than a moment ago.
He didn't tell them that he knew where to start looking. *If it casts a shadow, I'll know.*
Smiling, he headed to where he thought his Sibling was, hoping it wasn't too late.
---
If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, please consider subscribing to my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! | 2018-08-06T07:38:46 | 2018-08-06T04:12:41 | 425 | 55 |
[WP] The Devil returns from a long day making deals and collecting souls, but along the way to his keep he manages to unwittingly drop one... yours. Years later you arrive in Hell, but since the Devil doesn't know where your soul is, he can't manipulate or punish you. You're just kind of... there. | “Behold! Beyond this door lays your greatest fear!” The demon smiled cruelly, showing rows of wicked, jagged teeth.
“Wha…what is it?” I asked hesitantly, my eyes following the creature’s gesture to the wrought iron door before me. Comprised of dark metal and adorned with a single slot for viewing that could only be opened from the outside, the door loomed menacingly before me.
“Behind this door is, um.” The demon paused in confusion then looked back at me. “Wait. Who are you again?”
“John.” I supplied.
“John what?”
“Smith.” I smiled helpfully.
The demon frowned and looked slowly between the spot in which I stood and the portal that lead to eternal torment and damnation.
“John Smith.” He frowned. “Well…shit. That’s not helpful. I mean, I’ve been here for literally EVER. Do you know how many John Smiths are down here? Hang on.”
Moving to the door the demon raised a clawed hand and slid back the viewing window.
“Well shit.” He repeated before closing the hatch. “This has never happened before.”
“What? What’s in there?” I asked, craning my neck and trying to get a glimpse before the view was completely obscured.
“Nothing.” The creature answered.
“Nothing?” I questioned.
“Like, literally nothing. It’s just….well. Nothing. No dark, no light. There’s no HELL. It’s just empty.” Whatever otherworldly awe I once held for the creature was gone in an instant as it stood in a perfect parody of human confusion.
“What’s supposed to be in there?” I asked.
“Huh. I don’t know. What are you afraid of?” It asked quickly, a glimmer of hopeful light shining behind its yellow eyes as it turned to me.
“I’m not telling you that!”
“Aww. Why not?” It asked in a hurt voice.
“Because, if I say what I’m afraid of, you’re going to fill that room full of it and shove me in there.”
“Nu uh.” The demon denied.
“Nuh HUH.” I countered. “If I say that I’m afraid of kittens, boom – that room is going to be chock full of kittens and then you’re going to toss me in there for all of eternity.”
“Are you afraid of kittens?” The demon asked eagerly.
“No! And that’s why I chose kittens, just in case you got ideas, which you clearly did.” I scolded.
“Maaaan. Look. Just tell me what you’re afraid of okay? You’re in hell for a reason, and I’m here to make sure that you’re punished for whatever you did. You’re not getting out of this, so just make it easy on yourself and tell me.” It reasoned.
“MAKE IT EASY ON MYSELF? You’re going to huck me into a chamber of untold horrors until the end of time! How is helping you making it easy on myself?”
“Spiders?” The demon asked.
“No.”
“Rats?”
“No. Stop it.”
“Snakes! Is it snakes? No one likes snakes.”
“I happened to find them rather pleasant.” I stonewalled.
“Forbidden Name, damnit.” It sort of swore. “Just tell me what you’re afraid of!”
“Fine.” I sighed. “Do you really, really want to know?”
“Yes! Please!” The demon plead. "Tell me!"
“Well, if you really must know…I’ve always been simply horrified by gaggles of beautiful women who exist only to satisfy my every sexual need, and who know infinite ways to please a man while catering to his every whim.”
The demon narrowed his eyes, and pursed his lips in apprehension.
“Nice try.”
“I mean, it was at least worth a shot, right?” I asked. The creature paused and then reluctantly agreed that it was.
“Well, there’s only one thing left to do then.” It sighed, pulling a clipboard seemingly from the sulfuric air around us.
“What’s that?” I asked apprehensively.
“Heaven.” It shrugged, scribbling something onto a piece of bloodstained parchment affixed to the board.
“Heaven? Really?” I blinked. “You mean I get to go to Heaven? I don’t have to be condemned to Hell for all eternity?”
“Yup.” The demon nodded, ripping off the bottom half of the paper and handing it to me.
I took it reluctantly, suspecting a trick. Instead, the world around me erupted in angelic light and a portal to the Heavens appeared above me.
“Thank you!” I cried, actual tears forming in my eyes. Reprieve, redemption, whatever you wanted to call it was mine!
“Don’t thank me.” The demon laughed. “They’re not going to know what to do with you either.”
My face fell as I started to rise towards the light.
“And knowing them? Rather than dealing with you, they’ll just stick you in a waiting room for…well, forever.”
“Wait!” I called down to him, scrambling to fight against the air, but I couldn’t slow the movement.
A waiting room for all of eternity.
And that’s how I ended up the only person ever to go to Heaven, just to be stuck in Hell. | He hadn't even noticed when it had happened. In His defence, it *had* been a long day; eternal damnation really was quite a long time, and having to dish out appropriate and individually-tailored punishment to literally *millions* of Sinners had a way of really taking it out of you. Add to this an endless supply of new souls from greedy fools who kept dragging Him away from his duties to make petty deals, and he believed he could be forgiven for finally being tipped over the edge.
Only a bit over. But still, that was really all that it had taken.
Souls were such incorporeal things, light as a feather and completely indistinguishable from one another. It would have been easy for one to slip from his grasp, tumble down into the labyrinthine tunnel system that connected Hell to the surface world, and to become lost to everything but the gaze of God itself.
And that is exactly what had happened. Must have been, anyway, considering the little problem he was currently having.
&#x200B;
“Nice place you've got here. Was expecting something a bit more... hellfire and brimstone-y.”
The little problem in question sat reclined just a few feet away from Him, legs raised and subsequently dumped onto the centre of His oak desk in a display that would have made any passing Imps believe there'd been an abrupt change in management.
He was doing a poor job of convincing Himself that He wouldn't have preferred it that way.
Although, He supposed He was doing her a disservice by calling her a 'little' problem. Putting aside the consequences of her little 'situation' (something that He did *not* have the energy to deal with right now), she was probably one of the tallest Human females He'd ever encountered. 6'0 was hardly a small height in the conventional sense, and yet she'd somehow managed to beat the odds by a full few inches. Add to that a physique that most body-builders would have killed for, and shoulder-length auburn hair that flowed like the magma fields that encapsulated each of the four corners of His domain, and you would have been forgiven for thinking that she had been born as a denizen of Hell itself.
If only He had been so lucky.
But He hadn't been. He had made a mistake and, as such, it was His job to make sure that the situation was dealt with as smoothly as possible. And with as little 'outside interference' as possible.
Quickly, and steeling himself against the anxiety building in his chest, He leaned forward and smacked her legs, putting just enough force behind the blow to send them sprawling off the desk and back to the floor where they belonged.
“I'd like to remind you,” He began, emboldening in the face of the shock that graced her features, “that your situation is not one to be taken lightly. Eternal damnation in Hell is a serious sentence, particularly for those who willingly give themselves over to it.”
And it was, usually. Conventional Sinners could usually be forgiven for their damnation; life on the surface sometimes necessitated at least a bit of sinful behaviour if you wanted to survive, and it was all too easy to slip over the moral threshold and into a life of sin. Their punishment was immense, as all punishment in Hell was designed to be, but it was also reserved, and more spread out to give them time to recover from the horrors they had been subjected to.
But cases like hers, those who were willing to strike up a deal in exchange for their Soul, were a different case entirely.
There were no excuses to make. No terms that needed explaining. They knew the risks, knew what fate awaited them at the end, and they just didn't care. Hell's full fury was reserved for these cases, and they (she) had only themselves to blame for what their future's had in store for them.
She seemed to focus at His words, brows lowering and expression closing in a way that could almost be described as contemplative. A common reaction from Sinners when they realised the gravity of their situation. Emboldened further still, he continued, “I trust that you haven't forgotten the terms of our agreement. Your request was granted, after all, and-”
“Let me stop you right there, sweetheart.” she interjected, her booming voice drowning out the remainder of his words. Her shock had subsided, and the confidence that she'd presented at the beginning of their conversation had come back in full force. He wanted to reply, chastise her for her arrogance in interrupting him, but her palms slamming into the desk with an almighty crack killed the words that has risen in his throat.
“Now, as much as I appreciate your *hospitality* in bringing me here, the deal we made cost me my Soul. And, unless I've gone blind as well as dead,” her eyes widened, reminding Him of a cat about to pounce on its pray, “my Soul doesn't seem to be here.”
He couldn't deny the cold chill that shot through His body at her words. She was smart. Of course she was smart. She'd picked up on his apprehension in hitting her. Noticed that she'd been ferried directly to himself rather than being processed straight through like the rest, Souls taken straight from them right at the gate. And she'd figured out exactly what this all meant for her.
“And as much as I've enjoyed our time together,” she sighed out, having the gall to try and look disappointed, “I *do* have other places to be”.
And with that, she was gone, straight out of the office door and towards the Tunnels that lay ahead. The only exit that existed from His domain.
And He lacked the power He needed to stop her.
He could already feel pressure building at the base of His skull, a headache mixed with the judgemental gaze of God that He was sure fell upon him in that moment. His head plummeted into His waiting hands, and He briefly considered throwing himself into the magma fields before God had the chance to do it for him. But he steadied himself. The Tunnels were a maze and no creature, alive or dead, knew them quite like He did.
One Soul shining in a place of darkness, lost for years but still there, ripe for the taking.
He still had time to try and fix this. | 2019-05-06T09:13:12 | 2019-05-06T08:17:24 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] murder is legal, once a permit has been obtained from the local police department. Permits require a declaration of a target victim and justification to commit the act. Once a permit has been issued it is valid for 72 hours. Once expired you can never get another for the same target victim. | "What is your justification?" asked the officer on duty.
"Pissed me off."
"Do you feel murder is a proportional response to that offense?"
*Why won't they just get on with it?*
"Yes." I answer decisively, hoping it would make the officer get the hint.
"You realize that by not taking this before a committee, you'd have to commit the act yourself?"
"I do."
*Almost there.*
"You thus confirm there is an immediate need for this response on your part?"
"I do."
The officer puts down his pen.
"Hold please."
"What's the holdup?" I ask annoyed.
"In cases waving a committee, you need to be interviewed by the lieutenant so that our insurance covers us."
I stare daggers at the officer as he walks away.
I looked around the interrogation room, staring at the one-sided mirror in front of me.
I hear footsteps walking down the corridor. Tap, tap tap. Tap, tap tap.
A man walks in, placing his cane against the table.
"Mind if I sit down?" He asks in a cracked voice.
"If we can get on with it, sure."
He slowly puts his briefcase on the table, removing some papers from inside.
"Joe Doner, 34. Father of three, divorced." He looks into my eyes, raising an eyebrow.
"Can we get on with it?"
I notice myself fidgeting. Something about this situation is freaking me out.
"Sir," he paused, "Joe. May I call you Joe?" He asks, and without waiting for a response continues.
"Why do you want this man dead?"
"I already went through this with the other officer. He pissed me off."
The older man nods slowly.
"Have you heard of the Anti Litigious Leecher Act?"
"The what?"
The older man nods again.
"Our society allows for extreme measures. Such create a polite culture where one knows that if you offend someone, they might kill you. At the same time, if you kill them, their family might just come after you."
"Yeah, yeah. Save the civics class."
"It was clear there would be abusers of this system. Thus, people like me were commissioned."
I notice myself swallowing. Hard.
"You have gotten permission to murder someone without appealing to the committee. You then proceeded to commit the act on your own, again, three times."
He looked me straight in the eye.
"You sir, are a danger to our scoeity's status quo."
I fall off the chair. I feel a sharp pain in my chest.
A face comes into view. It's old and wrinkled. I hear a voice as if whispered from afar.
"Your target is my client. You should have known better than to target someone so prominent, and then to ask for permission at a central station..." he shook his head "poor sod, you never had a chance."
He shook his head, fading from view.
"I was already here waiting for you."
I close my eyes.
&#x200B;
If you like, join my new subreddit [/r/posthocethics](https://www.reddit.com/r/posthocethics/)/ where you can read my writing. Sometimes I'll go crazy and even post a meme or two. | "Hey Rad, focus "-said Fred without hiding his discomfort- "I'm answering your question, so you better listen to me. I dont even know why you called me. There's nothing wrong about this place".
-Nothing, huh? There's a dead body 3 ft from you and you dont even acknowledge her prescence. Let alone your lack of condolences. But whatever...
-Rad
-The camera shows the girl dying at 7:02 today monday. According to witnesses, the culprit was a bald man in his 40s wearing a black coat, scarf and leather gloves.
-Rad, its a...
-He was also wearing an expensive watch. The kind of watch that is worth 10 years of your salary.
-Come on, Rad. You know its...
-Knowing this, we can determine the store, and with the proper questions we might hopefully...
-CONRAD!!!... Its legal.
-Huh?
-Like I said: It's Legal Termination.
Fred had enough of my shit already. He is a homicide detective, too. Although ever since the law he usually sits on a desk without doing jack. He is also my brother. Ever since our childhood, we always wanted to solve crimes and mysteries together. That dream became true a few years ago. We were unstoppable, no murder could get away from us.
Until last year, that is.
Making homicide legal was on every news channel. Everyone was panicking, claiming it was the start of the apocalypse. Our country was segregated and hated, considered the scum of the earth. Fast forward to this day, no one seems to care anymore. The word hypocrisy comes to mind, since it is now a thing in other countries as well.
The girl in question was strangled in the middle of Liberty St. It was bothersome for the people and the vehicles purely because of the position of the body. It was a monday in the morning, so apparently the last thing everyone needed was a dead girl blocking their way. Needless to say our arrival at 8:30 wasn't pleasant for anyone, especially when we cut off the the access to the bloody street. But I certainly wasn't in a good mood either.
-Legal? How the fuck can this be considered legal, Fred?! She is just a girl!
-Nope, she turned 18 a week ago. Geez, I already told you that. Why do you even ask her age if you won't hear me, anyway?
I was desperate. The law was very clear in regards of what constitutes a Legal Termination. Among those things, the target must be 18 years or older.
-Rad, you're ignoring me again. She is old enough.
-Was a permit requested for this?
-Yep. Last friday.
-Then the deadline...!
-Dont even bother. It was requested at 8 AM, just so you know. A close call, it seems.
-And the justification?
-She was blackmailing him. Falls into the "self defense" category, according to the new law.
-Were they blood related?
-Nope, he was her teacher.
-Maybe she was homeschooled...
-Oh come on, Rad. You know there's nothing illegal about this. Just drop it.
-How can YOU drop it? We are detectives!! Our job is to convict criminals.
-There are no criminals here and you know it.
-Bullshit! You know that this whole Legal Termination is bullshit! There is nothing legal here. A schoolgirl was murdered like an hour ago and you are ok with this?
-You think this is easy for me?! I was the one that gave a permit 3 days ago to a 45 year old teacher to kill a certain cheerleader. This whole thing is sickening. But we must execute the law, no matter what!
Wait. Something isn't right. I had to check:
-You gave him the permit?
-Yeah, I'm disturbed by this as y...
-At 8 AM on friday?
-Yeah?
-Werent you sick that day? You took a day off.
-huh? You're right. Must've done it on Thurs- oh crap.
-You realized, too! You must've given him the permit on thursday! This means he was a day late!
-Heh. And he was kind enough to fill a paper with his name and address in order to get the permit.
-Then lets hurry! We need to serve the law!
-Now youre obeying the law? Geez Conrad. | 2019-07-09T10:40:22 | 2019-07-09T10:40:11 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] You've died. You expected to be judged in the Afterlife, but all you see now is God and Satan disappointingly sigh at you and simultaneously scold: "We look away for five months and you died AGAIN?!" | I'm dead. I don't remember dying, but the place I'm in now has an air of finality to it. And dark green linoleum tiles on the floor. Just as I'm starting to accept my own demise, God and Satan stride in through a set of double doors at the far end of the nondescript room.
I'm no good at reading faces, but theirs are speaking to me loud and clear. It's the "how did you manage this fuckup" look that my wife used to give me. It's one thing coming from your significant other and a whole other when two major deities -- neither of whom I believe in -- are doing it.
They look at each other for a moment and then both say, at the same time, "We look away for five months, and here you are, AGAIN." Satan adds, "Dead, again."
"Um... Sorry?" Seems like a safe answer right then.
"How hard could it be? You don't have an impossible task on your shoulders. No geas. No curse. Nothing. All you need to do is not die until it's your time. Is that too much to ask?" The king of Hell sounds almost desperate. "You walked in front of a bus, for Hell's sake!"
"I...um..." I get a flash of memory. Some guy is chatting at me. He’s shoving something into my face, asking about a deal. And a glimpse of brightly colored wings. "I saw a butterfly."
Satan turns to God and smacks his forehead. "She saw a butterfly."
"Look, child," says the ruler of the heavenly host. "It's important to me -- to us -- that you survive. You'll die, like everyone else, in your own time."
"Why?" The word is out of my mouth before I can think about it too hard.
"It doesn't matter," Satan says.
God contradicts, "Your life is precious to us."
My gaze lingers between the two of them. There's a glaring contest going on and I realize I don't want to know what those two are on about. In fact, I'm beginning to suspect that this is not about me at all. But there was the butterfly.
"Sorry?" I try again.
"Why don't we send you back," God says with a nod. "And maybe try a little harder to stay alive, all right? Remember, keep your wits about you. There's absolutely no reason for you to get hit by a bus."
"OK."
Satan growls. "You trust her?"
God shrugs and grumbles something under his breath. Louder he says, "You're the one who predicted that she would bring the world to its knees if she died early."
"I did,” Satan agrees, “But now..."
For a moment, God is silent. Then, he says to Satan, "Well, you were right." He turns to me. "Now back you go, Madam President. I believe the reporter standing over your body is about to have a heart attack himself."
"Um..."
The world goes dark. Goodbye, green linoleum.
Back in the waiting room of the dispossessed, the two deities exchange currency and mutter obscenities. | A semi-truck trailer tilted on top of you as you walked along the sidewalk, killing you instantly.
&#x200B;
"Would you plea-,"
&#x200B;
One of your closest allies sent a spear through your chest, killing you and your hard-earned trust instantly.
&#x200B;
"Stop,"
&#x200B;
Hanging upside down had been fun until the majority of your body's blood pooled inside your head, killing you.
&#x200B;
"Dying for a sec-,"
&#x200B;
That wasn't a good place to shove your smartphone. You died on the way to the hospital.
&#x200B;
"ME DAMN IT, STOP DYING SO I CAN TALK TO YOU," God shouted. The Catholics were right; he could be an angry god. Satan was silently laughing to himself.
&#x200B;
You were so used to dying you were surprised that it had been a whole five months since you wound up here. Of course, five months was not a concrete unit of measurement; time in Heaven and Hell had little basis or need for it. You guessed it was roughly a lifetime. Satan piped up:
&#x200B;
"Okay, so to hell with this," he snapped, exhaling smoke from an eternally-burning cigarette. "I didn't bet 10,000 souls on you just so you could push daisies every ten seconds. I feel like I don't even know you anymore, especially since the smartphone thing."
&#x200B;
"I know literally everything about him and I *still* don't know him anymore," God remarked with his face in his hand.
&#x200B;
"Listen, man," Satan said, with a tone as sympathetic as The Dark Lord could muster. "Normally, mortals aren't supposed to know their life's purpose; it could disrupt the balance. But you should know-"
&#x200B;
"Nononononono," God said hurriedly. "I swear to Me, if you tell him-"
&#x200B;
"Oh, calm down, old man. It's one mortal; it'll be fine."
&#x200B;
God paused for a moment, then sighed. "Ugh, whatever."
&#x200B;
"So, kid," he put a hoofed arm around my shoulders. "I'm sure in your lifetimes you've heard of a little thing called, 'World Peace' on Earth, right?"
&#x200B;
You nod.
&#x200B;
"Okay," he continued. "So the big man upstairs here and I get pretty damn bored in eternity. He's put a cosmic bet on you being the first human to bring peace to your planet. As for me, I think you're far too much your kind to let that happen."
&#x200B;
"Why?" you ask.
&#x200B;
"You're the only human whose timeline doesn't have a clear outcome," he said. "You can master the balance of things, and understand both the dark and the light in the world. To us, you're potentially both of our aces in the hole."
&#x200B;
You stand silent, contemplative.
&#x200B;
"So now that you know," he said with the slyest of smiles, "it's up to you. When you get back out there, keep in mind what's going on both downstairs and up."
&#x200B;
"Remember," God said as you faded back into human existence. "We're both rooting for you."
&#x200B;
You feel yourself breathe and open your eyes, sensations all-too-familiar. It's a new day back on Earth. You smile from ear to ear, realizing your true purpose. You've dabbled in both sides of the yin and yang, and haven't quite decided which direction you'll head in this time around. You button your shirt, feel your $4,200 suit wrap around your torso, and reach for your bright-red hat with hemmed, white lettering reading: "Make America Great Again." You take a deep breath, and walk to the waiting crowd where you'll deliver your first speech as President of the United States. | 2019-07-17T15:13:13 | 2019-07-17T15:07:27 | 263 | 36 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | We know so little about the Precursors. We know that they were the first; when they evolved, they were alone in a vast universe. But we also know that they didn't despair in their loneliness; while they had their wars and their strife like any young civilization, eventually, they expanded out into the stars. In the modern era, their relics can be found anywhere across hundreds of galaxies.
But even amidst so many ruins, the details elude us. Their system of data storage was never designed to last the hundreds of millions of years that separated us from them. When they left - wherever they went - they took their most advanced technology with them.
Which was why their homeworld was such an amazing find. Not just their advanced technology, but their *origins!* As a young xeno-archaeoly student fresh out of the academy, it was a dream to go along. Even then, though, I never expected to find the metaphorical holy grail:
An intact memory storage unit.
Not just that, a *fully functional* storage unit.
I don't think you quite comprehend the sheer improbability of this. The average memory storage unit, even at the height of their empire, was never designed to last more than a thousand years. The ones from their dawn, before they'd even left their own solar system? *Decades*.
And yet, there, before me, that impossibility lay. As if the universe itself had demanded it remain, protected for all time, even the tiny screen on the storage device still intact, still in perfect working order.
Glyphs ran across its ancient surface, and I resisted the urge to reach out and touch it! Oh Gods, it was so tempting, to *touch* that piece of history!
But even without touching it, my years of study of the original languages paid off. I scrambled to translate the runes, even as they slide off the side of the tiny screen and out of sight. This was it: This was the discovery that would record my name in history! One by one, the runes became clear, and I stared in astonishment.
"...Plays: 43,821,433,621,724 .... Linkin' Park - In The End ... Plays: 43..." | **Journeys End**
Tomorrow we reach it. Garrix says that we’ll find the root to all existence, that purpose itself will have an answer, like all equations. I stopped listening to Garrix a long time ago.
Officer Mercurier hasn’t stopped pacing the entire journey, her performance has declined significantly. If anyone should be concerned with roots it would be her, she was the heir to a family who extended all the way back to the diaspora.
I chose my team carefully. The pair are barely fit to the task but they are a lesser evil. Choosing someone from one of the high families could be construed as an act of war, and I will not suffer one of the tech-speakers aboard this ship.
In my hand was the last coherent reading from the planet.
&#x200B;
*:We Were Human:*
&#x200B;
The archaic term for the origin species. The spacial trail ends here, the trail of death that many seekers died following. The first and last time a worm drive was activated. A scar on the fabric of reality. What will we find. Will the worm trail be a testament to ambition? Cowardice? Failure? Ignorance? Tomorrow we reach it, the end. I hope so anyway.
My X-HUNTER was a standard military ship a hundred years ago. Now its a relic that’s held together with TLC and sheer will. As I walked past Garrix’s quarters I found myself stroking the insignia plate. *Unit: D3LI14.*
“Delila” I whispered to the groaning metal. My hand touched the plate with a reverence and tenderness that’s reserved for the overly attached and very lonely.
“Cap?” a groggy voice called through pincers “Arrived have we?” Garrix’s chitin grated against the metal as he worked his way from the bed, pincers clicking all the while.
The door would have been a sliding door, opening at the presence of the inhabitants and asking for clarification if anyone outside wanted in, but this was Delila.
Garrix pushed aside the hanging beads. His soft beige chitin shining with the morning orange from the ships lights.
His antennae whipped back and forth “I can’t honestly say I’ve ever been this excited” His shell parted slightly, revealing the almost human face beneath. No mouth, no nose, but beautiful blue eyes that held more life than I’d ever felt.
“Just hope there’s still anything left of the place” I said my cynicism topping my own excitement “Might be a wasteland” his shoulders slumped but then he looked at my face. He saw the excitement I felt, that even beneath the nihilistic haze I was still me. Garrix was one of the last people I knew that I could call friend.
He saw through my bullshit. But didn’t begrudge it. He had his shell and I had mine.
“Best get ready, Cap” he nodded and went back inside his room. I had begun to walk away when he called back “Make one for me too”
I giggled to myself as I walked towards the bridge. He’d gone to get dressed and wanted coffee. Someone who can’t consume liquid and only wears clothes on special occasions, wanted coffee and wads getting changed. He must be nervous or excited. Probably both.
The bridge hummed as the auxiliary systems came to life. Someone had started up Delila without me.
[JHCWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/JHCWrites/): Check My Stuff! | 2019-08-13T15:39:21 | 2019-08-13T15:27:26 | 52 | 24 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | At a glance, it was a barren planet. Indistinguishable from billions of other planets in the Milky Way.
The first giveaway of something extraordinary was its radiation signature; way beyond the expected range for its class.
Closer inspection revealed ancient structures. Another civilization that burned itself out. Still not that uncommon.
But once a probe was sent down to radiodate the structures, an existential panic rippled across the galaxy. The species on this planet had reached its peak billions of years before any previously known intelligent life forms had evolved.
The electronic devices of this civilization had long since decayed. However, above the floating wreckage of orbiting satellite fragments (and one Tesla) was the final testament to the human race. Shielded from radiation, preserved at near zero degrees Kelvin, its data structure was intact. The information was stored in a format to be read by any civilization.
“We have failed.
“We have failed our own interest, assuring our mutual destruction. We have failed an even greater calling. A calling to spread to the stars. To spread life and vibrance across the night sky.
“We were reckless. In our race to the future, we derailed. Greed, envy, and above all, intolerance, were our undoing. We were not worthy of the stars.
“Our world lays smoldering. In our final gasp, we choose to breath life into the aether. We spread packets of single celled life to the most fertile planets. May this seed a life form better than ourselves. One worthy to inherit the stars...”
One by one, each warring races across the galaxy made a pilgrimage to “Earth”. To the genesis of their race, of all races. A common ancestry bound these disparate races together. A common threat, met by their progenitor race, served as a warning to would be warmongers.
A golden age of prosperity rises from the fertile ashes of the humans empire, may they rest in peace. | "Von Neumann Probe", that's what they called them. Fully automated spacecraft that replicated exponentially and reached into every nook and cranny of the galaxy. Speculation has it that uncountable numbers of them are even still on their way to bridge the gaps between galaxies at this very moment. The crazy part is that they don't even have FTL drives, so "just" spreading within the galaxy took them millions of years, maybe even billions. No, but that's not really the crazy part; the really crazy part is that they sent them before they even had a sliver of hope to send colonists after them. For every star system they reached, they not only increased their number, but also looked for planets that met certain criteria and once they found one, they would start building a colony. Living quarters, maintenance, research and administrative facilities, fabrication units, recreation areas, landing areas for spacecraft. Everything a new outpost of civilization would need for a fresh start on a new planet. All lying dormant for millions of years, waiting for people to use them and faithfully maintained by automated systems.
They were so hopeful, so eager to expand, to explore the universe, like we have done in our time. But they never got the chance.
Following the trail of ageing, unused colonies, we managed to locate their point of origin. As far as we could tell after all this time, the third planet of the star system was hit by a gamma-ray burst from a black hole, only a few thousand light years away. There might have been a few survivors, but if there were, they were unable to save their failing eco systems and died with their planet. Without the support of their homeworld, the space stations throughout their star system and the colonly on a moon of one of their gas giants withered and died shortly after. The most tragic part of it all is that, according to our xeno-archeologists, they were mere years from finishing a working FTL drive.
But, in a way, their tragedy was our fortune. Their probes and the technology and knowledge they contained kickstarted many budding civilizations when they visited their planets. Some used it to destroy themselves, probably more than we will ever know. But to many other peoples of the "Milky Way", as they'd called our galaxy, it was proof that they're not alone. That there are people out there with the means to leave their worlds. That there's more to life than just "us". It showed some of us that there were greater things to strive towards, that inspired them to leave behind the petty squabbles that seemed to dictate the flow of history for so long.
All we wanted was to meet these people, these unknown beings that must have left their world at a time when some of our planets were still cooling wastelands of molten rock. Yet all we can do now is to uphold their legacy. To pick up were they left off. As far as we can tell, they were the first, but with their probes out there, still replicating, still giving the unintended gift of knowledge to more peoples out there, it is not unthinkable that when the last living things go into the eternal night of the heat death of the universe, they will still remember them. | 2019-08-13T16:22:41 | 2019-08-13T15:57:57 | 32 | 22 |
[WP] Genetics is everything. There are scales for wisdom, might, HP and mana, that are used on babies right after birth. You were born into an elitist family that discarded you after seeing your mana. What they didn't know is that you were the top 99.99% in dexterity, and you hold grudges. | **Part 1**
Spellcrafting has three primary components.
First is the mana, the fuel for the spell. Every invocation requires some, and the more powerful the spell the more it consumes, and on the inverse the more you have, the more powerful your spells can become.
Second is the intent of the caster. Magic cannot be cast without a fixed idea of what you desire. Some people use words or phrases in foreign languages for this, having tied the effect of one spell to a string of words they don't know the true meaning of. Others simply keep it fixed in their mind.
And third, the manipulation of magic around them.
This last one, that most people often shirk, is amusingly the most important. No mage ever casts a spell without moving, whether they know it or not, and even something as simple as stretching your hand forward counts as the somatic component when combined with your intent.
When my family threw me out on my tenth birthday, the day when my Aptitudes first became visible, I might not have been old enough to understand why, if not for me overhearing my then-parents argue with a worried servant.
Said servant was tasked with making certain that I disappeared. It was decided that I was to be her child; illegitimate, that is. Ironic that they would rather receive the hit to their reputation for adultery, than suffer a child whose magical aptitude was among the lowest in the country.
My "new" Mother was genuinely kind, and we built a life for ourselves. She moved elsewhere to work, with money going under the table from my "Father" to her, to keep the secret. We lived well on that money blackened with sin, and my Mother, the servant lady, made sure I got the schooling I needed to live a good life on my own.
How dearly I wished I could have just been her child from the beginning. My life would have been a wonderful one with such a kind and lovable person for a parent. Alas, I could not forget the truth, and I used my schooling to develop my talents.
You see, as I told you earlier, spellcrafting has three components. Mana and Intent are the obvious ones to avoid just releasing a fart of blue glitter, when casting something, but what most people don't realise is how absolutely *vital* the physical component, the movement of your body, is to your spells.
I like to compare it to the difference between a lumberjack and a surgeon. Any idiot is capable of cutting something open with enough strength. You don't even need a precise tool to open the chest cavity of some random passerby; just use your gods-given brawn and swing that axe like a child would at a barrel full of candy. You might have exposed the blackened heart of some worthless stain on the planet, but nothing was gained from it.
The Surgeon, however, has the necessary dexterity and finesse to open up the chest of a person, see the black taint that squeezes any sense of decency and remorse out of them, and remove it with expert precision. The problem is removed in both cases, but in two different ways, and with two different methods.
Magic is not unlike that, which I learned as my natural agility, speed, and mental acuity all came to me as I grew.
I had been angry throughout my childhood, furious throughout my teens, and as I reached my twenties, I knew what I had to do. My mother did not stop me, for she knew I had no taste for bloody vengeance. I was not the lumberjack taking an axe to the smallest twigs.
I was The Surgeon, and I was coming to teach my *"family"* a lesson.
***
And here is the end of Part 1!
I'll most likely add a Part 2 later today. Hope you all like it so far. | Leopold, sweet Leopold the Alchemist. To the village, he's a kindly old man a saint, selling the potions at 40% of what a big city potion sellers would. What the saps don't know is that Leopold's potions are so diluted that they only are about 10% as effective. Of course, if someone is about to die, he'll bust out the good stuff as a 'charitable gift' to cover his operation, but he's sucking these people dry all because he'd burned a few Barons back in the capital and was chased off.
He justifies it to himself though, he's working on the Elixer of Eternal Life after all and he needs funding. If it takes some podunk farmer a week to heal off an accidental pitchfork wound rather than the day a normal potion would heal it in, it's all worth it for the end goal and he's so close. The Unicorn Hoof Dust and Dragon Nail have just arrived, the mixture of Harpy feather, Salamander Liver, and diluted Manticore venom have been fermenting for 20 years. All he has to do is add these final ingredients and concentrate his mana into the cauldron for 3 days and Eternal life is his.
He's been working for this for so long. Ever since the night, his father passed him the recipe for dealing with the family's little problem. "Take your brother out into the woods to play Leopold, Make sure he has a good time," his father had said as Leopold led the boy away from the Manor home, and Leopold did he took the boy far into the woods deeper than his mother would have ever let him. Leopold even gave the boy sweets, and when that boy woke up hours later and Leopold was gone. He'd realized that Leopold had taken him so far away from the house he couldn't even see the smoke of the chimneys and any paths he followed lead him in circles. Later that boy would realize that Leopold had shown him mercy, he could have used something stronger than sleeping potion. He'd repay that kindness, of those who wronged him, Leopold would be the one who lived.
Though Leopold still needed to be punished for ripping the boy from his mother. Leopold didn't know this however he was hard at work focusing his mana, he had been in his twenties when he got the recipe, he was in his forties now. He still looked good, but grey hairs were starting to show. His body was slowing down. If he failed here, the next time he could try to complete the potion, he'd be old and grey and living forever like that would seem more like a curse than a gift.
It was on day three that I decided to act. I'd been watching dear Leopold for some time. Leopold's scamming of royalty had made him easy to track, there were more than enough people putting bounties on his head and alchemists were boasters and gossips, so it wasn't difficult to learn what he was attempting, it was a simple matter extracting the recipe from a former colleague of Leopold's and than searching for a man fitting his description in the market for Unicorn Hoof or Dragon Nail. I wonder if he appreciated my gift? Unicorns are a terror to keep a bead on.
Now I sat on a cliffside overlooking his humble country lab. Waiting for the perfect moment. With my eagle eyes, I could see poor Leopold barely able to keep awake after three days of concentration. According to his hourglass, there was only one minute left. So I lined up my shot, thinking I should go right for the shot but decided to have a bit of fun. I took aim and fired.
The bolt flew from my crossbow striking the bottom of the window ricocheting off the stone and smashing through the glass, Leopold twitched but kept his concentration, the bolt changed trajectory into the chandelier above, giving what I assume was a metal clang causing him to twitch again. Leopold steadied on though 10 seconds left, the bolt traveled downward into a few alchemical tools, causing many tinks, and bangs but Leopold stayed strong, managing to keep his focus until the last second the liquid turning into a shimmering rainbow as my bolt flew right past him into the bottom of his cauldron puncturing it.
Leopold opened his eyes, his face filling with glee that was quickly replaced with terror as the liquid in his cauldron began to sink, pouring out the bottom into the drain. Leopold screamed as he tried to scoop some of the liquid into his mouth, Silly Leopold you know you needed to drink the full thing for it to work. As the cauldron soon completely emptied into the drain Leopold curled up on the floor, the movement of his back showing he was sobbing. Satisfied I began to pack up my camp, I hope Leopold was pleased with the mercy I showed him, he'd never know it but he was going to be faring much better than the rest of my family. | 2020-02-28T03:18:19 | 2020-02-28T00:54:17 | 1,052 | 60 |
[WP] Decades ago, Earth sent a capsule into space filled with bits about our culture. Today, it returned tampered with. It contained a note, "Your unassuming biological weapon was effective, indeed. As the last remaining member of my species, I'm returning the favor."
This is my first post on this sub and I'm not a frequent poster on any sub at that. So I hope you all like this prompt and get creative with it. If it sucks, glad to know I need to improve.
Edit: thank you guys so much responding and for the silvers. I've never had awards before. I've always liked to lurk on this sub and I'm glad my first post was so well received. Thank you! | For the physical manifestation of our slow, grinding demise it sure landed with an unimpressive thud. Just a few-hundred extra pounds of something in some field near Somewhere, Nebraska.
Eustis Lee had been out on the four-by-four, misty-breathed and going from deer stand to deer stand. He had been tasked with killing the snakes and hornets who had taken up residence there during the summer months. He had been just driving along when off in the distance, a thunk, like roadkill or an old lady checking the ripeness of a watermelon, drew his attention.
He craned his neck in the direction of the sound just as the ATV rolled over a fallen log that had been cloaked in a layer of alfalfa and clover. And the world spun, grey and green and over and over and again and again and then blackness.
When Eustis opened his eyes it was because raindrops had politely tapped him on his forehead and asked him to wake. The sun looked dully upon him from behind a veil of green-grey clouds. To the east their blue-black brothers were ushering in more insistent weather, so cold, wet, and needing a new front axle, Eustis dragged himself to unsteady feet. He began limping back to the hunting camp where his buddies would be waiting with a harsh word and hot mug of beans and cornbread.
But the tin building was deserted, the trucks all gone excepting his, and deer in various stages of skinning and gutting dangled and dripped into the pitter-pattered silence. "You motherfuckers quit this horseshit!" Eustis bellowed to his carcass audience, and sunk backwards into a lawnchair.
Where was everyone? Where did these deer come from? Season didn't open until tomorrow. Season didn't open until tomorrow. Season didn't open until tomo- What day was it? He tried to spring to his feet but his 62 years had other plans. That moment was like running in a dream: the only quickness thumped in his chest.
He had left his cell phone in his rust-red 89' Ford. He could barely use the thing but he knew the date was on it from all the time he had struggled to open the lock screen. Boots scuffed gravel at a lopsided pace and a red door swung wide. From the console Eustis retrieved the little black rectangle and tapped at it hard and quick. Nothing. Tap it some more! Nothing.
He spun to chuck the phone into oblivion but instead only screamed and scrambled awkwardly backward into the cab of the Ford. There stood a little girl, no more than 6. Stark naked, grinning, bloodied but uninjured. Black hole eyes twinkled, reflecting fear. A warmth spread across Eustis' lap. She held out a piece of paper. "Can you read this for me, mister? Can you tell me what it says?" | It was the wee hours of the morning when it happened, when it first began. Well, let me take that back, really it began back in the late 70’s, but it was now in 2020 that things started back up.
I heard the crash around three o’clock, made me jump right out of bed. When I tiptoed into the living room, I saw it.
Here it was. The time capsule that scientists had put together to reach out to the unknown universe. The one aboard The Voyager vessel. Now, it has returned, crash landing right through my roof and into my freaking living room.
‘Great’ I thought to myself. ‘As if the wife wasn’t coming home in two days from a business trip. I’ll never hear the end of this.’
I shook my head. Never mind that, what was inside was the biggest question?
I twiddled my thumbs for a minuet in the living room, just staring at the capsule. We sent that vessel out for humanity to have some answers for our oldest questions. This vessel wasn’t suppose to come back to Earth for another 50,000 years based on the calculations at launch. Could it have been sent back by something? Could we finally have those answers?
I had kept up with discoveries of space and science and I couldn’t contain my excitement to finally make a discovery of my own.
It would be fun to take a peek inside, no harm done.
The capsule opened with a twist and it hissed. A light fog of vapor clouded my view for a moment, pouring out is the capsule. It smelt weird, and the fog was slightly green. Eventually is dispersed. I summed it up to the air being pressurized and also hot from having just entered the atmosphere at who knows how fast.
All the things the scientists had put inside had been removed. All that was left was a piece of paper. A note written once in every language on earth: ‘Your unassuming biological weapon was effective, indeed. As the last remaining member of my species, I’m returning the favor.’
All of a sudden I could see lights outside my house. They were flashlights, and people were trying to peer in. I went to the window to get a better view. They seemed to be wearing hazmat suits, and as I got closer I saw blue and red lights flashing from multiple vehicles.
How could I have been so stupid not to think that the FBI would be at my doorstep within minutes?
I was more scared of my wife returning and not the feds showing up? I face palmed myself. What is wrong with me?
After a moment an agent knocked at the door with a few loud official thuds.
“Good morning sir,” I said as I cracked open the door slightly. “The capsule is in the living room, I’ll show you.”
“What capsule?” The agent asked. “Now get on the floor!” He yelled as he kicked the door open completely. I fell backwards as the door pushed inwards.
“What weapon are you creating?!” The man said rushing forward with a few others, guns drawn.
“We-we-weapon?” I stammered, my hands above my head as I slightly sat up.
“Yes, weapon. You have uranium or some illegal substance. These radiation levels are off the charts!”
I looked at the agent, confused. “You’re not here because of the capsule?”
The agent tilted his head in confusion. “What capsule?”
Suddenly, the vapor that was released from the capsule earlier, the vapor I assumed was pressurized oxygen, formulated again. This time taking the form of a large man. The vaguely shaped form could be made out enough to see him pointing at all of us.
Without any warning he began running through the agents, like a ghost.
Every time the figure moved through his target, they immediately hit the ground, lifeless. It was as if he was snatching there souls from within there physical bodies.
After killing the agents, the figure turned and looked at me. I was shaking, still in the same position as earlier on the floor.
I could almost make out a malevolent smile as he evaporated like before and I didn’t see him again.
Yet, I wondered; ‘What had we done?’ | 2020-04-13T14:42:04 | 2020-04-13T14:16:35 | 95 | 71 |
[WP] Your family has always put alot of garlic into their foods. You always thought it was because garlic was delicious and lowers cholesterol, but other than that nothing else. That is, before you were abducted by vampires... | I don't know what was more horrifying--the popping noise when it bit into my neck, the subsequent screams, or the fact I couldn't see any of this because of the hood over my head.
Whatever the case I was terrified into action, and once my arms were released I ripped the hood from my face with bound hands. Before me was a choir of retching humanoids watching in awe as one of their own--the one that bit me--burst into vapors in a fit of maniacal screams.
It finally all made sense. The garlic. So. Much. Garlic. My friends never ate over at my place because they thought my parents were insane, putting so much garlic into everything. A nice pepperoni pizza from Domino's? Here's some minced garlic sprinkled on top. A coca-cola? Not as good as a coke with a healthy pinch of garlic powder. Coffee ice cream for dessert? No, *garlic* ice cream. To my friends I was a lost cause but having grown up eating so much garlic, I'd grown accustomed to it.
Now, the purpose was clear. It wasn't to nip cholesterol in the bud--it was to protect me against the undead!
The fangs of the vampire who bit me shattered and exploded before his entire body disintegrated. I clasped a hand over my neck wound to stymie the bleeding, and stumbled backward. I was in some sort of drippy cavern decorated in towering red velvet drapes, ancient tattered persian rugs on the uneven floor, and mountains of lit candles in every nook.
The spectacle over, the horde of 20 or so vampires turned their black eyes on me. As they began to approach, one of them stepped in the remains of its friend, and its boot began to sizzle. That's when I realized just how much garlic I'd been eating. I squeezed my neck and cupped some of the blood in my palms, and took a defensive stance.
"Alright you bastards," I said. "Come at me."
&#x200B;
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
/r/velabasstuff is me, come hang out! | Everything started when I moved away from home. My parents bought me garlic among other foodstuff. I was going to share my home with four other people who were also university students. It was different for sure, but I was glad the door to my room had a lock. I could have my privacy when wanted because after all now I was living with strangers.
I had fun. I was homesick for a while, but I made friends and became friendly with my flatmates. School was stressing though. I felt stupid so often that my motivation depleted. I didn’t get much stuff done and as time got closer to exam week lack of motivation started affecting everything else bit by bit - first I didn’t have time for my hobbies, next I didn’t sleep well and lastly I lost the energy to do basic human functions.
I felt like shit. I felt like an idiot who was wasting her tuition. I was waste of place, someone who shouldn’t exist. After the last exam I woke when I wanted to woke up, only leaving closer to afternoon to uni while trying and mostly pretending to pay attention at the classes I actually attended. I ate what I could at the cafeteria but at home I didn’t have energy to cook until it was almost night. As my negative feelings toward myself grew I let myself go. Sometimes I would stay in bed the whole day, only going to bathroom or eating a proper meal once a day. Sometimes I would go to uni and attend lectures, trying to understand the lecture and hating myself for everything I couldn’t understand.
Weeks went by and I didn’t have enough energy to do proper grocery runs. Garlic was forgotten as I lied to mom that everything was fine and that my studies were going well. Eventually I didn’t have enough energy to cook. That day I ate ham on a non-buttered bread. I left for uni late afternoon as I had to shower before daring to leave my apartment. I hadn’t brushed my hair nor my teeth. My hair was on a messy bun and I had been wearing same jeans and shirt for the whole week. Or like the two days I actually showed up to uni. I ate at uni and went back home.
I knew I had to go to the store again. I needed to buy food but I didn’t have energy to do that. I progastinated until dark when I finally decided to get what I needed - practically everything possible. Garlic had became small matter in my mind, but later I would try to remember how long I hadn’t been eating it. Long enough for my family’s enemy to find me and plan.
The store was close and my route was silent and lonely. No one would harm me in this safe neighborhood. Yeah right. Before I could realize that I was followed someone called me by my name. I felt something cold in my veins as I continued walking. I hadn’t heard footsteps before the voice talked. Only now I heard two different people walking only a few feet behind from me. I panicked, starting to run. In the next moment I crashed into someone, but before I could see who I had crashed into I felt a pair of hands on my eyes. After that I lost my consciousness.
After I woke up I learned that I was kidnapped by vampires because my blood was unnaturally tasty smelling. Why it was so was a mystery but the fact that my family eats garlic so religiously means they must know something I don’t right? I might never know. | 2020-08-05T11:21:15 | 2020-08-05T11:21:05 | 55 | 12 |
[WP] The legendary hero that we summoned to save the realm was not what we expected. He was gruff, not handsome. He direct in his speech, not elegant. He also came with "Navy Seal Training," which we think is some sort of swordplay and a "Medal of Honor," which must be some sort of crown. | Lady Elaine looked on at the knight. He was unlike any she has ever seen—his dark hair was not long, flowing locks, but it was cropped close to his lumpy head. The armour he wore was not shining metal that gleamed in the sun; it was some sort of dense fabric, the colour of fresh moss on the forest floor.
Still, Lady Elaine cleared her throat. “Sir Knight,” she began. “You must be the hero of which the prophecies foretold.”
The knight rubbed his hand—his fingers thick and grimy—against his beard. “Fuck no.”
Lady Elaine blinked. “No? Sir Knight, I do not under—”
“The name’s Callahan.”
“Well, then, Sir Callahan, I implore you to accept this favour, as a token of my gratitude.” Lady Elaine reached into her pocket and pulled out a lovely strand of sky-blue ribbon, the same ribbon she often tied into her hair for banquets.
“Just Callahan. I’m not a knight.” He looked at her down the crooked line of his nose. Around them, the castle felt frigid and empty and much too large.
Lady Elaine shivered. “I will tell the servants to get the fire going in here, it’s much too cold.”
He shook his head. “Look, lady, I don’t need servants. I don’t need your favour. I need some to tell me what the *fuck* is going on.”
Lady Elaine blinked. “You truly do not know?”
“One minute I was in a training exercise, the next minute I was on the floor with some old bastard with a grey beard and a robe staring down at me telling me he brought me here so I could fulfill 'a greater purpose'. Then some assistant of his dragged me here before he explained whatever the hell he meant. *I don't fucking know what's going on.*"
“But the prophecy said you were the chosen one,” Lady Elaine said. She bit down on her lip to keep her mouth from trembling. “You have to help—you must promise me that.” Desperately, she clung to his arm and looked up into his dark eyes, as if a look alone could sway his opinion.
He jerked back his arm. “I don’t even know who you are.”
She stepped back and blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes of tears and regain her composure. “My apologies Sir—my apologies Callahan.” She lifted her warm red skirt and curtseyed. “I am Elaine of Astolat, the Lady of Shalott.”
Hey eyed her and a line creased his forehead. In the air, the smell of old smoke and perfume lingered. “If I help you, I have one condition: you get me home after.”
“Of course. Without question.”
“And that’s still *if*. I need to know what I’m in for first.”
Lady Elaine nodded. “There was… something that happened last week. I do not know how, or why. But the knights, they were all out on a patrol.” She swallowed, her throat thick with fear. “They never came back.”
Callahan sighed. “Look,” he said, but he hesitated. “You know that...things happen sometimes?”
“Do not take me for a fool,” Lady Elaine snapped. “I know what can happen—I know it well.” She sighed and reached up to the pendant she wore around her neck. Her finger skimmed along the edge of the metal. “But it’s different this time. It was never supposed to happen this way.”
“How do you know that?”
Lady Elaine looked straight at him, her eyes burning. “Because I’ve seen it.”
Callahan let out a rough laugh. “What? The future?”
“Is that really so unbelievable?”
Callahan shrugged. “Humour me then—if you can see the future, what do you need me for?”
Lady Elaine lifted an eyebrow at him. “It may have escaped your notice,” she said, her words dripping with vitriol that had not been there a few moments ago, “but Ladies of the court do not go galavanting through the woods.”
“So I’m supposed to be some glorified errand boy? I think the fuck not.”
“*Please.*” She closed her eyes for a moment. “Please. My love was with them.”
Callahan stopped, the humour in his voice dying in the cool air of the castle. Light snow had begun to build up along the sill of the window, but moonlight still filtered in and fell across the flagstone.
“I’m sorry,” Callahan said, his voice soft. “I know what that’s like.”
Lady Elaine shook her head. “I don’t need your sympathy, I need you to find them.”
Callahan—the great hulk of him—deflated. The gruffness around his edges softened. “I can’t make promises. But I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you,” Lady Elaine said, her voice no more than an exhale.
“What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to find King Arthur and his knights of the round table,” Lady Elaine said. “My love, Sir Lancelot, was with them.”
---
r/liswrites
More on [Elaine ](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elaine_of_Astolat) for the curious :) | I leave it to Dr. Lucero and her team to worry about the nature of The Nexus, how it operates, all that junk. Look, I get it's important, and I respect that they do something that I not only couldn't do, but I have 0 interest in doing. Like, none, at all. I'd rather pull shitter duty for a month straight.
So: I'm standing in front of the pink-purple energy field or pan-time-space-fuck-if-I-know thing or whatever Doc calls it. And she says something like "The curious thing isn't that it requires people in both realities to use it simultaneously...it's that anytime someone on one side wants to use it, there will *always* be someone on the other side using it at the same time. But what we mean by 'time' is --" and right about here I start re-adjusting my gear and thinking: miss me with all that shit. I have a feeling if I bothered to think it through, it would break my head. Like...yeah, no.
She goes on for a while, and I study the bank of buttons and monitors in front of her for a second, then go back to her face, then her clipboard, then spend a little time on her chest, then back to her face. Eventually, her lips stop moving, and so I stop thinking about other things I'd like her lips to do, and I grin, and I salute. My voice sounds totally normal when I say, "Let's do this."
And seriously -- I know people think it's courage, or whatever, but I think of my mind as a manual transmission, and I have to throw it in neutral most of the time or I can't do the stuff that I do. I let it idle and *deliberately* avoid worrying about what's going to happen because...same deal. I want my brain to stay put in my skull.
Doc says: "Alright, Banks. Ready?" I decide blowing Doc a kiss is overdoing it, and settle for a wink, and then step into the pulsing vortex thing.
First impression: this shit sucks. Second impression: this shit *really* sucks. I remember being on leave in TJ and eating a torta that I should *not* have eaten. And I spent most of 3 days doing some serious reflecting on my choices while sitting on the john.
That was a pleasant tickle compared to this. That was...a gentle caress from a woman who likes you for something meaningful, like your body, instead of seeing you as a ticket to base housing and Tricare.
But *this*"? This is a bowie into your gut, and then someone with untrimmed fingernails reaches in, and wraps your intestines around their hand, and pulls out, and then up, and then over, and back down again, until you feel like your fucking stomach is digesting the rest of your God damned body. I puke, or would, except I don't have a stomach, and I scream, but I guess I don't exist, and I'm really having trouble keeping my mind from stalling out. Like: I'd have better chance of keeping the engine running doing a hill start on Lombard in my old Ram.
Jesus.
I remember being re-assembled in a weird fucking order but cannot remember which parts appeared first. Probably for the best. It didn't make sense and I'm gonna stop talking about it. Gotta keep my grey matter from leaking out my ears, right?
Once I get my eyes and ears back, muscle memory kicks in, and we're back in business. Stomach's still pissed but fuck it, I can worry about that once I get a sit rep. They gave me a ton of info in the brief and I gotta say I was thinking about other stuff while it was happening but even if I wasn't...like, none of the PowerPoints showed anything that was in the same ballpark as this. They weren't even in the same fucking state. Or planet, for that matter.
Stone floor, stone walls, mostly completely open with minimal cover. Some ambient light.
First visual contact: Gandalf. Or whoever. White beard he is literally wearing as a belt and he's got a wooden staff in his hands and standing at a table with beakers and books on it in the same position Doc was in. So: Bizarro Lucero. I like her better as a woman in a turtleneck. This dude's wrinkly as shit and his pointy hat looks dumb as fuck.
Armored individuals, half dozen, relaxed stance, no worries there for the moment. Around *now* I realize that my clothes and ruck made the trip with me but not my AR, not my sidearm, my utility knife, nothing. Which...is actually a relief. It gives me something else to think about. Gandalf's table can get knocked over as cover, his glass containers can shatter when thrown hard enough and with a bit of luck the stuff inside hurts or at least stings if it gets in your eyes. Plus...I'm sure it does plenty of awesome crap in the right hands but you can get a lot of mileage out of anything long and blunt if its sturdy enough.
[General Gaffney's](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/ek1fw9/wp_in_space_wars_are_typically_quick_one_side/) twin is sitting on a throne. Gaff would *love* that shit, I'm sure. Not to mention that this guy looks to have a good 20 pounds of muscle on the CO. But even if I didn't peg him as the guy in charge, he's got a crown, and a robe, and it's like: I'm not the scientist, but I know how to do a basic enviro read.
My hand is halfway to my forehead for the crispest of crisp salutes before I check it. I stare King Gaffney right in his flinty eyes and then, with a flourish that somehow does not feel forced, I bow low.
Gandalf pipes up. His voice sounds like tires backing up over gravel: "King Xeric, I present you with the Chosen One. The Times of Darkness are about to end."
King Gaff smiles, and there's general cheering, and I have no idea what he's talking about but...I'm not gonna lie, whatever it is, it sounds like fun.
* * *
I'm starting to (very slowly) try to build most of the 200+ stories on my sub into a larger semi-coherent universe -- /r/ShadowsofClouds. | 2020-11-10T10:29:58 | 2020-11-10T09:52:14 | 1,682 | 341 |
[WP] You're in the immensely long waiting line to enter heaven. After waiting for what seems like decades you start to think this waiting line has no end and is actually hell and the short line next to it which says it goes to hell is actually going to heaven. | Edward had been waiting for what felt like forever. Hell, for all he knew, it could've been forever. All of human history and a whole lot beyond that could've passed while he was standing in this line. *Patience is a virtue,* he thought desperately, *Patience is a virtue*.
For the millionth time, he looked down at his feet and imagined the ground below them was something interesting. Grass, perhaps. Maybe a large field, full of people. Interesting people. People who could talk.
Unlike the people in this damned line.
Heh, maybe the line *was* damned. Maybe he was waiting for hell instead of heaven. As soon as the thought entered his mind, something in the distance caught his eye. Squinting, he saw... people.
People who were talking. People who were moving forward in line. Maybe... maybe this wasn't the way into heaven. *After all,* reasoned Edward, *there were probably more bad people on Earth than good people. So it makes sense that Heaven's line would be shorter.*
Rationalization in hand, Edward slowly edged out of the line to "Heaven" and into the short one. Practically choking on his anticipation, he hungrily watched as the line edged forward, one person after another getting in. *Yes,* he thought, *yes!*
When it was his turn, he entered the room and saw a young man with sitting behind the desk. "Patience is a virtue," it said, staring at him with crimson eyes. "One you don't have."
The man snapped his fingers and Edward felt himself falling. And then all he saw was fire.
If you enjoyed, I'd appreciate it if you checked out my subreddit, r/StoriesOfAshes. | 'Gosh, this is taking forever.'
Sam looked at the watch on his left arm that was still clutching the steering wheel of his car; his fingers had moulded an imprint into the plastic. Looking around the interior of his car, he noticed it also had a slightly melted look to it, like ice cream that had sat out in the sun. The engine was still running - ticking away like a clock, the mileometer its accompanying calendar. He must have edged a million miles by now, and he hoped the climax would be worth the wait. Alas, squinting his eyes to look ahead of him he saw no end to the chain of cars, and Looking behind he wondered if there even was one. *Just a big-ole circle - that'd be rich.*
'Come on, already!' He honked his horn hopelessly.
I bet there's a toll booth too, he thought. Finally becoming restless - because being quite a steely man it took him a while - he searched for another way down the line. To the left of the chain, on the other side of the road and far, far ahead of him, he saw the rear lights of a Nissan Leaf. Like two red candles in the mist.
'Hey, wait a second. That's going the same way.'
Turning his indicator on, he steered into the other lane and felt the release of putting his foot down on the peddle. After sitting there for a lifetime, the rush he felt just getting over 30mph in his car was close to ecstasy. The speedometer crept upwards to 40, then 50, and even though he was going pretty fast, the car ahead of him didn't seem like it was getting any closer. He was going over 70mph now and still hadn't gone any meaningful distance. The cars beside him were a blur, but the one ahead was rock-steady. All of a sudden the radio flicked on.
'Hello, my child.' a soft voice came through.
'Hello?' Sam said instinctively.
'Yes, my child. I am watching you now, speeding your way to heaven. It is not far now. Faster, my child, Faster!'
Sam pressed hard on the accelerator, imprinting his foot into the warm rubber of his shoe, and squishing it against the peddle. The engine growled like the steel cheetah that it was, intimidating the air in front of it to move aside.
'Yes, YES!' the soft voice called.
What felt like years, pressed into days, pressed into hours, the Nissan Leaf became an impending, glorious gateway into the world beyond, and with a mighty crash David flew through the windshield of his car and into the Nissan Leaf.
But it wasn't a Nissan Leaf, it was actually a portal. As if time itself had been flattened between the two cars and had opened up a wormhole, Sam appeared in an office headfirst, sliding on to a polished wood floor. There was a bearded man there sitting behind a desk, and he said:
'Ah, my child, you finally made it. Welcome to Heaven.' | 2021-01-21T07:39:43 | 2021-01-21T05:09:06 | 58 | 12 |
[WP] As the "Tavern Keeper," you better believe he has taverns to keep. From the highest mountain point, in the wilderness of the jungles and even in the depths of the oceans, he really has a lot to maintain to keep his title. | Morning finally came.
Ruwal, keeper of taverns and secrets, went to her bed; sleep had been granted at last.
It had been another long night--there had been three barfights, dozens of drunkards behaving like drunkards, and at least one death. All said, an average night at the Barpeak--the highest known, most treacherous tavern of all.
It was Ruwal's least favorite to manage, of the twenty under her name. The trek up was dangerous and long, and her knees were growing tired of the journey. It attracted the prideful, the misinformed, and the rowdy, and violence was a constant companion. But Ruwal had a job to do, and she had promised to do it well.
Sleep came dutifully and soundly, and Ruwal awoke with fresh limbs and mind, and prepared to do it all again. Tonight's tavern was that of the underworld--a sea tavern, set deep into the depths of an even deeper ocean trench, called the Fishmongerer.
The trip to the Fishmongerer was not an easy one, though she preferred it to the Barpeak. She hopped aboard the enclosed boat, and her loyal driver sent them into the bleak, dark emptiness of the ocean.
She arrived by midday, giving her plenty of time to prepare.
Preparation was always important, but with the current times, well, preparation became a way of sustaining life.
There was a man, you see, a dangerous man, wanted for a long list of crimes. He was being hunted with a ferocity Ruwal had not seen since the previous war.
And the reward was increasing day by day, going up for each one passed without a capture. The search had been going on for a month now. Each day it grew more intense, more frantic.
Naturally, the average tavern-goer felt a certain sense of pride when it came to such things, and it seemed like each and every one of them was part of the hunt.
"Another!" shouted a particularly hairy man (of both head and chin).
Ruwal was a good tavern keeper, and the man held another round of ale in a matter of moments. "You're fast," he grunted. "Appreciate it."
Ruwal nodded her response. She avoided talking to the patrons, whenever possible.
"Hey barkeep," said the same man. "You got any idea where this man is? Where the damn coward might be hiding?"
Ruwal shook her head. "Sorry, I'm afraid I don't know much about that."
"Bah," he said, waving a hand. "It's the ones that don't know much about it that might have the best ideas of where to look. We've looked everywhere else, you see."
Ruwal smiled meekly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not going to be able to help you with that."
If only they knew.
If only the world knew of her innocence, of the poorly managed crime scene, of the unreliable witness. Perhaps she could just explain... but no. It was a fool's wish. If she confessed that it was her, not some ghost of a man that they were all searching for, they would hang her all the same.
No. She would never confess. And while she didn't love her job, it would keep her alive.
And that was worth all the trouble in the world. | Of all the gin joints in all the world, I hated the ocean’s the most. Not the garish floating bars of the rich humans or the cruise ships they insisted were fun and classy but seemed instead like death traps. Never those.
No, it was instead the deep sea saloons and cantinas of the Merpeople that drew my ire, dives in every sense of the word, for alone among the sentient species of the Earth the Mer knew no bounds. In the trenches and chasms of the ocean floor where no light shone save for the harsh glow of their magma lanterns nothing was sacred except might.
The worst among them were their nobles, of which there were 5 houses extant in the year when I became the Tavern Keeper, and a 6th which had been and still was in some small ways. This begins the story of a scion of the last house, who drove me more than a little insane in my years under the sea.
His name was Titus Driftwood. In his time he had been a provincial noble, a knight under arms, a trident for hire, and a smuggler. It was this last pursuit which concerned him (though I did not know it at the time) when he set foot inside the *Sunken Chest*, the tavern I had chosen as my personal domain under the sea.
Titus was a stocky fellow by the standards of the Atlantic variant of his folk. He stood only a handspan taller than my 5’4”, with a blue in green scaled chest nearly as broad as the great casks of ale I kept in the cellar. Ascending the pillar of his neck the scales began to fade, disappearing entirely at the chin as they gave way to the kind of rugged face that any of the civilized races would have hidden with a beard.
When he crossed through the tavern’s portal his long, royal blue tail separated and morphed with a loud tearing sound that evidently pained him. The sixth house of the Mer had never been adept in magic. It had been one of their failings.
I watched him carefully that first night as he read the room, assessing and dismissing my patrons in record time before finally settling his gaze on me.
He was brazen man, Titus.
His first words to me, and I shall never forget them, were “So you’re the new one. They failed to mention your eyes.” The look he gave me stilled my breath. It had the weight of the depths in it. “Tell me friend, would you like to make more money than you’ve ever dreamed of?”
As if the Tavern Keeper had any more need of money. As if I could trade the conches and cowries of his people for a single thing of value in the world above.
But as he spoke I listened. Charm was a part of the man set as deeply into him as his scales, and in many ways I was still young in those days. It was a regret of course, but the women in my line have many of those.
I listened as he spun tales of adventure, of battle, of love and loss and beauty in abundance that only the great oceans could offer and when I, after hours of filling his glasses and soaking in his tales, finally thought myself immune he took the one route left with which to win me.
He left. Between one breath and the next, his story unfinished. Titus Driftwood walked out that door and stayed away for a fortnight.
And on his return he sank down into the very same stool and began his story again nearly to the word at which he left it. By the time he walked out once more I had fallen more deeply into it than I had any other.
The tides of my life changed that night in the *Sunken Chest*, the ripples of it tracing back to the very moment he had first walked in. Nearly as much so as to the moment the previous year when I had become Tavern Keeper, for the shape of Titus’s story grew with every visit, expanding and ensnaring me more and more completely until that last, climactic night.
The night I walked out the portal next to him, to live the story he had told.
Of all the gin joints in all the world, I hated the ocean’s the most. Titus Driftwood was no small part of that.
\------------
If you liked that I've got way more over at [r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/). I'm currently working on a serial about three teens encountering a hive mind and there's other standalone stuff like a giant, faceless, psychic tiger. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-02-03T14:22:05 | 2021-02-03T12:34:07 | 100 | 20 |
[WP] Humanity had put off dimensional travel for fear of running into 'cosmic horrors'. A long overdue visit to an alternate dimension revealed we were the cosmic horrors. | TW: Hitler joke
"So, *we're* the cosmic horrors."
"Yyyyyep."
"Then what do the interdimensional beings look like?"
"Uh, this." Commander Johnston held up a piece of paper containing what appeared to be a drawing of a shiny-eyed cartoon bunny rabbit.
"You're pulling my leg," said Dr. Savage.
"Sadly, I am not," said Johnston. "This is a photograph of a being in the nearest dimension to ours."
"Jesus Christ," said Dr. Savage. "Are they all this cute?"
"The whole *dimension* is cute," said Johnston. "They don't need a food industry because the ground is made of cotton candy and bottles of lemonade grow on trees."
"And they look like cartoons."
"*Preschool* cartoons."
"God. Damn."
"Mistew Johnston?" a tiny little voice piped up from near the two men's feet. "I had a nightmawe. Can you wead me anothew bedtime stowwy so I can get back to sweep?"
"All right, Johnston," Dr. Savage said between gritted teeth. "What the hell is this?"
"This is Bouncy!" said Commander Johnston, his whole face lighting up as he picked up the pink cartoon bunny in his hairy hands. "He came from the *sweetest* little townhouse on Rainbow Boulevard..."
"Forget the rainbows! You're not supposed to take interdimensional beings *back with you!"*
"But he followed me home," said Johnston, his lower lip wibbling in a way that was unsettling on a six-foot-four military captain.
"I'm da intewdimensionaw ambassadow!" said Bouncy with a bright smile. "I'm a BIG fan of howwow stowwies, so I knew I *had* to come to the absowutewy tewwifying univewse that the gweat authow Hug Plush LoveCuddles wote abowt in 'Caww of Hitwer.'"
"Hold it right there," said Dr. Savage. "Hitler isn't someone to joke about like that. He was a terrible man who destroyed the lives of millions."
"Oh, I agwee! Absowutewy nightmawish!" Bouncy nodded. "And such a fing would nevew happen in my wowld! But hewe, it's all WEAL! I can't wait to see what othew tewwows awe in stowe fow me!"
"He's a cute little rascal, inn't he?" asked Johnston, tickling bouncy under his furry chin. "Hard to believe he's 85 years old."
"Well, Commander," said Dr. Savage, "I think he's absolutely insufferable."
"Can it, muthew-fuckew. It's not wike I don't speak Engwish."
***For more weirdness, visit my subreddit at*** r/OctOpusTales | Well, this was unexpected.
After centuries of waiting, humanity had finally decided that it was worth the risk. We'd heard no end of tales and dystopian warnings from soothsayers, storytellers and scholars. That we'd run into dimensional horrors and scientific reversals of a particularly deadly kind, not at all unlike the stories H.P. Lovecraft used to tell. We're talking losing your sanity just by looking at something, being twisted into abominable, inhuman shapes and sizes, dying in so many horrifying ways it'd make Dark Souls look like Animal Crossing. But with Earth's resources all but gone and humanity grasping at straws despite all of our brilliant advancements, the bigwigs had many reasons besides lining their pockets with the last bit of gold they didn't already own to develop the technology and send a specially-chosen team on its way to be the greatest pioneers our dimension had ever seen. Maybe another dimension too, if we actually managed to cross the rift to someplace habitable.
Slowly, time sifted through my hands. Slowly, the fateful day I would have to abandon my family to meet an uncertain end was coming. I did all I could. Spent every bit of my time in ways I wouldn't regret. It made me realise just how wastefully I'd been living my life up to now. But, realisation or not, the day came, as it inevitably would. I don't remember much outside of the great flash of light, the deafening cracking of something like thunder, and only a moment later taking in a deep, rasping breath of air that smelt like sulphur, nearly tripping on soil that felt more like sand.
I couldn't describe the landscape to you if I tried. Only one word does it justice, and that word is 'unimaginable'. It felt like everything was there, but not. Like the air passed through my lungs, like the sunlight - or what I could only hope was sunlight - was closer to water than it was actual light. Every inhale brought the taste of sulphur rushing back like it was the first taste all over again, and only a millisecond later I'd be gasping for another, gagging all the while. I swear, you never had to exhale in that place. It's like the air escaped from your body for you. I heard that one guy managed to only inhale for several hours one time. I never really believed it, but I couldn't deny its nature as a possibility.
And the weirdest thing was the reactions of the biological creatures to us. They seemed to be parallel to us, on a similar level of technological and social advancement. They had cities, governments, civil services, armies... Though we only ever saw them through the lens of a surveillance drone, and they never lasted long before they were either noticed and avoided or shot down by whatever weapons those things had developed.
You'd think that, with those creatures being as advanced as they were, they could make peace with us. Communicate. But no, you'd be wrong. Every single one that came into contact with us seemed to go completely off its rocker. It made sounds that I could only describe as crazed screeching, like a wounded animal on the verge of death, but they seemed happy at the same time.
Eventually, we found the dimension itself starting to bend to our will. One day we'd be camping in a valley a few hundred kilometres from our destination. The next, we'd be right outside the area, all of our stuff intact and ready to go. People began to change. Physically, and mentally. Some developed god complexes. Some grew tentacles. Others got it worse... Or better, if what they say is to be believed. We realised that the nihilists and scholars had been right about it all, in the end. We did encounter horrors that could be considered almost eldritch. They just had it the wrong way around, is all.
And me? Well, I'm the one who came back. The only one, in fact.
It makes sense that as the one to bridge the gap without the help of a legion of eggheads, I should be the one to take point in leading the expeditions to the next few dimensions, no? | 2021-04-09T06:44:56 | 2021-04-09T04:50:57 | 33 | 21 |
[WP] Scientists discover that people don't age in space, this bizarre finding leads them to the conclusion that the planet and its gravity are slowly eating people alive. | Dreadful.
In the mirror, the face of a man, middle-aged, a few wrinkles around his eyes. The man should be delighted, his first wrinkles are those of a person who laughed often. But the man wasn't in the mood now. He felt angry.
This man is you. It could be a woman or a child or an elderly, it matters not, it is you. This is you, on Earth. It is a similar anger one can feel upon discovering the bank account has been liquidated or a lifelong project will never come to fruition. It's a feeling familiar to any victim of a scam.
A scam. The mother of all scams, in fact. Life and death, the "natural" cycle leading the newborn through the ages to the grave was nothing but a joke, a cruel jest done the same way a child turns sadist with ants.
The ants don't know, can't fathom the giant wrecking their home with a stick.
We were no different. Life was here and now, there was no other sapient species but ours, we didn't know if we were alone in the universe, but we felt alone.
Until the ants left home.
There, in the vacuum of space, hidden in the steel corridors of our space stations, the discovery was made. Human grew to their pinnacle and remained there. A child born in space could become a hundred years old, functionally and organically they remained forever 25. The vitality of youth, the dreams, the strength, and precious little pain.
But why? How?
As more and more left to the stars to live the long life they deserved, a phenomenon was observed, we named it Earth's paradox.
Without humanity's pollution, Earth's biosphere should thrive and expand again. The opposite happened. And we understood.
The why is a being right below us, a consciousness beyond anything we can fathom as a species, the child to the ants. The how is its need to feed.
The ecosystem was never meant to survive. Earth was self-sufficient, a being able to survive alone in space for eons. It grew the food on its back and absorbed it, a meal was an entire biosphere. Climate change was irrelevant to Earth, it would grow a new fauna and flora, better adapted to the new conditions that would have been our poison, and eaten the rest. It did so as we left, simply switching to another meal, not attempting to get us back.
A hundred and ten billion humans have died in history. Wars, famine, sickness, old age. A scam, all of them were food, the end.
We wanted to kill the Earth.
Earth knew. And Earth didn't do a thing.
From the cushions of our space stations, we contemplated the red button to launch the missiles and scorch the godlike being called home to dust.
But we couldn't.
How many ants had we killed in our history?
More than tens of billions, I'd wager.
Earth settled in the death of its current ecosystem, we watched as trees and oceans and mountains crumbled and died. We could, for we are no more constrained by time. Science struggled to understand, sociologists and psychiatrists had no skill to understand and study a being the size of a planet.
Unexpectedly, the answer came from philosophers and religion. Scholars devised a theory, a fun way to pass a century or two. The simple idea was that planets form the rules of those living on top of it, and space strips the rules away.
We do not know yet if we should be frightened or not by finding out the truth.
The animals we designed and transported to Earth suffered age despite not being native, so did the dead materials pilfered from asteroids.
On Earth's surface, the planet was a god.
But what did it make us? Us, who escaped the ruling of God and are now left to reinvent ourselves. Did we break a wheel? Are we an anomaly, or yet another lowly ant the planet cannot bring itself to care about?
The question has killed our lust for revenge, Earth does not understand us anymore than the young unruly child does the insect. So we left.
We flew and traveled across the stars. If we could not find an answer, at least we could marvel at the universe and forget. We hoped we could. We cannot.
Nested deep in a nook of our universe is a moon, deadly to us, not to the beings living on it. They age, they die, and the alien construct of their society follows the rhythm we suffered for so long.
We wanted to build new ships designed for them, to whisk them from the moon's sphere of influence.
But what then?
What if the species hasn't grown enough on its own to understand, and resents us? Are they the spiders to our ants? What if we uplift a new immortal species, and war breaks out? Can the universe take another anomaly?
Our observation station looms above, away from alien eyes, wondering, hoping to find an answer.
Sometimes, out of ideas, we pray for inspiration.
What should we do?
The only gods here are the moon and far-away Earth.
They don't answer. | “Miss Megan, what about the moon?” a boy asked. “Would we age on the moon?”
Megan sighed. It had been an unending barrage of questions from the kids ever since the news broke out. Kids shouldn’t have to think about getting old, Megan thought. They should be scared of getting cooties or be scared of themselves for wanting to get cooties.
“Great question, Simon.” Miss Megan answered. “The answer is yes, but you would age much more slowly compared to here on Earth. The moon’s gravity is only one sixth as powerful as the Earth’s.”
“So one year on the moon would be like eight on Earth?” another child asked.
“Close - if something is one sixth as powerful as something else it means that you would need six of the weaker things to make six of the stronger thing. Which means?” she gestured to the child.
“Then,” the child quieted down to think about the next part. It was maybe the few silences the morning’s provided to Megan. “Then one year on the moon would be six here!”
“Exactly. Great job, Brian!” she said.
Megan Dwyer was a 3rd grade elementary school teacher in the middle of nowhere Ohio. She moved out here to be with her ex-husband and she was with her ex-husband because they met in the middle of nowhere Nebraska where they both went to school.
She liked the kids, she even loved them. They were at the right age for being curious, unafraid of showing their love for each other, and not complete psychopath dickbags like those kids in junior high. She liked her kids, but she didn’t want any of her own. Her husband wanted kids, she didn’t, marriage over.
News broke on that sleepy fall day, where scientists discovered that no one aged in space. Back in the day, Russians sent an exploration probe out stocked with a few different animals and enough food to last them until it got back. They wanted to test the effects of living in zero gravity for an extended amount of time and when the animals came back fully healthy (and plenty chunky), they did more tests and studied the telomeres in the subjects.
Telomeres were the key to aging. Once the telomeres in our bodies stop working, our bodies start to show more signs of wear and tear. Telomeres act as that one person in the house that does all the dishes, they keep the house clean (maybe they even take out the trash a little earlier than anyone thinks it should be taken out).
The kids were full of questions about telomeres and aging and life and the future, it was too much for Megan. That night, with a strong cup of wine and a basic telescope in hand, she looked up to the moon. She did the very same thing after her divorce, she looked up into the stars. She felt the longing to go.
So much time wasted, she thought.
When the American government came out with a voluntary extended space stay program where a ship would orbit the Earth in zero gravity for 40 years, it was only natural for Megan to sign up.
“And there’s no cost?” she asked the NASA employee that had been sent out to interview her.
“Not a penny. If you have any savings, we have our own little employee’s credit union that you could put it into.” the employee said. “We’ll make sure it gets invested properly so you can come back to a nice chunk of change.”
The two smiled over some coffee while the employee continued to answer many of the questions Megan had. She felt like one of her students, suddenly so excited about the future.
She put in her two weeks the day she got the acceptance letter.
“No! You can’t leave us, Miss Megan!” several of the children said to her.
“We’re going to miss you, dear.” her colleagues.
“You’re really going to leave us?” her parents.
“Maybe you’ll get to see my new family all grown up by the time you finally come back.” her ex-husband.
It took the better half of a day to sign all the papers that NASA gave to her. Her arm cramped constantly, but the employees encouraged her. People called her and everyone else that was there a hero (all one hundred and sixty of them).
She was going to go to space.
And she did. She went to space for 40 years. The first year was exciting, there were games, there were people to talk to, there were books, and best of all there were no ex-husbands. It was an even split of men and women in their early twenties to their late forties. The second year was still exciting, people started to pair up naturally as they hunkered down for the rest of the journey, the same journey around the world, one cycle after another.
Megan slept a lot during years 3 to 39. She refused to partner up or change partners with any of the men. She was content to read the books, watch the videos, and to talk platonically to the ship’s citizens, to the workers.
The year that they finally came back, the NASA employee that helped her when she left was still there, the director of some branch. He refused to retire and he refused to let anyone replace him. He “wanted to see the mission through” and so he did. He met with Megan when she came back.
“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. How was it? Everything you imagined?” he asked her.
“And more.” she replied. She felt at peace, she had a lot of time to think during that time after all.
“I wanted to give you this.” the man said. He handed her an envelope.
She opened it and inside was a very large check. Her meager savings had grown exponentially.
Megan did see how her students grew up, they were nearly double her age now. She saw Greg’s new family, his aging wife, his grandkids. Her parents had died, they died very early on in her trip actually. She said her goodbyes before she left, she understood this would happen. She deposited the check. Days later, she moved out to rent a beach house. She sat back in her chair in the front yard that faced the ocean, the sea air made everything taste a little more fresh.
Space is incredible, she thought. Any regrets she had about lost time were gone and she let the sun warm up the cells in her body that were frozen in time. | 2022-01-17T11:31:07 | 2022-01-17T10:34:40 | 60 | 35 |
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