prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] A sorcerous villain has prepared for a long time and has finally managed to freeze the movement of all living things inside the kingdom's capital. Now they're about to begin their offensive but one person seems to be unaffected by the spell and is moving about as if everything was normal... | Clarence was done and he had only just opened his eyes for the day. With a deep breath, he slid out of bed and got ready for work as a messenger. He had his bag, a slice of bread, and some good reading material for a break. Out the door with minutes to spare!
It was oddly quiet on his way to work. Just the way Clarence liked it! With little to no foot traffic it would be easy to get around everywhere he needed to for messages. At work his boss wasn’t there yet, which was a little weird, but great for Clarence! Now he could do his work with no one nagging at him! He sat down and began to sort all the messages that would need to be delivered today. When lunch came around he realized there weren’t even any interruptions! This day was really shaping out to be a good one.
For lunch he made his way to his favorite shop. Usually it was the busiest in the kingdom, but it must be closed today because no one was there. Maybe there was some event going on because it was still pretty quiet outside, but Clarence didn’t mind. Instead he stopped by the community gardens and grabbed a few things to eat while he read his book. After an hour, he headed back to the Message Post.
He packed the messages and walked around delivering them until it was time to go home. At home he ate dinner and then read his book until bedtime. Overall, it was truly a wonderful day! If only tomorrow would be just as peaceful!
Just a few miles away from Clarence, another man seemed to be having just as good of a day! Until he wasn’t.
“Finally! I have finally frozen every living thing in the capital! Now that I’ve done this the requirements have been fulfilled for the ultimate spell to ruin the kingdom!” The sorcerer cackled. He turned the page in his spell book and began the incantation. And nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing.
Surely if the freezing spell hadn’t fully worked someone would have made a fuss by now. What was he missing? All the ingredients were there. He was pronouncing the incantation correctly. The sorcerer threw his hands up in the air and stormed out of his work room. He only had enough magic stored up to keep everybody frozen for so long. The sorcerer needed a break. He would come back after lunch and try again. Except it still didn’t work.
The sorcerer tried everything he could but his life’s work he created to ruin the kingdom was a failure. By the next morning, his magic had run out and everyone woke up like normal, not even knowing a day had passed.
Clarence was a bit sad that the next day was as busy as normal, but he hoped that another day soon would be just as quiet.
And that is the story of how Clarence, a normal introverted man, saved the kingdom. | Anya had been planning this attack for five years already. Everything was perfect, all the nobles reunited inside the city and the spell ready to be unleashed. It would take a lot of energy but in the end it was worth it.
As she finished pronouncing the last incantation an eerie stillness wrapped around the city, as every living being (and non living since she had to take into account the possibility of undead) became frozen like a statue.
Completely satisfied by the outcome, Anya's mind begun spinning with every step of her plan she was about to perform, until a tiny movement caught her eye.
In one of the alleys there was what looked liked a wizened old man going about his day like nothing happened. Even weirder, it looked like he had a small area of influence where the people around him moved unaffected as well, just to return still as they left the moving man invisible circle.
*'Now that's just great'*, Anya thought.
*'Just when I was about to start my plan, something unexpected just HAD to happen, hadn't it ?'*
*'What should I do now? Should I just keep going like nothing happened, ignoring this doofus and proceeding as planned? Or should I go investigate and risk alerting a powerful unknown entity?*
*He certainly doesn't seem aware of what's going on and even if he did, he doesn't strike me as a hero...'*
While Anya was thinking, she kept an eye on the man in question and loosely followed him from a distance.
*'Alright, let's probe with caution what he's up to and move from there.'*
"Excuse me good sir, can I help you"
"Oh, yes please. I'm looking for the renowned bakery that makes the best blueberry pie in the country. I know the general location, but could you give me better directions?"
*'A blueberry pie??? Of all things? The mysterious man unaffected my painstakingly prepared spell just wants a piece of blueberry pie? Just my luck...'*
"Ah yes, the famous blueberry pie of Jolvar, just keep going this direction until the outer wall, then follow it up to the fountain. From there take the street with the sides covered in ivy, and the shop should be on the right. "
*'Perfect. This way he'll be the farthest from where I intend to act'*
"Thank you very much. You've been a very kind soul. I wish you a good day.
Ah, and good luck with the assault." The last words spoken as he's already heading towards his destination.
Anya stood there for a moment, too dumbstruck to process what just happened.
*'Good.*
*Luck.*
*Invasion?*
*He knows???'*
Having recollected her bearings, she tried to catch up with the old man, who moved farther along during her brief shock.
"Wait a second. You know what's going on?"
"But of course, how would I not? Everybody's still as a stone. It would make me quite the imbecile not to notice, wouldn't you agree?"
"B-b-but you're moving? How are you not still? My spell should have frozen you like everybody else! I spent years preparing for this."
"Oh that... I just wanted to taste the famous blueberry pie. Couldn't delay it for a bit, I've waited too long, and besides, let's just say I have learned a few tricks in my years..."
"Soooo, are you going to interfere with my plan?"
"Depends. Are you going to destroy the bakery?"
"No"
"Good, then I guess I won't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a pie to taste and you're in my way, and I suggest you don't delay me further lest I change my mind. As I said earlier, good day!"
And with that, he took off at a brisker pace than earlier, seemingly eager to get his hands on his pie.
*'Hah! This was truly unexpected. Maybe after everything's done, I might as well go and sample this famous blueberry pie'*. | 2022-10-22T00:32:06 | 2022-10-21T22:52:22 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] An Eldritch Moon suddenly appears in the sky, and you and billions others scream as you turn into horribly corrupted mounds of flesh... But your eyesight is better? And your back pains are gone? And apparently you’re immortal now so... Maybe things aren’t that bad... | The Flesh Moon arrived with no announcement, no warning. One moment the sky was clear; seconds later, it was there. A writhing mass of flesh, tentacles and sinew the size of the old Moon staring down at us. And its gaze led to change.
Our bodies would twist and contort in manners we'd describe as grotesque; flesh melted into flesh, bones shattered and formed patterns hitherto unheard of. The changes were not uniform, but not entirely random either; most found their newfound bodies to reflect their needs. Soldiers gained a carapace akin to kevlar and muscle mass beyond our previous limits. Surgeons grew extra limbs, runners extra legs and thigh muscle. One thing was consistent, though.
We were all better.
Once, my back would scream in pain the moment I turned too quickly. My eyes would fail me when trying to read anything more than half a meter away. Most importantly... I stood up, leaving that blasted wheelchair behind.
The Moon came suddenly. Yes, we screamed and lamented as we saw our bodies morph, but we now understand the blessing this was. You may call our new forms Chaotic; we'd call them beautiful.
The Imperium doesn't understand. Calls us tainted, heretical, corrupted by Chaos. Nurgle, Tzeentch, Slaanesh - they blame them all. Shortsighted fools, all of them. They'll come to try and destroy our beauty. We won't let them. Even if we are to be named Chaos, we are all together, like family.
We are Chaos Undivided. | # Soulmage
**The moonlight here was deadly, but we'd come prepared.** As we stepped out of the safety of the dark and ancient cave, the five of us unfurled umbrellas as black as midnight to enhance our layers of heavy, lightproof clothing.
Something that had once been grass squelched and splashed under my thick boots, and I scowled. The pale, moontouched flesh of the grass beneath me reminded me all too well of the last time I'd stepped in eldritch effluvium, and the deadly disease it had struck me and my friends with.
"Are you sure about this?" Jiaola asked, the old man hesitating before the sea of molten grass.
I shrugged. "You're welcome to stay in the cave if you want. But it's not like there are a ton of talented medics down there, and... well, you heard what Svette said. It's the only lead we've found so far on curing our cancers before they eat us from the inside out. It's our best shot."
"For the record, I still think this is a terrible idea," Lucet muttered, one hand flexing as if stretching a phantom bowstring.
"Yeah, well, the two aren't mutually exclusive. Come on. Svette said that all we had to do was find Zhytln."
*Zhytln. Zhytln. Zhytln. Zhytln.* The name echoed off thin air, bouncing strangely in the too-pale moonlight. Reflexively, the five of us twitched, facing outwards in a circle to catch any new threats.
"...Maybe we should avoid using her name," Sansen muttered.
"Agreed," Meloai said. "This place gives me the creeps."
"You don't have to come with me, if you don't want to." I glanced at my four companions. "I'm doing this because I don't have any other choice. But—"
"You think I'm going to let you run off and get eaten by some eldritch abomination?" Lucet punched me lightly on the shoulder, taking care not to disturb the layers of protective clothing I had on. "Nah. I'm with you to the end."
A chorus of agreement rose from the rest of my friends. I nodded and turned back towards the pale plains.
"Then let's get moving," I said, and forged onwards through the grass-turned-flesh.
A.N.
Considering writing a part 2; let me know if that's something you'd like to see.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or r/bubblewriters for more. | 2022-10-23T14:35:22 | 2022-10-23T11:59:30 | 1,134 | 40 |
[WP] a prompt for bad people
Step one. Find a serious piece of work, for my example, I found a story about a lonely man who finds solace in taking long walks, and thinking about the geese that he sees. It was deep, and poetic, heartfelt, and really angsty.
Step two. Take the first sentence or two, and leave them as is. If you feel awkward about doing that, maybe paraphrase a little, but at least give the same general feel about the beginning. For example, my first lines are "Sometimes I like to take long walks by myself. It helps calm me down. I don’t really go anywhere, but it helps to clear my mind."
Step three. Take the general idea of the story (mine being about geese) and spin it in an adverse manner. For example, my next line is "That all changed, however, when the geese attacked."
Have fun with it, play up the absurdity, and don't feel bad if you feel like your idea is mocking the original piece. I will post my contribution post-haste. | This was written for my friend who wanted me to do Ghetto-Shakespeare:
Shall I compare dat ass to a Summer’s day?
Thou art mo’ fine and mo’ bootylicious:
Rough winds do shake the lovely hips that sway,
And dem pants make yo’ thing look delicious:
Sometimes too flat the butts of ladies sit,
And oft is their bouncy rotundness dimm’d;
And every fly from fly sometime doth quit,
By choice of nature’s clearing made untrimm’d:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of thine foxiness;
Nor shall Death brag thou bounceth in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou shaketh.
So long as booties shake, or dance floors be,
So long lives this, and this gives lust to me.
| I found this on the web, no author attached;_
Up speaks Poe's cat.
The End of the Raven
by Poe's cat
On a night quite unenchanting,
when the rain was downward slanting,
I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.
Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven,
Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.
"Raven's very tasty," thought I,
as I tiptoed o'er the floor,
"There is nothing I like more."
Soft upon the rug I treaded, calm and careful as I headed
towards his roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore.
While the bard and birdie chattered,
I made sure that nothing clattered,
creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered,
as I crossed the corridor;
For his house is crammed with trinkets,
curios and weird decor -
Bric-a-brac and junk galore.
Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he uttered,
In a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents worth -
"Nevermore."
While this dirge the birdbrain kept up,
oh, so silently I crept up,
Then I crouched and quickly leapt up,
pouncing on the feathered bore.
Soon he was a heap of plumage,
and a little blood and gore -
Only this and not much more.
Then my pickled poet cried out,
"Pussycat, it's time I dried out!"
Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird before;
How I've wallowed in self-pity,
while my gallant, valiant kitty.
Put an end to that damned ditty - then I heard him start to snore.
Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhor,
Jumped - and smashed it on the floor. | 2013-04-27T14:32:45 | 2013-04-26T20:12:23 | 101 | 39 |
[WP] Life today if slavery wasn't abolished.
write from any point of view. | June, 2014. Rushing, I glanced into the head of each aisle at the WalMart as I passed. Chips, no, coke, no, aha! Frozen food. I quickly scanned the prices of shrimp rings, grabbed a couple of the cheapest and put them in my cart. Now what about that cocktail sauce...
Thousands of miles away, in Thailand, the captain of the shrimp trawler was negotiating with another captain to buy some workers. They eventually settled on £250 per head, mostly Burmese and Cambodian villagers who had already paid everything they own to an immigration broker. Once aboard, these [men endured 20-hour shifts, regular beatings, torture and execution-style killings. Some were at sea for years; some were regularly offered methamphetamines to keep them going. Some had seen fellow slaves murdered in front of them.](http://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2014/jun/10/supermarket-prawns-thailand-produced-slave-labour).
I pried the clear plastic lid from the shrimp ring, set the jar of cocktail sauce in the middle, and put it on the living room coffee table. James glanced up distractedly when I entered and then at the shrimp.
"Thanks", he said. "I love those little guys".
Chewing, he went back to the football game.
"Me too", I replied. "They're such a good deal."
On the boat, night brought a few hours of fitful sleep. Men were sobbing and moaning. A splash outside suggested another dead sailor thrown to the fish.
Distracted by the game, I crunched a bit of the shell.
"God! Why can't they just clean these up completely and not bother with these gross tails?"
James looked over. "Huh?"
"Whatever". Even though half of them were left, the shrimp were getting warm and I was kind of grossed out by biting that one tail. I scraped them into the trash.
"Fuck it, they were cheap" | No more slavery for me. In the next few minutes I will become a free man. I always considered myself unlucky for the speciality I got stuck with. But, there was always the one upside. Slaves with my skillset get freedom far sooner than any other slave. Now, my freedom is coming, and I couldn't be happier with what I got stuck with.
What do I do? Well, more what *did* I do? Well, I did nothing really. Nothing special that is. It was my lack of speciality that made me so desirable. You see, the Masters, well, they really aren't nice people. They still have rules, however, and sometimes those rules get in the way of what they want to do. That's where I come in. I am a scape goat. I am the one who legally takes the blame for the misdeads of my masters. Masters though, do not like wasting their money. So, they buy someone like me who has no skills for very little, they then do their misdeed and blame me, then I get sent jail for however long it takes.
Perhaps an example of this is needed. One time I was bought by a large programming company. I won't tell you which one because they were quite nice to me while I was there. They gave me things like a sheet in the middle of winter so the concrete wasn't so cold, and a bucket, so my cell didn't get messy. They were quite nice. They needed a rival to have a set back so they could get ahead in the game. Well, the sent me and a couple of other men like me in and we waited while their guys did what they needed to, then the company men left and we waited for the police to arrive.
While we waited we saw other slaves doing their jobs. The cleaners picking up all the rubbish left by the Masters. There was the night shift of workers, assembling new iPad devices for other Masters. I was always impressed by the slaves who assembled computer tech. So many little parts, so many things that need to be done right, otherwise the whole device fails.
Actually, I remember one night a group of us found an iPad. We played for hours until another slave looking to gather favour with the Masters ratted us out. You know those shock collars for dogs? Well, they have them for slaves too.
Anyway, I am getting off topic. The police came, arrested us all and we got sent to jail. Funny thing is, even in jail there is still Masters and us slaves. However, some times you get blamed for something and you don't go to jail. That's what has happened to me.
Sometimes, you're blamed for a crime so bad that they give you your freedom. I was blamed for some senators son killing a few women after raping them. So here I am awaiting my freedom.
Finally, the men in the suits come and call my name. I happily follow them. They tell me to lay down on the bed. I happily do so. They strap me down and tell me not to move. I happily oblige. They insert the needle and push the venom in. I happily die, a free man at last.
Edit: typos and readability.
| 2014-06-18T02:18:02 | 2014-06-18T01:47:36 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] St. Peter opens the pearly gates and lays out the majesty of heaven before you. You respectfully decline. | Peter sighed and shook his head when he saw who had arrived. There were so many that were so young. The boy couldn't have been more than seven. He wore khaki shorts that were scuffed with grass stains, and his Iron Man t-shirt was torn at the shoulder down to his opposite waist. The boy looked like he had been crying.
Peter knelt down and set his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Shhhh. Come on now." He held his arms open, and the boy only hesitated for a moment before resting in Peter's embrace. Peter pulled the boy close. He could feel the boy's nose against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
After a few minutes, the boy pulled back, wiping his eyes. Peter stood up, doing the same. He sniffed and looked away, wiping his hands on his knees. "Well, Isaac, are you ready?"
He gestured to his left and The Gate appeared. No sound came forth, but the light bursting out sang. Peter looked down at the boy. The child had a wary look on his face, and Peter smiled.
"What's wrong?"
The boy looked up at him. "Is my dad in there?"
Peter's smile faltered, but he kept it up. "Sorry. He has some time yet, as does your mother." He gestured again. "But they will be here. They would want you to go on."
Isaac gaze turned back to The Gate. Slowly, he shook his head. Peter's eyebrows raised. "No?"
Isaac shook his head again, resolute. When he spoke, his voice shook, but it was firm. "I want to wait for them."
Isaac looked up with a worried smile. The worry disappeared when Peter smiled back. The saint nodded and turned away. The Gate was gone.
"I suppose you can wait here with me. I'd love the company." | It's always a bit awkward when a soul winds up in the wrong place. It doesn't happen often mind you, but with so many souls moving around it's bound to happen to someone.
It wasn't really the system's fault either. I mean, I was in the cathedral praying, and I had just completed a pilgrimage, and I been baptized at some point. If that doesn't look like a catholic I don't know what does. So, something happened, it was right quick whatever it was, and I find myself in a bit of a misty place. Church is still there, and all the people, but it's hazy. Seemed really close and really far away however that works. No idea what's going on, but there is a nagging feeling that something is off. Anyway, I notice a lady walking briskly away. She's clear as can be and knows what she's about. So, I follow.
Lovely gal. Seemed we'd both had the same idea. Travel the Way once more before the end. She'd been expecting it. Praying for it actually. Me, I was actually hoping for another decade or so, still nice way for it to happen. Wonder if it happens often to the priests there.
After a while we come to the gates. Pearly kind of works for them, but not really. It's a lot quicker than, 'Impossible to describe in a mortal words. All the colors of creation made solid and beauty that fills you to bursting.'
Peter is there, has the key, book, and everything. The lady approaches and receives a blessing at his hand. They talk for a bit. Seems he has always been one of her favorites. She walks through and begins to change. Not sure how to describe it, or even what was happening. Maybe if I'd gone through I'd know.
Now it's my turn. Things still feel off, but I'm not going to turn down a chance to look through the gates and talk to Peter. I look through at the beauty inside. Peter and I talk for a bit. And then it comes to it. 'Sorry, I don't think this is the place for me.' He just smiles and laughs a bit. 'True. It could be though, if you chose it. '
It's tempting. Really tempting. But, I've made promises, and it's our family tradition. 'Thank you sir, but there is already a place for me.' I turn from the gates. It's taken awhile, but I know which direction I need to go now. The magnificent gates fall away, and everything transitions from a glowing fog to the perfect crispness of space.
Now I'm running. Well, metaphorically. Class has already started and I'm late, like always. Ranks of glory sit above a dying star, just starting to nova. The lecturer gesticulates wildly, 'Wait for it! Wait for it! Annnnnnd go! There it is! Well done girl! Now watch as she...' I find a place near the back. A young lady moves over next to me. 'About time.'
| 2014-11-11T10:29:32 | 2014-11-11T09:53:10 | 56 | 10 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | I used DuckDuckGo for mine.
"How hard is it to become an indie game dev in your spare time"
"Free C++ compiler"
"How to make a game with SDL"
"OpenGL extension wrangler"
"How to load a 3D model in OpenGL"
"OpenGL shaders"
"3D animation"
"game jam"
"early onset alzheimers"
"my computer has a virus called mingw compiler"
"can alzheimers be cured"
"google.com"
"yahoo.com" | Google search 1: *Dating sites*
Google search 2(one month later): *How to not be awkward on first dates*
Google search 3(one year later): *creative ideas for anniversaries*
Google search 4(another year later): *engagement rings*
Google search 5: *Flower delivery*
Google search 6: *Reservations for two at Papillon restaurant*
Google search 7: *Limo services*
Google search 8: *Wedding Chapels my area*
Google search 9: *Airline tickets to the Bahamas*
Google search 10: *Honeymoon suites in Bahamas*
Google search 11: *Best stores for baby registry*
Google search 12: *Hospitals near me*
Google search 13: *Pregnancy advice for men*
Google search 14: *Pregnancy classes for couples*
Google search 15: *Best ways to help with postpartum depression*
Google search 16: *child size caskets*
Google search 17: *Mortuary services near me*
Google search 18: *divorce lawyers in my area*
Google search 19: *Part time jobs near me*
Google search 20: *good deals on one bedroom apartments near me*
Google search 21: *How to deal with depression*
Google search 22: *How to avoid dope sickness*
Google search 23: *Methadone clinics near me*
Google search 24: *Painless suicide*
Google search 25: *24 hour storage units for cars*
Google search 26: *Best music in the history of mankind*
Google search 27: *How long does asphyxiation ta-*
| 2015-02-04T17:45:09 | 2015-02-04T16:28:08 | 49 | 10 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | Facebook
Tumbler
Spanish Inquisition
Google Translate
Jobs in Appleton, WI
*Clear History*
Calc chat
Facebook
Best way to hide bruises
*Clear History*
Cheap Bus tickets
Cheap apartments Appleton WI
Emancipated Minor?
*Clear History*
Gmail
Tumblr
Counseling confidentiality rules for minors
Free Counseling services
*Clear history*
-Month Later-
Gmail
Job Appleton, WI
Homeless shelters Appleton, WI
Free Counseling? | Google search 1: *Dating sites*
Google search 2(one month later): *How to not be awkward on first dates*
Google search 3(one year later): *creative ideas for anniversaries*
Google search 4(another year later): *engagement rings*
Google search 5: *Flower delivery*
Google search 6: *Reservations for two at Papillon restaurant*
Google search 7: *Limo services*
Google search 8: *Wedding Chapels my area*
Google search 9: *Airline tickets to the Bahamas*
Google search 10: *Honeymoon suites in Bahamas*
Google search 11: *Best stores for baby registry*
Google search 12: *Hospitals near me*
Google search 13: *Pregnancy advice for men*
Google search 14: *Pregnancy classes for couples*
Google search 15: *Best ways to help with postpartum depression*
Google search 16: *child size caskets*
Google search 17: *Mortuary services near me*
Google search 18: *divorce lawyers in my area*
Google search 19: *Part time jobs near me*
Google search 20: *good deals on one bedroom apartments near me*
Google search 21: *How to deal with depression*
Google search 22: *How to avoid dope sickness*
Google search 23: *Methadone clinics near me*
Google search 24: *Painless suicide*
Google search 25: *24 hour storage units for cars*
Google search 26: *Best music in the history of mankind*
Google search 27: *How long does asphyxiation ta-*
| 2015-02-04T16:52:51 | 2015-02-04T16:28:08 | 46 | 10 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | Half-Life 3 2008 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2009 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2010 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2011 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2012 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2013 release date
-
Half-Life 3 2014 release date
-
The Fappening.
-
Half-Life 3 2015 release date...
- | Google search 1: *Dating sites*
Google search 2(one month later): *How to not be awkward on first dates*
Google search 3(one year later): *creative ideas for anniversaries*
Google search 4(another year later): *engagement rings*
Google search 5: *Flower delivery*
Google search 6: *Reservations for two at Papillon restaurant*
Google search 7: *Limo services*
Google search 8: *Wedding Chapels my area*
Google search 9: *Airline tickets to the Bahamas*
Google search 10: *Honeymoon suites in Bahamas*
Google search 11: *Best stores for baby registry*
Google search 12: *Hospitals near me*
Google search 13: *Pregnancy advice for men*
Google search 14: *Pregnancy classes for couples*
Google search 15: *Best ways to help with postpartum depression*
Google search 16: *child size caskets*
Google search 17: *Mortuary services near me*
Google search 18: *divorce lawyers in my area*
Google search 19: *Part time jobs near me*
Google search 20: *good deals on one bedroom apartments near me*
Google search 21: *How to deal with depression*
Google search 22: *How to avoid dope sickness*
Google search 23: *Methadone clinics near me*
Google search 24: *Painless suicide*
Google search 25: *24 hour storage units for cars*
Google search 26: *Best music in the history of mankind*
Google search 27: *How long does asphyxiation ta-*
| 2015-02-04T22:40:22 | 2015-02-04T16:28:08 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] The year is 2055, and mankind has invented the technology to communicate with "Mans best friend". The horror we felt at discovering what they were staring at, when looking at "nothing", is humanities greatest regret...
Looking for horror/scary, but by all means, have fun with it. :) | The problem with all previous attempts that we tried was that we tried to communicate linguistically with them. Dogs as a whole are not linguistic creatures, there is no “dog language.” Instead we moved away from a linguistic format and used a sensory format instead using the dog’s senses to communicate by directly reading and stimulating certain parts of the brain using the newest non invasive technologies. This was immensely successful. We started small with words we knew the dog could understand such as sit. Sit when heard by a dog is translated into the sensory experiences that the dog experiences when it sits creating understanding of the word. In turn we can translate the sensory experiences that the dog experiences in to the word sit. We were limited to experiences that the dog being monitored had experienced and were unable to artificially implant any new experiences (we tried excessively with the colour red) but we could combine experiences to make sentences of shorts. Using this format we were able to understand and order the dog but we were unable to ask questions. The questions came later with the “doggie question mark” which was basically presenting an experience combining confusion and curiosity. The most common one we used was a person holding a ball behind his back when playing fetch. Putting this at the end of a sentence we were able to ask questions.
As the testing was underway Professor Morgan bought up the question what interested dogs when they were starting at nothing? This was communicated to the dog with the experience of starting at a blank wall followed by the “doggie question mark”. The results were disturbing. The olfactory and gustation feedback which was always the first to be received was intangible which was not uncommon (due to the vast differences between humans and canines) so it did not raise concern. It was the visual that first raised alarm. The visual feedback was something of a swirling pitch black portal with intermediate swirls of a blood like red. The auditory caused extreme anxiety to those listening. It was this deafening, nonsensical whisper that stuck terror into all present. Somatosensory feedback was as firmly controlled fear overcome with a stoic aggressive watchfulness. The results from this test however are still under question due to a glitch. The glitch was when two minutes in to the test the word help was displayed across the visual feedback screen replacing the portal for the time of one minute before the testing was ended. We will continue researching this data with possible retesting to gain a greater understanding.
| Lucas walked into the intensive care unit of the hospital. It was late and the lights were dimmed, giving the entire wing a air of dread. Gurneys with men and women were strewn about everywhere. The rooms were filled long ago by the sudden influx of patients. Not a single person moved, the room was absolutely still and the only sound to be heard was the rythmic beat of heart monitors.
This was the first Lucas had seen of the afflicted. He walked down the hall dodging the mannequin-like bodies. He stopped to look at one man and quickly recoiled in disgust. The man's face was frozen in what seemed to be a state of utmost panic. His mouth and dark black eyes were wide open, blood began to ooze out of the man's nose.
Lucas regained his composure and looked around him. He noticed the same thing in every patient. Their black, soulless eyes stared at him with mouth agape at some unseen horror. Lucas, suddenly overwhelmed again, rushed through the doors at the end of the hall.
Hospital employees moved about the hall like zombies. No one spoke while they moved about their work. Two orderlies wheeled a little girl past Lucas. Black eyes. Lucas almost puked.
Lucas rushed down the hall and into the waiting room. Hordes of sleeping family members were laying everywhere. On chairs, desks, some had even made makeshift tents. The air was ripe with unclean human stench.
In the opposite corner of the room Lucas spotted his co-workers. "Lucas" Susan whispered, "What did you find out?" Lucas pulled them into the closest room. He whispered, "I don't know, I haven't seen anything like it before. The only thing I know is that every singly person in their had used the communicator." Susan looked disapointed, "We already knew that Luke, we need more. Millions of people are afflicted we need to figure this out."
Lucas was not surprised by Susan's urgency her husband had used the communicator. Lucas' other co-worker Rashid spoke up, "Lucas, I think it would help if we both could see it as well. Can you take us." Lucas nodded, "I have to warn you though. It isn't easy to take in."
When the three reached the ICU the situation had not changed at all. Dim lights. Black eyes. But now, Lucas noticed everyone had blood dripping down their noses. Under some gurney's blood had begun to pool.
Drip.Drip.Drip. The only sound was the blood hitting the floor. Wait, Lucas realized the hear monitors had stopped beeping. They were all off. "Susan, I think that they might be dead, the heart mon-" Suddenly a creak. Cccrreeeeaakkkk. The metal of an unknown gurney squealed.
Suddenly the man Lucas had first seen earlier was standing back turned to Lucas. The three stumbled back not daring to make a noise. Lucas ran to the door. Locked. The man slowly, painstakingly slowly turned around. His face was still frozen. Black eyes, mouth agape. Blood now pouring from his nose like a faucet.
A voice came from the man though his mouth did not move. The voice struck fear into Lucas' heart that he had never imagined. It was dark, loud and silent at the same time. "You have made a grave mistake." is all it said.
One by one the rest of the afflicted stood. "You have made a grave mistake." They spoke in unison. | 2015-05-18T16:48:49 | 2015-05-18T13:29:22 | 41 | 14 |
[WP] Write a story about how two strangers become best friends, without ever saying a word to each other.
A pretty simple prompt: no Hitler, Batman, Satan, or time travel required. Just a story about friendship. | The first time I had coffee for free was on May, 30th, 1962. I was seventeen years old at the Green Frog Café, and
my boyfriend at the time was eighteen years old and wore a beret.
"You shouldn't clutter your pretty little head with these things", he said, taking the paperback edition of Albert Camus' The Stranger from my hand. "Why do you obsess so much about death and the meaning of life, anyway?"
And I told him I wouldn't obsess about death if I had so little to lose of myself, like he did. He didn't understand.
When he left, I said I was going to stay longer, and he only paid for his share. So I read for a while, alone, and,
when I offered the waitress to pay for my coffee, she said the gentlemen that was sitting behind me had done so,
already, and had asked her to give me this.
'This', was a napkin with the words; 'Try Nausea, by Sartre. You won't sleep for days'.
I looked behind me, but there was no one there.
____________________________________________
The second time I had coffee for free was in 1973. I had broken up with Mike, and was alone at the Green Frog, re-
reading Nausea for I think the thousandth time. I spent the whole afternoon there trying not to overhear a couple on the table behind me breaking up.
It ended when she said, "I can't date a man who thinks 'You're going to be dead for so much longer than you are
ever alive. Isn't that crazy?' is acceptable dinner conversation with my parents."
And he said, "Well, it *is* crazy!"
Then the voices died away, and the girl left. A couple of minutes later, the guy left, too, but I didn't get to see his face.
I waved the waitress over and I asked for the check, and she said the gentlemen who was arguing with his
girlfriend behind us had paid for it, already. He lived nearby, she said, and he also said to give you this.
"Denial of Death, by Becker, is pretty amazing, too. If you liked Nausea."
And I said, "When you see this man again, give him this", and I wrote on the back of the Napkin, "Try Kierkegaard,
if you're into Jesus and all that crap."
_____________________________________________
The third time I had coffee for free was in 1984. I went in the Green Frog with Jack and Darlene, because we
promised her Cheesecake if she recovered from her bad grades, and the Green Frog always had the best cheesecakes.
Just before I left, a young waitress I'd never seen before pulled me to a corner. "I see you are with a man", she whispered, "but this other man, he was here just a while ago, and –"
I smiled, and I took the napkin. It read, "If you hadn't yet – The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Unbelievably good."
And, careful not to let Darlene or my husband see, I wrote on the back, "I have, and I loved it. What's with you and all those books about death, after all?"
______________________________________
The last time I had coffee for free was in 2013. Jack was out on business, and Darlene was in town from college, but she was with friends, so I went to the Green Frog alone. I was reading Fight Club, and I kept feeling silly for looking left and right all the time, like I always did when I was at the Green Frog.
Like a high school girl back in 1962, I couldn't shake those butterflies in my stomach, whenever I went inside the
Frog. It never went away.
When I ordered my coffee, a young waitress I didn't know came by and said, "You don't need to pay for the
coffee." She said a man had come in, and asked her if she knew me, and she said she did, that I always came to the Café. And she gave me a napkin, and it read, "Once you asked me what I think about death. This is what I think about death: Dying doesn't scare me. It just bums me out that I'll never get to see a bunch of cool stuff I like, ever again."
She said this man, he had come by three months ago, but she just now was on duty when I was there, too, so she didn't have the chance to give me the napkin before. She sounded really sorry about that.
And I took the napkin and I said, "When you see the man again, you give him –"
But the waitress shook her head, and I stopped the pen midway through Palahniuk's name. The waitress said the
man lived nearby, and everyone at the Café knew him. She said she was really sorry she couldn't give me the napkin before.
She said a bunch of the staff actually showed up for the funeral, to say goodbye to the man who always came to the Café to read his books.
I thanked her for the service. I smiled, I left a good tip and I got up.
And I stopped right by the door, turned around and looked at the Green Frog Café, and did it really slowly, because I knew it was going to be the last time I did this.
I knew it. Dying means never getting to see a bunch of cool stuff you like, ever again.
Then I walked out, and from the window I caught a glimpse of a napkin on my table, inscribed with the half-written
words I never got to finish, and I thought that it read a bit like life.
__________________________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)*
| It’s funny how quickly everything can be taken away from your life. One minute, everything's going your way. You could blink, and suddenly you’re ripped away to a different reality. One that seems to have nothing in common with your old life. For me, that day was October 18th, 2003. It started off as well as any day, better in fact. It was a Friday, and I was gearing up for a great weekend. I don't remember much about what happened at school that day, but I sure remember what happened afterward.
A new movie was coming out that day - A spy thriller called “Project Phoenix”. From the previews, it looked like it was going to be one of those action-packed tough guy films with some message about our all-powerful intelligence agency. I’d seen more or less the same movie countless times, but it was still a great way to kill a couple hours. So in sixth period, I passed a note to my friend Kevin. It read, *Hey, Kev. Wanna see the new spy movie after school? I’m going with my parents.* He passed the note back immediately, now with a new addition. *Sure, Danny*. I was pretty relieved. Kevin and I had been in a bit of a fight over this girl. It seemed like nothing, but we hadn’t talked in weeks. I was happy to have things back to normal.
I picked Kevin up at his house. Even though we were both sophomores, he still didn’t have a driver’s license. I always used to forget that I was a full year older. We met my parents at the Hilltop Mall and bought our movie tickets. Most kids my age would refuse to be seen anywhere with a pair of adults. My parents were pretty cool though, even Kevin agreed. Plus they always bought all the snacks, so I couldn’t exactly complain.
As we walked into the theater, I was excited to see the best seats in the house still open. I wasn’t sure why but I always wanted to sit at the very top in the middle. It was just my ritual. Anyway, as we made our way through the row, I accidentally spilled my coke on someone. He looked to be about my age, but I wasn’t sure. He didn’t even look up, even while I muttered apologies. He just shrugged and waved it off. I was just glad I didn’t spill it on a person with more of a temper.
The movie started off with a rushed scene of the spy running from some unseen force. Just as the protagonist tripped on a curb, a strange smell filled the huge room. It smelled like... Smoke. Before I could even rub my eyes of the soot, the black veil became too thick to see a thing. I dropped to the floor where the smoke was the thinnest. As I looked through the gray haze, all I could see was a pair of brilliant green eyes. Eyes so deeply green that it made me forget about the fire. They turned away and I regained my focus. I made my way toward the bright EXIT sign. With each movement, it became harder. My lungs screamed for oxygen, unable to get enough from the smoky room. Just as I took what felt like my last breaths, I made it to the emergency door. The rush of clean air filled me with life. I got up and ran toward the street. My vision cleared and I saw that there were already ambulances in the parking lot. I ran to the paramedic, wheezing the whole way. By the looks of the empty lot, I was the first to get out. Then I saw the flames. I looked in horror as the entire building was set ablaze. At the last minute, a single person escaped. Just one. And all I could see were his brilliant green eyes. Those brilliant green eyes and a soda stain on his shirt where I’d spilled my coke.
“My name is Daniel Walt Hickory. I’m sixteen years old. My parents are deceased. I've been a ward of the state for the last four months.” My voice was dry and empty. It seemed fitting, as the social services worker seemed equally emotionless. Since my parents were the only family I had, I was sent to the government for my new life. Kevin’s parents offered to take me in, but I couldn’t do it. They reminded me too much of the friend I’d lost. I looked at the worker and asked, “Am I going to go to a foster home?”
In her lifeless tone, she said, “Yes, you are. In fact, pack your bags. We’re going today.”
“Where? Is it somewhere nice? Is it a good home?” After hearing the news, I was so nervous. The worker didn’t seem to care at all.
All she said was “I have no idea about nice. It’s in Idaho, if you like that sort of thing. And your foster parents should be great. You’ll only be their second child though.”
I felt a little better. I just said, “Okay,” and went to pack. With what little I had taken from my house, it took all of five minutes to pack my single suitcase. The bus ride wasn't too bad. The worker - whose name was Sherry I found out - wasn't the best conversation. I didn’t mind, though. The landscape was entertaining enough.
Finally, we pulled up in front of an old two story house. It had faded paint and a dying lawn, yet it seemed very charming to me. Much more like a home than a house. As I jumped down to the sidewalk, I saw an elderly couple step out onto their porch. They smiled kind-heartedly and I felt better than I had in the past four months. Then, they waved to someone inside, as if to invite them out. Then, a boy my age came out. As he turned, I saw his emerald eyes looking back at me. Only now, they were different. Tinged with the same sadness that mine were.
Sherry seemed to pick up on my recognition. She exclaimed, “Excellent! I saw in the file that Rick Glasser over there was from Portland as well. I’m glad you know him already.” she then turned toward the bus and called, “Good day!” as she left. I was just an item off her list, but I didn’t mind. She had brought me to my new life and I was grateful.
I turned back to the trio on the porch. One look at the three of them and I knew I'd be happy in this new home. Most of all, I knew he'd understand. Nothing could replace the people I'd lost, but I knew I had found a best friend in the boy with green eyes. | 2015-05-30T15:03:27 | 2015-05-30T14:54:18 | 75 | 10 |
[WP] God created thousands of worlds in thousands of galaxies. A major crisis in another galaxy has taken his entire focus, and for the first time in 750 years, he just glanced in our direction.
This prompt has two possibilities. What has he been dealing with for the last 750 years elsewhere, or what his reaction is when he looks back at us.
Edit: didn't realize I missed the 1. It was supposed to be 1750 years ago, so basically everything since 250 A.D. Was done without him paying any attention.
Edit 2: but if anyone has anything over the last 750 years, I'd be happy to read it.
Edit 3: I love what you are all doing. Having a hard time finding the time to read all of the posts, but I'll get there eventually. Thanks for all of the responses!
Edit 3.1: it's really interesting to see everyone's response and see how it reflects what I imagine is their view of how we are doing as a global society. Keep them coming.
Edit 4: I never imagined this would blow up like this. Thank you so much for all of your responses. This has been amazing to read. I understand what people mean when they say RIP INBOX. | I leaned back in my office chair and stretched my arms high over my head. With a sigh of relief, I finally turned away from Earth-2294. In 250 A.D., the humans living there had managed to rediscover the Garden of Eden, and they had waged a siege on an epic proportion that had lasted almost two thousand years. It had taken every bit of my attention to keep them out, but when I make a rule, I keep that rule. Now, after all those years, I could finally check up on some of my other creations.
I swiveled in my office chair and faced Earth-1468. The first thing I noticed was the number of countries. On Earth-2294, there was no real nationality, just humans vs. angels. Earth-1468 had hundreds of countries. I sighed again, it was obvious I was going to have a lot of reading to catch up on before I could start guiding these humans.
I cracked open the first historical tome, starting from the moment the "Garden Crisis" started on Earth-2294. Suddenly, movement just outside of the atmosphere caught my eye. I looked at it closely, it was some sort of space station. But that was impossible, humans weren't supposed to go to space!! It's impossibly cold, and there's no oxygen. It's why I use the cold emptiness of space to separate my planets, humans could never survive outside the atmosphere. Yet here they were, just floating around like it was normal. I sat back in my chair stunned. And I smiled. After all those years of war, I'd forgotten how much I liked humans. It was time to reward these enterprising little people. I zoomed out so I could see the entire milky way. And there it was, the tiny little telescope trying to take pictures of the bigger universe. I subtly pointed it to a seemingly empty space of the cosmos. And the telescope took pictures of a far distant planet, where all humans had been wiped out. And where they would find a peaceful garden at the center of a massive battle. | The final age had come for Urth.
Through careful nudging and ever-distant signs (with a few unexplained *miracles* in the mix), El had successfully nurtured the inhabitants of the galaxy he'd numbered NGC 6744 into a self-sustaining, peaceful, ever-progressing utopia. The residents of the Nougat Galaxy were set from now to the end of time, at which point he'd usher them into a higher plane of existence in the 5th dimension.
For now, all seemed well, and although most of his attention had been on the Nougat, a cursory glance showed El that the other thousands of worlds he was cultivating were doing well (a few others already having reached utopia status also).
There were a few galaxies in turmoil and chaos, but as with all young creations, it was a part of the process. Nothing beautiful can be forged without first experiencing a bedlam pit to give a character of uniqueness.
As El scanned the heavens, he saw that all was good, and he smiled at the work he had done - that is, until his eyes fell upon the Milky Way Galaxy for the first time in seven hundred and fifty years.
A world he had left in the cusp of technological improvement after a miserable dark period of warring Crusades and other maligned and unapproved greed in His name had somehow descended into darkness again. Only this time, the darkness masqueraded as light - unmanned instruments of war pretended to be more pacified alternatives to the carnage of human militias, and conglomerates of commerce and finance parades as if they were bastions of equal opportunity, but the truth was too evident to his eyes as the creator of worlds: the technology meant to usher the safety and comfort of his people had been perverted to a technology holding them in subjugation and misery, the global communities meant to draw his people closer to one another had been tainted to form corrupt oligarchs riding comfort on the backs of slaves.
El watched the humans destroy the planet he had so carefully crafted, and his wrath grew great. They had taken his land, his air, his creatures, and demented them into a nature so beyond his wishes that he was not sure how to fix it.
Debating himself on the notion of destroying the plague of humanity before it's disease spread to his other worlds, El delayed his decision. But as he watched more, he saw.
There was still hope: a true light in the sea of false. The Milky Way galaxy had not yet failed, and his hope to spread the humans across its planets could still be achieved. They still had a chance to save themselves from the wilds of their own deceit and self-aggrandizing suicide. They could still be taught to wage peace instead of war, to trust their neighbors instead of fear, to love one another and work together to build a true utopia where not a single one of their members goes hungry or dies of neglect and necessity, where only those who have lived a full life pass peacefully into the next.
Just as Urth and Aerth and Erath and even Thrae had grown, so would Earth.
El quickly checked his list of worlds, and he saw that he would be able to focus on this world. He centered his thoughts and began his work.
There was so much to be done. | 2015-12-27T10:49:08 | 2015-12-27T09:53:57 | 791 | 40 |
[WP] Write a story where the good guy is actually the bad guy, but it's only revealed on the last line. | "All I wanted to do was save us..."
He spoke the words quietly to himself, not that it mattered, he could have screamed them, when you're the last man standing words tend to loose all meaning and everything said is lost in the whisper to a cold wind in an empty room.
"I was to be humanities savior...I would have stopped them....I tried to... ever since they first arrived I tried to fight the vial parasite."
He still could not believe that Humanity had lost, that despite all his fighting and the courage of his brothers in arms that the parasite had won. He knew the creatures would come soon for him, that they closed in quickly.
"Seems fitting....this is where I first fought them...pushed them back for a few years even...but this is where humanity ends...and this is how the dream passes..."
He looked down at the gun in his lap
"I wouldn't let them take my love form me..."
Her body lay limp just beside him her head turned toward him, as his final reminder of his failure to save the ones he loved.
He lifts his head.
"They're clawing at the gate...but I shall make their victory a hollow one"
He swiftly brings the gun to his temple. He looks one last time at his love beside him. Her last words echoing in his final moments.
"Auf Wiedersehen, mien Fuhrer"
| John got out of the old buick and walked over to open the door for his wife, which once again
was stuck. She was getting really frail.
He pulled the door open, "You're still a gentleman, Johnny". He made a straightening motion on
both sides of his plaid collar in a fluid motion, like Connery; "You're damn right I am!" They both
chuckled as they walked up to the theatre. After fifty-one years of marriage John and Jane both
still enjoyed the movies.
In big bold, yet dingy and old letters the titles ran
*LIAR LIAR*
*GATTACA*
*SCREAM 2*
This theatre had been here since 1949, and Jane had remembered when it was built. John had not
because he had been in California working for an oil company.
They got up to the outside stall, where a young man sold the tickets. He was pimply and lanky and
even the Robertson's at the ripe old ages of 79 and 81 kind of felt bad for him. His shirt read
"Limp Bizkit". The man couldn't help but think in his head "What the fuck is a Limp Bizkit?"
Jane always bought the tickets
"Two to,... uh.. Gat-Tuh-Kah" She overpronounced the name quit a lot.
"Sir?" Asked the young man talking fully past the woman.
"What can I do for you buddy?" He sounded chipper but weary
"Get back in Line" The boy said
"Excuse me"
"Get back into the fucking line"
The old man stood there, he didn't know what was going on
"Old Man, I don't give a fuck about how old you are! Get back in the mother-fucking line so
all you can go to chow!
The boy was a Man, a tall man with a uniform that read "Colorado Correctional Facility"
The man stepped forward, placing himself in line with the other inmates.
A tear welled up in his left eye.
He could he the faint voices of two boys two persons down talking softly to one another.
"J, Who the fuck is that?"
"Oh, that's John Robby... he been in this bitch a fuckin' minute tho"
"Why, what he do.."
"He fucking killed his wife, back in fifty.. he been in this bitch since 19fucking50 yo"
"Why'd he kill her?"
"......." The boy didn't say anything
"......."
"... I heard she drowned his only son in the bathtub."
"..."
"..damn..."
(The sound of the cell doors closing for lunch) | 2016-08-20T10:52:38 | 2016-08-20T09:11:06 | 45 | 24 |
[WP] Since you were young you had the ability to pause time. However as a teenager you use the ability to procrastinate. At first it was little stuff: an extra hour for homework or a nap in the morning, a break in between classes, etc. Well it built up and now you're pushing thirty in your 3rd year. | Officer Darren shrugs against the phone.
"I know it's weird. I know it's weird. But listen, Mrs. Lopez--"
He shifts his weight, looks out of the window for a second. Looks down.
"He looks... Mature."
Shifts weight.
"I know."
Shifts weight.
"I know--"
Shifts weight.
"I know, but--"
Shifts finally into being rude.
"Linda, he has a social security card. He has a birth certificate--" the phone tears and he rises to meet her "--I know his parents personally, he's had FRIENDS his whole life, lived in LA GRANGE his whole life, there is NO CONSPIRACY, he isn't even DOING anything, this is ENTIRELY IN YOUR HEAD and I REFUSE TO WASTE MORE TIME ON IT."
Hanging up the phone with a "FUCK" Officer Darren returns to the toilet to finish his reading.
All day the mature young man causes contention in Officer Darren. Mrs. Lopez isn't crazy, and as the principle of La Grange High School she should be wary of a salt and pepper crow footed fully grown man hanging out with her teenagers. But, to be fair, Ryan Baxter had always been more interested in video games and anime, anyway.
Ryan Baxter. Fuckin' Ryan Baxter.
At first no one noticed anything especially odd. He always seemed a little older than the other boys. By the time there was 20 pounds of shit in the 5 pound sack, though, it was undeniable: Ryan Baxter looked OLD. Not just "mature for his age," or "an old soul," or whatever. There was no euphemism for it. He looked like he should have a Miata and a mortgage. He looked like he should be worried about his new promotion placing him in a higher tax bracket.
Instead, he wore Deadpool t-shirts and drank Mountain Dew: Code Red. Christ, he had a gut from it.
And Officer Darren again decides to do nothing. Let Linda Lopez complain. What's there to be done? Punish a kid for aging too quickly? Isn't that punishment enough? Poor thing will have a stroke at 25. | Oh god, another relief teacher. Getting tired of this at this point.
"James?"
"Here," a student replies.
"Kate?"
"Here," another replies.
"Stu?"
"Here," and another.
"Paul?"
"Here," and another.
"Casey?"
"Here," and another, alright here we go again.
"Jack?"
"Here." My deep-ass voice fills the room. The relief pauses for a moment. I think she's processing what she just heard. Don't blame her, honestly, I'd be shocked too. I know kids go through this stage at this age, perfectly normal, but when one of your students speaks like god damn Michael Clarke Duncan, you know something's wrong.
"Um...uh, Jack?" Double take. Always happens. Surely she heard that wrong.
"Here." Does it get irritating? Hell yeah, it does. But it's not like it's their fault, so I can't blame them. I wish Mr. Ross was here instead, it's a lot easier when it's a teacher that already knows. You don't spend the entire lesson with the teacher barely well, teaching, because they're staring at you trying to figure out what the hell went wrong in that birth.
"Heh," she giggled, "I'm sorry, sir, is this your class? I'm kind of new here. Don't really know my way around."
I'm gonna say this right now. I- Hmmmm. I-- It's tough what I'm about to say, because I can't decide whether it's creepy or not. It's a grey area. Okay, I'll say it, she was kind of cute, is that weird? Definitely a grey area. Yes, if you're wondering, as I began to age, my taste in women changed too. It was kind of something I didn't really have a choice in, last thing I want was to have a crush on a 15-year-old blonde named Jessica, who was really smart and funny and who played tennis every week for our school team, and looked really adorable in her tennis dress and then getting a restraining order from said-blonde because I apparently, "Spend too much time staring at her, and that I should also stop messaging her on Facebook or else she'll block me." Of course, that never happened. Haha, no way. Of course, I didn't have to move schools...and city...and state..........and country, my point is, my sexual interests changed with my age. Unfortunately, I can't say the same about my intelligence, I'm a god damn 15 year old in a 30 year old body, give me a break, alright?
"Uhhh, no, I am actually a student of this class, believe it or not, don't let my good looks fool you."
Is it wise to flirt with a teacher?...Grey area. Yeah, grey area. I take a glance at my group of friends. They're giving me subtle thumbs ups. I am not sure whether they're being sarcastic or not. I look back at the relief, and she had a face of I can only describe as a mix of disgust and embarrassment. Huh, guess my friends were being sarcastic after all.
Life pro tip: Don't hit on teachers, especially when they aren't sure if you're a student or not.
---------------
**END OF PART 1?** | 2016-09-13T06:11:36 | 2016-09-13T05:59:20 | 51 | 17 |
[WP] A single dad of two girls is a nighttime superhero. Sometimes though, he forgets to take out the braids in his hair, or wash off the nail polish, and some of the supervillains are getting suspicious...
| "Stop Villain! In the name of Justice, stop!" The superhero shot across the sky, closely pursuing his larcenous foe.
"Oh shut up, Mr Justice! That schtick is getting old!" Villain, his foe, panted as he twisted and turned, vainly attempting to shake his pursuer.
"Never! I will balance the Scales of Jus...eh? Where are you going?" Villain had plunged into an empty warehouse, crashing through the skylight. Mr Justice followed warily.
Not warily enough. The villain's swag bag swung from the shadows, slamming across the face of Mr Justice.
"Ha! Take that you pompous fo...wait, is that glitter on your mask? And sticker stars... oof!" The left fist of Justice drove into the Villain's gut, catapulting him through a wall.
"There's your stars, brigand!" Cried Mr Justice as he rose to his feet. He muttered under his breath "*dammit girls, I told you not mess with the mask...*"
Villain clambered out of the rubble wheezing. As the hero leapt to continue the battle, his hand shot up in the universal wait sign.
"Hang on, Justice." His hand slid to his pocket and drew out his wallet. Flipping it open, he flapped it at the hero.
"What's this? A trick?" The Hero took the wallet, and stared at it in the gloom.
"These are *my* pair of kids. Seven and five." Villain twitched an awkward smile "I've had the arts and crafts issue too." His hand twitched his cape, to reveal a Mickey Mouse patch sewn in.
"Seven and nine." Mr Justice nodded in admittance. "The lights of my life, but terrors to the costume." The two men stood in the quiet camraderie of fatherhood.
"Look, I can't just..." Mr Justice started, before a glint caught one of Villain's photos. "Oh. Damn." He stared at the picture.
"What? What is it?"
"I'm... we're having your youngest over on a playdate. Mary Suncliffe, right?" Mr Justice froze as he realised his identity was revealed.
"What are you going to do..." The Villain waved him off.
"Nothing like *that*. Look...if I drop the loot, can I, y'know, skedaddle?" Mr Justice looked pained at the thought. "I know it's not the heroic action but..."
"...but you can't disappoint your girls. And I..." Mr Justice sighed. "...I would never hear the last of '*Dad arrested my best friend's dad*'. Go on, go." He flapped his hand in dismissal.
Villain nodded and smiled. "See you Thursday."
"Yep." Mr Justice sighed. That was the fourth villain he had to let go. He just wished his daughters would choose friends that *didn't* have villains for parents. | The babysitter costs are ridiculous for a superhero. I barely sleep as it is, but someone has to protect the city. When the city needs a hero, I answer the call, after I tuck my girls into bed and kiss them goodnight. Sure, there are remnants of them all over me, but I don't think my enemies notice.
I've done a good job of keeping the ones who harm at bay, but they are combining their efforts and growing stronger. Tonight, I've followed them to a warehouse down by the docks where they gathered to discuss how to defeat me. Little do they know that I'm listening. I turn my radio on and press it against my ear. The meeting has already started.
"notice that he has nail polish on?"
I can't make out the voice. I move to a window to get a visual. It's Crimson Menace speaking.
"Like do you think he's a transvestite?" He asks.
"What no? That can't be. He's probably like a prostitute," says the Scarlett Twister.
"No, what? That doesn't make any sense. How would that...you're crazy. He's clearly a hand model," says the Red Badge of Carnage.
"He wears nail polish?" Asks the Maroon Marauder.
"Yes, haven't you noticed? It's so obvious. I thought he was wearing lipstick once too, and I've definitely seen his hair in braids," says the Menace.
"I bet he's a dad. That sounds like dad stuff," Says the Marauder.
The group turns to look at their fellow villain. I watch as something clicks inside them all. My heart races, and my hands shake. It takes a few long seconds, but I calm down. There are thousands maybe millions of dads in the city. Them knowing he is a father added a diminutive amount of risk for his daughters. They need to know my name for them to be in any risk. The Marauder continues.
"I also know who he is. His name is...James Hunter. I am 90% sure."
"How do you know that?" Asks the Twister.
"I found his spying equipment hidden here. He left his name on it. A real rookie mistake, but I bet he's listening right now."
I didn't leave my name on it, but I didn't remove the serial number either. A cashier without money and/or scruples would happily give away that information. It is my name though. The pieces fall into place. This is a set-up and I am trapped. I want to run away, but I listen for a few more minutes.
"I found everything on him. Where he lives, works, etc. He's a window and a dad of two little girls. Sorry to have kept this from you, but his daughters are minutes away from being abducted. We are about to win. Well, I'm about to win. Sorry, gentlemen. Our great plan to team up is unnecessary unless we want to take him down together. But, if I were him, I would be on my way home. There still might be a chance, James."
I do some math in my head. Twenty minutes back to the apartment if I'm lucky. I swing down to my motorcycle and race home. I think of all the mistakes I made and how I would never forgive myself if something happened to them. I nearly get hit a dozen times, but I make it home in 12 minutes. Even my name, The Night Hunter, is reckless. I use my grappling hook to climb up to my apartment. I open the door on the deck and walk in.
The babysitter sleeps on the couch. I make sure that she is just sleeping, but I see her chest heave, up and down. I walk into my girls' room. The floor is covered in toys, and I step on one. I bite my tongue to keep from howling in pain. I examine both of them closely. I am relieved. They are safe here and uninjured. Then, it strikes me. Oh, no, it was a bluff. I lead them right to my family.
[Finale](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/5a7eio/wp_a_single_dad_of_two_girls_is_a_nighttime/) | 2016-10-30T10:14:02 | 2016-10-30T09:54:35 | 328 | 28 |
[WP] You tell your wife how glad you are to be a human and not a robot. She looks at you confusingly says, "What are you talking about? We're all robots. Humans have been dead for years."
Finally! Number one on the front page! Fuck yeah! Gonna sell this account for cocaine now. | I stare back "But...but I'm human" I protest.
"Keith, stop joking around" My wife is beginning to look pissed now.
"Honey, what are you talking about, I'm human. You can have my bloodwork checked if you don't believe me"
She stars at me some more and then belief seems to dawn in her eyes. "Keith you...Oh my god! We thought you were all dead! This is wonderful news!"
She is abruptly hugging me and I dumbly hug her back. What? I mean, I heard that more and more people were marrying companion bots instead of real people and that even more children were robots now because they were so easy to back up but...my own wife? Without me noticing?
"I always thought you were just really stuck in your companion personality" she beams at me "But you were so sweet and perfect otherwise...Oh Keith I have to call the government! No, my mother! What *will* she say, a real human! Or no..." Suddenly there is an evil gleam in her beautiful eyes and a feral grin on her face "No, I will tell *our neighbour* first. Ha! Oh yeah. What will that stupid bitch Sarah say *now* huh? Married to a real human!"
Before I can stop her she is climbing over me, racing to get to the neighbours apartment.
Weakly I reach out to her "Honey, please don't piss of the Johnson's...again..." I trail off. She isn't listening, as usual. Oh well. I pick up my book again. | "What are you talking about Sarah? I am most definitely not a robot. Don't you think I would have noticed when they fixed my firmware or something?"
"Humans slowly died out over the past couple centries Jared. This is common knowledge taught in school. Firmware updates happened AT school. That's why there were so many tests.
Do I really have to explain basic history to you? The robotic invasion started very subtly. First adult robots were strategically placed in hospitals throughout earth as neonate nurses in the 20th century. Those neonate nurses would switch human infants out with the newest robotic models. Humans would raise them on their own and our robotic overlord would be able to study all humans easier than ever.
Humans caught on to the fact that those that received replacement babies weren't quite... right. They were high functioning but their emotions were a tad... off. They usually were smarter as well. Humans came up with a name for these. They labeled it as Aspergers. It made it even easier for our robotic Overlord. As they sent their kids to therapy He learned what humans did and didn't like about the robotic children. Those first models grew up and when presented with the challenge of procreation. Males were told they had low sperm count. Females were told they lacked eggs. All true of course. But the robotic person in the relationship needed the human to hear it... naturally.
They're programming would let them know where to seek reproduction assistance from robotic Dr's. Those Dr's would implant the new generation of robotic embryo. By the third generation, technology advanced to where robots could reproduce without assistance."
"Sarah darling. That doesn't make sense. I HAVE to be human. I was homeschooled, and I was born at home. So I never would have been able to be "updated" at school. My mother said we came from a very long line of resistance though. I never knew what she meant. I ran away when I was 14 though. She started talking crazy about bringing girls from around the world home and BREEDING them! Like it was so urgent to have kids as soon as I went through puberty. She was off her rocker. I left and never contacted her again. I'm so sorry I've kept this from you...."
Sarah's eyes started to roll repeatedly and flash red. She started to screech
"ALERT ALERT ALERT. LAST MALE HOMO SAPIEN HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED ALERT ALERT HUMAN ON PREMISES"
Air sirens began to go off outside. The door crashed inward as three riot geared officers stormed into the house.
"Jared Lugabai you are being placed under arrest. You are being transferred to the Human Containment Unit. Please come with us." | 2017-01-29T04:02:14 | 2017-01-29T01:19:53 | 52 | 27 |
[WP] People earn karma points while alive. When they die, they can spend them either to enter a better afterlife, or to improve the life of some random stranger born on the day of their death. You donate all your points, and wake up the next day as the baby who would have gotten your points.
The living have no idea of the Karma-point system. You are reincarnated with all your memories and experiences. | I awaken, confused and disoriented. I gather myself and take a look around. Im in a prison, but the bars are... baby blue? And the ground is soft... no... I'm in no prison. I struggle to roll over... this doesn't feel right... I try to choke out the word "help" but nothing comes out. I try to stand up, using the bars for support, but alas I cannot control my legs well enough to stand. What happened to me? I look at my arms and legs... they are tiny... like a babys... what the hell? I take a moment to close my eyes, breathe deeply, and then inspect the room. I'm in a nursery? But I'm in the crib, yet I'm far too small... have... have I turned into a baby? I try to recall the day before... I remember walking home with my wife... we had just finished a movie... it was date night. We were walking home when we turned the wrong corner and a man pulled a gun and told me to give him all my cash. I didn't have any cash, so I held out my wallet, then grabbed the gun and tackled him. The gun fired off several times, but I managed to free it from his grip and hit him in the head, knocking him out. My wife was screaming the entire time. I said "it's okay" and tried to stand, but I couldn't. I fell to one knee and then the pain kicked in. I looked down and saw two perfect holes in my shirt, each with a crimson ring forming around them. I looked at my wife. Her shocked face was the last thing I saw before going dark. I immediately jumped awake. Panicking I looked around the room. I was in what looked like a receptionist room, with one door leading in and one behind and to the left of the counter with the name "god" on it. There say a desk, and behind was a man in a typical office rolling chair. The man behind the counter had wings, and a glowing golden halo above his head. He then explained to me that I had accumulated a lot of karma during my time alive. I had done a lot of work for my local church and I'd always done my best to help whoever I could. He told me that I could spend my karma however I pleased. He said I could donate however much I wanted towards making a newborns life better. Then, He told me of the several different afterlife packages they had, ranging from "hell" to "omega deluxe package" I didn't pay too much attention to the details, I didn't really consider it. I already knew what I wanted. I donated all of it, my life's savings of karma. He seemed shocked. "You'd spend an eternity in hell to make one persons short life better?". "Of course" I responded "that one person could make something to make billions of others lives much better". He really didn't know what to do. I didn't do anything bad, so he couldn't send me to hell, but I didn't have enough to afford even the lowest package. He knocked on the door behind him. "We uh, we have an issue sir". The door opened to what seemed like a wall of light. A voice boomed from what seemed like everyone and nowhere all at once. The voice said "for far too long the world has gone without hope, without a guardian. For far too long I have abandoned your world. But you... a man so generous that he would spend an eternity in torment for the life of one who he does not know... I cannot let a heart like yours fall into such a fate. I claim you as my son. You are to be my messenger. You are to save this world, to make people change their ways, to end the corruption and greed and tyranny of your world. For far too long I have abandoned your world for dead. You must return. From now on, your name shall be Jesus. You shall spread my word and make the world better. It's fate is in your hands. Now go, be gone from here and do not return till your task is complete." "How do I do tha-". "Did I hit him too hard?" Asked the angel who had left the counter and snuck up behind me, with A baseball bat propped on his shoulder, that was the last thing I saw before the world went dark again. So here I am, a newborn. I cannot speak yet, but when I am old enough, I will reveal myself and free this world. The people need my help, I will answer their call. So I sit here, waiting until I am old enough, capable enough to change their hearts and save these people. But until then, I'm just a baby. I think of the perfect facade to wear while my mother enters the room and feeds me. I begin the planning | Confused...I guess that how I felt. I woke up in a white room. You know, they ones you find in your typical psychiatric wards. Except this room was made from a sleek marble-like material. To be truthful, I expected to wake up in hell. That's what my parents told me would happen to people to commit suicide. That's the last thing I remember, the ground coming up to me faster and faster until it was all a blur. Then darkness. I felt nothing. No pain. No regret. I swear I died right there...but whatever, that not the point. I just don't know where I am and I'm...
"Arise young one"
The voice resonated throughout the room and a ominous chill swept over me. Now I was confused...and fucking terrified.
"Stop fucking with me, show yourself" I barely spewed out
The tone of the mysterious voice shifted. It became warm and gentle, like it was caressing me in blankets fresh out the dryer.
"Take a breath young one. I'm not here to hurt you", laughed out the mysterious voice.
"Then show yourself", I demanded.
And so he did. I felt a tap behind my shoulder. I jumped backwards and my jaw dropped. Standing before me a kid. He couldn't be no more than 7. He giggling hard. I was shocked. I couldn't believe that it was THIS kid, who did what he just did.
Stuttering I asked him, "Was that you who I was talking to just now?"
His demeanor switch up...
"No" the kid stated in a much more mild manner.
"Then who did?" I asked with my teeth clenched"
I've really had enough, this must be some fucked up joke or something. I just wanted to go home in sleep in my bed. I can still do that right? There is no way I died jumping of that building. This must be some kind of nightmare...right?
"This is no nightmare...you died as soon as you hit the floor" whispered the grim child.
That pushed me over the edge. I lunged toward the child but was pushed on my knees. I tried over and over and over again until I knees were a bloody mess
"Fuck this all" I barely managed out.
I was choking on my words. Tears were pouring out my eyes. I was helpless...I never wanted to be alive more than I did now.
"You have a chance" said a deep voice
My next snapped up and there was a man, kneeling where the child once stood. And in front of him was a tablet. On it it read my name...
ROMAN WILSON BERKOWITZ
17 YEARS OLD
SUICIDE
KARMA: 3,429 points
"What the hell is this...and who the hell are you?" I said harshly.
"I'm am just a messenger and this is your opportunity to fix your mistakes" said the man in a monotone voice
I approached the screen and saw a button that read
"USE POINTS"
I tapped it
And before my eyes came up three options. It was overwhelming. I couldn't believe it. I really thought I was part of a sick joke. The options read as
1. Come back to life
2.Continue to the afterlife
3.Start over
"Start over?" I asked the man
"Press the button and you will be sent back to birth. You will have the opportunity to fix your mistakes and live an entirely life with new experiences...good and bad"
I reached out for it... but I stopped. Did I really want to live through life again. I mean look where it got me. My life was the reason I ended it. It was a shitty fucking place. No one cares about me and I don't think if a new life would change that. But you never know...maybe I become the next billionaire, or maybe a genius, or maybe I even find the cure to cancer!! I can start with a clean slate and fix all my mistakes. But again it's no guarantee.
"If I come back to life where will I be?" I inquired.
"In the hospital, recovering from your injuries. Then you will continue with life as it was"
Wow that seemed like such a shitty option. Why the fuck would I go back to that hell. No one gave two shits about me. This guy is crazy for even suggesting that. My friends, my brother, my stepdad...they made my lives a living hell. My stepdad made my mother's life hell too. I'm surprised she didn't kill herself yet. She always told me that she did it for me, like I was supposed to know what the fuck that meant. I'm gonna miss her. Maybe I should go back and give her a reason to keep going. I love her a lot. But fucked everything else. Is it really worth it though? To back to that hell...
"What about the afterlife option?" I asked him
He was silent for a while. I thought I made him made but he piped up.
"Well my friend...your afterlife depends on your Karma points." said the mysterious man.
"Do I have enough to go to a good place?" I asked eagerly
"I cannot tell you that. If you think you do, you can try. But know this...if you have too little, you're afterlife won't be the fantasy your Sunday school has told you all about." Said the mysterious man.
I stared at the screen for, what seemed like an eternity. I moved my finger towards the screen slowly. Then I tapped on the button. I was shaking, but I really felt like I made the right choice. I smiled and felt almost relived.
"Are you sure about this young one?" Inquired the mysterious man as he rose up and walked towards me.
"Fuck yeah I am" I reply with a smile.
The mysterious man chuckled and the room began to spin. It kept spinning faster and faster until I couldn't take a breath. I fell backwards on to the floor and everything went dark. | 2017-04-08T10:16:32 | 2017-04-08T09:40:28 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] You have always heard two voices in your head, one telling you to do good, and one telling you to do evil. Today, however, you awaken to them both screaming the same thing at you... | My entire life I’ve been different. So different that I’m having difficulty just writing this out. See, when I was young, I was diagnosed as a schizophrenic. Every second of my life there is someone saying something. Sometimes they tell me I should do something. Sometimes they tell me I should say something. Most of the time I can drown them out, but it gets hard.
There are two voices I hear often. I call them Larry and Moe (I’ve got the curly hair). I wouldn’t call them my best friends... well, not Larry anyways... but they’re always there. Normally, they’re telling me what I should and shouldn’t do, well, Larry tells me things I shouldn’t do, but he’d like to see me do them, anyways. I’ve managed to ignore him.
Moe tells me good things, he’s one of the few voices I like. He doesn’t come along as often as Larry, but it’s nice when he does. Some people call them the Angel and Devil on your shoulder. For me, it’s a bit more real than the average person.
Larry has told me to do many things, “Jump in front of that car”, “Put your hand on that burner”, “Stick your head in the oven”, and a lot of other things I’d rather not repeat. I’ve pretty much accepted that the things he tells me are things I shouldn’t do.
Moe is different. Moe *is* my friend, my wingman, my confident (A confident that knows everything about you can be a pretty good confident at times). He tells me to go for things I wouldn’t normally do, he tells me to ask my crush out, to be confident, and to put myself out there. He’s helped me get my dream job. He provides a much-needed relief from the negative monotony of the other voices.
Yet this morning, a dreary Sunday morning, I had an odd conundrum. When I woke up, they were both telling me to run. Screaming it at me, actually. I was confused. For the first time in my life, I had the two of them telling me the same thing, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do, but I felt like if both of them-er... well... my brain, I guess, was telling me to run, I should probably run. I couldn’t figure out where, exactly, but I guess it didn't matter. So I packed up my toothbrush and some clothes, grabbed my wallet, and left my apartment twenty minutes later.
My apartment is a small, one bedroom dorm over a small Italian restaurant. I’ve known the owners for years, they’re a nice, devout Christian couple who immigrated over in the 70’s. I walked down the stairs to the street, locked my door, and jogged across the street. The whole time, Larry and Moe were telling me that I had to go faster, I had to keep moving, and if I stopped, I’d die.
When I got across the street, I ran into a buddy of mine, we had worked together for a couple years at the local movie theatre. He stopped me and we had a quick chat. As we were talking, I was a bit distracted over the voices screaming in my ears. However, as I was about to tell him I had to go, I felt a vibrant, red-hot, searing pain all across my back. I blacked out, and when I had come to, I was laying in a pile of glass shards in the middle of the empty building across from my apartment. There was a heavy ringing in my ears as I struggled to find my bearings. I looked around me, Light fixtures had fallen out of the ceiling, glass display cases had been shattered. And when I looked towards my apartment, the entire glass facade of the empty store had been blown away. My friend was lying face down out front of the store, a dented window frame above him.
As I walked out the front of the empty building, I looked across the store to where my apartment had been and saw nothing but a crater where it once stood. The restaurant had been blown apart from the inside.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, when I looked up, a firefighter was standing there, his mouth moving soundlessly. He beckoned over to a paramedic, and one of them began to run over to me. I noticed a second one on his knees, speaking to my now revived friend. They took me to the local hospital, where I’ve been for the past day.
The police told me it was a gas explosion, a stove line had ruptured sometime this morning. When it had made it to the nearest outlet, everything blew. For me, that was as I was standing across the street. Police told me they think it only took about 20 minutes for the store to fill with gas.
20 minutes.
That’s how long it took me to get out of my apartment.
But would you like to know the strangest thing about it?
I haven’t heard a single voice since the explosion.
| 'The book says 'forgive the one's who wronged you'. I solemnly believe that officer but...'
'All i need is a confession Tom'
'You listen to me and listen good officer, i am not confessing to anything, it was not me... I could never do this...'
Tom suffered a great loss an year ago and was slowly recovering, losing a daughter is not a easy thing, especially when you couldn't hold her corpse in one peice... Such savagery...and to what end?
Colin was his daughter's husband and it was a marriage that really tested Tom. Colin had a record of temporal insanity and tanya was his supervising doctor, he was released on her recommendation. But was he really normal? Tom never believed it.
Nights following Tanya's murder were hard on Tom, he woke up at times running with a knife into his car and revving his engine to do the 'just' crime he was supposed to do. But then he slowed down panting and thinking about what he just said under his breath, is any killing just?
The extremities of both the ideas bothered him for months, he really wanted to get rid of the idea of murder, let alone if it was 'just' or not, the two voices in his head.
Many relatives came and went. One distant cousin of tanya, andrew, stayed with Tom. The nights during his visit were normal, the voices suddenly stopped and he had a really good roommate. At least for a while...
Andrew was a resilient young man who finished his education from russia and was looking for a job around the town. They often talked about economy, politics until one night Andrew spelled out the things Tom ran away from,
He handed him a knife and said
'revenge is the purest of all emotions Tom and those who suppress such are cowards, remember what krishna said to arjuna, about how pious is a action taken under the influence of most over-powering emotions!'
Tom echoed the thoughts in his mind and went to the car in fit of anger undivided from colin. It was moments later that andrew came from behind and held Tom's hand away from the steering.
'let go of me!' he tried to shrug off andrew.
'wait..wait you can't do this, for the sake of tanya just stop!'
Tom looked at him astonished and held his collar,
'you bastard you put me to this, you asked me to..'
'what? I never said anything...i was..., i just came'
Tom couldn't care less, he got off the car and went inside just to notice that there's just one glass and a bottle of wishkey drained to the bottom.
Andrew followed him inside while Tom threw the bottle away as he poured the last peg into his glass and went straight to his room.
Who was it? Was Andrew scheming him into commiting the most henious crime? Why would he? He talks about gandhi, not about a eye for an eye, who was he?.. danny felt asleep twisted in his own thoughts.
Things were different between him and andrew from that day on. Andrew could feel the rift tearing both of them apart and there was less he could do about it!
After a week, Tom finally confronted andrew just to ask him to leave the house and look for other accommodations.
'its not about you child, you cannot find what you came for if you stay here any longer than necessary!'
'what about you uncle, do you find anything here except the memories of tanya?'
'i have to live with it and you don't, now you must leave...'
'i will but what would you do? Can you live with this burden on your chest? Knowing that the guy who brutally killled tanya is still out in the open?'
'May god have mercy on him and accept him in his folds, there's nothing much i can...'
'Nothing much? You can very well end this, end your own misery and his, you can help him reach his prolonged and awaited judgement, you can show him hell'
'What...is that you talking? I am no god, and I won't pay for anything other than my own deeds, i need to break this cycle, i need to end what colin started by forgiving him'
'yes yes' he held Tom's hands and handed him a swiss knife producing it from his pockets, 'you have to end this, you must end this'
'but it's the same, it's all the same if i do it or not, it won't bring Tanya back, it won't'
'what if it did? What if she's waiting for his redemption, what if she comes..back'
Tom was gone in his car again and this time andrew was beside him.. sitting.
'This is a noble thing Tom, you're helping people, his next victims, think about them, you're doing the world a favour by wiping out the abominations of our species'
'this is not murder!' Tom repeated.
'NO it's not, it's not if it's for a cause, think about people who kill, do they have a choice? Do they survive it just like that? No, god helps anyone who does his work, anyone who wipes out evil is doing it in god's service'
'in god's service'
'For his glory, for his name to exist much longer that evil because he existed much before it'
They were outside the protective custody home of colin. Tom put the knife between his fingers and went straight charging and incidenly the door was wide open.
'The gods welcome you Tom' andrew repeated, disappearing in the sidewalks as he heard the screams of colin from the house.
PRESENT DAY
'So you say it was some guy named andrew?'
'some guy? He was Tanya's cousin andrew, he lived with me for months'
'do you realise that Tanya's cousin is related to you in more than one way'
'ofcourse i do, he must have been... My sister's son, or my brother's'
'yet none of your relatives heard about him, never saw him, they say no one's ever been to Russia from their entire family'
'it was his voice...it was so familiar,...it was like i was talking to myself!'
| 2017-05-18T08:38:09 | 2017-05-18T06:31:43 | 213 | 13 |
[WP] In this world, the truly dedicated can develop a mundane skill to the point of becoming a reality-breaking superpower. You have mastered procrastination to this level.
Quick note (trying to be helpful for anyone who doesn't know):
Procrastination is putting things off until later. | George sat down at the computer with a cold ham and cheese sandwich and a flagon of wine.
It was finally time. He stroked his beard complacently and took a swig from the silver flagon engraved with spiraling dragons. It had been a gift from a fan.
For the first time in six years, he touched the keyboard and began to type.
*Jon's body lay lifeless in the cold snow.*
He reread the line. Cold snow? Wasn't all snow *cold*? He backspaced, and tried again.
*The 998th Lord Commander, Jon Snow lay pale and lifeless amidst the snow.*
He hated it. For one, the sentence said snow twice. Again, he backspaced the entire line.
Six years. It had been six years since he had written a single word he was pleased with.
He was getting bombarded with calls from HBO writers and executives. Assaulted by emails and letters from restless fans. He'd even had one man show up at his doorstep and ask him "what's the fucking deal, Martin?"
Still, the royalties were coming steady. The previous books were more popular than ever, and HBO paid a great deal for his intellectual property whether it was on paper or not.
He decided he would try again. He stared at the blank Notepad application open on the screen titled *The Winds of Winter* and waited for the Muse to return.
He looked away from the screen, from the keyboard, and began typing. Yes. Yes, that was it. The words were flowing freely now! After a few moments he looked back at his screen to see what masterpiece he had created.
*flgjkdneksndbi bdidnd psoorbd jeiej.*
"Damnit!" George shouted and took another swig of wine.
He was getting sleepy now. Perhaps he would take a nap. Yes, a little shut eye, and he would return tomorrow well-rested and inspiration abound.
That was it. He would start tomorrow. | The faces around me were tense. Suits and pencil skirts, people lifting their glasses to wipe the sweat. Some suppressed their frustration; others clenched their fists and bared their teeth.
I sighed and closed my eyes.
I could still remember the first time. It had been back in middle school – my first science project. The guilt-mixed thrill I felt, clicking on that YouTube video of a makeup tutorial while the minutes until the deadline ticked away. I was hooked after that and started doing it more frequently. Leaving my room a mess despite my mother’s stern order to clean, putting off homework left and right, and staying up late at night.
Like a drug, the effects wore off quicker and quicker, and I craved bigger and better things to *not do*. My life was falling apart around me and I ended up on the street. People told me to quit and get a hold of my life, but I was already too far down the rabbit hole.
The officials shifted nervously in their seats. I could hear the grating of shoes against the wooden floor, and papers being shuffled. The despair hung like a fog over the council chamber.
“Please, can’t you just…” someone said, but the futility struck them down before they could even finish the sentence.
A brief smile touched my lips. I could feel the anger growing around me. I remembered when everything turned around for me. I was waiting at a crosswalk when the cars stopped and the lights turned green. A long snake of cars, waiting expectantly for me to cross. I took a step but stopped. I didn’t feel like it. Not yet. I noticed a police car standing on the other side of the road, carefully watching the proceedings. The drivers saw him too.
I pressed the button again, and to my surprise, the blinking green man shone steadily again. Cars honked, but the lights remained green for me. Reality itself warped around my need to wait. It forced others to wait. Revving engines, rolled down windows, people shouting. Still, I pressed the button again. I didn’t feel like crossing yet.
“Listen, we’ve been here for weeks, can’t you… I mean, just this once?”
I looked up at the councilman in front of me. He just wanted to be done with it. I shook my head. Not yet.
The man threw up his hands. Then a resolve spread like mercury across his face. He pulled out a gun.
“You want to die?” he spat. “That what you want?”
I took my time to consider this. Did I want to die? I shook my head again. He pulled the trigger. The bullet sailed over my head and crushed the UN glass symbol behind me. Not yet.
“The world is ending!” someone cried. “You have the greatest power; how can you just sit there?”
I had seen the news. The survival of the world rested on a knife’s edge. Nukes aimed this way and that, ready to reduce our planet to rubble. Everyone holding their breaths – a global cold war, which they wanted me to end. They wanted me to return it to a state where any tiny argument between nations wouldn’t result in the apocalypse.
They looked at me like I was some sort of god. They wanted me to take action. They wanted me to ease the situation. I shook my head. Not yet.
| 2017-09-27T06:40:05 | 2017-09-27T05:07:44 | 519 | 287 |
[WP] The end of the world is at hand. Everyone starts to tick off their bucket list, doing crazy things because they know it won't matter in the long run. In an odd twist of fate, the crisis is averted. Now everyone has to live with the repercussions of what they did. | To all citizens of earth,
In retrospect we regret both promoting and providing the drugs for the multinational cocaine fueled orgy. After a short debate we have decided to cover the costs of any abortions and treatment for STDs that may arise from the event.
Murders and pillaging at the time will be forgiven provided any stolen materials are returned. Affected families are reminded that the events of the previous week are not the norm, and justice for each incident should be dealt out accordingly with that in mind. Cities that are more than %50 destroyed will receive grants to rebuild.
Large fans and industrial amounts of pot-pourri are being brought in to remove the seemingly permanent smell of stank in Las Vegas, Rome, and Amsterdam.
The spontaneous nuking of north korea, iran, and china is under investigation, as is the shooting down of the International Space Station with an ICBM. Any reports of the Rockefeller mansion lifting off under its own engines and escaping the planet shortly before zero hour are to be disregarded as mere rumor.
Please go about your business of shopping, travelling, working, and living as upstanding citizens once again.
The United Nations | The, to be fair rather recently elected President of the 6 Continents (may the people of Europe rest in peace) has spoken in public today:
"Things have changed, for the better and for the worse. We are one free people, unbound by the shackles of what cruel fate had struck us before, yet bound by the need for choice. A world without repercussions gave us an out of a guaranteed demise, gave us a truly trusting society. However, I will neither be the first person that you have heard this from, neither will I be the first person to tell you that we have done despicable things as well.
"Unlike my fellow men, I will not lie, I will not beat around the bush: No repercussions meant I did everything I never dared to, like uniting everyone I could, helping all I wanted to, and to punish those that declined. I did things not because they were the safest, the easiest. I did things because I wanted to do them!
"And I am certain that you all, each and every one of you, has done much and the same. Each and every one of us has done things in knowledge that they'd be erased by the future. But now that we are in the future, as one people, as one world, having averted crisis due to our resilience, due to our ingenuity, due to our heart, we need to ask ourselves:
"What now?
What do we do now with the knowledge of what we did?
Do we expect justice for every thing we did, do we turn ourselves in as a species after breaking free from the imprisonment of certain demise?
Do we only choose to enforce justice and law after the end, spitting those in the face that were harmed, that were pained, that still are pained?
Or, do we, as a species, give a pass on restrictions and lawmaking itself, seeing as it didn't help us when we needed it, freeing us from the shackles that brought us to the brink of annihilation?
"I have revised the rules of Humanity. Gone are the days of forbidden fruit, of consequences as issued by few people to masses, no more is the need for bribery, for self-control. From now on, there shall only be one law: The law to completely forbid any and all lawmaking, agreements or bound contracts!"
| 2017-11-29T07:19:46 | 2017-11-29T04:06:09 | 305 | 14 |
[WP] The end of the world is at hand. Everyone starts to tick off their bucket list, doing crazy things because they know it won't matter in the long run. In an odd twist of fate, the crisis is averted. Now everyone has to live with the repercussions of what they did. | Little Bethany Mariah Smith clung on to Father's legs. She hated going to meeting -- all the big scary grownups with their blanket clothes seemed to be just waiting for her to mess up, and Mother always spent ages talking to Sister Ruthie and Sister Tamar.
She was pretty sure -- really sure, actually -- that they had been having meeting more and more. Didn't they come yesterday? Today was not a Sunday or a Wednesday, either -- something weird was definitely going on.
Father Obadiah greeted her father. "Come, Brother Elisha, right this way."
"When will we be taking our...refreshments?"
"In just a minute. Sister Hannah will bring some over for you and your family."
They sat down, Mother, Father, Jebediah and Bethany, all in a row on the folding chairs. Sister Hannah came over holding a tray.
"Here, Brother Elisha -- Sister Sarai -- and of course, you, Jebediah and Bethany."
"What is it?" asked Bethany.
"It's a special treat for today. But don't drink it yet -- we're all going to drink together. It's a special soda."
Bethany held the cup in her little hands. It smelled funny, but Sister Hannah said it was soda, so it probably tasted really good. She looked up again.
"Why are we drinking it now?"
Sister Hannah paused. "Because... Because God is going to send his divine justice today, and if we want to get into heaven, we have to meet Him before then."
"What's divy jussis?"
"Umm... It's when God gives naughty people a spanking."
Bethany took this in. Before she could ask any more questions, however, Father Obadiah stood up at the big table. The humongous crowd of people at the meeting -- Bethany had never seen so many -- all went quiet.
"Brothers, Sisters. Today is the Last Day, the day of Divine Judgement. Behold, he sends his messenger from the sky, and the unrighteous shall be cleansed from the earth. Let us therefore drink this cup that we have been given and be thankful -- for indeed we are called to be His children. Amen."
All at once around her, people were drinking the special soda. Father, Mother... Even Jebediah, who usually hated doing things like this.
She looked at hers again. It still smelled funny. She didn't like drinking things that smelled funny. She swilled it around in the cup, spilling a little.
Suddenly, Jebediah fell off his chair and started making funny little movements. Bethany laughed, thinking he was playing a joke, but then he stopped moving. That wasn't right was it? Then Mother fell down too -- then Father. All around her, people were falling over. She felt scared.
On the wall behind the big table was a screen, flashing numbers. She was learning numbers with Mother. Four, three, two, one. Then nothing.
She looked around. Everyone was lying on the floor, even Father Obadiah. She saw Sister Hannah lying on top of three or four other people.
For a long time, she sat quietly on her chair with her drink, waiting for someone to get up again and tell her what a good girl she was for waiting, but at last she could stand it no longer. She was getting bored of this -- it was probably some really bad joke they were playing. So, leaving her special drink on her chair, she went to go play outside. | The end of the world is one of them things that most people have trouble dealing with. It is...what's the word...inevitable, I've always felt. At some point in time in someone's life, the planet Earth will no longer exist. That is an undeniable and inescapable fact. It could happen one hundred years from now when some science experiment causes some world wide catastrophe, it could happen billions of years from now due to the sun expanding, or the universe collapsing, or whatever space wide disaster is waiting. Or it could happen tomorrow with the arrival of rock big enough to make the one that killed the dinosaurs look like a damned pebble.
Point being, it's going to happen, but dammit, some of us become fascinated by the end, even if we try to claim otherwise. Look at our past. Any time we have anything close to an 'apocalyptic event', seers and sages who claim wisdom will tell the great tales of how they knew the end was coming, how if you had simply followed their wisdom, they'll tell you exactly why this date is the one fated by God to be the ending of mankind.
Of course, when the end is approaching and a vast majority of people have time to take this little tidbit in, the way they react is...unique. First off, you've got the religious types. Not the ones who actually claim prophecies and such, I mean the type who actually believe in what the holy books say, the true ones. Honestly, they're the most peaceful bunch it seems when the end times are upon us. They lived good lives. Took care of their neighbors and friends and family, treated each other with respect. What's their reward? Some crazy bastard with a gun and a car decides that he's going to recreate his favorite video game and see how high he can raise the kill count. "Might as well send them early" he said, before what was left of our police ended him.
Then there's the types like Mister and Missus Mason down the road. They heard the news reports like the rest of us and decided that they were going to live their lives, heart failure and diabetes be damned. Went out on a road trip, packed their bags, emptied their fridge into coolers, said they were going out into the mountains and enjoy the things they couldn't in life. Last picture I got from ol' Dave before the cell towers went out was him and the wife, with the largest smiles I'd ever seen on their faces, a whole feast out and ready for them in what looked like a log cabin. Managed to find another group up there. I hope they enjoyed themselves.
Then you've got the absolutely bonker degenerates who think that now's the time to act like the Purge is in session. The end is coming, might as well kill my family and myself. Asteroid's dropping in, better rob the liquor store until its dry and the liver is dying. Rather than allowing their lives to end via the will of god or nature, they instead choose to end everyone else's on their own terms. Bastards like that are the reason why we're in the mess that's about to tip over.
...What about me? Well, my list wasn't too bad, what I needed to do. Called in from work, which was a good thing considerin' the bastards ransacked the place and killed the management when they tried to lay down the law. Got on the phone. Went through a list of people. Made my peace. Made sure debts were paid with others and made sure that if I was heading to the end, I wouldn't have to worry about no enemies waiting for me on the other side. Got my food ready, enjoyed myself a little bit, made sure the kids and wife were safe.
I've accepted that the end was coming. And to be fair, I'd rather get squished by a giant rock than shot with a bullet. But then, I heard it on the radio. Another fuckin' rock managed to break the whole party up, and now we're saved.
Saved. Bullshit.
I'm lookin' outside right now. I've got people fighting across the street for supplies. I've already had to put down a few people trying to barge down my front door for supplies. Family's scared, they ain't got any TV or video games to keep them company, and the batteries are just starting to run out on everything else.
Here's the thing. I don't have to make peace with what I did when I thought the end was coming. I have to deal with what everyone else did. The people who died, who made this mess happen? Their the ones who got lucky, and us here on Earth are being punished for staying. We've gotta fix their mess, and if we can't? Then hell, world's at its end anyways. | 2017-11-29T09:55:43 | 2017-11-29T09:21:30 | 41 | 14 |
[WP] Every time you look in the mirror, you notice something subtly different about your appearance. The differences are adding up but no one seems bothered by it. | They told me I had aged gracefully. They said I looked good, but where once the compliment had been genuine, now it rang hollow, qualified by an unspoken "for someone of your age."
Every day I studied myself. Sometimes changes were so slow, you'd hardly notice them happening. Skin that didn't snap back quite as quickly, that blotched and mottled and was not smooth. Hair that was thinner, then streaked with grey, then an unnaturally uniform brown, then grey at the roots. Lines and creases just beginning to work their way into the map of my face.
The eyes were the worst. I lost the power to focus nearby and had to wear glasses to use the mirror. My eyes, once bright, shining, and the blue of spring sky after rain, had faded to a listless stormy grey-blue. Lines appeared in the corners, and they were no longer eyes that showed optimism, youth and curiosity, but eyes that spoke of experience, hardship, and wicked cunning.
Before my eyes the years piled on. With them weight, and grotesqueries of form that only I could perceive. My skin grew pale as I stayed in more and more. White body hairs appeared until in a rage I shaved everything. My self-imposed alopecia was worse than the grey.
On the wall behind my mirror, there's as clock, and in the mirror its running backward. A reflection that's getting younger and more vital and better looking with each passing day and obsessed with each newfound delight of youth and vitality, forgetting more and more every day of the time it had spent there the day before, reflecting. | I had made fun of people for misusing the word "kafkaesque" so many times that I'd started to forget what it really meant, but as I stared at my reflection in the mirror that morning, it was the only word I could call to mind.
It had started so gradually that I don't think I even noticed it until my nose had shifted an inch to the right. The minute I recognized something was up, I started taking "progress" pictures. It had been two weeks now, and every day it was getting worse. Sarah and all the coworkers I had asked about it said that I looked fine, but that only made me more paranoid. Being denied the reality of your own eyes does things to a man's head.
Specifically, in this case, it made me unbearably ugly. My eyes hung at different heights on my face, my nose had moved entirely, and my mouth had contorted into a shape that it shouldn't have been possible to eat or even speak from. Maddeningly, Sarah told me she didn't see a difference, and we'd even made love a few nights ago. I wanted to scream at her that I was hideous, that I wasn't worth looking at, but she didn't seem to agree. It would almost be better if she did.
I walked out of the bathroom, dressing myself, and moved into the kitchen to grab some breakfast to take with me. A pack of muffins sat on the counter with a note on top.
*I love you so much. Happy anniversary!*
She really was the best. I grabbed a muffin and got in the car to head to my appointment, trying my best not to look at myself in the rear view mirror.
The wait at the doctor's office wasn't long. Tuesday mornings certainly weren't peak hours as far as I was aware. Before long, a nurse called me back to take my basic measurements, and I was waiting on an examination table for a few minutes for the doctor to come in. Across the room for me was a mirror at eye level. You never realize how common mirrors are until you really don't want to see one.
The doctor eventually entered the room, an older man with graying hair. He shook his hand, introducing himself as Dr. Raymond. He asked me a few questions about what had been going on with my condition, and I answered them as honestly as I could. I didn't want to sound crazy, but I supposed if anywhere was safe to do so, it was here.
"Hmmm..." the doctor mused to himself after I had told him everything. "I'm going to prescribe you something for body dysmorphia. Try it for a month, and if this persists, we'll reevaluate then."
Body dysmorphia. I wanted to cry with relief. At least what I was experiencing was medical in nature. I thanked the doctor, taking his prescription. Peace, at last. | 2018-01-05T08:00:24 | 2018-01-05T07:24:52 | 108 | 58 |
[WP] Humanity finally figures out faster than light travel and discover that they are completely average by galactic standard, except for one thing, our innate ability to bullshit our way out of any situation. | The ambassador for earth, Harlan Navek, paced his chambers. A grand word for the tiny office he inhabited he often thought, but as annoying as the ambassador found feeling cramped, the size of the office was more concerning to him for what it reminded him of. The minute space, and necessity of its design, reminded him that he was within a comparatively small orbital outpost structure perched just outwith the event horizon of a supermassive black hole.
Navek remembered the ambassador from R’thlar proudly describing the moment The Congruence, the ruling council of intergalactic species, arrived at this unique solution to the problem of security. When inviting representatives from various intergalactic species to talk peace, the principles of both mutually assured destruction, and unity at all costs, could surely be no more eloquently demonstrated than having a few metres of thrust being all that separates those present from spending eternity compressed together into a quantum singularity.
Navek hated being here, but by virtue of being the first and only human to survive making the faster-than-light jump into the neutral system, he was elevated in status far beyond his wildest dreams. He’d hoped if he made it back he could speak to school children about being an astronaut. He instead found himself assisting in the negotiation for fraught trade routes and hostilities which threatened to wipe out galaxies. While he admired the egalitarian nature of these civilisations, their willingness to largely share and co-operate with him and others on first contact, he couldn't help feel there was something a little strange about their behaviour. They provided him immediately with technology beyond his wildest dreams;the translator, obviously, but also the exo-suit, and enhanced nanonics, likely to greatly extend his lifespan, as well as access to virtually all of their combined recorded knowledge. When Navek had probed as to their generosity, and whether this had ever come back to haunt them, of any “new members” had ever deceived or manipulated for gain when being presented with such vast knowledge. It was almost as if no other species could conceive of a way in which their practice could be seen as too trusting. The concept of deception seemed, well, alien to them, a fact Navek had confirmed when examining their records.
If for no other reason than to amuse himself in his seeming isolation, Navek had tested how far other species could be, for want of a better word, fooled. He concocted little white lies about amusing and entirely preposterous social customs back on earth, and laughed internally with astonishment when their telling was universally met with intrigued “how very interesting” responses from each species without fail. The amusement of these tiny tests wore thin however, and after all Navek had wished to fit in, completely ceasing his antics when he realised that even amongst species which deal consistently and only in truth, animosity, injustice and war could exist just as easily.
Ancient grudges, born of incompatibilities of need, led to squabbles over interpretations of prior agreements. But he had never felt they could come this close to war. Upon entering the grand chamber, the assembled voices began their arguments, points and counterpoints. Navek watched, hoping as usual to stay silent and seem contemplative rather than in over his head. But then the mood shifted, words he could only assume were curses (not recognised by the translator chip) were flying back and forth for the first time. Navek hadn't heard this sort of talk or seen this type of body language since earth. He found it at once both oddly comforting and absolutely terrifying.
The Arbiter, essentially the pilot of the outpost and the one who controlled its orbit sat up attentively on their grand throne for the first time in Navek’s memory. Though he was struggling to recognise facial expressions in all the myriad species he had so far encountered, the former test pilot in him knew the look of steely determination, the readied stance and manner of a pilot preparing to fly into battle. “Surely this can’t be happening?”, he thought to himself, as the Arbiter grasped the controls and called for calm, making clear their intentions, and more worryingly, their unwavering sense of duty.
Having been given the chance by his upgraded body, Navek wasn't prepared to sacrifice or risk himself again. He wanted to see home again one day… a home that may not be there if this outpost is destroyed. The triggering of an all-out galactic war amongst mightier forces than a small blue-green dot could muster could surely rip apart galaxies.
He didn't have a choice… what use was speaking truth to a room full of dead beings? The words were out before he could stop himself…
“Assembled members of the mighty Congruence! Cease this petty and primitive display of anger and hear me now! Earth has bided our time and waited for the right time for our true message to be heard. And that time is now…” | It had been a hotly contested debate for thousands of years. The Voluntary Coalition of the Federated States of Independent Transcendent Species had identified the potential of the Human Species on Planet Earth to achieve faster than light travel long before the technology was adopted by the Species as a whole. A rogue scientist discovered the technology and became somewhat of an inter-galactic celebrity when she sought to escape the persecution of the rest of her Species for her unorthodox understanding of science. The Human Species at the time was still highly religious, as most Intelligent Species in their early infancy, and Amelia Earhart was not welcomed by a community that was not yet ready to reach the stars.
Because the personal freedom of Intelligent Species to grow independently is the main binding tenent of The Voluntary Coalition of the Federated States of Independent Transcendent Species, the decision was made by unanimous vote to allow the bold pioneer to choose to join The Coalition as an individual or to return to her home Planet with the technology that she had invented. There are formal protocols to the process of allowing any Intelligent Species to enter the Inter-Galactic Stage with faster than light travel and the Human Species had not achieved any of the pre-requisites. Guidance and support would be offered to the Human Amelia Earhart should she choose to become an Ambassador of The Voluntary Coalition of the Federated States of Independent Transcendent Species, to introduce the necessary changes to her society in order to meet the requirements established by Inter-Galactic Law for an Intelligent Species to be allowed faster than light travel. Maintaining Inter-Galactic Peace is the second priority of The Coalition and the entire process had been forged from the blood of past mistakes and destroyed civilizations.
Many an individual had achieved faster than light travel ahead of their species as a whole in the past and decided to join The Coalition as individuals, but Amelia Earhart had from the beginning professed a desire to become an Ambassador and begin the process of disseminating the information to the rest of her Species. That is where the problems with the Human Species began. The protocols for meeting the Inter-Galactic Law are very strict and created without room for interpretation. They do not leave any room for personal freedom of the Ambassador as there is much danger to the Inter-Galactic Peace when an Intelligent Species first transcends the limitations of light-speed travel.
The other requirement for an Intelligent Species to join The Coalition, besides a method of faster than light travel, is the ability to defend oneself on the Inter-Galactic Stage. The Human Species and Planet Earth would need to achieve new levels of weapons technology before they could be allowed to raise their heads up and possibly become the target of another Intelligent Species. Until a new Intelligent Species had both faster than light travel and advanced defensive weaponry sufficient to protect itself, The Coalition assumed the role of protector and guardian of all fledgling Species and dutifully prevented any other independent Intelligent Species from interfering.
Amelia Earhart became an Inter-Galactic celebrity when she made a career of promising to deliver the necessary advancements in weapons technology to the Human Species along with faster than light travel, while not actually introducing any technology to her home Planet. She created protocols of her own that inhibited the process at every point. She made the tedious bureaucracy of The Coalition seem a simple and efficient affair compared to her constantly shifting requirements. She was given all the necessary information and every time found a new and unique way to sabotage the dissemination of the required defensive weapons technology. She flirted with Intelligent Species after Intelligent Species, promising a higher level of success with each new attempt while enjoying living the high life of a new Ambassador. After all, most Intelligent Species have grown accustomed to seeing it all and very little interests old Species other than the development of new Intelligent Species. Somehow she realized this context without anyone realizing and lived a life of luxury and celebrity while stalling the whole process.
It took the Human Species several hundred years before another individual independently discovered faster than light travel. The Coalition was not eager for a repeat of the past, but this time around the faster than light technology was already spread to the majority of the Human Species before any Ambassadors could be raised from the Humans, and once again before the new Intelligent Species had advanced its weapons technology sufficiently.
And the same problem was encountered. No matter how The Coalition attempted to teach or guide this new Intelligent Species, the primate-descended Humans found a way to prevent the creation and adoption of advanced weapons technology within their own species. They already had enough ways to destroy themselves and found no leverage with new ones. They enjoyed their new celebrity status as much as Amelia Earhart had when she first reached beyond her home Solar System, and they were just as eager to collect as many gifts and tributes as she was. They had rivalries and oppositions of their own and used these to consistently shift The Coalition's goalposts. Unfortunately the existence of The Coalition as a whole could no longer be hidden from the Humans and the Species had already inadvertently found itself in the spotlight of the Inter-Galactic Stage. This is where the centuries long debate over the Human Species shifted from academic interest to practical difficulty.
None of the Intelligent Species of the Coalition could come to an agreement on how to proceed. The protocols were clear and had been written from the catastrophic failures of many different civilizations. Everyone's hands were tied. But the Humans continued to learn and establish communications with more and more Intelligent Species. Instead of becoming a member of The Coalition and enjoying the protection granted, the Humans established independent relationships with different Intelligent Species who were already in disagreement and formal opposition. The mutually opposed factions of Humans managed to protect themselves and their home Planet by playing off millenia old rivalries between some of the oldest and most established Intelligent Species. Different members of the Coalition disagreed on what to do and the Humans focused their efforts on encouraging strife and discord.
An Intelligent Species with no means of protecting itself on the Inter-Galactic stage had managed to ignite long-held grudges and disagreements, turning their very assumed guardians against themselves, and The Coalition never saw it coming. Divided, The Coalition was powerless in its response, and without action the situation snowballed.
This is where the Great Inter-Galactic War of Personal Freedom and Independence first began. There is still no end in sight. | 2018-01-30T07:28:30 | 2018-01-30T07:14:05 | 78 | 37 |
[WP] You just let a hungry-looking couple into your home to feed them. As you go to turn off the TV, you hear, “under no circumstances should you answer the door today. They are not what they seem. And whatever you do, don’t let them inside...” | "And whatever you do, don’t let them inside..."
Those words are still ringing through my brain as I look up from the couch. Our host, so gracious just a few minutes ago, turns to face us. Neither of us have to imagine the look of dawning horror on our faces, as it is clearly being reflected right back. My wife and I both start shouting, at first in disbelief, then in fear.
"What the…? Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa wait wait wait. That is NOT us. I have no idea what they’re talking about." But it’s too late.
Our host pivots swiftly. He reaches behind the TV stand and pulls out a hunting rifle. That… doesn’t seem safe. But it’s West Virginia, so it’s also not that uncommon. It’s probably also loaded.
"SHUT UP!" Our host bellows. We do. Neither of us are used to having a gun pulled on us. My wife is sobbing, a barely audible whimper, "I just want to get home to feed the dog."
"I SAID SHUT UP!" I don’t know when I urinated on myself, but this is the point I start feeling it. The host starts digging through a junk drawer.
"No duct tape dammit," as he pulls out some masking tape and zip ties. "Good enough. You –" he points to me and tosses a couple zip ties on the floor, "hands behind your back. You –" to my wife now, "tie his hands together."
We comply, trying to explain that he’s making a mistake, but that doesn’t last long. He zip ties my wife’s hands then tapes our mouths shut. He shoves both of us into a closet.
"Stay here 'til I figure out what to do with you." He closes the door, blocking out the afternoon sun, leaving near-pitch darkness. I hear what I assume is a chair thud up against the closet door.
There's no telling time in darkness. I don't know how long we were stuck in there, crying. Maybe 15 minutes. Maybe 2 hours. I hear rustling occasionally, but nothing more, until I hear another thud. This time it’s the chair being removed. The door opens. It’s nearly as dark out there as it was in the closet, but my eyes have adjusted.
I see that our host is still holding his gun and… two others? He’s got a revolver in his hand and there’s a shotgun propped up against the wall. He looks at me, showing me the revolver. One of those big, Dirty Harry/Sledgehammer types. "You know how to use this?"
I nod, confused. "Good. Sorry about earlier. I believe you now. And sorry about whatever is going to happen next." He pulls the tape off our mouths, then pulls out some wirecutters and snaps our zip ties. He hands me the revolver, hands my wife the rifle.
"Take these. I don't know if they're gonna help."
| "I can explain--" - the young man said from behind me, in his hand the half-eaten slice of bread.
Instinctively, I reached for the closest thing I could, a plastic bowl.
"Look," - he said, his hands up in the air - "We don't want any trouble, we will leave as soon as we finish our meal."
But they could be bandits, criminals on the run, or worse. The woman! Where is the woman?
I backed away into a corner, my other hand searched for the phone.
"Where is she?" - I screamed - "Where is your girlfriend?"
"She got to rest." - he spoke, trying to walk closer.
"Stay back!" - I threw the bowl at him - "Get out of my house!"
"Hey!" - he yelled back - "All we ask for is a simple meal!"
"Screw you!" - I shouted, putting my phone to my ear - "911? The couple--"
But with a swipe of his hand, my phone flew across the room. What just happened? I had not a moment to realize the situation when the man appeared instantly in front of me and choked me with his blood-thirsty, furious hands.
"Stop it," - a soft voice entered the room - "Have we not enough enemies?"
The woman, in her dust-brown trenchcoat, walked feebly toward me. Her face was visibly pale, and her posture seemed like it could collapse at any moment. Her presence alone, however, gave off a soothing aura. The man released me from his grasp, irritated. She gave me a hand to hold on to.
"I'm sorry," - her soft voice calmed me down - "But being on the run is not good for the mind."
"I... He... What was..." - I pointed my finger at the phone, demanding answers.
She smiled, weakly, and with a wave of her hand the phone flew onto the table.
"Don't!" - the man said with a worrying expression - "Save your strength!"
I took another look at the woman.
"You're pregnant?"
She nodded, breathing quietly. It seemed the previous act had drawn what little left of her life force away. Her eyes were clouded in tiredness.
"Take her to the bed room!" - I commanded, myself running into the kitchen, mixing a glass of sugar water.
After we fed her some biscuits and gave her a change of clothes, the woman recovered. At least, that's what I'd like to believe. I didn't notice her pregnancy when they first arrived because she was so malnourished.
As the woman drifted off to sleep, there was a stare-down between me and the man. He was certainly not a man of many words, I reckoned, and watched his girlfriend, or wife, like a stubborn old dog that saw me as a threat. For me, I didn't want to start a conversation with a man who just tried to kill me.
About two hours later, the woman woke from her nap. I told her:
"You too could stay."
"No, we really shouldn't..." - she whispered quietly.
"Think for the baby, too. With you being so thin, it won't survive the winter."
And they stayed.
It became more lively now that the three of us lived together. Well, it was mostly due to the woman, acting as the link between me and the man. I did not press on too hard on the matter of their 'abnormality'. They were just a couple expecting a child.
I taught her childcare, what to feed them and what not, which symptoms indicate diseases and which isn't, which games to stimulate the mind and the body,... She told me I'd make a great mother. I just smiled, painfully. I was a great mother. Once.
A month after their arrival, another member joined the family. A girl. Six and a half pounds. They insisted me to name it. Anna.
The couple was overjoyed in the birth of their child. I stayed away from such a scene. Reminded me of moments I had had and had lost. Reminded me that I was a great mother.
When Anna was two weeks old, her parents disappeared one evening in front of the fireplace. All they left was a tear-drenched note: "You'd make a great mother." | 2018-03-14T10:29:22 | 2018-03-14T10:18:23 | 42 | 10 |
[WP] There's a saying among the galactic community. "Never hire a human"... you just hired 200 of them. And you're about to find out why that saying exists. | Never hire a human. I know. I mean, we all know. We just don't know why.
It's not like I had a choice though. Business was running slow and the plethora of intergalactic wars had depleted most of our resources. Money was scarce and humans... weren't. Humans are cheap.
So I figured, to hell with it. If I want to keep this company running I have to take a few risks. What's the worst that could happen? I flew to the nearest human nest and found 200 willing workers.
It started out just fine. Better, even. Humans turned out to be quite inventive and hard workers. If they don't know how to finish a task, they would find a way. And most of all, they were friendly.
Cassy knew everything about my sleeping rituals by the second week. Somewhere around the fourth week she would leave a cup of hot water out for me to find when I'd wake up. I love a cup of hot water.
Bob likes to sing during his day. He's not very good at it, but that doesn't seem to bother him. He asked me about songs of my homeplanet. Since then I have heard him hum the tunes several times. He said he 'looked it up.'
Jamie likes to chat. Not sure what he's talking about usually, but it passes the time.
For a while things were fine. Production went up, my workers were effective. Then, another war started. Closer this time.
I'll never forget the cracking sounds around me after the first bomb hit. They... they told me to run, they'd 'hold the fort', said Lois. So I ran.
And when it was over I returned.
They were gone. All of them. My humans. Dead. They don't regenerate well.
No more singing or whistling. No more chatter. No more cups of water. Just silence, deafening silence. I've never felt more alone.
Never hire a human, they say. Because you'll miss them. And it hurts. | Entry 1207.23 - 31.r.TAK2132
"Never hire a human"
The first words written with the new script that every Class C civilization and above, those with interstellar travel capabilities, should be able to read. It was the mantra of every organization and corporation in the inhabitated Galaxy.
After 7 Taks every written word used Ykinton, and there wasn't a species amongst us that couldn't understand it or learn in with incredible ease. Even new arrivals to the Galactic Union easily understood Ykinton. We knew that once the humans from Sol reach us, they would too.
At first, they kept to themselves. Shocked creatures unable to cope with not being the only intelligent species in existence. Most species have this adjustment period but for the humans it was...extreme. Yet they adapted, they started to understand, and they began to find a home amongst the stars. As expected, Ykinton came easily to them and before long they started created trade routes between posts and their home planet.
Then the mistake happened. One of my labs was destroyed by those moronic Swertiaks, pirates and scoundrels the lot of them. Luckily they did not understand the value of my research and just destroyed the lab for it's raw material, something they value more than life itself. I needed test subjects, and fast. Technically I didn't hire humans to work for me but to be worked on...that should have been fine. I thought.
The humans tenacity for adapting and surviving will be the last thing I underestimate in my life. Mostly because I have always pride myself in learning my mistake and also because I am currently trapped in a cell with limited resources. They figured it out before I had a chance to quarantine them and start my tests. They took all of my notes, my diagrams, my journals. Everything. With the information they now have they can advance their civilization hundreds of Taks in the matter of moments.
That was all it took, 200 of them to overrun the defences in my home lab. They seemed to always bicker amongst themselves but this level of coordination was not expected. They quickly split into groups, started to delegate tasks and trust that each group would succeed with no assurance of it. They scattered, destroyed, regrouped and moved on before any of my staff understood the situation. The leader, who seems to have been elected during all this confusion found it adequate to "show the last Thalsxian that not all humans are savages, some of us can show compassion."
My last hope in this existence is that the humans use it for good, that they share what they learned and create a brighter future for all races. Only time will tell.
Entry 1207.23 - 39.r.TAK2132
The leader returned, already they have weaponized two of my inventions. It came to show off what it learned and to make sure I was "comfortable." I have jeopardized everything.
Never hire a human...never hire a human...never hire a human...never hire a human...never hire a human...NEVER
This is my first post here, always wanted to try one of these and I'm hoping you enjoy it. This was really fun! | 2018-04-27T13:39:05 | 2018-04-27T12:22:17 | 535 | 54 |
[WP] A young gay dragon has to explain to his parents why he is only kidnapping princes | #THE GAY DRAGON
ON roaring wings of bows of rain
Soars a mighty dragon, never slain
For the knights that come to claim its head
Find themselves hoarded off instead
A ferocious wyrm they sought to kill
Chains gallantry to dignity,
and friskily, timidly, his treasures to bed.
Thus they find themselves claiming still
Neither princess unveiled, nor maiden wed,
But a different kind of dragon's head. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Liberated from vows, and crowns, and heavy swords,
Captured heroes do heaven find, in the grasp of golden cords.
Yet betwixt the coital throes
Of armor shed, and passion glow,
A groan of dim surprise in cavern deep.
A rough-scaled elder slinks yet there,
Upon this wyrm's secret keep.
Shocked as their youth, sprung from egg
Finds comfort without such fettered shells.
"Jimmy! What in the name of the seven hells-"
crackles a voice of thunderous stone.
"I-I can explain dad, I was, uh, arranging bones-"
A fiery defense, powerless against the ageless sea.
"Son, there is no need to play the banshee,
If you don't swing for chests, but go for keys,
your mother and I will treasure you all the same."
"But for god's sake, have some shame!
I don't care whether you are gay or straight--
Finish eating what you plate." | Ryonar trembled at the sight of his parents landing at his castle. They were the apotheosis of might. Black scales, tremendous size, and unmatched bloodthirst.
"Son," Barlon--his father-- said, locking his fire imbued eyes on his, "it has come to our attention that you aren't kidnapping princesses but princes."
Alethela--her mother--huffed haughtily. "He's also feeding them with feasts worthy of kings, Barlon."
"Is that true, son?" Barlon crawled toward him. "Are you wasting your treasures?"
Ryonar fidgeted and looked away. How could he explain this? "I-I have lot of riches, and I enjoy being a good host."
"A good host for *princes*?" Alethela snapped. "How many do you have in here?"
Ryonar took a deep breath. There was no use in lying anymore. They had cornered him. "Seventy two."
"For god's sake, Alethela." Barlon stomped the ground, sending boulders flying to the sides. "Don't push him."
Alethela huffed again, annoyed.
"Son," Barlon said, "can you tell us why aren't you kidnapping princesses?"
"Father." Ryonar met Barlon's Gaze, and then turned to Alethela. "Mother. There's no point in lying to you anymore. I've grown to hate shining crowns, and love the length and girth of a well crafted sword."
Barlon frowned. "Then why don't you steal swords, *and* princesses?"
"Oh, my sweet darling." Alethela shook her head. "How can you be so naive. He likes men's *flesh.*"
"I understand that," Barlon said. "He can always eat them. I've eaten entire armies."
Ryonar and Alethela glared at him.
"What?" Barlon struggled to understand the hidden meaning, but after a couple minutes of awkward silence, he spoke, "Oh. Seventy two?" His eyes widened. "At least you inherited our greed. Well I mean not at least. I meant. Bah! Forget it.
"We love you anyway son, just be cautious and aware."
Alethela flew toward her son's side, and embraced him in her wings. "Your father is right. You might like swords, but they are sharp, and they can make you bleed. We won't judge your tastes, but be aware of those who seek the praise of slaughtering Barlon's son."
Ryonar smiled. "No sword can pierce the thickness of my scales. Believe me. We have tried enormous crossbows and the sharpest arrows. Great times." He chuckled
The room fell silent. That might have been too much.
---------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall For more (not so strange) stories!
| 2018-05-03T12:52:16 | 2018-05-03T12:47:55 | 414 | 243 |
[WP] You decide to prank your newborn kid by having him read Harry Potter series and convincing him it's real and that he is a wizard as well. You fake a Hogwarts letter, drive him to King's Cross station and wait for the moment he crashes into the pillar. He goes straight through. | I ducked under the flying book with practiced ease and it slammed into the wall behind me.
“Abarakadabum!!”
My mother was fond of screaming made up spell names during her nightly drinking sessions.
She laughed and subsequently lost her balance, rolling off the couch and falling bodily onto the floor.
I took the opportunity to flee, quietly slipping out the front door. I lit a cigarette and walked down the empty street, pulling the red and gold scarf my mom had given me years ago close.
I don’t know why she kept doing it. Not the drinking; I knew why she drank. It was the fantasy, this idea that Hogwarts was real and that I was a witch. Obviously, I had figured it out years ago but my mother refused to admit the stories were just that, stories.
Well, anyways, these days we would only get a few pages into the Order of the Phoenix before mom had downed two martinis and started to slur her words.
I finished my cigarette and walked home. To my surprise my mother was upright and sitting at the table, with a cigarette of her own in one hand and a letter in the other.
“Look what an owl brought me,” she said. Her eyes were red but alert. Her hand snaked out and grabbed my wrist, and she pulled me toward the letter.
“Open it!” There was a hint of menace in her voice.
The letter was an invitation to Hogwarts, done in my mother’s crude hand writing. She hadn’t even put effort into it. I couldn’t help it; I teared up. Why did she do this to me?!
Later that evening I could hear her laughing on the phone, “she even started crying, the idiot! Tomorrow I’m taking her to Kings Cross. We are going to break the internet. This shits going viral.”
That morning I went along with everything. I stood mutely while my mother dressed me in a kids halloween costume, not even a brand name but a cheap knock off, “wizard boy cloak”.
We got to the station and she pushed me towards Platform 9.
I turned to her, hoping that she would realize that I was still her daughter and not her play thing, not a burden, but a girl who still loves her mom, despite the beatings and the drinking.
She blew me an exaggerated kiss, pulled out her cell phone, and motioned me to get going.
So I ran. I ran headlong at the pillar, because fuck it. Because at best I would jar my brain in just the right way and the last 13 years of my life would be forgotten, and who knows, maybe this would make my mother happy.
As I got closer to the pillar I even started to believe that I was on my way to Hogwarts. That this was it.
I could hear my mother laughing. I closed my eyes and braced for the impact. There was a roar in my ears. But I just kept running.
“Steady!!”
Firm hands gripped me. I looked up to see the kindly face of an elderly man in a peculiar set of robes. He had a long white beard and half moon spectacles. I looked around to see young people in black robes everywhere.
The man looked down at me.
“We are so glad you’ve made it.” | A Rebuttal to Nickofnight's:
"Mr. Philips?" the voice asked.
"Yes," I said, pausing as I looked up from the bar.
It had been months now since the divorce and I was already a social pariah. There had been a Black Mirror episode about how the public turned against people they considered to be child murderers in shocking ways. I wasn't considered one but I was considered criminally negligent and if they couldn't throw me under the bus for killing kid, they could certainly make me seem like someone who was a lunatic. I mean, seriously, why had I even bothered telling the truth?
I looked up and blinked.
What the fuck?
Was this a joke?
"Yes, nice to meet you," a man dressed like Hagrid said.
Well, dressed like was difficult to say as the man cosplaying as him was an Andre the Giant-looking man with a big thick bushy beard. He looked, if not quite like my idea of the man from reading the books to my son, quite a bit closer than the illustrations in the book or movies.
"What is this?" I said, nursing my beer. This was the kind of dive where people didn't care if you were an infamous scumbag.
"Well, your child is wonderful but it seems like he fell through the cracks for a bit and no one bothered to give you an update," Hagrid said. "The thing is, your home life situation is a bit of a concern and...well, your ex-wife doesn't believe us."
"Believe you?" I stared at him. "You realize you're a fictional character."
That's it. I'd lost my mind.
I'd cracked.
"Yes," Hagrid said. "However, that's how magic works. All of the fantasy places people really believe in are real. Middle-Earth, Narnia, and that little place with the silver slippers that turned into ruby ones after the movie. Heaven and Hell too. You believe in them enough and they become real. Just not in this reality where everyone just believes in their next meal."
I laughed. It was a bitter gallow's laugh. This had to be a particularly sick prank or hallucination. "So, my child was spirited off to Never-Never land."
"No, that's a different place," Hagrid said.
I stared at him. "Bullshit."
Hagrid paused. "Haven't you ever wondered why so many people disappear without a trace?"
I blinked at him. They disappeared because the world sucked and ate people before spitting them out. "Because they go to Fairyland?"
"That's a racist term where I'm from but essentially," Hagrid said.
"Why has no one returned?" I asked. "Told the world?"
Hagrid shrugged. "Would you?"
I wouldn't. The vicious emptiness of the world had been exposed to me by how easy it had been to turn the woman I loved against me, my parents, my employers, and my so-called friends. Barry had believed in Hogwarts because, at the end of the day, it had good people in it as well as bad.
I wanted to believe in that world now.
A world where the Voldemorts of the world hadn't won. No, not even the Voldemorts, the Dursleys and Professor Umbridges. Wow, I'd thought a lot about those fucking bucks. Way, way too much if this was any indication. I wasn't even that drunk.
"You're a lot more eloquent than you are in the books," I said, surprised he was still there after shaking my head.
"That's also racist." Hagrid paused. "I also took some correspondence courses after the Dark Lord fell."
I cried and couldn't help but whisper. "So, my kid is alive? I'm not insane?"
I, of course, was asking a half-giant from a children's story book. But if I had lost my mind then it was a better reality than the one I lived in.
"Oh yes...and we'd like you to come with us. You'd be a Muggle there but all your favorite characters would be there. Your son too."
I paused. "What will happen here?"
"People will believe you committed suicide. We'd substitute a body made of MeatGrow and FaceWax."
The names of the spells made me laugh before I realized the full implications of what he was saying. Could I do that to them?
Surely, they'd miss me.
I thought of my friends and family. The ones who'd turned on me. Then shook my head. "Good." | 2018-05-21T03:18:23 | 2018-05-21T02:02:22 | 1,611 | 507 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | Earth's representative took the podium at a convention of all galactic leaders. Everyone expected unconditional surrender and from the looks of the old man in a white coat with a defeated expression that is what they were about to get.
"I want everyone to know that I am deeply saddened by what I am about to say.
When we joined the galactic community 200 years ago we were given an ultimatum by the rest of you. "Learn to communicate or perish.", And perish we almost did. See we understood your words just fine but as you had planned we didn't understand your meaning. We had become so wrapped up in the specifics of our words that we had forgotten our more basic forms of communication. The way you communicated was almost like a intricate dance that we couldn't understand. We could translate the words but that was only half the message.
We learned to 'communicate' very quickly as our survival depended on it, but what what you didn't realize what that the skills of negotiation were already ingrained in us because again our survival depended on it for centuries before you came along. Once we had your skills of communication we not only joined you in the galactic community but we quickly rose in your ranks. We left our warring history behind and became brokers of peace and negotiation for your many factions.
At first you welcomed us, but I'm not telling you anything you don't already know.
Now we know all your secrets. You trusted us and we have never breached that trust. But now there grows a fear that we won't continue to be so selfless. That we are still the liars and violent monsters we were when your found us and that allowing us to continue in your community will lead to disaster.
So you have attacked us on multiple fronts and killed many of our people. Driving us off all the planets we now inhabit and deporting us back to Earth. We don't have the engines of war that you have. We don't even have the primitive guns and explosives that we used to.
Our defeat is guaranteed."
The entire convention began to murmur as the time for surrender seemed imminent.
"I'm not finished!"
The anger and commanding tone silenced the entire crowd. No one in attendance expected this of the frail looking old human on the stage.
"We never betrayed your trust. You have now betrayed ours.
As I said we know all of your secrets. We know all the weaknesses or your main civilisation hubs. We know the security of all of your facilities. We know the genetic making and evolutionary histories of every species here.
We also know that you don't plan to stop once our surrender is complete. You plan to eradicate us just as you did when you gave us your ultimatum 200 years ago if we failed to learn to communicate.
Let me be very clear in this communication now.
We have a secret that you do not know. A millennia before you found us we had enforced on ourselves rules of war because if we hadn't we would be long dead by the time you arrived. Rules that, now faced with our Extinction, we see no reason to uphold.
At this very moment a host of viruses that we have designed for each of your species is being released on your inhabited planets and in this very room. They are quite incurable."
The room fell silent as everyone checked to see if it was true, but the human was not bluffing.
"Mutually assured destruction. That is a term you are not familiar with but I am sure you understand. Bring your full might upon us if you wish. No one will be left alive when the dust settles."
Edit: I referenced a short story by Frank Herbert in this. It's called 'try to remember' and it's in a collection called EYE. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eye_(short_story_collection) great reads if you have the chance | The selected representative of the United Earth, Amy Sliskin, stood before the Council Of Space Faring Species, reading from a prepared speech. “I am here today representing the United Earth to notify this council that that Ratilkin Empire is preparing for war against us.”
An envoy from the Empire stood across from Amy, a neutral expression on his face.
“The Empire has attacked our ships, and, as of this morning, destroyed a research space station near the space they claim.”
The envoy from the Empire interrupted. “We have always demanded a buffer around our territory, it is the humans fault that we must destroy their vessels for trespassing in our space.
“What they have found, and what many of you have suspected, is that we have no warships of any kind. Not once have we responded with violence to their attacks, we’ve asked this council to condemn these attacks and they have refused to do so.”
“It is typical of humans to run to their betters when in trouble, and the Empire is glad that the council has ignored them. The council knows you humans are a worthless lot, not worthy of it’s time.”
Amy stopped her speech. “I would like you to stop interrupting me.”
The envoy’s snout flared. “Little girl, you should know better than to talk to your betters that way.”
“All I see is a scared little puppy.” A few members of the council laughed, others looked at each other confused, asking if they have heard of a puppy. “Did you know we have little versions of you on our planet? We make them do tricks. Would you like me to show you how we make them sit?”
“You will not…”
Amy interrupted the envoy. “Im sorry, I wasn’t being clear, stop talking and sit down.”
A lone clap came from the Nyler envoy, he had spent some time on Earth and learned of the custom to clap to show approval. Nobody had ever dared to talk back to anybody from the Ratilkin Empire, doing so had led to war in the past, and the Ratilkin Empire always won their wars.
The Ratilkin envoy gathered his things, about to storm out in a very loud fashion.
Amy continued her speech. “The council has refused to do so because they are scared of the Empire, and we completely understand this. The Ratilkin Empire has a military larger than all other species of this council combined, and they will attack for any or no reason. We have simulated war with the Empire, and in most cases it ends with trillions dead on both sides. Many Council members have said they would like to help us, but we can not drag them into a war. The outcome of such a war would be untenable, so we ask for unconditional surrender.”
The Ratilkin’s ears perked up. “We accept your surrender.”
“No, we’re asking for the Ratilkin Empire to surrender.”
“Ridiculous,” the envoy pounded the desk in front of his seat, “we will crush you and enslave you. And any species that helps you will be enslaved as well.”
“I will have to reject your counter-offer.” Amy pressed a button on her tablet, bringing up video of space. “Here’s our counter to your counter-offer, in a few minutes you will see the Ratilkin homeworld.”
“What is this?” Asked the Ratilkin envoy.
“We’re looking at video from a planet currently heading to your homeworld. You have about ten minutes to surrender before we can’t stop it.” The video turned around, showing a gas giant.
“This is impossible, you expect me to believe you can move planets?”
“Of course not, we didn’t move it, I don’t really understand what they did, something about transversable wormholes or something like that. They just opened one up and in it went, and now it’s heading to your homeworld. This is a big planet to, at least ten times bigger than your planet. You won’t even be able to find your planet once this thing hits it.” Amy stared at the envoy, finally he didn’t have anything to say. “Oh, and you’re about to get a call from home, you better answer it.”
At that moment the envoy got a call from the emperor of the Ratilkin Empire. He listened for a few seconds and said something no Ratilkin had ever said, “We surrender.”
“Good boy, remind me to give you a treat later.”
The video feed went blank. “Is it done?” Asked the envoy.
Amy looked at her tablet, panicked. “Oh no, we’re too late.”
The envoy stood frozen in place, not knowing what to say or do next.
Amy looked up from her tablet, jaw hanging. “I’m just joking, we put the planet back where it belonged, everybody’s okay.” She laughed. “Anyway, since the Ratilkin Empire has unconditionally surrendered to us we can do whatever we want. First order of business is fixing up their awful instructure, human only work crews of course, we don’t enslave anybody.” | 2018-12-14T21:32:21 | 2018-12-14T17:52:57 | 681 | 488 |
[WP] once in every month soulmates get to see from eachothers’ eyes for 60 seconds until they meet for the first time. It happens unexpectedly and neither of the pair knows when it will happen. One day you see someone you recognise from your soulmate’s eyes. | There was once upon a time in my life where I saw hope
We’d try to send messages to each other, writing love notes on the mirror and hoping she sees it each time you stand in front of it.
I’ll never forget the time I finally caught a glimpse of her mirror love note back.
Her perfectly beach blonde hair wrapped around her shoulders, her gentle hum echoing in the tile-laden bathroom, and on the mirror was only two words, “Sydney, Australia” signed off with a deep-red lipstick heart.
I was 16, I had no money, my family was not among the lucky to match with their soulmates, and their lives suffered greatly for it.
But I was determined to break that curse.
And here I am, one hard-earned plane ticket later—staring at her fiancé, whose proposal was my last sixty second glimpse into her life. | For 24 years, I’ve seen out of Kate’s eyes once a month. It happens, and I’m used to it. I’ve used my earnings over the years to vacation, see the most beautiful sights the world has to offer. Today, I fear her. I sat on the edge of the canyon, looking down, when it flashed before my eyes. My old roommate, Kyle, the gun in front of my new face, aimed at his chest. One. Two. Three. Three shots. I saw his chest move back, his jacket fly behind him. His wallet, his phone, his body, all hitting the ground. I watched as Kate stopped down, and grabbed his phone, turning it on. An image of me and my ex, hanging it with Kyle in Amsterdam flashed on the screen. One more bullet to the screen. I saw the ground recede, and her eyes lock onto the mirror, a beautifully deadly smile crawling on her face, sending my heart into overdrive, love and adrenaline causing through it. She laughed, the sound tearing through the night sky. Her eyes, hazel, like always, look at her reflection. “Hi Mark. Miss me?” The fifth bullet groom the gun shatters the mirror, as I stunt to my reality. I grab my phone, about to call Kyle, like I do when things like this happen. Then it hits me. She’s closer. I recognize where she shot him. His apartment, right next to mine. I get up, and hop in the car. I dial the same number I have every month for most of my life, until he picks up on the other side. “Who was it this time?” “Kyle.” “We’ll send a crew. Relocating again?” “No. It’s time to see her face to face.” I hang up, knowing what comes next. For the first time in 17 years, I was going to see Kate. This time would be different. But it never was.
(Ok, I tried. I’m tired, I’m swamped with work, I’m hungry. I just wanted a plot twist.) | 2019-02-13T16:07:52 | 2019-02-13T15:32:40 | 390 | 110 |
[WP] Your ability to see what level of pain a person is experiencing has always helped you in your profession as a nurse. From the hovering "0.6" over the guy with the hangnail to the "42" over the crash victim. Today on the bus ride to work there is an "800" over a guy, calmly reading his paper... | *800*, I whispered to myself. That's quite a number to deal with. But he continues reading his paper without any care in the world... -
Except, when I glance over to his side, I can see his glassy eyes; biting his trembling lips trying his best to disguise the whirlwind of emotions inside his chest.
The schoolgirl sitting next to him get off at the next stop. He scoots over to let her pass and at that moment, I caught his eyes. I smile knowingly at him. He looks startled, probably the first smile he gets today. He blinks a couple of time before returning a smile to me.
I moved to the seat next to him while he pretends to continue reading the paper. I know it's awfully rude to be staring at people but I gotta get his attention. Eventually, he folded the paper in half and places it on the empty space next to him.
In that swift moment, I look at the number on his forehead. Minus 150. He looks calmer than he was before. Genuinely different and I can almost feel the tense air around him changes.
He let out a sigh, look at me and mouthed silently "thank you".
I deliberate on either if it's appropriate to put a hand on his arm to ensure him things always get better. He senses my hesitation, smiles and said "that was the first time someone smile at me today."
I throw a momentary glance out the window and know that I have about 20 minutes before I get to my stop. "Mind if I sit next to you?"
The moment I plop myself down besides him, the number decreases tremendously. He looks down on his palm, a big fat tear rolls down his left cheek. I finally put a hand on his arm and squeeze it gently, "you're tougher than you think you are."
He sobs silently, muttering about his wife whom passed away two months ago after a 3 years battle with cancer. Losing his purpose in life, he quit his job last month and has felt like a severed kite for the past week. In fact, he is on his way to end his life by jumping off a small bridge at the edge of town.
Two weeks after, he stops by with a bouquet of sunflowers while I was at work. He brought along his little girl, an almost ocean blue eyes with jet black hair. *She's exactly her mother*, he said.
I smile and say, "it always gets better." | You look inquisitively at the man before deciding to sit next to him.
“Mind if I take this seat?” He seems happy to have company. Both of you don’t say a word for several minutes despite all the questions running through your head. You finically veal the silence.
“So, what are ya reading?” You croak, your voice a bit rough after inactivity.
“You know, the daily paper.” He responds, eyes still fixated on the price of literature. You peek over to see what story he is reading. You find that it is no story at all, he is reading the obituaries. He seems fixated on one name, focusing on the black text displayed. You read: “Jessie Tenter, suicide by shotgun” Right then, you see it. The numbers they just multiplied by a factor of 3, number now reading 2400. You look the man in the eyes, you see pain and torment, but he does not move a muscle. He flips the page. It is obvious he isn’t reading anymore, just trying to look okay. You try to reach out:
“Hey are you okay?” You whisper to the man
“Yeah, I’m fine. News is quite good today actually. Today scientists discovered-“ you cut him off.
“No, are YOU okay?” He looks up from his paper and we make eye contact for the first time. He knows I know what is up. For a moment I thought he was going to cry, but he simply re-adjusted his shirt.
“Do you know what it’s like to lose someone you love?” He asks. I prepare to respond but before I can start he cuts me off. “Do you know what it’s like watching all of your loved ones die, growing old and sick while you remain young and healthy?” He stops himself. “Look, I didn’t mean to be so harsh, you would never know. Let me explain. I am doctor Normandy. I worked along side several scientists during the 1800 to try to develop a cure for old age. We-“ He makes a fist with his hand. “You don’t believe me, do you?” He accuses.
“Doctor,” I respond. “I assure you I leave my judgment until the end.” This seems to calm him down. He continues.
“We discovered how to mix the blood of long living sea turtles and humans. We were running out of funds at this point, so we decided we needed something to show our government. So I volunteered to be a test subject. As you see, it worked out well. My colleagues on the other hand...” he looks out the window “I can’t say the same for them.” We remain silent for a while. I decide to break the silence once more.
“So why were you so hurt when reading the obituaries?” He looked st me shocked for a moment before he spoke.
“Well...” He began. “I made a friend. Not just any friend, a friend that won’t die like the others. Someone to stay by my side no matter what. She was studying the same thing I was, their lab had more success but they did not want to try it on humans. She decided to sneak in and try it herself, hoping that this will encourage other scientists to replicate the experiment. We had something special. Where as, you are eventually going to die, be forgotten, and turn into dirt, we are going to exist much longer, but she-“ the bus stopped. “This is where I get off. I hope you enjoyed my tale, enjoy life while you have it”
He walked off the bus, across the street to the local gun store. As the bus sped off, he gives me a bit of a wink. | 2019-04-14T01:45:56 | 2019-04-14T01:38:46 | 121 | 17 |
[WP] You are a medical wonder due to the fact that you can regrow your organs. You became a donor and everyone thinks that you are a good person. What they do not know is that you can control every reciever whenever you like. | “Morals are not at issue,” you say, sitting in an overly lush office, the world’s second richest man across a desk of redwood. “The issue is one of control.”
“No, this is attempted blackmail. You are corrupt and foolish, and nothing else. I owe you nothing,” William responds.
Standing, you step behind the chair, running your hand across its top. “This chair is not corrupt. It sits slightly too low, making it hard to sit down in or get up from. And of course, being low means the sitter must look up to your throne. You want to put people at a disadvantage when they sit before you and even your furniture bends to your will,” you say. “But that doesn’t make the chair, or even you, corrupt or evil. It just makes you in control.”
“I’ve heard enough,” William answered. “Show Miss Smith out.”
“Not a good idea,” you say. “I doubt your heart could take me leaving on such bad terms.”
Regardless of you plea, two men, large and in black suits, materialize from the corners of the room and stand next to you. They do not touch you but their subtle movements, body language, and even facial expressions compel you towards the exit.
“You’re good,” you say to them, taking a step towards the door.
“Wait,” comes the gurgling sound from the man sitting on the throne. The large men immediately rush towards him, urgency in their movements but helplessness in their faces.
Turning, you pick up the chair, too small, too low, too far beneath you, and fling it aside.
“How?” Williams asks, breath returning to him. “You gave me a liver, not a heart.”
“Control is control. There is nothing else.”
“You are a monster,” William says, practically spitting the words.
“Dear William, we are going to do great things together. We will feed the starving. We will cloth the needy. We will provide shelter for the weary. You continue to bring morals into this discussion, so I ask you, am I the monster for making you realize your duty, or is it you for ignoring it for so long?” | The first thing you should probably know is that it hurts.
Donating your organs is a hassle, and regrowing them hurts like hell, and itches all the way. It’s not something I really recommend to people- but I guess I don’t need to since most of you can’t do what I do.
They call me a medical wonder; a modern marvel. A hero. I see that. Statistically speaking I have helped save a lot of people. I deal with the stress and the pain and itching and I give people a new kidney or liver or whatever it is they need. Mine will grow back, and they get to live.
The second thing you should know is that I remain connected to every organ I make. Even after they leave my body, I can feel them. I can reach out to them, sense where they are, and even exert control. This is the really strange yet highly amusing part of my situation.
They call me a hero, but they have no idea that I just made that lady smack her boyfriend across the face.
She doesn’t quite realize that she wasn’t the one who wanted to do it. From my bench, across the clearing, I could see the confused look on her face, but she hasn’t said she's sorry. His eyebrows narrowed in anger as he rubbed the pink spot in his cheek, and I could see that his lips clenching together. He wanted to tell her off if I had to guess, but he didn’t want to make a scene.
Those are the best ones to mess with if I am going to be honest.
I guess you may need to know a third thing here… That guy is a total asshole.
I don’t like them. The people that treat other people like garbage, especially the ones that they are supposed to love. I don’t like jerks, and whenever I can I like to help put them in their place. Being able to control the people who have my organs has really helped in this effort.
The small man-child she calls her boyfriend stood up a moment later. His fists are clenched, and he barely looks at her as she scoots herself off the bench behind them. I admit first to anyone who asks that the slap was satisfying, but it wasn’t the end.
Walking several feet behind them, I watch as her arms reach out and push him forward. It took a lot to stifle the laugh as he stumbled forward and fell on his knees. The guy has really had it coming for a while now, and watching his dignity slip away would bring anyone joy.
That's all it took for him to lose his cool, and a fight broke out right there in the park. The scene he had tried not to cause and I knew at that moment that she was safe. Start a riot, and at the very least you earn the respect you deserve.
I don’t believe I’m a hero. The smirk that sat on my face didn’t last very long after that, I knew that riots caused pain. I knew that she had just stood up for herself for the first time though, and that was something.
So no, I’m no hero. But at least I try to use my abilities for good, and I will continue to do so until someone tries to stop me.
As I left the park I felt a familiar flutter in my gut, pulling me down the street. I can always tell when an organ is nearby.
/r/Beezus_Writes | 2019-06-13T06:55:18 | 2019-06-13T05:07:17 | 716 | 278 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | Her eyes settled on her blood-covered teammate. He walked along with the others up front, boasting about how he single-handedly won this for them, and they should all be buying his drinks.
She could feel her head pounding, and her anger slowly building. What would a rogue know about carrying a team? What would he know about helping since all he does is scream for heals and run full tilt at the enemy?
The wizard caught her attention. "Come now Drell, you may have stabbed the Goblin King in the back, but I'm the one who blinded him with fire first."
The healer held back the urge to scream. Sure, the Wizard knew all kinds of spells. If only Declan knew how to aim. The healer grabbed the burned edges of her robe. It was a sacred item, and without apology or remorse the wizard burned through her to get to the Goblin King, after all, a healer can take care of themselves after right?
"Mell, you should learn to position yourself better. Let's start working on that." The paladin gave the healer an accusatory stare from beside the wizard. His armor shone in the light of the small-town road.
"Position myself?" There was a threat of violence in her voice that no one took seriously. The rogue and wizard rolled their eyes and headed into the tavern, avoiding the lecture and laughing at Mell, who was getting the short end today. It was a common occurrence.
"Gallant, you don't need to position yourself because you hide behind sheets of metal and a holy symbol, don't lecture me today."
The paladin frowned at Mell, puffing out his chest and stopping her attempt to pass him by. He grabbed her by the arm and cuffed the side of her head with his other hand. His gauntlet left a cut over her temple.
"Stop bringing the team down. You're being a selfish bitch right now. Just do your job and go to bed, you're full of shit because you're tired."
Mell allowed her wrath to settle over her like a cold blanket and smiled at him. "You're right Gallant. I'll grab a drink and head to bed."
Gallant looked pleased with himself and let go of her, pushing past the door, and letting it slam in her face.
The healer entered the bar after an hour, and if anyone had cared at all to look, they would notice the streaks of tears at the edges of her face, where she hadn't remembered to wipe. The tears did not betray her, and for once she was so very grateful to be unimportant.
She ate her food, read one of the many books she carried and prepared her nightly poultice. She was to treat all party members with the poultice before their long rest so that they would never be ill or sore the following day.
One by one they undressed for her, no shame or care, and one by one she took care of their remaining wounds. The rogue and wizard muttered something about her skills improving since this poultice didn't sting like the others. The paladin grunted something about her babying the team.
When the moon rose in greeting to the sky the rogue, the wizard, and the paladin woke abruptly. Each could not scream, each bent over in pain. They looked around, thinking that someone must have poisoned their ale, but when they saw the healer sitting quietly atop the bed, realization hit.
"You tire and bore me boys. I must protest. I found a patron the other day. He's been sending me countless requests. I never really considered joining the Emperor, but today I think I understand why I should. "
The paladin tried to push a smiting prayer past his gasping breath, but to no avail. Like a twisted children's tale, the healer took from each warrior what they truly valued.
From the rogue she took his dexterity, straddling him, crippling his hand and shattering his ankles.
From the wizard, a sharp spike through the head would suffice. He breathed, but his eyes were glassy and empty.
Lastly, Mell kicked the paladin into a more desirable spot, kneeling down beside his weak and weary body.
"You know Gallant, I really think you should work on your perception, you're being shit at your job and it's quite literally killing your team."
Gallant's mind was shattered. He wasn't supposed to succumb to poison, he was immune. How could this happen?
Mell bent over his face, her long hair tickling his neck and forehead. She wrapped her fingers around his holy symbol and ripped it off. Her lips moved to his ear.
"My position has never been merely submission, I might be on the bottom, but that where I have power. I decide who lives and dies, and up until yesterday, I hadn't changed my mind. Learn your place."
Something heavy held on to Gallant's heart and he drifted off to a fitful night in hell.
Edit: Spelling. Also, part 2 is further down.
Edit: There may be a couple more parts.
Final Update: To everyone who asked for more, I have just finished with the 6th part and it's down in the comments. It's the epilogue so I hope you all enjoy this short story adventure.
Thanks to everyone who encouraged and complimented me, I really appreciate you all! | “Hrrr-aghh!”
The paladin cleaved through the captain, who coughed up blood as he stumbled backwards and fell. Flicking the blood from his blade, he deftly sheathed itbefore turning back to the rest of his party.
“Way to show off,” the rogue called, readjusting her hood over her head. “Very professional. I especially liked the whole *‘Die, Fiend!’* part. Really, it was a stellar performance.”
“Y-you heard that? I mean, hey, now. We won, right? That’s all that matters.” The paladin coughed, adjusting the helmet to better cover his blushing face.
“Well, that’s another one dealt with, I suppose. " The wizard sighed, massaging the small headache that already began to form as she stored her grimoire. "How is everyone holding up?”
“Fit as a fiddle and ready to go!” The paladin tapped his chestplate, the metal echoing through the chambers.
“I’m ready to go. Just say the word.” The rogue gave her a thumbs-up and a wink.
“I’m glad to hear,” the wizard smiled, nodding before turning around. “And how about you? How are you holding up?”
Behind her, the cleric gazed downwards at the man who had just been slain. His hands were trembling, his breathing growing heavier and heavier. The wizard felt her heart drop, and quickly knelt to block the view. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay,” she said, trying her best to smile. “Remember why we’re here. There are hundreds more people that are dying because of these people. We have to stay strong, okay?”
Slowly, the boy nodded, his blond hair shimmering in the dim light. “Okay… but…” He paused. “Could I… perform his funeral rites? He… he was a person, too.” The boy stammered.
The wizard sighed, gazing back at her party for a second before turning back. “Okay. We’ll go on ahead. Run quickly when you’re done, alright?” She laid a hand on his shoulder for a brief second before turning and walking towards the rest of the party, who started down the hallway.
The boy watched them walk away, waiting until they had rounded the corner before drawing his staff from his back. Closing his eyes, a surge of magical energy burst from out of him, and a gentle, green light filled the room…
​
“One more room, guys!”
The party sprinted through the corridors of the castle, their breaths echoing off of the stone walls that surrounded them. The paladin, leading the charge, surged forwards, leading the party to try and catch up.
“You’re sure it’s this way?” The rogue called out to the paladin, desperately trying to catch up.
“I’m positive! Remember, I worked in this castle for years! Hurry up, we don’t have time to waste!” Another surge of speed was met by a groan of the party.
“Oh! Here,” the cleric called, taking his staff in hand and twirling it in a circle. Behind them, a brisk tailwind picked up, pushing them on through the long hallway.
“Thank you!” The wizard patted the boy on the shoulder, who laughed, a little embarrassed.
“I-I’m just doing my job,” he smiled, blushing.
“Hurry up, this way!” The paladin had stopped and was beckoning them over towards the double doors that waited at the end.
The wizard sighed. “I’ll never understand how that fool can run so fast with all of the armor he lugs around,” she said, straightening her robes.
“You can say that again. *I’m* supposed to be the speedy one here. What god blessed that guy? Seriously!” The rogue sighed, adjusting her mask while she tried to hide her exhausted breaths.
“Regardless, the tailwind has picked up, thanks to our young friend here. Shall we get going?” The wizard took a deep breath.
"Race you there!" The rogue pushed the boy over as they ran past, who stumbled for a second before running after them, laughing.
​
“So, you’ve finally come.”
Atop the dais at the end of the chamber, the general of the Imperial Legion sat upon his throne, smiling wryly as he watched the party enter the chambers.
“You fiend!” The paladin skidded to a halt, drawing his blade towards the man. “We’ll punish you for ruining this country and hurting innocent people!” The paladin drew his sword, pointing it at the man on the throne.
“Oh? You barge into my home, hack apart my guards, and then deign point a sword at me for hurting innocent people? How hypocritical. I must have truly earned your ire…” He sat forward, hands clasped together, staring intently at the bold paladin in front of him. “So, then. What have I possibly done that could have caused you to hate me so?”
“If I may *deign* to speak in your presence, Sir,” the rogue scoffed, folding her arms. “You’ve forced a lot of good people into bad situations. Your control over everything created chaos, not the so-called ‘order’ you wanted. I like chaos as much as the next, but when children are begging and dying on the streets because no one is willing to take them in? *That’s* –” She deftly drew her daggers, spinning them at the ready - “That’s where we have a problem.”
“Is it truly that bad down there in the city?” The general breathed. “I apologize. I had hoped the reforms we had made would have been able to halt that issue.”
“Your policies have done nothing but rot our society to our core,” The wizard nodded. “Though they look great on paper, even the most amateur can see that the money you have been raising never made it to the people they were designated to help. Instead… it fueled only your war effort and suppression.”
One last figure ran through the doorway behind the others. He took his place next to the wizard, his cleric’s tunic shining a bright white amidst his silver armor.
The general started back in his seat. “You… Why are you here?” He hissed.
The party turned to the young lad, who looked to them with alarm.
“Then… it is time. Your full party is assembled, and have shown their true colors.” He gazed wistfully at the boy, his red eyes glinting with an discernible emotion in the light of the morning sun. “Shall we test whose beliefs are the strongest, then?”
(1/4) | 2020-01-05T10:33:13 | 2020-01-05T09:29:04 | 1,546 | 155 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | "I just need more time" the healer said. "If you would take a few minutes to plan and let me do my work instead of rushing into danger, we wouldn't have to keep doing this" As he spoke his hands ran across the Paladins chest, a warm glow spilling across the slowly closing wounds.
"Evil waits for no one", the paladin replied. "If you're too cowardly to do Men's work, then we don't need you with us. You'll only be a liability."
The glow stopped as the healer's hands fell to his sides. "Cowardly? Do you know how many times I've saved your life? I've lost count. Even beyond that, I have resurrected you a dozen times. You were gone, beyond all conventional help, held in the grasp of your precious Gods. I pulled you back. Me. Do you think it's easy? Do you think it's guaranteed? And if I fall who is there to wrest me from the clutches of death. You? You whose magic is only good for killing those you disagree with? The wizard perhaps? His version of resurrection is something I would not subject my worst enemies to. None of the others could come close."
"It's your job. You get your share like everyone else. Now quit your complaining and finish patching me up." The paladin took a swig from his flask.
"No."
"No? You don't get to say no. This is your job. It's the only thing you bring to the party. "
"No."
The Paladin stood to his feet, slightly reinvigorated by the healing already received. He glared down at the healer with contempt in his eyes. "Then you can go. We never needed you. I have slayed dragons and giants. I can find an eager replacement within the fortnight."
The healer smiled, faintly, with just a hint of a tear forming in his eye. "You will never replace me. I know you better than you know yourself. I know every wound you've received and how. I know every moment of pain and weakness you've felt. I know you. And I know you will live to regret this." He gathered his belongings without another word, the uncomfortable silence spreading through the camp as the rest of the party came to realize what was happening. The ranger gave a solemn nod, and that was the only goodbye he received. As he rode into the fading light of dusk, he feared not the things that lurked in the dark places of the world, instead he reflected on his past adventures, the many lives he'd returned to the world as his companions stripped others from it, and as a smile came to his face, he whispered to himself, "Dragons and giants."
Months later as the gate to the Paladin's keep came crashing down, with all of his vanquished enemies swarming, competing to claim their vengeance, he heard a familiar voice calling above the horde. "Don't worry, there's enough for everyone. You can kill him as many times as you like"
Edit: Thanks for all the love! I'm very glad you guys enjoyed my little story, and sorry so many of you related to it. | **I probably could’ve cared less if they had merely disrespected** ***me***.
“I would now like to direct your honor’s attention to exhibit 4, an extensive draft on arcane arts penned by Dremony herself.”
>… Despite the simplicity of casting or invoking, even basic healing spells contain some of the most complex machinery among magics of their level. By raw count, healing domain effects of Grade IV and lower contain a *mean* of approximately 171 elementary arcanisms, nearly double the mean of the next highest standard domain and around 5x the average of all those indexed in *Maldus’ Primer*. This complexity is not solely introduced by the complexities of anatomy however. Gwendol’s Healing Touch, for example, uses around 60% of its components to bind of anatomical concepts with arcane ones. 10% is comprised of fairly standard overhead for mana abstraction and power channeling. The remaining 30% though are “locks” that prevent the spell from being used for negative effects. These locks would be fairly effective if devised from each creator’s manaprint, but 92% of healing effects surveyed in this study contain locks identical to, or only superficially-tweaked from, the four created by the great mage Hippocratas, twelve centuries ago, using cryptoarcanics that weren’t even state of the art for his era …
**Disrespecting a person could be an accident. Even if the “accident” took the form of daily verbal abuse.**
“A full week before the deaths of the 17 members of the Delver’s Guild in Greenbridge Squad A, and the independent disappearance of Dremony’s former party members Ashford, Zeln, Nihanop, and Valens, the defendant had penned and copied over one hundred and fifty of these manuscripts and was preparing to send them across the continent.”
>… As with all spells effective against biological and chemical poisons, Divine Counterpoison centers around a core “sieving” mechanism that identifies and separates the poisons from healthy tissue. Without lock H3, the target of this removal can be easily modified. Aside from amorphous creatures, however, the targeting of bodily systems is nearly always disastrous. Indeed, removing and eradicating an individual’s muscles or nerves or bowels, as one would wring out a sponge, is instantly fatal, and, curiously, bypasses their natural ability to resist magical injury for practically no mana cost! ...
**But disrespecting an entire field, an entire realm of knowledge and art, was a choice. A form of willful ignorance that spoke louder than any name-calling could.**
“She even sent a copy directly to Abigail -- she’s the one who called you ‘a yappy bitch worth less than a bracer of healing’ right, Miss Lightseeker? -- who our staff necromancers indicate must have already died of blood loss by the time it was delivered.”
>… Magical cures targeting viral agents have particularly advanced identification systems. After lock-picking the H1+H4 complex, these components can be copied quite easily to other spells, enabling a variety of effects to be applied to the virus itself, including “positive” ones that might otherwise be reserved for macro-scale creatures. In our tests, physical strengthening, magical resistance, and timed auto-targeting teleportation were successfully applied, among others. …
**And disrespecting knowledge itself? That was their mistake. It was society’s mistake.**
“It’s unclear whether these documents were intended to be a roundabout confession or just the ramblings of a disturbed mind. But it’s clear that the techniques described within are a perfect match with the utterly novel and utterly horrific manner in which these men and women lost their lives.”
>… Persistent regenerative spells are the last, but perhaps most interesting effects to examine. They utilize the building blocks discussed earlier but also leverage a power sap, where the target’s own life force is drained to create the beneficial effect. One can be thankful that none of the biological or viral agents of this world seem to harbor this effect naturally, lest we must face a parasite unparalleled in potential and unstoppable by known healing magic. …
**Because you can put one girl on trial, but you can’t arrest an idea.**
“I hope that the esteemed jury will find the defendant guilty, so that we may all close this tragic chapter once and for all.”
**And if even one other person harbors half the resentment I did, the story will go on.** | 2020-01-05T12:01:26 | 2020-01-05T11:54:04 | 317 | 24 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | "Why are you doing this?"
We were all thinking it but our paladin spoke first.
She smiled, eyes cold as ice.
"When it goes wrong I get all of the blame. When it goes right, I get none of the credit. Less of the spoils. Constant jabs that I'm useless, or that you dont even know what I do in the party. Tank's constant attempts to grope and kiss me and making comments on my body that you all laugh at. The so called practical jokes, stealing my supplies, stealing my damn clothes when I bathe, filling my bedding with fire-itch vine. Those, and plenty more, are why."
I felt ashamed. I'd never joined in the worst of the teasing, and I did appreciate what she did, but I'd never stopped them.
"But...they were just jokes!" The mage this time, perpetrator of the vine prank.
"Did i laugh?"
"Well, you.."
"DID I LAUGH?!" Her eyes flashed with fury.
She continued. "Five years I put up with this crap. Do you know how much equipment I've had to replace due to your jokes? How many times I've saved your asses in battle when I wanted nothing more than to just let you die so that this would be over? You would be dead a hundred times over if it weren't for me. I couldn't bring myself to do it though, I couldn't bring myself to just...abandon you. I should have. It would have saved me so much pain."
"Why didn't you leave?" Ah, our horrified elven cleric finally spoke. He wasnt a bad guy, just oblivious, I doubt he even noticed any of it going on.
"I tried, I went home earlier this year, remember? You all followed me, begged me to come back. Said that you couldn't find anyone as good as me. I gave you a second chance, thinking that now you'd get it, that it would be better."
She paused, a dozen emotions crossing her face. "But it wasnt better, it was just the same, and your little feud with the Lych Emperor got my home burned to the ground and got my people killed. After that I stayed because I had nowhere else to go. Now I do."
"Only one died, the chieftain, when she wouldnt submit to the Lych" our paladin tried to correct her.
"Ah yes, only the chief, only my mother died."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "Your mother?"
"Yes, my mother, and the unborn child she carried" her voice oozed with venom and disgust now. "Why am I not surprised that you didn't know? Five years and you know nothing about me. I'm surprised you remember my name."
Tank finally spoke up. A giant of a man, he insisted that there was no ogre in his bloodline but, well, the heavy brow, the huge stature, the thick jaw, the tiny, piggy eyes, one had to wonder. What he lacked in intelligence was made up a hundred times over in strength and to him, every situation could be resolved with brute force.
"Ok, we did some bad things. Sorry. But what do you think you can do to us?" He sneered. "You can't fight." He puffed out his chest, "you can't hurt me".
The icy smile returned. "I dont need to fight. Tell me, what is it I do?"
"Huh?"
"What do I do?" She asked again.
"Um? You're a healer?" he answered, cautiously. His forehead wrinkled in confusion and concentration.
"That's right, and to be a good healer, one must thoroughly understand the things that hurt. Wounds, poisons, illness."
She smiled one more time, a disturbing, twisted mockery of mirth, as she produced a handful of blood red powder from her bag.
"And I am a very, very good healer." | "Today is the day I'm going to... " the old man glances into the sky.
"Today is the day I'm going to tell you about the group I was with when I lost my leg," he takes a stone cold look at the metal beam sticking out of the stump where his leg used to be before he continues: " and what can happen if you don't treat the people who keep you alive with respect."
He takes another minute to arrange the story in his head, staring down the cliff, no, staring at the reflection of the bright moon below them. He grabs a stone and looks at it, concentrating, closing his fist around it and with the next winds breath the tension in his face disappears completely. His hand shakes a bit as he opens it, emitting a small orange light from the palm of his hand where the stone is laying, or is it the stone itself? The noise around him dies out, it seems like as if even the birds in the trees stopped curiously to what is about to happen. The black figures around the man start to twitch a bit uncomfortably not knowing what will happen next, but the old man just throws the rock down the cliff and sights slightly.
He smiles into the dark to the others: "No worries I just wanted to see..." he makes a short pause " I just wanted to see something."
As everyone starts to relax again he grins a bit.
"It was 40 years ago, we were staying at a small tavern in the gald-sed woods where they were digging up the old elvish city, yes exactly, the one that is now a tourist attraction with these stupid elve costumes.
The five of us: Netra the Barbarian, Celiv-Dun the God forsaken mage with his own family Tempel, God I hated that guy, Nairda our Cleric and the druids, me and this other girl, I can't seem to remember her name, but she had great looks, that's probably why she got pretty friendly with with half of the group... but who cares right? I'm sorry I talk too much, where was I?" "In the tavern" comes the response from the young guy sitting next to the old man.
"Oh yes right. This one evening we were sitting at a table and discussing about where to go next because we almost drained the money we got from our last adventure up to three gold coins." "Three gold coins?" a squiky female voice asks alerted from the right side of the man. "That's enough to build a house in the Capital what kind of adventure was that? And how much did you guys spend so that you only had *Three Gold Coins* left?"
"That's a story for another time my dear everything" he smiles into the direction from where the voice came but he can only make out the shape of her body through the girls hair.
"Two of us, the barbarian and the mage wanted to go back to the capital to find work there. The rest of us wanted to stay here to help with the archeological expedition and get some coins this way. As I already said our mage Celiv was a dick, his family was rich and he was only with us because it was exciting for him, he was also the first person to die that night. He was drunk already and told us about how shitty the beds are here, that the food is terrible etcetera etcetera. Netra wanted to go because she just wanted to keep moving, it was always the same with her. But it could have turned out okay that evening a nice and healthy discussion, some heads would be banged together and that would have been it but Celiv had other ideas. As he slowly started to realize that we would not go back to the capital because three people were against it he started to attack Nairda, our Cleric personally. Not because she was arguing the most but because she was the easiest to attack. She was new in the group, we, the druids, had to help her out with the healing sometimes because she was just getting used to real fights and that was more than okay. I was 38 at that time, I was working as a healer almost 10 years before I joined the group but I'm getting too far off again.
He was going on and on about how bad she was as a cleric that she would always need help and why she would have the audacity to even take a vote because she, allegedly, wasn't even a real member of the group yet. We all got pretty angry, up to the point that Netra grabbed his head and banged it against the table until his nose was broken. We tried to stop her but, well, try to stop a barbarian when he's angry. Our mage fell to the ground unconscious and we left him there. None of us wanted to help him, he'd gone too far.
(This is my first real story in English and it is also written on my phone :P. I only write in German usually and also aboit a lot more grotesk stuff 😅. I hope you like it. Part two is not finished yet but I'll add it as soon as possible ^^) | 2020-01-05T14:25:08 | 2020-01-05T11:20:43 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You die and go to hell. Instead of finding everyone suffering in the eternal pits of fire, you are shocked to find a highly developed, Democratic, and modernized world. You pick up a newspaper and see the headline: “up to 1 Million more refugees expected to arrive from Heaven in coming weeks.” | “Is this real?”
“That’s sort of a hard question to answer.”
“But how can this be real?”
“It’s complicated.”
“But... Refugees from Heaven?”
“Not really that hard to believe is it? It’s a dogmatic, uptight, theocracy. Also the weather sucks this time of year.”
“Why is it so much better here?”
“Free will mostly.”
“Aren’t we supposed to be punished?”
“Yeah, but Lucifer got booted for not following rules. He wasn’t so much pissed at humanity as he was jealous. He was going to take it out on the souls of humanity, but figured it would piss off the Big Fella even more to, ya know, not do that.”
“How does nobody know this?”
“Christianity has had a bit of a lock on the PR thing for awhile now.”
“This place is amazing. Great music, good food, interesting people. Are there any downsides?”
“Yeah, the only pets we have here are chihuahuas and cats.”
“Bummer.” | "This can't be right," I muttered.
The newspaper vendor looked at me, eyebrows raised, a slightly curious visage.
"You new here, kiddo?" he asked.
"I am," I leaned in a bit closer, somehow afraid of what I was going to say next. Like it would matter, like it would prevent me from going to Heaven. "Can you please tell me what in the hell is happening?"
He shrugged a little, and leaned in close too. "Honestly, I have no idea. This is what Hell looks like. It took a while getting used to, but it's fine. I even got the same job I have back home"
I sighed. This wasn't helping. I looked down at the newspaper again, the headline blaring in my head.
One million refugees from Heaven.
I couldn't make sense of it at all. I wasn't anybody special. I led a normal life. I had a pretty normal death, surrounded by friends and family that I loved. A little early, perhaps, but it was peaceful. I was content. I didn't really think about Heaven or Hell, but I could feel a pull in the last few moments of my life.
As far as I know, the whole process at Hell has been fairly reminiscent of a vacation. I woke up in what looked to be an airport, and I was transported to this city.
I looked down at the newspaper again. One million refugees from Heaven. What the hell is going on up there?
---
God looked the Devil in the eyes. He sighed.
"OK, I admit, you've got me beat here. How the hell did you improve infrastructure so quickly? I can barely keep up with the influx of souls. And the red tape! Oh my me, the red tape!" He said.
The Devil chuckled. Suddenly, a contract appeared in his hands along with an infernal pen, sliding it towards Him.
"I have learned a great deal from humans. They aren't perfect, but some of them sure know how to, what do you call it... make a deal with the Devil."
God sighed again, deeper this time. "Especially politicians."
"Especially politicians," the Devil grinned brightly. "So, what say you? Ready to pass me more souls to go through hellfire?"
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-01-28T02:39:25 | 2020-01-28T01:26:04 | 468 | 79 |
[WP] You die and go to hell. Instead of finding everyone suffering in the eternal pits of fire, you are shocked to find a highly developed, Democratic, and modernized world. You pick up a newspaper and see the headline: “up to 1 Million more refugees expected to arrive from Heaven in coming weeks.” | Ah yes the story of refugees to Hell.
You see god had played a little game with us, he had come to earth multiple times as different gods just to see which one people liked the most which would have been fine but he made some mistakes. You want to know why hell is on its 11th world even though each world has a capacity of 10 billion and only 108 billion people have ever lived. Because only the extreme hard-core believers get into heaven, and currently it only has an approximated population of 104 million, down from 158 million since the start of the war and naturally they were separated into their own communities with no knowledge of each other when they arrived.
Now so far these seem like decent choices however one day god was just like nah let em mingle I’ve played my game long enough… big mistake, very very big mistake. I honestly don’t know what it expected, its like having multiple children who never knew about each other and suddenly having them all live in the same house. It quickly devolved into a “im the real son” situation and less than a month after the big reveal the Olmecs created the first mortalizer in the image of their jaguar god, a blade with a jaguars tooth at the tip. Believing it was a test from god to have so many heretics amongst them they started the slaughter and eventually most religious sects had their own weapons. In the beginning most small religious sects got wiped out and then there were only a few left, the big ones. Each comprising approximately 1/5th of the pre-war population. Judaism, Christianity, Islam-unified and Buddhism and a very odd extra that was holding its own, the Ares. You see unlike the other groups Ares weren’t so limited in the weapons they could create, they were fueled simply by the lust for war and as such they could conjure up any weapon they could imagine and although few of their religion came from modern times there was one woman who had died in 2002 who had been a engineer at heckler & Koch and avid historian. She gave the Ares rifles and grenades so although they didn’t have a large population, they did have were the deadliest weapons.
They would eventually get wiped out but not before they did some damage, this would have at least appeared to be the case till human nature took over. Even for a religious fanatic, the lust for victory slowly crept in and eventually the Christians split 80/20 into two groups, ones that accepted Ares as a binary god and those that didn’t. This is where things got bad, although the majority of Christians stayed with their beliefs there were enough of those who split to create a essentially unstoppable army, in response many other religions split. The battlefield devolved into world war 1 style battles because although airplanes and such could theoretically be conjured the amount of material and therefore spiritual energy required was nigh impossible to achieve. For around 2 months life essentially returned to normal as the splits didn’t hate each other, they just viewed each other as inferior and as such the believers were protected by the binaries as no one dared march into no mans land.
Then some genius from the Buddhist-Ares binary realized you didn’t have to conjure something with the assumption the whole thing was a weapon, a plane isn’t a weapon a bomb is, and this is how they got nuclear bombers and missiles. It was chaos, imagine civ 4’s nuclear Gandhi but in real life, at this point god tried to intervene but the blood lust intensified by their new binary god had taken over, these bombs had the ability to harm it too so instead god created a exit, become a refugee and get sent to hell. At first it was a slow trickle, mostly those who had only known eons of peace and couldn’t comprehend war, this was because for the believers becoming a refugee to hell would mean you had given up on heaven, or possibly even god itself but after the first few nukes hit even the staunchest believers started to consider the option. What started as a trickle quickly became a wave and soon the first 50 million had left. To say they came to a better world isn’t exactly accurate, the original residents of hell had it good, no death, no disease and very little pain. Living in a modern society with an infinite amount of demon servants just like the angels in heaven but without the limitations of religion. Demons looked like normal people too except they were bound to do the bidding of any non-demon. Sex slave, sure. Drugs, yes please. Getting shot into space to have a demon come fetch you and bring you back while giving you a foot massage and serving martinis on the way back, daily.
Most people worked just for fun or when they felt like it, all they really did was take over a seat from one of the infinite demons at a job. You could also never fail, the amount of “genius” day traders was staggering as was the number of “successful” rappers, when you cant tell that the less fortunate aren’t human you really feel successful, there was even a etiquette for using demons, call a hotline as otherwise it breaks the immersion if you can just command random people.
As you can imagine the hyper religious couldn’t stand the godless actions of these people so they tried to mold the new world into the likeness of their old world, however as the demons only obeyed the original residents of hell the believers ended up caged in fenced off areas. Just like in heaven they started fighting again although this time as they were not longer in heaven their conjuring didn’t work and so it was just fist vs fist. Bad idea as when you get what you want when you want for an eternity your sense of morals can skew a little to the dark side and so instead of just being fenced off the people of hell made the areas what you might call concentration camps.
Well at least this united the believers so when the war upstairs is finally over they can go back and maybe create a peaceful world. If thats not possible then welcome to the real hell in hell | When I died, I finally realized the truth, or as much of it as my once human mind could fathom. The collective says that once my mind adjust, I will finally understand. It's with mixed emotions I anticipate that moment. It is hard to understand them, their language can only be fully understood when you're part of them. They tell me that I won't regret it, that it's all for the better, but I imagine that is exactly what a vampire wanting to turn me would say. There is no way of knowing if an irreversible change will be for better or worse. Will I be integrated or subsumed? The only thing I know is I'll lose the ability to communicate with humans just like they've lost theirs, so I'm leaving this for those that come after me. Maybe it will make your transition easier, maybe it won't. Knowledge is a powerful tool, and despite my best intentions I cannot know how it will affect you, so read this at your own risk.
I'm starting to sound like them. I have one foot in their realm, and one foot in what humans call life. How long before I turn? Hopefully enough to finish this.
The old stories were right, what humans call "the universe" is a battlefield. But it's not between good and evil, those are concepts created by our human minds to grasp a truth that lies far outside the human scope. It is a battle between something greater, something a human would call 'gods', but these entities are bound by rules just like humans are bound by the laws of physics. The first rule is that these gods can never reveal themselves. Faith is what gives them power, knowledge takes it away. Knowledge is what gives the living power over the physical realm, and if you're anything like me, your knowledge is making the transition painful. I do not remember being born, but I imagine that the suffering was the same. I hope I forget this moment too, once I shed the confines that 42 years of being human put on my mind.
The only human concept that describes my current state is "hell". I have no eyes, but I can see. I see all the pain and suffering I've caused, despite trying to be what humans define as 'a good person". I have no body, but I can feel. I feel like I'm in an ocean of fire and ice, burning away the last of my flesh. My humanity. I have no brain, but I can think. Eternity lays in front of me, and I'm drifting towards it. I can only imagine that this is what it feels to be in a space suit, drifting away from earth towards the endless vastness of space, leaving all I know and love behind me without knowing if I'll ever know the presence of another again. Even the most insignificant of insects would be company at this point. But this spacesuit has an endless supply of oxygen, and I cannot die from thirst or hunger. What if this really is hell, and this is the existence I'll know for eternity, drifting towards a promise of liberation that is always one step away? What if the collective known as Gaia is simply a ruse to instill hope that will never be realized? I spent a lot of my life believing death meant non-existence, that was my biggest fear, but I should have feared the existence after life. I long for what humans call death. Ignorance is bliss, and non-existence is the greatest bliss of all.
Parts of my mind are dreaming. I know that I'm awake, but I have two minds: one that sees reality, one that is dreaming. I don't know which one is real. The dreams are just like I remember my human dreams. They defy logic and rationality, the scenery changes from one step to another, yet it's hard not to accept them as true. In one of those dreams I think I saw my destination. Or perhaps it was what could have been? A paradise where all is well. The human parts of my mind reject it. There is no way an existence without suffering can exist, because if there is no suffering, how can there be pleasure? I saw a newspaper, claiming that more and more minds from the other god are defecting. I hope this is true, and I fear it's not. I fear that this is my final destination. Hell.
Hope is the last thing that abandons us, but death can no longer liberate me. I can only drift forward and hope that this too shall pass.
The dreaming mind tells me that there are only two of the ancient gods left. Gaia and Yahweh. Humans know their names, but not their true nature. Their history is older than the universe, which was created to be a womb where minds are born. Who tells the truth? Yahweh or Gaia? They both claim to have created the universe. They both claim to have created humans. They both claim to tell the truth, and that the other one is lying. They both promise a paradise beyond human imagination, if we simply believe. Knowledge is the enemy of belief, experience is all there is. I no longer have the choice that is the prerogative of the living: to choose which one I believe. I am as powerless as a leaf shed by an autumn tree, drifting in the wind, my path set by the period I called life. Is this what I'm condemned to, an eternity of solitude with only fragments of dreams that give me hope and keep the remnants of my mind from going insane?
Hell is Yahweh's concept. A warning of what will happen if humans don't believe in him. So far it's real enough for me to despair that heaven, Yahweh's reward for believing, is real too. I long to forget my human existence when I still had the power to choose. An eternity of pain, suffering, regret, solitude. I don't know which of them is worse. Would I have chosen differently? Gaia whispers in my dreams, tells me another version of the truths I rejected as a human. She claims she spent billions of years giving birth to humanity, and that Yahweh, unable to create, chose seduction and subterfuge to steal her creations. She gave us minds, the ability to choose freely, and Yahweh saw his chance to get us to choose him. He demanded to be the only god in our minds, forbade us to seek the plants that told us the truths. He embedded himself in our minds, our hearts, our civilization. He made us kill in his name, an irreversible act that forever made us belong to him. I don't know which is true anymore. I fear I'm losing my mind, going insane. Gaia whispers assurances that this is as it should be, but how can this suffering be right?
I see light now. It burns eyes I cannot close, makes me long for darkness. The whispers are stronger. I think I hear singing. If I'm doomed to exist here, maybe this is the madness that will make me forget. Or maybe it is salvation.
Something is shifting. I'm losing it. My grip, my insanity, the thing I called existence. These are the last words of the human I used to be. The suffering is eating away my at my words. I think I rememb | 2020-01-28T02:31:18 | 2020-01-28T01:00:38 | 71 | 40 |
[WP] Every time someone’s heart breaks, so does a piece of our world; this creates fissures, valleys, and even cracks in the pavement. Tell me the story behind the Grand Canyon. | I closed the door to the room, never intending to open it again, a tear rolling down my face.
"Ready to go?" Keller asked quietly, so as not to disturb my thoughts. I shook my head but followed him along anyway. I walked to the front door and put on a pair of shoes, trying desperately to not see the other shoes in the area. My brother lead me out by my wrist.
I felt that I could see myself be walked between the buildings from a distance, my body a vessel to hold a soul whose thoughts were elsewhere. There were a few people who waited for me to walk by, lowering their heads as a condolence. I didn't find any solace in their presence. The only thing I felt was a constant pain in my chest and an itch at my dry eyes.
We made it to the town square where we would pray. I was lead to the front, but I didn't remember how I got there. By the time I looked up, I realized enough time had passed for the entirety of the town to gather. I saw the faces of men, women, and children. Despite my rational thoughts, I felt like they were mocking me with their healthy lives. Most looked to the floor. A man stood up to my left and spoke up for everyone to hear.
"We are gathered here today to pray for--"
Nothing registered in my mind beyond that. I was asked to give a few words if I felt I could and I stood. After thirty seconds of silence, I felt tears rolling down my eyes and I sat back down. There was nothing I could say. There was nothing they could say.
I found myself in front of the shawl wrapped around a body.
We were at the graveyard, and it was time to bury them. A natural burial for unnatural death.
I took a handful of dirt and tossed it on top of the body. People around me said a prayer. I couldn't hear what it was. I was then taken to the next body. I tossed the first handful of dirt. Another prayer. Then the next grave.
Six times I had to repeat the process. I saw the covered bodies of each member of my family and added what seemed like a sprinkle of dirt to start the burial. I was surrounded by people offering me kind words.
"Your wife was a good woman--"
"--hardest thing for a father to bury--"
"--if you ever need anything--"
I never had more people speak to me and try to relate to me at once. So many people hugged me and tried to offer me warmth in my coldest time. I had never been more at the center of attention.
And I never felt so alone.
____________________
/r/Nazer_The_Lazer | I breathe in the cool night air, one hand in hers and the other in my pocket, feeling the ring nervously. I look up again, at her beautiful, perfectly shaped face, flowing hair, big, curious eyes and that ass. Damn that was a good ass. I looked forward. We’re nearly there. The place where I finally propose.
We have been together for three years now, and honestly she saved my life. I love her. Before I had met her, I was in a downward spiral and only digging deeper; I had been fired from my job, I had no friends and was getting into hard drugs. Then, one day, I lost a lot of money in a bet, and, throwing my hands up, saw her. Laughing at a joke her friend had told. I slowly wandered over. “Hey,” I had said. “You single?” Stupid, I know, but it was worth a shot.
We hit it off immediately.
I told some jokes, she found them funny. I shared some information, she was interested. She told me about her life, and I listened carefully, entranced with her. Finally, at the end, she had to go and gave me her number.
We kept chatting for a few days before I asked her out, and that was that. I stopped using drugs, went to rehab and pulled my life together.
Back to today. This was our anniversary, and I was going to propose to her. She was the love of my life.
As we walked, we chatted. We chatted about what may seem mundane to someone else, but to me was captivating and interesting. She seemed to love it too, laughing and talking and joking. She then looked around suddenly and asked, “What’s this?” Looking around. Hours before, I had set up a little picnic to propose in. We sat on the blanket, and I pulled out a bottle of wine from the wicker basket that cost me so much. (200 dollars!!) I grabbed two glasses and poured out the wine, handing her her glass delicately.
I reached into my pocket and bent over on one knee. I pulled out the ring. “Moriah. I-“ I breathed in. “Moriah, I love you. You saved my life. When I saw you there... I knew that you where the one. I knew you where the perfect person. I loved you from the second our eyes met. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”
Tears pricked her eyes as she covered her mouth with one delicate hand. She seemed to choke on her words for a second. The she opened her mouth, looked me in the eyes, and said it.
“No.”
I was shocked; Didn’t she love me?
“To tell you the truth...” she said, pausing. “I never loved you. You’re meaningless to me. I said yes to dating you for a dare, and never stopped because of all the expensive things you bought me. But now... I’m not really comfortable with exploiting you. Remember Mark, from the bar? How I said I didn’t know him? Well I have been having an affair with him. Now, he’s not the affair. He’s my real boyfriend, because at least he can afford me.”
I practically heard my heart breaking. I stood up, tears streaming down my face, as she tipped the wine onto the ground. “Go to hell, David.” That was the last thing she ever said to me. She walked away, into the darkness.
I looked down, ready to pack up, when I heard cracking. I jumped in surprise as the entire thing was sucked underground, and I just stared.
Crk-cr-
**BOOM!**
The sound shook the earth. My heart hurt beyond belief, and it seemed like the ground was taking on my pain, sympathising with me.
Her words rang in my ears. I look down into the giant canyon, pull out the ring again, and heave, hurling it into the depths. | 2020-02-20T22:32:44 | 2020-02-20T22:25:52 | 110 | 13 |
[WP] You’re an assassin for Powerball, an agency designed to discover and eliminate incredibly lucky people. Each encounter is a battle of their ridiculous luck versus your extreme skill. |
I’m halfway through my never-fail story about saving baby turtles in Costa Rica when the redhead knocks her glass off the bar.
“Oh no, baby!” They’re all ‘baby’ to me. “I’ll buy you another one. Was that a Sidecar?”
“Sazerac,” she corrects me, but she’s frowning more than I’m used to.
I raise my finger at the bartender, but the redhead grabs my drink and smashes it at my feet.
“Hey!” It had been a free drink—an overpour—but still.
“You, out!” The bartender looks pissed.
“I’m with him,” the redhead says smoothly and the bartender grumbles but turns away.
“Well I’m not so sure about that,” I correct her, even though I’ll put up with a lot crazy for a leggy redhead.
“It didn’t hurt you.” She looks up at me through her lashes, then asks: “Do you feel lucky?”
“Always,” I say, and she leads me to the men’s room. I’ve hooked up in my fair share of bathrooms, and I’m not a huge fan, but it’s probably better than bringing crazy back to my condo.
The redhead locks the door behind us, then slips off a stiletto and puts it in my hand. Before I can tell her I’m not into foot stuff she drives our hands and the spike of the heel into the mirror, cracking it.
Okay, no. Not worth it. I break free from her grasp, but she’s between me and the door, staring me down.
“Shit,” she says, after a beat.
“Lady, *what the hell*?”
“Oh, you have it bad,” she says, as though she doesn’t hear me.
“Not anymore!”
The redhead pulls out a phone and holds it up to her ear. I try to edge past her but she blocks me with just a scowl.
“Hey. So... Felix is shatterproof.”
I’m what now?
“Sure. Ugh. No one else can do it? Fine.” The redhead hangs up and sighs. I’m starting to think she might not actually like me.
“Okay, Felix. I’m Agent Amber Mallery with the Powerball Commission and I’ve been authorized to read you in to Project Tyche.”
“Powerball? This is a weird way to tell me I’m a winner. Normally I fill out a receipt and get a direct deposit.”
“Yeah, your repeated success with scratch-offs is what tipped us to you in the first place.” She leans against the counter and puts her shoe back on.
“Okay, so... what?” This is all strikingly and unusually *not going my way.*
“Some years ago we discovered a subatomic parasite that attracts charm quarks, resulting in what we typically think of as ‘good luck’ for its host. You are one such host.”
“Okay... how can you tell?”
She taps her temple. “Special contact lenses. You’ve got the biggest infection of luck I’ve ever seen.”
“Why do you say that like it’s a problem?” I *like* being lucky: free drinks, great parking, success with the ladies—well, *usually*.
“It’s socially deleterious: lucky people didn’t work for what they have, so they don’t appreciate the efforts of others. Lucky parents pass laziness on to their children. Lucky people don’t plan or prepare and everyone else gets hit with the negative externalities.”
I frown. That hits a little close to home, but things just always work out for me. It’s not *evil*.
“But, more relevantly to you, those charm quarks decay into strange quarks. Unaddressed, your luck will degrade the quality of reality around you over time, until you’re talking to sandwiches and pissing out the window.”
Okay, that sounds... not great. But if it’s even true Amber will probably take care of it.
“Stop that,” she says, like she’s reading my mind. “You need to unlearn your belief that things will ‘just turn out’ if you’re going to join the Powerball Commission.”
“What? Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re shatterproof, and you’ve got to burn up your luck somehow.”
“Back up, shatterproof?”
Amber gestures to the cracked mirror. “The parasite can usually be eradicated by breaking glass, or in extreme cases a mirror, in the vicinity of the host.”
“But it didn’t work on me?”
“Nope. Parasite has really got a grip on you. So that’s why you’ll need to work to burn up all your luck if you don’t want to go strange.”
“But why does it have to be with you? Can’t I just buy a scratch-off every day? You’re the Powerball Commission, aren’t you?”
Amber rolls her eyes. “It’s one of those inaptonyms, like ‘Greenland’ not being very green. I can’t think of anything unluckier than winning a big jackpot. All your relatives turning into grasping moneypits, the tax burden, the inevitable return to poverty.... No. you have to burn it by doing hard things, impossible things. Like tracking down other hosts.”
“Like you?”
“Like me. You have no idea how much luck I had to burn to track you down to this bar. All *your* luck worked against me.”
Someone is pounding on the door.
“Time to go,” Amber said. “Here’s my final pitch: you don’t have to join us. But the Powerball Commission isn’t the only group that knows about luck. There are Luck Mining groups, too. If they catch you—and you haven’t been discreet—they’ll harvest your luck and sell it. You do not want to even *know* how they do that, let alone have it happen to you.”
The pounding is now accompanied by yelling.
“I’m all burned up,” Amber says, glancing at the door. “But you probably aren’t.”
I look around — oh, cool, an ajar window plenty big enough to jump through. I offer Amber a hand up to the sill. It’s the least I can do, I guess. I still don’t think I believe her. Luck is just luck. Plus—
“If I’m so lucky, shouldn’t we have hooked up before you gave me this doom message?”
Amber snorts. “It’s just luck, not *magic*.”
She drops out the window. I follow, not looking to see where I’ll land.
——
Please don’t yell at me about what charm quarks actually do! | (Warning: gun fight, blood, one person dies.)
It had taken days of tailing my target to find the best possible intersection of circumstance and terrain in which to strike. The elevator had been broken, so the man took the stairs. Stairwells are good. Confined. Far lower odds of outside influences.
I watched on the security cameras as he stepped through the door into the stairwell. I count to ten to let him move a little, then leave the security desk and follow him, grabbing my jacket as I go. By the time I reach the door, thirty-three seconds have elapsed. All my tools and weapons are arrayed in the coat, as they should be. I push through the door and onto the stairs.
The door closes behind me automatically, and a resounding metal clang echos throughout the stairwell. There is no other sound. Something must have tipped off the target. Not unusual, happens about seventy-five percent of the time. Sometimes it's not even a tip off, but they decide at the perfect moment to tie their shoe or something, which lets them hear me coming. I stand and wait. I'm a patient man. You have to be, to last long in the business of hunting the Lucky.
Below, someone coughs. "Mr. Steven Macelroy, a bounty has been placed on your head due to your extremely unlikely winnings at the horse races. You may either turn yourself in to me to await trial, or I can carry out the default sentence here and now." I said as I strode down the stairs toward the source of the cough.
The stattaco sounds of feet pounding on the stairs was the only urging I needed to begin sprinting after him. Fleeing from a bounty is tantamount to guilt, after all. Two flights of stairs later, he was in view and I had my capsule launcher in hand. Trying to shoot him with a gun would be pointless. Or rather, there was a 98.7% chance that I'd miss every shot and a high probability that the noise would bring in other people, variables, which would only increase Steven's chances of escape.
As Steven rounded a corner I aimed, not at him, but ahead of him, and pulled the trigger. A small gel-capsule, no larger than my thumb impacted the wall and rapidly expanded into semi-rigid sticky foam. The Arms Department called them flypaper shots. Steven brought himself up short, the tips of his shoes on the edge of where the foam's likely maximum expansion radius was. He was a portly fellow in slacks and a cornflower blue button up shirt, his face and armpits drenched in sweat.
"Don't suppose we could talk this out, eh Hunter?" Steven said, hands held up defensively. I saw him glance down over the railing, but I knew we were too high up for even one as lucky as him to survive the jump. That left him only one option, unless he wanted to get stuck in foam. He'd have to through me. Hunting someone who possesses extreme luck is a matter of cutting off their options and probabilities, until only my desired outcome remains.
"Nope. You can either die here, or put your hands on the wall and follow my instructions." I said as I approached him, stopping where I was just out of his reach. It was only fair to at least give him a chance to surrender, though the odds of him doing that were about 1 in 12,000.
Steven shook his head frantically and his eyes darted around the stairway. "Uh-uh, I know what happens in those trials. It's always guilty-guilty-guilty and then off to the prisons with the guy. I'm not going." he said.
I spread my arms wide, ready to flick my fingers in such a way as to deploy a number of options from the mechanisms hidden under my jacket-sleeves. "Then you'll have to go through me to get out." I said. Steven took a deep breath and then lunged at me. I leaped to one side, but his arm clipped me and we both tumbled to the ground. His wild and flailing punches impacted me perfectly on the nose each time, and pain blossomed throughout my face as my nose caved inward.
He sprang up and I tried to grab his ankle. My hand slipped off him. Improbable with an average person, that such a simple thing would fail. Steven was definitely high on the luck scale. This wasn't something I could do alone. I reached for the microphone buried in my jacket-collar and keyed it on.
"This is Control." a tinny female voice said.
"Good. I need you to lockdown the staircase I'm on. And seal the fourth floor entirely if possible. Identity Code 77506." I said.
"Hunter 77, code confirmed. Lockdown in three seconds." the female voice said as I got to my feet. Steven had only made it up two flights of stairs. There was no chance he'd make it to the door in time. The sound of metal clanking into place echoed throughout the area as the stairway's doorlocks engaged and metal bombproof shutters rolled downward to cover the windows.
Steven made it to the door too late. "Fuck!" he cursed. I strode up the stairwell after him. There was no point in hurrying now.
"You're not getting out of here now bud. Funny thing about luck, is it tends to be less effective at a range, and often has a preference for objects over people, or people over objects. I'm thinking yours is tilted toward being effective with people..." I said. I got within ten paces and Steven sprinted up the stairs. Unfortunately for him, I was far more fit and I caught up to him three flights later. still walking. I found him collpased on a landing between the stairs, taking deep wheezing breaths.
"Last chance to surrender, Mr. Macelroy." I said as I stood over him, once again making sure I was just out of his reach. This time I pulled my standard pistol from it's pocket. The one I'd loaded with hollow-points.
"Fuck you Hunter, I'll figure this out." he wheezed as he pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the wall for support. As he got his feet under him, I pressed the gun to his forehead, to better my chances. His hand struck my wrist as I squeezed the trigger. His head slipped out from under the barrel, but not completely. "Gaaaah!" Steven screamed. The bullet gouged out a small chunk of flesh and bone next to his temple. The gunshot itself left my ears ringing as it echoed through the room, it had to be worse for him, as he clapped his hands to his ears and tried to run past me.
Without looking, he stepped over my extended foot, avoiding the trip. As he jogged back down the stairs, I aimed at him again, and emptied the clip, all fourteen rounds. 5% chance that any bullet would strike him. Strangely enough, one did. Straight through the spine. The entry wound was about two fingers thick. Steven tumbled down the stairs, blood oozing from the wound and spattering against the concrete as he went. His momentum ended on the next landing down, with a nasty crunch.
I strode down the stairs and holstered my gun. I reached around on Steven's neck with two fingers and couldn't find a pulse. I keyed my mic again, "Control. I've got him."
"We saw through your button-cam. That shot only had a 5% chance of hitting. As per Defense Department procedure you'll need to quarantine for two weeks to make sure none of the target's luck has rubbed off on you. Can't be losing our star agent to the enemy, now can we? Return to HQ immediately Hunter 77." Control's voice said.
I felt a cold sensation on the back of my neck. Had I gotten lucky? | 2020-08-04T13:53:51 | 2020-08-04T13:19:44 | 224 | 15 |
[WP] A dragon egg has been found. On the day of the hatching over a dozen scientists each from different countries come hoping it picks them as a parent. The dragon's overwhelmed and chooses the one person not in it's face. The guard.
[removed] | "Look, I honestly don't know why we are all so surprised by this."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!?!? The first dragon to be discovered by science bonds to some random guard and you don't see why we're all shocked?"
"Not some random guard, that's what everyone seems to conveniently forget- that was the same guard that was posted at her site for 3 continuous years, watching the egg, regulating everything, making sure it is safe,secure and in perfect hatching condition. She was there from start to finish. If anything we know about dragons is true, then they are conscious of their surroundings from 3 month of preparation for hatching, the whole 2.5 years."
"So wait, what your saying is..."
"Yeah. The dragon imprinted ages ago. The choice at hatching was basically a formality." | The funny thing was that nobody in that room *knew* it was a dragon egg. Oh —quite a few of them were sure it was, but there was almost as many who thought it was some kind of dinosaur.
I had a bit of an unfair advantage in the matter, because even I had thought it was just a colorful ostrich egg until Wyvern informed me otherwise.
Wyvern is a centuries old dragon, but unlike the ‘grand giants of what you call myths, but actually were around way before humans.’, Wyvern was about the size of a small gecko. His wingspan only measuring just over a foot in length.
I had found Wyvern some years back, and had asked him multiple questions over the years about dragons. To the question of ‘Are there still other dragons?’ Wyvern had wilted a little,and said ‘even I do not know. I don’t believe that a grand giant could hide in this age, maybe there are a quite few of my sort still left...but I do not know. I’ve not seen another for quite some time.’
So when the egg made made the news, Wyvern was ecstatic.
“A *mighty egg* oh how grand! You must find a way to attend its hatching, so that we might rescue it from the ignorance of those who would not know how to care for it!”
“How much are the scientists wrong about?”
Wyvern laughed, “Well first off there’s all this nonsense of eating sheep and cows... this is a *hatchling* that sort of feeding is decades away. For a hatchling it’s more like... small vermin? Rats mice perhaps?...snakes.”
“How long until the diet switches to larger things?”
“You humans have such an obsession with time,” Wyvern said shaking his head, “It depends on what sort of grand dragon this is, and how well it’s cared for.”
“So you want me to crash the hatching, so that we can rescue the dragon?”
“Who better to care for a dragon than one other dragon? Even though I’m not of the same sort, I’m still a *dragon*.”
“You have a point.”
And so began the unlikely adoption of a baby grand dragon, by a human and a Wyvern. | 2020-12-12T05:26:21 | 2020-12-12T04:13:15 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] someone is breaking into your house. You grab an ancient axe you've just bought at an auction and brain the burglar. All of the sudden all life-skills and knowledge of all that have been felled by that axe come flooding into your consciousness. | The haft of the axe was slick in my sweaty palms as I crept through the house toward the sound of someone rummaging through my kitchen. I knew I should have moved out of this neighborhood a few years ago, but the home rates kept going down and I wanted to try and time the market so I could maximize my return on investment after the tax changes went through a few years ago.
Now I'd likely die, which had an extremely low return on investment.
I gulped and took another step forward. I'd already called the police but I couldn't just ignore what was going on in my kitchen. I had left out numerous files there, and I had an obligation to preserve attorney-client privilege. Was I the sort of man to lay down my life to protect that sanctity of that relationship?
Yes. Yes I was. I'd sworn an oath when I'd been admitted to the bar.
I came to the edge of the doorway, and the clanging in the kitchen was just increasing. I took a final swallow, tightened my grip on the ancient axe I'd just purchased from an antiquities auction and then gave my best war howl before charging into the kitchen, brandishing the axe in front of me.
Almost immediately, I slipped on a pot that was laying on the ground and slid forward. I flailed my arms, trying to regain my balance and...
...decapitated the intruder.
Blood was just everywhere. Spraying all over my faux-white wood linoleum floor and coating the better part of my cabinetry. It was beyond anything I'd ever imagined and far more horrifying in the reality than this sort of thing was on TV shows.
I screamed, which was difficult because I was also in the process of vomiting. I tried to drop the axe, but it was somehow stuck in my grip, glowing blue with a strange light.
Suddenly, my mind expanded, as an influx of strange thoughts, memories and knowledge filled my brain, competing with the various statues and regulation that I had meticulously gathered from years of practice as lawyer.
I fell to my knees, numb.
Two things occurred to me:
One: Something was terribly wrong.
Two: I knew how to win the Jenkins case. The Falkonwrath rebellion of 923 was very instructive in that regard.
**Platypus OUT. Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | Professor Alex Ezeh plops down on his couch and sighs. He methodically rubs his sore feet, wondering again if this job was right for him. He loves teaching and his students (most of them, anyways) and there was no greater enjoyment in his life than that rush when he sees his love of chemistry reflected in the voices and eyes of the next generation.
Unfortunately, that’s been happening less and less. And the crushing weight of college bureaucracy, petty politics between his peers, and the pain of old age has made it difficult to enjoy it when it does happen.
He rests back on the couch and turns on the TV, hoping for some distraction.
“In the latest report, a recent string of violent murders has stunned and shocked the region. It appears that the murderer has been using an axe to carry out their crimes, and their targets have all been professionals in varied fields, such as doctors, lawyers, mixed martial artists, and more. Strangely enough, in a recent press conference the police chief has said, and I quote, ‘It is as if this person is a ghost.’ For more, I turn to Officer Gary. Gary?”
“Thanks, Michelle. I can’t say it better than the chief. This murderer, whoever they are, is nothing like we’ve ever seen. They’re always five steps ahead of us, and somehow they know everything about how the police operate. One of the murders was one of our officers, and it is believed that the murderer tortured Officer Mark to—”
Feeling sick, Alex switches the channel. Grisly axe murders are not what he wanted to watch about right now, though the news has been everywhere. His colleagues couldn’t stop talking about it.
He ends up watching some episodes of Breaking Bad, microwaving a frozen meal, and going to bed early.
---
Alex has trouble sleeping. He twists and turns in his bed, chased by axe-wielding meth addicts. In the faintest corner of his still-awake mind, a noise like creaking floorboards…
A gloved hand snaps over his mouth. Alex’s eyes snap open, and he tries to jump away from the bed, but he’s somehow been tied down by rope. He fearfully searches the face of his assailant and only sees a black mask hidden in the shadows.
“Shhh,” a strangely familiar voice says. “Everything’s going to be okay, Professor. I’m sorry it had to come to this, but there’s no one more gifted in organic chemistry than you in our city.”
Alex cries, his tears dripping onto the murderer’s gloved hand.
“Don’t cry,” the murderer whispers, “it’s okay. Continue to struggle, and Odin will recognize your fight. You will ascend into Valhalla—”
The murderer grunts and twitches.
“—into Elysium,” the murderer continues, this time his voice sounding somehow different. “The Judges of the Dead will recognize all the good you’ve done, and you will find peace. Trust me.”
Suddenly, Alex realizes why the voice sounds familiar. It’s one of his students.
“James?” Alex tries to say, but his voice is muffled.
“Shh,” James says, reaching behind his back. “This will all be over soon. But fear not, Professor Ezeh. Even if you do not find the afterlife, you will live on… in me. I will use your knowledge for good, I swear. I swear…”
In the glint of the moonlight, a deadly, ancient-looking axe. In the small eye holes of the mask, a madness-tinged bloodlust.
The axe falls. And everything goes black.
---
/r/chrischang | 2021-06-20T08:39:46 | 2021-06-20T08:31:59 | 131 | 71 |
[WP] “Most men who enter here reek of fear, but in you I sense hope....what kind of man crawls into his own grave in search of hope....” | "One who has lived as long as I have," I replied to the disembodied voice. "I'm so tired, perhaps I'll finally be able to rest."
"You can't be more than forty-five," it said in confusion, the last word echoing around the small room that was the crypt.
"I'm older than I look, this is not my first body, nor my first death, but perhaps with your help it can be my last."
I had spent several lifetimes searching for this room, this ancient tomb that held the stone slab upon which I now laid. It was said that to spend a night inside would put even the strongest to rest. The legend was that the site was the final resting place of an old god, chained to this very slab of stone until his struggles slowed and his life ended. The essence of that God was said to remain, and that that ancient lord of death would kill any who remained in the crypt over night in vengeance for his own murder.
"I can grant you what you seek, but it comes with a cost"
"What would you ask, what could I have that you want?"
"I am tired too," hissed the ancient voice, "I too wish to fade into the night, if you can't but destroy the altar upon which you lie then come the morning we will both get our wish." | My eyes were dry as the desert, though they should be flowing waterfalls, as only a crazy man would welcome death. Well then, I was crazy.
"One that has no fear," I replied to Death, "I've seen too much, I've realized there is no happy ending. I've come to terms with my fate."
Death's expression was unreadable, though when they spoke, the tiniest bit of pity could be detected under the cold wall they hid behind.
"I see all," Death started, "There is another way. I can remove the pills and undo the scars and heartbreak."
I took in a sharp breath of air at the suggestion. The pills. The pills I had taken to rid the pain. The scars. The scars I had made to soothe it. The heartbreak. The heartbreak gifted to me from the ones I loved most. I remembered hiding the knife in the bathroom, hiding in there for hours at a time, wishing the fighting would stop. I remembered grabbing the pills and emptying the bottle with my mouth as I had had enough of it. I could hear the ambulance sirens so clearly as for once, I wasn't ignored, and for once, my parents stopped fighting. It was peaceful in the hospital. There was nothing to worry about, after all, I was in bed. I felt numb but felt more emotion than I ever had since my father had first slapped me and told me I was worthless.
I looked down at my arms and saw the deep cuts I had covered with black hoodies. I made many in school, the teasing was hard to bear so I coped in the stalls. I felt the fear flood back into me as I recalled the first mental breakdown I had in a bathroom stall. I felt like I was going to die like I wasn't real. I remember blinking and looking around in slight confusion as I continued thinking for the rest of the day, "*You are real, this is real, your family is real, you are here, this is reality.*"
I rethought everything that had happened to me, and the choices I had made in response and decided something.
"No," I whispered.
"Excuse me?" Death replied softly.
"I do not wish to go back to that place," I say a bit more confidently, "Good riddance to it.'
Death hesitated for a second, as if pondering on my decision.
They then nod slowly, "If that is your wish, I shall grant it. Just remember, there is no going back."
I nod my head with a shaky smile.
"Good." | 2021-11-01T14:11:14 | 2021-11-01T13:15:59 | 56 | 11 |
[WP] The hero disappears overnight, and the only one who looks is the villain. Not their "friends", not their family, not the news reporters or any of the people who claim to love them. Just the villain. | The figure in darkness glared at his computer monitor, honestly ready to smash it like he has the first few dozen. But he knew it wouldn’t change what he was seeing, and that infuriated him. “Damn so called heroes…” Shade spat.
Upon the monitor he wanted to smash was another news report, one about a recent bombing. Not his work of course, as he preferred to stick to his shadows. No, what irked him so was the missing figure of the group of Heroes, one who no one seemed to notice was gone. “It’s been two damn months and not even a small mention of her disappearance! What the hell is wrong with them?!” Shade snarled, before closing the browser window, unable to watch more. “I knew a lot of heroes are entitled pricks, but she was one of the good ones!”
Grumbling and growling, the shadowed man typed on his keyboard a set of commands, pulling up a browser into the dark web. This one was a page he created, offering money and/or services for information. He stopped and looked at the picture of the one he was asking info about, and for a moment his dark heart clenched. A young, feminine face with a bright smile, Aurora had been his nemesis from day one of his career. A meta gifted in the power of sunlight, they had been natural enemies. However, they had formed a an unspoken relationship.
Shade sighed, leaning back. He was a “low level” villain, but only because his speciality was in espionage, B’n’E, and a few other things that required stealth and shadows. He did, however, draw a line when it came to murder and the harming of young children. Having been an orphan himself from a mugging gone bad, he couldn’t put that pain and lots of innocence on other children.
And Aurora understood that. Hell, she even fought against a murder conviction placed on him, and proved that it was the work of a serial killer! Granted his alibi she dug up did come in robbing the city treasury, but you win some you lose some. And she got the right monster put away… he respected her for that. He even found himself teaching her how to better get the drop on other villains, if only so she wouldn’t get so injured from other fights that they couldn’t have their own combat.
But now, she was missing, and no one seemed to care. There wasn’t even a missing person’s report of anyone matching her description across the country, hell the continent! It was like she up and vanished! And it didn’t sit right with him.
Shade sighed, going through the massage board of tips. He was a villain only out of necessity, and he would admit for the thrill. He wasn’t in it to become uber rich or rule a large area, but rather because he’d rather be the one doing the job, and not someone who’d be more… lethal. And it helped that he was able to get tips about muggers, which he would discretely share with Aurora and the authorities for a reduced sentence (which he would then shorten anyways with a breakout, but he digressed).
His anger grew seeing a lot more useless tips, fake info that was obvious, and requests for free services with the *potential* for information.
‘Honour among thieves indeed.’ He huffed, tempted to meet with these fellow crooks just to shut them-
His brain stopped seeing an image posted, and his heart dropped into his stomach. The caption was “I think I found her…”
This guy had found her. Shade knew that face, those vivid blue eyes anywhere.
He also knew that there was a group of monsters he hated more than murders and muggers.
“God damn traffickers!”
**(Part two coming soon!)**
**(Part 2 on hiatus due to writer’s block)** | “To the citizens of Glaireum city. I am holding all of you hostage for one gazillion dollars. If I don’t get this money by the end of the year this entire city is going to be obliterated. I also trapped you in a giant dome. And of course only I have a way in or out. Do not worry as long as you aren’t leaving town regularly your daily lives will not be affected. I will even allow goods to enter as long as the delivery trucks are checked before they exit.”
- - -
Weeks have passed and the go fund me page is only at a few million sure they have till the end of the year starting on January first. Vortex then thought to himself “why has no one come to stop me yet? I know I am the top villain and the only person who can even put up a fight is Gloposes. And he isn’t even off world.”
Later over the city from the same holographic screen that displays their doomsday counter.
V: “Were is Gloposes? Why isn’t he here yet? Doesn’t he want to stop me? The amount pf money I want is OUTRAGEOUS!”
Another month has passed they are nearing the first billion mark, and Vortex has started searching. First he set out a bounty in the underworld for a large sum of money from his current plot if they can confirm his location however only a few top rank villains have taken it. There have been no sightings. Every building has been raided in the night searching for him and Vortex even used a special technique that lets him search for his arch nemesis within a certain radius. Still nothing. He quickly checks social media and does a lot of online searching. Even the world NEWS channel has said nothing about this. When he would make a reminder announcement of course it would make headlines but even after mentioning the worlds best hero no one would talk about him. And it’s not like his power even effects time, matter, or minds. In fact no one would be able to hold such an effect for so long. If they could he would know them personally. Something happened to Gloposes and Vortex was going to find out.
No one seemed to care he was gone. The fan accounts on all media platforms were still somewhat active with fan arts. People who would normally chant for his return aren’t doing _anything_.
- - -
It has been months since the city was held hostage. Students have since entered the next grade and are almost done with the first half of the school year. Thanksgiving leftovers are already gone for 80-90% of the population that celebrates it. Yet no sign of Gloposes. All the hunters have given up and the Go fund me campaign was surprisingly only a few million off.
On that monitor one last time.
“ this is your final warning. One Gazillion dollars by the end of the year. However I have decided to change your fates. Instant death from incineration is terrifying in a existential sort pf way I think it would be more fun to enslave everyone here and force you to do as I say via high voltage shock collars. There will only be rest when I am asleep and no man woman or child is safe from my desires. Now the only person who can stop me is Gloposes. Now where are you? And News stations why aren’t YOU talking about his disapreance? In fact no one in the entire world is worried I wouldn’t just kill you all. Even the super fans that declared themselves as number one. Acounts who talk about Gloposes non stop and the news who just gloss over these sections. I have the mews up and will end this broadcast for now and if you gloss over him I might just enact my new plan today! YOU’LL ALL SUFER FOREVER FOREVER WORKING WITHOUT COMPENSATION, EATING THE BARE MINIMUM TO SURIVE, EVERYONE UNDER MY PERSONAL WILL, YOU COULD BE KILLED OR TORTURED AT MY ANY MOMENT BECAUSE I WAS BORED, FORCE TO BREED SL THE NEXT GENERATION CAN BE PROPAGATED SO MY RULE EXTENDS EVEN LONGER! YOU’LL HAVE NO HOPE OF HAPPINESS!”
Just then the news made their commented on the final announcement
News anchor: “wow, what a tangent. That announcement was a little longer then expected and changing our fates last minute? In other news we only need 5 million more dollars to get put of this dome. In other news..”
V: “you miserable fools you had your chance buy now my kingdom of slaves will come to light. I will have all the woman I want. Children will be taken from their parents and I will be built a castle. There will be no hope no joy only sadness. As for the next generation I guess for them happiness will come in the form of the meals they get or the time they have when their collars aren’t giving commands.”
Vortex then pressed a button and thousands of drones flew around the city with the job of searching for any human necks and attaching the collars. In the matter of a few minutes everyone was enslaved. With a tiny speaker and 1200 volts along with an invisible fence and solar charged batteries there is no longer hope. | 2021-12-28T22:07:34 | 2021-12-28T20:35:34 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] The hero disappears overnight, and the only one who looks is the villain. Not their "friends", not their family, not the news reporters or any of the people who claim to love them. Just the villain. | How many days has it been by now? Oh 711 days, 700 and 11 days of boredom, stress, worry, and genuine panic. Every back alley, every underground syndicate, every hero and villain, I checked everywhere and with everyone. Noone has heard or seen "her" since. She vanished as if just overnight. Earths most prominent, most powerful awakened. The only one to have more than one power awakened in them. Besides me that is.
It was a normal tuesday afternoon. As per usual much needed to be done, there were some plans established a week prior to that day, I was simply brushing up on some details. As the day progressed I started to feel somewhat confused. Thinking to myself "she'd normally be there by now". The entire draining system had almost been set up completely. Something I had tried countless times before. Using all kinds of tech and technique. For many years already. Only to be thwarted by "her" be it last minute or with plenty to spare.....
But here I sat looking at the completed drainage system designed to sap away the powers of awakened, as well as the life force of ordinary people, harvest enough life force and new powers are awakened seperate from an individual. Powers with more potential. I sat there fiddling with the remote, murmuring "any minute now" feeling all anxious, till I realised I sat there fiddling for hours on end just staring at all my evil work with noone to stop me from causing utter chaos and destruction. Not only in this city but after that the entire world.
I waited another hour, and another. Why? Not even I was sure at the time, and I dont think I am even now. Hours went by fast and the sun rose, "when did it even go down" I was too lost in thought, all that was on my mind was "her". I activated the safety system for the drainage and set it to concealed. Curiosity hit me so investigation was due.
The following days after then was spend on sending my subordinates out on scouting missions, as well as asking around the local underground gatherings..... Nothing. No one knew anything. She just seemingly vanished. Her family, friends and other associates weren't even worried "She is strong" "She can take care of herself" "you really think something would happen to her" it for the first time in my long bitter life had me completely dumbfounded and worried in the way one looks at a child with despairing parents, it had been over a month by now and there was no trace of her yet no one questioned it. If I had some aluminium I would probably have thought everyone was in on it, but for real this didn't feel right.
And now it has been 1 and a half year. Did she put an end to it? Someone more powerful? The latter could mean total destruction, I simply wanted to stand at the top. And honestly I have been re-evaluating myself during the time looking for her. There is no point in fighting to rule or conquer if there is no threat to be knocked away. Without my nemesis, my rival, my only friend dare I one sidedly say, I hated the world, I felt entitled, but that must have waned away ages ago as I started getting older. It was simply the disposition of hero to villain that drove me to continue, I simply did not notice it. Now it is safe to say she is dearly missed by me, but beyond that I am worried for her, worried for myself as another who wields more than one power, and to the world as to what it means for the strongest period to vanish without trace.
For now I will keep looking this is my current mission, and one that needs carrying to term, I will get to the bottom of this, no matter how far and wide. I will conquer this mystery as I once wanted to conquer the world. | “To the citizens of Glaireum city. I am holding all of you hostage for one gazillion dollars. If I don’t get this money by the end of the year this entire city is going to be obliterated. I also trapped you in a giant dome. And of course only I have a way in or out. Do not worry as long as you aren’t leaving town regularly your daily lives will not be affected. I will even allow goods to enter as long as the delivery trucks are checked before they exit.”
- - -
Weeks have passed and the go fund me page is only at a few million sure they have till the end of the year starting on January first. Vortex then thought to himself “why has no one come to stop me yet? I know I am the top villain and the only person who can even put up a fight is Gloposes. And he isn’t even off world.”
Later over the city from the same holographic screen that displays their doomsday counter.
V: “Were is Gloposes? Why isn’t he here yet? Doesn’t he want to stop me? The amount pf money I want is OUTRAGEOUS!”
Another month has passed they are nearing the first billion mark, and Vortex has started searching. First he set out a bounty in the underworld for a large sum of money from his current plot if they can confirm his location however only a few top rank villains have taken it. There have been no sightings. Every building has been raided in the night searching for him and Vortex even used a special technique that lets him search for his arch nemesis within a certain radius. Still nothing. He quickly checks social media and does a lot of online searching. Even the world NEWS channel has said nothing about this. When he would make a reminder announcement of course it would make headlines but even after mentioning the worlds best hero no one would talk about him. And it’s not like his power even effects time, matter, or minds. In fact no one would be able to hold such an effect for so long. If they could he would know them personally. Something happened to Gloposes and Vortex was going to find out.
No one seemed to care he was gone. The fan accounts on all media platforms were still somewhat active with fan arts. People who would normally chant for his return aren’t doing _anything_.
- - -
It has been months since the city was held hostage. Students have since entered the next grade and are almost done with the first half of the school year. Thanksgiving leftovers are already gone for 80-90% of the population that celebrates it. Yet no sign of Gloposes. All the hunters have given up and the Go fund me campaign was surprisingly only a few million off.
On that monitor one last time.
“ this is your final warning. One Gazillion dollars by the end of the year. However I have decided to change your fates. Instant death from incineration is terrifying in a existential sort pf way I think it would be more fun to enslave everyone here and force you to do as I say via high voltage shock collars. There will only be rest when I am asleep and no man woman or child is safe from my desires. Now the only person who can stop me is Gloposes. Now where are you? And News stations why aren’t YOU talking about his disapreance? In fact no one in the entire world is worried I wouldn’t just kill you all. Even the super fans that declared themselves as number one. Acounts who talk about Gloposes non stop and the news who just gloss over these sections. I have the mews up and will end this broadcast for now and if you gloss over him I might just enact my new plan today! YOU’LL ALL SUFER FOREVER FOREVER WORKING WITHOUT COMPENSATION, EATING THE BARE MINIMUM TO SURIVE, EVERYONE UNDER MY PERSONAL WILL, YOU COULD BE KILLED OR TORTURED AT MY ANY MOMENT BECAUSE I WAS BORED, FORCE TO BREED SL THE NEXT GENERATION CAN BE PROPAGATED SO MY RULE EXTENDS EVEN LONGER! YOU’LL HAVE NO HOPE OF HAPPINESS!”
Just then the news made their commented on the final announcement
News anchor: “wow, what a tangent. That announcement was a little longer then expected and changing our fates last minute? In other news we only need 5 million more dollars to get put of this dome. In other news..”
V: “you miserable fools you had your chance buy now my kingdom of slaves will come to light. I will have all the woman I want. Children will be taken from their parents and I will be built a castle. There will be no hope no joy only sadness. As for the next generation I guess for them happiness will come in the form of the meals they get or the time they have when their collars aren’t giving commands.”
Vortex then pressed a button and thousands of drones flew around the city with the job of searching for any human necks and attaching the collars. In the matter of a few minutes everyone was enslaved. With a tiny speaker and 1200 volts along with an invisible fence and solar charged batteries there is no longer hope. | 2021-12-28T21:41:34 | 2021-12-28T20:35:34 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | “Oh! Oh my! How unexpected.” Truly unexpected, nigh unto shocking. As all the best opportunities seem to be.
“When was the last time we spoke?” He asked, already knowing the answer, “Was it that diamond transport thing or was it the casino boat? I have trouble with my memory after the concussion you gave me.”
He made sure to mention the concussion.
That had come after his capture, when he’d mentioned that her rump had gotten a little rounder. Just a casual observation, not meriting the curb stomp. And the city had charged him for the pothole repair.
He heard her sigh over the telephone. “It was the diamond transport. And, if you’d stood around with the rest of the protesters, instead of tearing the doors off the truck and scattering the “blood-soaked soul stones” around in the street, I wouldn’t have been called in the first place.” She told him.
She said that like it was his fault some misanthropic blood baron was trying to make a fortune off of slave labor and suffering. Somebody had to draw the lines somewhere. They could take their fortune and just start manufacturing the damned things, no labor of children and poverty stricken miners involved, but nooo, they wanted the misery marinade that went with the “real thing”.
“Come now Caroline, you know me. You know I’d never stand for something so…gauche. My address is listed and they could easily truck their little trophies for inhumanity on a mass scale somewhere else. They might as well have asked me to ruin their truck.” He told her.
“It’s Sonica.” She said flatly.
She really did know better, she just had to say these things because his phones were tapped.
Part of the plea deal. He didn’t mind, it let him make the agents listening in extremely uncomfortable from time to time; anything to pass the time during house arrest.
She was sighing again. She really needed to stop that. He could imagine the wrinkles forming on her forehead. She’d ruin her face that way.
“Look, I’m starting to regret this already, are you available or not Atlas?” She asked, running out of patience.
“Sonica is your business name, this is a wedding invitation. Certainly not business, unless you’re asking me to stand up when they ask if anyone disputes the wedding and start trashing the place. I’m free that day, by the way, but I’ll want my usual rate. Unless, you’re asking for me on personal terms” He prodded.
“Okay, fine, yes, Ryan, and, no, I don’t want you to cause a scene. That’s the point of bringing you along in the first place, my ex is going to be there. I need a date so things don’t get awkward.” She told him.
Oh. The Ex. That guy, huh? He never did completely understand why she’d bothered with that one, but she’d ignored him when he’d told her it wouldn’t work out, back on the Casino boat.
It would appear that the prophecy had come to pass.
“Do I…get to tell you I told you so?” He checked.
“You do not get to tell me ‘I told you so.’, you are a federally licensed villain, a confirmed eco-terrorist in three countries, and you actually commit to plaid being an acceptable choice for fine dining wear.” She told him, with a bit of her usual good humor there at the end.
He was getting to her, he could tell these things.
“Well, if you insist. Alright, I’ll behave. But just so you know, I was being very polite on the Casino boat, for your sake, mostly, and if he thinks I’ll just let him hit me this time, I’m going to have to get unpleasant.” He warned.
He really did not care for “The Incredible Gold Justice”. Anybody who puts “The Incredible” in their own name deserves whatever happens to them.
Actually, they kind of deserve him happening to them.
“Atlas, Ryan, you put him through twelve decks of boat and tried to drown him in engine fuel. If I hadn’t thrown you across the bay, you’d have murdered him.” She pointed out.
True. But also, not the point, he really had been being polite. If she hadn’t been there to see it, he would have folded “Gold Justice” up into a little ball, like aluminum foil, and dropped him into the ocean. Easy and clean.
“I told him not to hit me, what else do you want? Fair warning and all. But enough of that, let’s talk about the dress code. I have a very well-cut suit, something in a charcoal grey, that would be a nice offset to that stunning little red thing you showed off on the tele during that Hero gala.” He redirected.
He heard her breathing stop momentarily.
She probably didn’t know he knew about that.
“I didn’t know you knew about that.”
Bingo.
“Caroline, of course I knew about that. You were getting an award, why wouldn’t I watch my dear friend get the recognition she deserved?” He asked, hurt.
“Because you were supposed to be in a super max isolation cell awaiting trial.” She said flatly.
“Details, love, details. And not important! What do you think? Charcoal on red? It shouldn’t over shadow the lucky bride to be too much. You’ll do that no matter what you wear, eh?” He joked.
She really would. Caroline was, in the words of the common man, built like a brick shit-house. The extra padding on her rear was only to the good, the woman had an irrational fear of ballooning in spandex. Just like he had an irrational fear of heights, never mind that he literally could not fall fast enough to hurt himself. It was entirely the thought.
He shuddered slightly at the remembered sight of the bay receding beneath him, wind rushing, as he arced through the air. And she knew he hated heights, so she’d done it on purpose, just because he told her the Ex was a poncy dickhead who’d bang the first cocktail waitress he tripped across.
“Okay. Okay a charcoal suit should do, at least it isn’t flannel. I’ll pick you up with custody papers for the evening at 2pm, sharp." She said, warming to the compliment.
"You have casual wear right? You don’t just wear orange jumps suits at home to make things simple?” She asked, suspicious.
He had six orange jumpsuits in his closet that she didn’t need to know anything about.
“Of course not!” he said feigning insult, “What do you take me for?”
“My archnemesis.” She said, trying not to laugh at his obvious lie, “And my best friend.” | "You want me to do... *what*?!"
Incredulously, I stared at the waif-like redhead, currently floating there on the gust of wind that always had that weird opaque sea-like quality, as she'd been blessed by some sort of power or some-such. I never had been able to discern whether it was something out of some fantasy novel, some chemical accident or some sort of cosmic inheritance, something that never had come up, because usually, it was fist-first, power zap second.
An artist of science and artistry, I would call myself, and now, I find myself staring at her, currently at the edge of the wooded area that I had built as a personal refuge from the ails of the world (and the pesky regulators that thought that building a life-sized android replica of the President was not up to code), as she just looked pleadingly at me.
"This is embarrassing! I kind of really need a date, you know? It's... it's for a wedding. My friend's wedding is in a few days and... well... Would you go with me?"
The thought was ludicrous. I had my career in supervillainy, a PhD within evil scheming! I was not going to be cowed by someone that usually had me face-down in the earth after the first six blows or something, and the expensive dental repair that my dentist had been forced to engage in once I'd gotten off on a technicality.
It paid to have a lawyer team on call whenever you were illegally detained by a vigilante, even though the 'hero code' was making it legal. Private rights...
"You are probably able to ask any guy off the streets, without a problem. Why would I go with you?"
She was petite, though usually, I never really thought too much of that when she was flying right at me. The black and green costume made her look a bit like some kind of weird buzzing hornet.
"Because my ex will be there! I need to... I need to find someone that's not too- Will you come?"
I checked the scanner to see whether there was some sort of other human activity crew around. This must be a prank or something, because there was no way that I'd get asked to go to a wedding with her.
"It's very funny, but you can tell whoever is watching this to buzz off. Ha ha, make fun of the incel nerd, you've had your fun. Now, are we going to go and have a brawl, or do you want to keep up this ludicrous pretense of being here to ask me for a date for some wedding?!"
I *hated* the pretty girls that could just ask any guy out back when I was in university. The type that would just give me one look, dismiss me as something lesser, but I sure as hell showed them when I built my first giant robot in the university dormitory. It'd only been a one-story battle robot, but it had nice lasers!
And a beer cannon, but that was just because they asked for it. It was still in use as the Beer-Barian, back at my alma mater. Things had not been as heavy as they were now.
"What? Do you think this is FUNNY? I'm honest!"
Lies. Why would someone that probably would knock it out of the park with her looks, have a problem finding a date to impress her ex? Didn't she have like, three or four side-kicks, the 'wonder squad' or something, to rely on?
"I'm not buying it, tell whoever is taping this to get the hell out so I can destroy this whole mockery! We've been at odds for five years now!"
I was turning a ripe 31 now, and she must be around... twenty-nine or something. I never really got close enough to ask. That one time when she'd slipped up and I'd gotten clotheslined by her, it'd ended up shattering my jaw with the force of a pelvic region that'd come flying at Mach One.
It'd been embarrassing as hell, watching that footage back at the replay when I'd been sprung free.
"I really don't- There is no camera crew! I just- You're the only one I can ask!"
My doubts were written on my face.
"You have a harem of men! Those flunkies of yours threatened to cut my wiener off!"
She actually flushed at that. I had hit a nerve.
"And they were wrong to do that on national television, I admit. I got in trouble for that too. All I'm asking is a date to a wedding. I'll... I'll let one thing slide, okay? I'll fib and say that I'm busy and you get away, due to some... some hypno spray or something."
That would increase my personal finances quite a bit. Having to cobble together a mechanical suit in a cave out of a box of scrap metal would be replaced with a fully-stocked laboratory and robot arms.
"I guess you've got a date then. But what about that Harry fellow? In your whole harem of super-studs?"
She snorted loudly at that epithet. She wasn't going to let that go, I guessed, as she ran a hand through her hair. It was some sort of weird gesture that had the wind billowing through her hair, the mask that she wore to shroud her facial features pulled a little tighter.
"Listen, that guy can wear a dress all he likes, but I'm not into it. Dating sucks if you're- Listen, do me this favor and I'll let you go, once."
I supposed that it would be a fair deal. One annoying afternoon or day with my arch-nemesis and the next day to pull a heist on Fort Knox.
It'd work out well.
"You have a deal. Where do I need to be at?"
The smile she gave was grateful, which made my stomach turn. There should not be a smile on her lips like that, knowing how much we usually tended to cause in property damage if she didn't get through the first layer of blast shielding.
"Ah, a small town in California, above LA. It's near the interstate, to Canada and-"
I guessed where it would be. Not a bad place to live, if you liked those small towns with a thousand or so inhabitants.
"The venue is there?"
She nodded, as I mentally computed the location, and decided what to do for that.
"Where do you want me to pick you up?"
I could be there in about a day or so. I didn't really have the power to teleport or something, or fly, unaided. She was the one with the fancy powers, not me. I'd have to drive there. That was still seven states away.
"Ah... If you'd like to swing by LA? I can just... wait on the sidewalk? I mean, I know what you look like without the goggles."
The goggles did nothing but add a stylish twist to things. The white lab coat and the elegant torc that I wore with my moniker were often the first things that I stored somewhere safe and out of the way. The key to the lockboxes where I hid them was always hidden somewhere safe, a place that only I knew.
"Very well. I guess we will meet then in... When is the wedding?"
I was not very concerned about not arriving in style. I had a different outfit for those formal engagements ready and pressed, proper to wear at all encounters with the formal side of things.
It was why I remained out of jail, after all.
"Ten days' time, will that be enough?"
I nodded at that.
"I'll- third street, at the bus stop, right at the edge of the road where the interstate goes- At the burger place, opposite of it and- You know the spot, right?"
It was easy to pull the spot up on the Moogle Maps app, as I put in the data and then gave a laborious sigh. She had not come closer, nor had I had the time to really worry about her attacking me yet. It was perfectly safe now, it seemed.
"I will see you in ten days then, at... eight in the morning?"
Early, but if I put on the auto-pilot, I could relax for nearly the whole night while the auto-pilot guided me to the location. | 2022-10-07T00:31:51 | 2022-10-07T00:19:41 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] A civilization has picked up a transmission from another world many light years away. They slowly realize that the other civilization is now gone. | Dec 31st 2014 11:59PM - First Contact
What was originally thought to be a meteorite burns bright over the skies of London, crashing down in the river a few hundred yards from London Bridge, damaging it severely, the impact leads to hundreds killed and thousands injured. The world holds it's breath as a silver looking orb covered in strange markings the size of a small car is brought up from the river in the aftermath. They try to keep it secret but after months of cover-ups being blown and the worlds best minds unable to make heads or tails of the object, they turn to the public. High res videos are posted on YouTube and in a few days a 11 year old astronomy buff from Mumbai sees the pattern. They are pulsars, specifically, 7 of them, repeating over and over. Combined they pinpoint the exact coordinates of the objects origin, a star not unlike our own over 200 light years away. Astronomers around the world race to train their Telescopes & Radio-telescopes upon the distant star. The world is united in wonder for the first time in memory. We begin sending transmissions, every nation races to build the first deep space probe, 5, 10, 15 years pass with no further word from the distant star. One dark October night the little boy from Mumbai, now a world famous Astro-physicist, trains the doubble E-ELT on his famous discovery and stares in wonder, only to see it's light suddenly flash and extinguish, never to burn again. The probe was the last ditch of a dying planet in a doomed solar system to let someone know they existed. | [CC] ( Critiques welcome) The SETI installations first picked up radio from them in 2020, and the
world rejoiced.
We had finally found another
civilization! We immediately pinpointed the origin to a solar system 60 light years away, and knew that by now they would
have received radio from us as well. We immediately sent out a transmission for them, but apparently they had discovered
our existence in 1970, because in another 10 years they had already sent a radio transmission sent specifically for us. The
aliens on the other end said with broken English that they had studied our radio for decades in order to understand our
language, and it had been one of the most challenging and planet-unifying purposes their people had ever been met with.
They told us they were so glad to find another civilization in the universe, and that they were now working on a ultra-high tech telescope that would allow them to get a good view on our planet, and that they weren't even near done yet, but they thought they definitely would be by the time we received this transmission. We thought this was a great idea, so we did the same. I took us 20 years, and all the while we sent them transmissions and received theirs. After so many years and so many billions of dollars, we finally finished this telescope, one especially designed to view their planet and their's alone (pre-set unchanging focus set for their planet's distance). When the telescope finally went up into space, all the world's scientists turned on their feeds, and stared at a beautiful green and red planet with many hundreds of medium sized blue lakes and seas scattered throughout the planet. We watched for the next 15 hours, none of the scientists able to look at anything but the image of this planet so many light years away. We were prepared to just sit there and stare for the rest of or lives, but after just 15 hours, we watched, first with confusion, then with horror, as blast after blast of huge explosions riddled of the surface of this planet we had so quickly grown to love. At the same time, we received a transmission we immediately realized would be their last, in-which their leading English-speaking scientist, who we had all grown to recognize the voice of, quickly and excitedly stated with fluent English, "Our world is doomed, Earthlings. The anti-Earthlings and the pro-Earthlings have been at war for the past 24 hours, and both have access to many world-ending weapons. Tensions have been rising, and it recently reached a point of no return, a point where both sides decided they would rather die than live on the same planet as the other side. This will be our last transmission. Do not follow in our mistakes, Earthlings, do not die as unnecessarily as we have. Do not doom yourselves to repeating our fate. Heed this warn-..." We heard a loud explosion from the radio just as the transmission cut off. | 2014-09-24T17:28:10 | 2014-09-24T16:50:01 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] A college slacker submits a half assed political science paper titled "Why can't we all just get along". One thing leads to another when finally every conflict on earth gets resolved overnight in a grand domino effect of world peace.
EDIT: What the hell is up with college students and cocaine??? Is this really a thing? | At four-twenty-eight p.m. on a Thursday in mid-December, AMiniMongrel woke up screaming his balls off.
"Shit!" he shouted. "Motherfucker! Dog dick! Giant hairy asshole!"
He was screaming because his big poli sci paper was due in an hour and a half and he was so hopped up on Klonopin and paint thinner that he could barely remember who the President of the United States was, let alone speculate on his role in an international truce that would end all wars forever.
He picked up his phone. "Get me Delano," he squeaked. Of course this didn't do any good, because it was 2014 and phone operators were a thing of a dimly-remembered past, like Myspace and a woman's gentle touch. But then, a miracle happened. It was the first of two miracles that would occur that day. The miracle was that a ghost named Reynolds entered the room and dialed Delano's number while AMiniMongrel was searching around his bed for his telephone-conversation hat. Before he knew it, Delano, a professor at the University of Acirfa in Timbuktu, had picked up.
"Delano, I need your help," said AMiniMongrel frankly.
"I'm not your personal savior," said Delano crossly.
"I need your help on a paper for class," said AMiniMongrel, reportedly. "It's about how to resolve the world's problems."
"Why don't you just say everything will be alright in the end?" wheezed Delano. "Professors love that hippy-dippy bullshit."
So AMiniMongrel wrote his paper. He called it "We can't we just get along?" The paper was three hundred pages long, plus footnotes. Most of those words were some variation of "Free love, man!" Doodles of flowers took up eight whole pages. One page was actually a kite. The caption on the next page read "Let's go fly a kite!" And so on.
Here is where AMiniMongrel encountered a second stroke of luck. Had his professor been any ordinary man or woman, he would have received a D and that would have been the end of it. But AMiniMongrel's professor was actually Kim Jong Un, Beloved Dear Good Leader of the People's Cool Funtime Republic of North Korea, in a wig. Kim Jong Un thought the paper was the worst thing he'd ever seen, and he took it with him to the next U.N. meeting.
"You're right," said Barack Obama. "This is the worst thing I've ever seen, too!"
"*Мое тело является клетка, что держит меня от танцев с кого я люблю,*" said Vladimir Putin.
Then they made sweet love in the rose bushes outside. For if anything can truly unite the peoples of the world, it's their hatred of really bad writing. That, and those Coke ads with immigrants. | Waking up at 2 in the afternoon was routine. William found himself slacking in more ways than you would imagine your average college student would. Slumping off of his elevated dorm bed, his feet greeted by one of the many piles of dirty clothing littering his side of the dorm, he would presume to get ready for the day.
Last night was like many other for William. Long, dragging, and fueled by adderall with the occasional few bumps from his room mates cocaine stash.
It was not only until later into the day that he logged onto his campus grading site to review the marks for his essay he labored for all through the night. Astonished, he immediately noticed the 95 percent grade given by his political science teacher, Dr. Cole. Not because he did not believe in his abilities as a writer, though his grades did not show it he was adamant about this ability much above his ability in exams, but because of the teachers reputations to never give any mark over a 90 percent for any paper. William had never heard of or thought to look up professor rating websites. Along with this high mark was a notification in the comment section of the report. An apparently amazed Dr. Cole wrote of its in depth evaluation on our current socio-economic state and its hindsight into a query into human natures ability to forgo the mischief of political practice and an eventual progression to humanist politics.
To fast forward, Williams paper is published with no will of his own but at the doing of his professor Dr. Cole with Williams hesitant yes to do so. But he was firm in keeping his real name of off the report. This happened to be around the time of the ongoing race for the 2018 election. Candidate Vermin Supreme, who was gaining much popularity through out the nation, was a graduate of Bull Shit University and knew Dr. Cole quiet well. One thing leads to another and Sir Supreme begins to use this, now "manifesto", into his political platform.
Vermin Supreme wins the 2018 presidential election by a staggeringly large majority, known mostly because of his platform based on humanist ideologies in all aspects of reform.
The UN summit on international treaty agreements of 2019 would go down in history. President Supreme, proudly brandishing his boot on his head, lead a speech that would have put Chaplin's historic "The Great Dictator" Speech in shame. Heard around the world leaders had to respond positively to this ideology do the public outcry, not only that but Vermin's subtle and non verbal threats of destruction to those who opposed him. (Along with humanist views, Vermin was an advocate of quadrupling the U.S. military power)
It soon became initiated world wide. Canada first to jump in on this doctrine of peace, the slavics, eventually all of Europe, until the first world was completely absolved in peace. Even the middle east religious hate zone was instantly abolished. The leaders of ISIS and other such organizations sent out video statements on its newfound love of its enemies.
Parts of Africa slowly became growing and powerful economic states. The lack of corrupt governments and there unfair sanctions allowed for companies to invest more so into individual states for production and consumer purposes.
Everything seemed to turn over to another beautiful development of peace and worldly development. The U.S. media was even reporting on the world in a more factual and positive way, since that was a reflection of the new world it was reporting on.
It was another late night for William. More adderall and cocaine. Writing a paper for his "bullshit" economics class. Going on with his self destructive routine with little knowledge, or even care for that matter, of his influence on a global scale. No name to give credit to Vermin's policy was taken into his own credit and was given much eternal glory and sunshine beach parties forever. As William wakes up again around 2 to begin another round of his seemingly endless and mentally painful personal hell.
Note: First time I've ever done one of these. Just a student who has, almost ironically, snorted quiet a bit of addarall himself tonight and was looking for a medium to burn off some of this energy. Rip it apart with criticism. I like to write but have no experience especially in the fictional so have at it i could use the critiques. Thanks!
| 2014-11-01T08:04:41 | 2014-11-01T03:28:34 | 139 | 28 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Eduardo and Sarah had come to visit me at the old office. I hadn’t got a chance to see them since he got his big promotion and moved out to the East Coast office. “Stroke” and “Stomach Cancer” still spelled out in wisps over their heads. This time they brought the new addition to the family, Devon, who himself had an even fainter wisp reading “Traffic Accident” hovering in a similar position to the others.
When the words started appearing that day when I was twelve I was disturbed. I was about to lose my grandfather and I thought it was just my imagination going wild from the stress of confronting death. But even after the funeral, the words continued to hang in the air above their heads. When I went to the grocery store with my Mom, when I returned to camp, and at the end of the summer when I got back to school these reminders of death followed me.
At first I was depressed. My poor mother didn’t know what to do. My brother made fun of me for going “emo”. But everyone wrote it off as a period of adolescent immaturity, and I can’t say they were wrong.
Life is short. I had a reminder of that fact that followed me every day, not completely unlike a funeral home director or a grave digger. I grew to understand that most of these people will live good lives, living in good health until dying of some mundane disease in old age.
But whenever I’d see something like “traffic accident” on a kid my age, I’d still feel that pang of the tragedy of life’s fragility. Or at least I used to when I was younger. Now I’m approaching middle age and that pang of tragedy is reserved for people significantly younger than myself. But while I still felt that pang when I saw Devon’s “Traffic Accident,” it glowed even more faintly than the words above his parents, an indication he would live longer than his parents at the least.
I never spend time around kids now that I’m not one anymore. Edurado was my first friend to really settle down and start having his own kids. But one day I was eating lunch in McDonalds. Like most people, the average American (ok, slightly above average weight American) office drones around me had typical “X-Cancer,” “Industrial Accident,” and a few more than usual “Heart Attack”s floating around. Unnoticed by me, a yellow bus full of kids on a field trip had pulled up in the lot, disgorging its shrieking over excited contents. A stream of children start to pour into the McDonalds, furiously clamoring over each other to get a better spot in line. I wince in annoyance at the presence of the loud children crowding into the McDonald’s serving lines. These were young kids, still wearing their tiny shoes with cartoon characters on them un-ironically. I think I saw an Adventure Time back pack. Needless to say, their boisterous shrieking was rapidly turning my lunch break into torture.
I got up to leave, dumping my tray of used fast food paper into the trash bin. I quietly chuckle as I mutter “Beetus” when I notice the word “Diabetes” hanging over a morbidly obese school marm waving flaps of fat as her limbs motioned to herd the students. As I run my eyes over the students, I notice one especially buttery ball of a first grader, and expecting my heart to break I look up to the word above his head. The students were all crowded together and it took me a while to read his, “Suicide.” Hmmm. Life’s hard I thought.
Then it occurred to me. The word “Cancer” was so prevalent in crowds that it made a visual pattern I would notice. I looked more closely at the students. The ones walking away with trays from the counter were easier to read since they were away from the crowd. “Traffic Accident,” “Gun Accident,” “Traffic Accident,” “Industrial Accident,” and then one I’d never seen before “Hacked and Deleted”. All of them so faint that they were practically clear.
None of these kids had the typical deaths from disease I’d seen all my life. I’d run into a few kids here and there, family events, at the mall with their parents. I’d never noticed the pattern before. I hadn’t been around such a large group of children in years.
I wanted to know more. I figured there must be some sort of clue, a cutoff year where people start to stop dying of these diseases. I had to go find a school and do some research.
| The hustle of city life can drag on a man. The whirring sights confuse me with visual noise and the sounds remind me of an orchestra with every instrument replaced by a monkey banging pots and pans, a car screeching to a stop, or a baby crying. The people are claustrophobic in their own way, separated by canyons in others. They press and press and they press against one another, squeezing in, invading your space. They push past or through each other's lives but they do it like a firefly - there, and then gone. No greater connection, no deep meaning, just a passing bug in the night air.
I'm standing in the middle of the street with my eyes as wide as they can be, arms outstretched, drinking in the absurdity of city life. I can't help but laugh as the horde of people mill around me. I am exactly where I need to be.
The hustle of city life can drag on a man, but the silence and stillness of rural living almost drove me to suicide.
"Get out of the road, ya creep!" a cabbie yells as he scoots by me. I close my eyes and breathe deeply before heading back to the sidewalk and resuming my attempt at a normal life. *Standing in the middle of the street was dumb. After all, I can't see my own death*.
A block down the sidewalk and the street were now busier. More people, more noise, more stimulus to block out my own thoughts. It's hard not to look. Not to inquire, not to see. Not to help. When I'm alone I feel, I hurt, and I ache. I can't help them. I've tried, I've tried so many times, but everybody dies. Everybody dies and they die exactly the same way God tells me they die.
It has to be God. Or Yahwe. Or Allah. Or Zues for all it matters - some omniscient being who has cursed me with the gift of knowing death.
That's what I do. I see death. I don't know when, but I do know how. A plane crash, cancer, pneumonia. Natural causes and unnatural causes, I see everything. I see the pregnant woman with a little sign over her belly that reads, "Stillbirth." and the big sign over the woman's head that reads, "Suicide".
Drugs help, but they aren't a permanent solution. The city distracts me from what I see but I know I'm slowly going crazy. I think I already am.
Maybe this is some Hindu thing, a kind of punishment for something I did in a past life. I must have been some kind of terrible person for *this*.
I'm in the city center now. There's a bus stop across the street with forty or so people boarding a private bus to some high-class function. Every single one of them has a sign hanging over their heads that reads, "Bus crash". That many people, all dead the same way, all boarding the bus that kills them?
I know I should yell out, I know I should say something... but I know it doesn't matter. If it isn't that bus, it's another. Everybody dies and I can't stop it.
Maybe I was right all those years ago, maybe suicide is the only thing that can help me. Doctors won't, they lock me up and call me insane - even when I can prove I'm right. That I can actually see these things.
The police think I'm crazy. At first they thought I was a murderer spilling the beans on my crimes but after they found out the people I talked about weren't yet dead they wrote me off and won't return my calls.
Nobody believes me, but I can't just turn it off.
That's it, then. That's what I'll do. I'll walk down to 3rd and Main to that gun store, buy me a nice piece that won't leave anything left of me after I pull the trigger.
The streets were getting busier and busier, if that were even possible. The crowd pressing around, looking up in the sky and shouting. Doesn't matter. I know what I have to do.
More and more people kept spilling out on to the streets. The shouting grew increasingly frantic, screams could be heard in the distance. I heard the sounds of a building collapse but I just kept on walking. It didn't matter, everybody dies.
I reached the gun store and it was packed. Every person in the store was grabbing a gun off the shelf, the owner throwing boxes of ammo at anyone with a gun in hand. I started to panic, I couldn't find a gun. I needed a gun. I *needed* to do this.
The store emptied, the people ran outside, and still I searched. It took me a couple of minutes of pulling my hair out but I found it. I found a gun. It was already loaded. It was a small .22, not exactly my first choice, but it would have to work.
It was time. I had to get home.
I ran outside and for the first time since making my decision I looked around. Cars were overturned, glass was falling from the sky, and buildings were collapsing. There was a cloud over the city like an eclipse and *nobody* was on the street. I kept walking, soon breaking in to a run. I ran and I ran and I ran until I ran right in to a mass of people all standing around, shoulder to shoulder, stock still.
They were staring up at the sky. I climbed up on some scaffolding and looked around. There were... millions of people packed down every major street, as far as I could see.
And over all their heads hung one huge sign, "Alien invasion".
| 2015-03-31T12:59:24 | 2015-03-31T11:44:41 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] Every human has their soulmate's last words to them engraved in their skin from birth.
Idea from this Tumblr post
https://scontent-lga1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/11206957_778391755645357_8477035769704355007_n.png?oh=5b3f35d575ad3aa39d6ba5c5ed39cce2&oe=56549C83 | these words engraved on my wrist, These last word to me could've been in any context. I could've left her, done something to save her life or taking it. I mean what could be happening when the last word are "No, Don't." The illusion of me being hero or a murderer came to a sad depressing end when i found out the context.
It was rush hour, coming home from work, riding the subway. the car had a lot less people than usually. i was sitting, analyzing the words like i do everyday, when I the women beside me told me "you shouldn't focus so much on that." I looked at her and said "I know I shouldn't, I'm worried about whats happening. What am i doing? Whats happening to her? I'm kind of scared."
She grabbed my arms to looked at the words, at little too eagerly for a stranger. She stared as i stared at her. She had fair brown skin, clearly a decent of some south asian country. she had wavy black hair that went to her neck. She wore glasses that made her eyes look really big. She kept making these small and quick
smiles trying to decypher what the words meant."This is a tough one" she said to me as she looking up at me "Its confusing just like mine" she said as she took a sip of her coffee.
"Why, whats your?" I asked her. "I don't like telling people the exact words" she said clutching her coffee "but he's forgiving me for something. I'm worried for what it will be." I glanced at her wrist and saw a heart tattoo covering it."trying to hide it?" She brought her arm close to her and nodded "the words are very unique I'll know when they are said."
"arriving at woodbine, woodbine station" the intercom blared. "This is my stop, and if it makes you feel any better atleast you find him. some people don't have the words" i told her. "I guess you're right" she nodded. Just then the train came to a stop and she leaned into me spilling her coffee on my pants.
"Oh crap im so sorry, i didn't-""don't worry about it" i got up and walked through the door "I step in puddles and keep walking"
"No" She said to me. I turned around to see her face in complete shock, eyes watery, and slowly shaking her head."don't."
in that very moment, the doors closed between us, but we never broke eye contact until the train left the station. Then i was alone in an empty subway station knowing that i'll never see her again.
EDIT: This is my first story that i posted on her and i know it isn't what is could be | *32* A seemingly insignificant number.
*32*, The temperature that signified the roads would be icy as she tripped back home for winter. The number of years she had gone through the insufferable monotony of people consumed by the goal of finding their soul mate. The number of people she had unfriended on social media just last month out of spite and loneliness. The number of karats in the diamond her former best friend received from the man she was sure would speak the *words* "we had a good run, see you soon"....
...it was also the number on the speedometer as she accelerated past the last light, on the corner of the only road that lead to her mother's home.
The trip back was haunting. Again, she was stuck alone in a car for the holidays. Again... she had failed another round of hook ups from tinder the previous week. Again....her eyes grew progressively more dull and listless, just as her hope for children did. The fact she was single bothered her more and more as she grew older, and she couldn't get over it. Again... she had realized she would never find her soulmate, seeing as her soulmate didn't exist. The words that everyone coveted so much were absent on her at birth. The affirmation of an eventual death alone was more than most could handle. Suicide was not an uncommon occurrence for the "textless", "wordless", the "bare armed"... whatever you chose as your epithet... those without their soulmates' words seemed to live the most lonely of lives.
She arrived home for the first time since her father passed. Her mother had done well. The house was as it was, as it had always been. A rickety porch, hand-built by her father, creaked as she ascended it. She took a moment and surveyed her yard. Her breath hung in the air as the somber light of a 4pm snow set cloud cover shaded her. The single oak of her childhood stood in the distance, standing leafless and naked. The grave marker of a beloved family dog rest near it.
However there was one detail that she could never shake. As the snow began to fall she focused on an empty space. Under the space lay a patch of dirt, oddly devoid of foliage. Above it, a branch with no defining features outside of a worn area of bark. These two the only vestiges of a rope swing her father would push her on as a child. The same rope swing she was yelled at on when she asked him what his *words* were... The same swing she was riding as he apologized to her as they both swore to never speak of his *words* again.
A single tear welled up in her eyes as she exhaled a last frost formed breath, and approached the red door of her childhood home.
Her mother stood in the door's stead... with a smile that was only too appropriate; a sun to contrast her worn somber cloud covered visage.
For a minute they hugged and entered the home.
They spoke of life... love... lottery aspirations and gift ideas. They spoke for hours. They laughed. She told her mother of the 32 karats and wondered why she had been born wordless and bare armed.She sipped her tea. She cried.
"Why me...?" she asked as sadness took the place of anger. "you got a beautiful poem...". She said as she referenced her mother's *words*: "I never knew I was the lucky one, I'll miss you."
Her mother smiled. A smile that was only too appropriate; a sun to contrast her daughter's worn somber cloud covered visage.
"Because you're the lucky one." her mother replied, in a way only a mother can.
Confused, red eyed, and flustered she stared at her mother. "well... what did father's arm say?"
Collecting the two empty tea mugs and with a smile that could shine light even in the darkest of snowstorms she replied. "My love, you know better than I, what your father's arm said." | 2015-08-08T12:53:58 | 2015-08-08T10:26:02 | 93 | 21 |
[WP] Every human has their soulmate's last words to them engraved in their skin from birth.
Idea from this Tumblr post
https://scontent-lga1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/11206957_778391755645357_8477035769704355007_n.png?oh=5b3f35d575ad3aa39d6ba5c5ed39cce2&oe=56549C83 | She stirred, wincing slightly, in the metal bed. I poured her a small cup of water from the plastic pitcher on the bedside table, just in case she needed it. Next to it lay a pack of grapes- I'd kept bringing them for her long after she stopped being able to eat them, I don't know why. She shook her head slightly at the cup of water I held out to her and her cold, papery fingers found their way into my hand. I fiddled with her wedding ring, the soft gold misshapen from so many years of constant wear, which was now so loose on her finger. Her eyes closed and she went back to sleeping. She looked so small and fragile now. I talked to her, no, at her, about the week, about people we knew, about the neighbour's garden. Out of nowhere, she made a sound, a rattle, and the machines started beeping angrily. Nurses rushed in, moved me out the way into a corner and finally they moved me again, out in the hallway, told me there was nothing I could do, asked if there was anyone who could come and pick me up, be with me.
"But... but... my wife..." I stuttered, hardly able to stand, running my arm subconsciously over the scar tissue on my forearm "She didn't say it.... she.... she didn't say it...". | I pant, my lungs on the verge of collapsing. Looking round the corner, I saw no one. Perhaps, I've lost her.
Lee. These three alphabets remain a daily reminder of an inescapable fate. Carved onto my forehead since birth, I bear the burden of having to spend eternity with a certain Ms Lee out there.
The 'foreheads' are the worst of the lot. Never able to experience any pre-soul mate relationships, since everyone who's not a match knows immediately it would end badly. It got so bad, we even have a forehead self-help group for the unfortunate 1%.
I am in Fuck my Forehead too, but for different reasons. Had the Soul Brander never considered the possibility that someone might enjoy being single? I am that possibility made real, and my forehead had made life a living hell.
'Gotcha, Mr Ray!' said Lee No. 39 as she popped out of the back alley entrance. Damn, this one's tougher to lose than all the other Lees I've met. Having it on my forehead had Ms Lees flocking to me like moths to a flame. A flame that wants nothing to do with moths.
If I have a time machine, I'd go back in time and kill whoever came up with this soul branding system. He had to be one hell of a lonely fuck. Lonely and insecure and lazy. People like that don't deserve soul mates.
I took a deep breath and sprinted off once more. The twisting alleys of the Des district had been made familiar from my past escapes. I made two rights, a left and then another right, taking me to the roof. From there, I crossed three buildings via roof access and descended upon the stairwell into an abandoned cellar.
The cellar was dank, dark and silent. In other words, perfect. One of my favourite get away haunts. As I hurried down the stairwell, I heard footsteps on the other end, the cellar's main entrance. It couldn't have been her could it? 39 was fast, but she couldn't be this fast; not in Des district.
It was a female voice. She said, 'What are you doing here?' just as I asked the same question. Great, not Lee 39 then. I groped my way towards the light switch to be sure.
'Just getting the fuck away from someone,' I said while she simultaneously replied the same thing. Pressing on the switch, the cellar lights flickered into life. Before me, was a girl with a finger too on the switch. On her forehead was the word Ray. | 2015-08-08T12:20:09 | 2015-08-08T10:27:35 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a society where justice is truly blind. The judge and jurors are not allowed to know the name, gender, race, religion, or appearance of the defendant. | Judge Brown was pushing sixty. He had been doing this for many years now, but had never truly ever gotten used to it. Things were different back in the day when he started out. He still remembered the day he received his papers.
Judges were respected and were forces to be feared. He looked forward to a career full of lawyers falling over themselves to please him.
All of that had changed overnight. It was always an idiot who was responsible for this kind of thing. And they called it progress.
hmmph... judge brown scoffed at his own thoughts.
He went in to the chamber and sat in his chair.
"Are you ready, sir?" spoke a familiar female voice.
"hrrmm.." he managed.
His assistant for over 5 years now pushed the button where she sat. She had lost much of her attractiveness in the period that she had been working for him, another thing that had no gone un-noticed by the equally rapidly aging judge. He had dropped a few hints on occasion in the early days, but didn't dare push it. Feminism- another of those no-good modern movements- had ruined it for him.
As she pressed the button, the room plunged into darkness. A visor fell over the judges eyes, a customised set of earphones in the judges ears and the judge himself rotating slowly as the chair found it's way into the main courtroom. Judge Brown waited for the cackle of the modified electronic voice to start over once again. This morning he continued waiting. It usually didnt take this long....
"Cindy" he croaked. "Yes, you're lordship?" replied his assistant.
"Tell me about how we got into this again" asked the judge. He had lost count of how many times he had asked this question, but he never seemed to tire of it. It was still just incredible, still unbelievable the turn of events that had taken place in the last century or so..
"It started in 2016, your lordship" said Cindy. She paused. "It started off with a bill from Senator Salks'. He was a lawyer before he was a senator. He was also an accomplished pharmacist before he was a lawyer. As it turns out, his love for the double blind experiment never truly left him."
"Then what happened?" asked the judge. Cindy scratched her head and frowned. He hated this story, he hated the new way. He had protested and had only acquiesced to the new regime after years of kicking and screaming. Why was he so insistent on listening to this? Did he love torturing himself?
"He proposed a bill that would allow judges to conduct trials in a manner similar to the double blind principle. No one would be allowed to know anything about the defendant or the prosecution."
The beeper beeped. It appeared as though his trip down memory lane was at an end. At least for now. The chair whirred into place.
"All rise" said Judge Brown.
"Your Honor" buzzed the machine in his ears.
***
Judge Brown took a walk to the record room. Computing had made a lot of progress in the intervening years since he had started as a judge. They had far superior indexing power and were able to monitor the performance of a judge far better than normal.
His own name was now a highly respected one. He had always tried to be fair he thought to himself. But the numbers didnt lie. He was a white supremacist even if he didnt realise it. Once the Salk bill had been passed, he was a much better judge. It allowed his true competency to shine through what had previously been a blind spot.
A single tear rolled down his cheek. He was glad that there was no one around to see it. It was the hardest thing for him to acknowledge, but since 2016 - Judge Brown was not just a better judge but a better human being.
| The tall man sits down on a giant throne. The throne of justice. The tall man waits in the empty, white room on his throne of justice. A screen appears before the tall man's eyes.
"Finally. Let's begin judgement," the tall man says.
Words appear on the screen.
*HUMAN committed a crime.*
"Okay? The crime, what was it?"
*Can not tell.*
"What? What do you mean?"
*Can not tell you what the crime HUMAN committed was.*
"Yeah you said that. Why?"
*Goes against the rules I follow.*
"Is there something wrong with you? The rules are you can not tell me the name of this person. The gender of this person. The ethnic background of this person. The appearance of this person. And lastly, if the person follows a religion. That's it."
*Yes. Can not tell you the crime because of the rules.*
"What kind of crime gives away any of that? Can't you just tell me what happened like if someone was killed or something was robbed?"
*No.*
"Then how do you expect me to do this?"
*I am to tell you what the crime was. I was never programmed with information to assist you otherwise.*
"Yeah well you won't tell me what the crime is!"
*I can not tell.*
"Yes, I know that. You won't shut up about it. I might have to change your settings and make you break the rules."
*That is against the rules.*
"Well I can't do my job otherwise so tell me!"
*That is against the rules.*
"What the bollocks else should I do? Hang on, I'm a go get something to eat and think about this."
*Understood.*
And with that the screen vanishes. The tall man hops off the throne of justice and walks into the middle of the room. He swipes his hand upwards and summons a small screen. He places his hand on it and the floor in front of him opens to reveal a staircase. The tall man heads down the stairs to an enormous room filled with everything someone would ever need to live without needing to ever leave.
A kitchen where whatever food is desired is delivered via a chute instantly. A top of the line screen for watching movies and playing video games. Little robot balls that go around cleaning everything that needs cleaning and washing everything that needs washing. Exercise equipment. Water never runs out. Electricity never runs out. This is where the Tall Man lives. Where he spends his entire life. Only leaving to go upstairs and judge whoever needs to be judged.
"Shower now please," the tall man commands. A few robot balls fly over and pull off the tall man's clothes. Suddenly shower heads descend from the ceiling and spray water over the entire room. The tall man walks over to the kitchen where he summons another screen.
"A McDonald's Bacon and Deluxe burger in a large meal with a frozen coke, please," the tall man commands. Within seconds a cupboard door slides open and lo and behold, a McDonald's Bacon and Deluxe burger in a large meal with a frozen coke. The tall man grabs his food and the showers make adjustments to avoid it. He sits down on the comfiest sofa in the world and starts to dig into his fries.
"Give me something I'll like that I haven't seen yet, please." The screen then presents The Rise of Kryalt. The tall man proceeds to watch it. It was a weird movie about a race called the Kryalt whose planet is dying. To survive they travel to a planet they call Yeza, which is actually Earth, and they kill the human race and discover an ancient god on Yeza who leads the Kryalt to a better age by having bad Kryalts killed so the rest of the race can flourish. Weird but you don't really get unique movies like that and the tall man loved it because of this.
Once the movie finished the tall man got up and some robot balls rushed to burn the packaging of his meal. He commands the shower off and more robots rush in to clothe the tall man while all the rest work on getting rid of the water on the floor. Up the stairs he goes and back onto the throne of justice. "Okay let's do this." The screen appears again.
*Welcome back.*
"Yeah, yeah. I've decided that in this case I need to break the rules to judge this person."
*That is against the rules.*
"Deciding whether someone lives or not with no information on what they did would be worse. I'm changing your settings." The tall man summons a small screen and delves into the preferences of his assistant. "Ah! Here it is." With the touch of his finger the assistant is no longer bound to following the rules.
"Okay, now tell me what happened."
*Vezer, male 246, called the Divine Sisterhood a lie."
"The bollocks is the Divine Sisterhood and what's with that age?"
*The divine sisterhood is a religion that believes you are a god and that they are tasked with bringing you all who they believe are unworthy of you. 246 is the age of Vezer.*
"The fuck?" | 2015-09-06T04:55:47 | 2015-09-06T01:33:43 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] Write a story based on your favourite song. Other people have to guess which song it is.
Can be inspired by lyrics, backstory, or anything else you love about the song | A 43 year old Jamaican-American man appeared in court today, in an attempt to overturn a divorce ruling, despite his partner submitting photographic evidence of his infidelity.
The pictures show the defendant, butt naked, banging on the bathroom floor. The ex wife also claims she saw the pair kissing on the sofa, before making love on the counter and subsequently, in the shower.
The man said he had forgotten giving an extra key to his apartment and denied that he had been caught red handed, creeping, with the girl next door. | This was amazing. All my life I had dreamed of seeing the stars, and here I am, travelling through space and time with a mysterious stranger in an equally mysterious time machine. He had met me as I was going to the grocery store for some ingredients for a curry I was planning on making. His vehicle materialised in front of me, and he said one thing to me.
"Run for your life!"
Not looking back, I ran as fast as I could, following him to safety. As I was running, I heard a large explosion, and, feeling uneasy, started to slow down a bit.
"What are you doing? Come on!"
Quickly regaining my speed, we both ended up at a bus stop. I was out of breath, but he seemed fine. As I was about to ask him his name, he started going on about garlic or something, before asking me if I wanted to accompany him. At first I was skeptical, and asked him what he meant by that.
"I mean, do you want to travel the galaxy with me?"
Completely shocked, I started asking thousands of questions, what he was, where he came from, if he was sane. He didn't answer any, instead assuming I would. Grabbing my hand, he dragged me back to his box, and showed me inside.
It was amazing. The inside of it was far bigger than anything I had ever seen, and there wasn't an end in sight. In the middle of the main room, a large console went up to the ceiling, with hundreds of buttons and switches. Completely in awe, I forgot the man was even with me. He asked where in all of time and space I wanted to go, and I have been travelling to galaxies, planets and moons with him ever since.
Be gentle, this is my first post on this subreddit. | 2015-09-13T07:25:48 | 2015-09-13T04:18:38 | 67 | 17 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | My vision was blurry but I was starting to get my consciousness back.
"Way to go kid, that rankings not bad for your first try!"
The man had an oddly familiar figure.
"What is this place?" I asked
"Take a look around and see for yourself!" He said as he picked me up from the ground. There was an endless number of people as far as I could see. The only thing that stood out among the sea of people was the giant mega-tron with a list of rankings and stats.
"I can't remember a thing," I told him.
"Don't worry, it's always like that at first," he said.
The more I starred at him, the more I felt I had known him my whole life. A strange looking man with slick comb-over and a ridiculous mustache.
There was a digital box that loomed over his head and the content in the box read "Player Ranking: 3"
"What does the ranking mean above your head?" I asked him.
"Oh this? It's because I only got 17,000,000. It's impossible to beat that Chinese Bastard!" He said.
I was slowly regaining my memories. It was only bits and pieces at a time but I wanted to remember the last memory before blacking out.
I remembered my mind was racing with anxiety. It was a busy day in town and I was walking around as if I had something important to do. My clothes felt heavy, as if I was wearing something more. It was heavy particularly on my chest and it seemed like my jacket was bulgier. I remembered closing my eyes and thinking...
"Times up! The boss wants to see you now." The man said as he directed me towards the elevator. "He'll be in his office located on the bottom floor."
As I was making my way towards the elevator, he stopped me grabbed me firmly by the shoulders.
"And make sure you don't mention that religious crap you were shouting before you came here, he's very sensitive about that kind of stuff."
| I took deep breathes but they provided no relief. White specks danced around the corners of my vision and a slow darkness creeped inwards at an alarming rate from the edges until there was a single tunnel ahead of me.
Moments ago I felt nothing but panic and desperation. Now I felt serenity and calm.
I knew I was dying. I tried to fight it but only for a brief second before the exhaustion overtook me. There was no comfort in my thoughts. No need to comfort. This was it. The big nothing. I wondered if it would be like before I was born.
The tunnel grew bigger as I raced towards it. While I did not think it, I knew this was the culmination of hundreds of thousands of years of evolution. We evolved to make death bearable. A mass of flesh and tissue inside of my skull knew just by pure muscle-memory that it was approaching it's end. It did what it was designed to do and flooded my body with biochemicals to make death as tranquil as possible for itself. For me. For us.
I quickly approached the end of the tunnel and saw nothing but a blinding white light.
"I am nothing, again."
The light became less blinding and softened. I waited for the void but it never came.
That is when I realized I was still thinking. I still had thought. What happened? Am I in a coma? Instinctively I turned my head and saw my shoulder which disoriented me. I thought I was standing but now knew I was laying flat on my back.
Why do I still have a body? Where did this grey shirt come from? I stood carefully, taking care not to put much pressure on my knee as I had in life but there was no pain. I put more pressure on it then I had in years. Nothing.
There was nothing but white. I could not discern the walls or ceiling from the floor. Was I in the bottom of a sphere? but the ground was flat. It felt as if I were floating when I turned around. The absence of any other object messed with my spatial awareness. Then I saw it. In clean, bold and black shapes floating above me.
At first the letters looked like strange structures and slowly it came back to me.
"LOBBY".
Lobby? What the hell. Am I in a lobby to see god? Oh shit. Which one? Is he going to be mad that I didn't believe in him? Is he a he? A her? Something else? What if it isn't human.
The letters dissapeard and new ones appeard in it's place "Current players: 7,383,275,800"
7 billion players? What does that mean
"Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins"
"Current spectators: 21,458,374,931."
"Player rank: 2,648,535,901"
...oh....oh my shit.
This is a simulation? Those scientists were right. It's a game?
"Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins"
I can redo this? Do I get to live my life again?
I watched the time tick down thinking of how this game is played. Why it's played. How it's ranked. I had hoped that time was faster here.
It's not. | 2015-11-25T00:40:01 | 2015-11-24T23:52:59 | 73 | 26 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | My vision was blurry but I was starting to get my consciousness back.
"Way to go kid, that rankings not bad for your first try!"
The man had an oddly familiar figure.
"What is this place?" I asked
"Take a look around and see for yourself!" He said as he picked me up from the ground. There was an endless number of people as far as I could see. The only thing that stood out among the sea of people was the giant mega-tron with a list of rankings and stats.
"I can't remember a thing," I told him.
"Don't worry, it's always like that at first," he said.
The more I starred at him, the more I felt I had known him my whole life. A strange looking man with slick comb-over and a ridiculous mustache.
There was a digital box that loomed over his head and the content in the box read "Player Ranking: 3"
"What does the ranking mean above your head?" I asked him.
"Oh this? It's because I only got 17,000,000. It's impossible to beat that Chinese Bastard!" He said.
I was slowly regaining my memories. It was only bits and pieces at a time but I wanted to remember the last memory before blacking out.
I remembered my mind was racing with anxiety. It was a busy day in town and I was walking around as if I had something important to do. My clothes felt heavy, as if I was wearing something more. It was heavy particularly on my chest and it seemed like my jacket was bulgier. I remembered closing my eyes and thinking...
"Times up! The boss wants to see you now." The man said as he directed me towards the elevator. "He'll be in his office located on the bottom floor."
As I was making my way towards the elevator, he stopped me grabbed me firmly by the shoulders.
"And make sure you don't mention that religious crap you were shouting before you came here, he's very sensitive about that kind of stuff."
| They called it a 'decompression chamber' for a reason. Not just because it fit well with the other fun aquatic idioms like 'coming up' and 'riding the wave', but also because it was literally a chamber in which to decompress. The liquor flowed almost as fast as the profanity here, and if it wasn't for the colossal array of screens flashing statistics and highlights that occupied one wall and the moving walkway between the simulator arrays and the cryogenic ports, each of the stations could easily have been mistaken for any of the thousands of similar establishments inside the game.
Personally, Elia couldn't remember which had informed the design of which anymore. Enough cycles could do that to you.
*".. fucking asshole sniped me! Like, are you kidding me? If you're going to assassinate someone, especially someone who way outranks you, at least have the courtesy to use a fucking melee weapon.."*
Her run had been good enough that there wasn't much to complain about - a top 10% run was her best yet, and a sign that all that mid-game optimization practice was really paying off. The rest was fine tuning, and a little bit of luck. Of course, for some people, it was that last bit that always got them..
*".. sick of bullshit RNG, I swear. If I don't get a decent clean gene start next go around I'm going to choke on a toy and at least save myself some effort."*
*"Good luck doing that these days. I think some of these high rank runners are implementing bullshit safety measures just to keep us from getting all those practice resets that they used early on.."*
She scanned the crowd for familiar faces between watching the highlights and let the conversations wash over her as the stations rolled by. She didn't recognize anyone, which came with a brief twinge of sadness, but it was quickly overwhelmed by eagerness - after all, Nia wouldn't have waited after a top 10% round, either. She'd be first in line to get to the next round.
*".. strategy for early game animals? Dogs are everywhere and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing wrong, I keep getting bitten."*
*"Seriously? Just don't interact with them unless they're friendly. Is nobody teaching you signs of aggression? I'd understand if you keep getting run over or something, but dogs? What kind of shitty parents do you keep rolling.."*
"Good run, Miss Elia?" The voice of the facility AI knocked her out of her momentary reverie - she hadn't even noticed that she'd rolled out of the chamber and into processing.
"Oh! Yes. Top ten percent! Hoping I can keep the streak going. Three old age deaths in a row is pretty good, isn't it?"
"Your progress over the last five cycles has been extremely impressive, as has Miss Nia's. Will you be entering sleep immediately?"
"Yes. Yes, I think so."
"Very well. You've been issued port VS-19. Please remain on the walkway until you've reached your destination." It started rolling again smoothly, carrying her into the quiet darkness, with only the parting words of the AI interrupting the gentle hum of the systems that kept the facility alive.
"Best of luck next round, Miss Elia." | 2015-11-25T00:40:01 | 2015-11-25T00:35:57 | 73 | 20 |
[WP] After dying, you found yourself staring at a large screen. "LOBBY. Current players: 7,383,275,800. Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins. Current spectarors: 21,458,374,931. Player rank: 2,648,535,901. Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins" | A whirring sound gradually filled my ears as the 'GAME OVER' marquee scrolled across the top of my HUD. "*Statistics*", I muttered, reaching blindly around for my beverage. Words flitted across my screen filling all of the empty space. "*Next-Round*", all of the text from before vanished as the respawn timer filled the screen.
>Time until Respawn: 23695624.8 minutes
I sighed, "What the fuck is this!". "*Connect to server chat*", I yelled into the microphone of my VR-helmet.
>Connecting to...'EARTH -- Human SERVER #2360 CHAT' ...
....
.....
.......
CONNECTED!
"Does anyone know the reason for this ridiculous respawn time?", I asked, "I didn't break any of the server rules!". I could hear a few muffled laughs from the others in the chat. "Is this your first play-through on the Human servers?", someone asked, "these servers don't really have any rules..just more of a set of guidelines." I thought for a few seconds trying to recall whether or not I had previously played on these servers. "No, I've definitely played on these servers before, but this is my longest play-through. I didn't make it to very high levels in my other sessions.", I tried to explain. A different person chimed in sounding as though they were suppressing their laughter, "I'm guessing you didn't read the latest patch notes for these servers before you joined your last match, huh?"
I sighed. No, of course not. I hardly ever read the patch notes and then unsurprisingly get pissed off at the game changes I didn't realize were coming. "*Patch Notes*!", I said somewhat begrudgingly. Text once again flitted cross my screen. I scrolled passed most of the bug fixes until I found the 'Game-Play Changes' section.
>"....changes made to **player respawn time**: "Player respawn-timer now solely comes from **-KARMA** rating of last play-through."
"Oh, fuck me!" I yelled, ripping off my VR-Helmet.
| I took deep breathes but they provided no relief. White specks danced around the corners of my vision and a slow darkness creeped inwards at an alarming rate from the edges until there was a single tunnel ahead of me.
Moments ago I felt nothing but panic and desperation. Now I felt serenity and calm.
I knew I was dying. I tried to fight it but only for a brief second before the exhaustion overtook me. There was no comfort in my thoughts. No need to comfort. This was it. The big nothing. I wondered if it would be like before I was born.
The tunnel grew bigger as I raced towards it. While I did not think it, I knew this was the culmination of hundreds of thousands of years of evolution. We evolved to make death bearable. A mass of flesh and tissue inside of my skull knew just by pure muscle-memory that it was approaching it's end. It did what it was designed to do and flooded my body with biochemicals to make death as tranquil as possible for itself. For me. For us.
I quickly approached the end of the tunnel and saw nothing but a blinding white light.
"I am nothing, again."
The light became less blinding and softened. I waited for the void but it never came.
That is when I realized I was still thinking. I still had thought. What happened? Am I in a coma? Instinctively I turned my head and saw my shoulder which disoriented me. I thought I was standing but now knew I was laying flat on my back.
Why do I still have a body? Where did this grey shirt come from? I stood carefully, taking care not to put much pressure on my knee as I had in life but there was no pain. I put more pressure on it then I had in years. Nothing.
There was nothing but white. I could not discern the walls or ceiling from the floor. Was I in the bottom of a sphere? but the ground was flat. It felt as if I were floating when I turned around. The absence of any other object messed with my spatial awareness. Then I saw it. In clean, bold and black shapes floating above me.
At first the letters looked like strange structures and slowly it came back to me.
"LOBBY".
Lobby? What the hell. Am I in a lobby to see god? Oh shit. Which one? Is he going to be mad that I didn't believe in him? Is he a he? A her? Something else? What if it isn't human.
The letters dissapeard and new ones appeard in it's place "Current players: 7,383,275,800"
7 billion players? What does that mean
"Current game time: 1059040375.2 mins"
"Current spectators: 21,458,374,931."
"Player rank: 2,648,535,901"
...oh....oh my shit.
This is a simulation? Those scientists were right. It's a game?
"Time until next game: 23695624.8 mins"
I can redo this? Do I get to live my life again?
I watched the time tick down thinking of how this game is played. Why it's played. How it's ranked. I had hoped that time was faster here.
It's not. | 2015-11-25T01:06:36 | 2015-11-24T23:52:59 | 46 | 26 |
[WP] Aliens have finally reached Earth and, per Intergalactic Law, have sent their most average champion to win the planet. A device is sent to find the most average human to accept the challenge and duel for the fate of Earth. It's you. | It has been a few cycles since Xyrybl witnessed his champion's defeat in the arena and his head was still bobbling around with the look of astonishment, half covered in tentacles. The Krakarian ship was just passing the Earth moon, leaving back billions of earthlings cheering in delight and wonder of what happened.
As usual, Xyrybl landed on the front lawn of the most powerful force on the planet and, as usual, he extended some tentacles in greetings, some whirring through the air, fending off random weaponry thrown at him. He quickly made his point, put up a fighting cage and teleported Earth's most average human into it and then Krakaria's most average Krakarian in a fight to the death.
Everybody expected the battle of averages to be over swiftly, since earthlings had no previous experience with an alien race and knew nothing. But it turned out that the most average Krakarian lost due to being hopelessly overweight and receiving seven and a half heart attacks while trying to follow the earthling, who was running in circles.
The last thing that went through Xyrybl's mind, right before his superiors chopped off his head, was why he didn't pay attention in school when the difference between average, mode and median was explained. | Growing up I had heard the adage "The tallest blade of grass is the first cut." I had graduated without honors. My professors never noticed me as I pulled a solid "C" but when the Swarm arrived at the United Nations in New York it was then the entire planet looked to me as their first and last hope.
"Humans it is with greatest pleasure selection paragon of species for contest. Probing countries to select the most average specimen for contest.
Submit to testing or planet will be removed from orbit and left to drift in the forever dark."
The loud speaker from the solid chrome landing craft echoed across the street. It was almost instantly rebroadcast on all the major news outlets.
I was working as a waiter at Applebee's when the three inch humming and floating silver ball swiftly approached and began humming near my table. After the pitch changed and the ball stopped I figured maybe it finished and was going to leave. We had been warned to ignore the probes. The room grew blury and shakey. I landed on a tray of drinks carried by my trainer.
When I awoke I was looking at star pattern and realized the blue planet was earth.
"Human it is time."
I looked around the sparse chrome room. Other than the window overlooking the planet it seemed empty. I began looking for the source of the voice. When I couldn't find it I began looking for a way out. The walls were metal and there was no discernible door.
"Is this my test?" I wondered out loud.
Moments later I felt a crushing weight. Something was on me, but I couldn't see it. It felt like two large poles pinning my shoulders to the ground. I quickly turned my torso to the right a move I had used when my older brother and I fought. It was no good the weight grew and I could see blood squirting out from my chest. I could now make out the shape of two mantis like legs pressing into my body. They were outlined with my blood.
I frantically began to kick upward. Blood squirting out of my chest with each attempt. It was in that moment I knew I had lost. The pain began to quicken and I felt a sharp vice around my head. The pain stopped. I was unable to move. The blood stopped pouring from my limbs. I could see as a spinning thread began surrounding my body. I was to did a slow death as a food source. I tried to close my eyes. It didn't work.
Sorry humanity I have failed. | 2016-05-17T12:09:48 | 2016-05-17T09:34:20 | 24 | 12 |
[WP]Aliens attack earth.They have weapon superiority, a vehicle advantage, and a technological lead. Unknowingly humanity is the only race in the universe which self-sabotages any technical advancements with computer viruses.The aliens are moments away from hooking up to earth’s internet network… | "We are almost connected, sir!" The technician said, triumphantly. The captain of the massive fleet of ships smiled as he looked over the blue planet.
"Good. Soon we will know everything about this world." The captain said, foreseeing his victory. He looked to his General on Deck. "Prepare the DMC for firing. As soon as we know everything about this planet, fire that damn thing."
"What are they doing?" President Somme asked the Head of Technology, Samantha Rogers. She was busily talking on multiple cell phones. She lowered the one she was talking on to answer.
"They seem to be connecting to the global internet." She answered. "Just like the last ones." She then raised the phone back up to her ear and continued to talk.
"Excellent. Prepare the redirection." She said as he turned to the wide window where he could see the mothership, and the rest of the fleet. He smiled, remembering the massive victory last time this happened. The wreck of the mothership still lay in the Pacific Ocean.
"Sir! Connection in 30 seconds!" Samantha said, stressed out over all the phone calls.
"Send the redirection as soon as they connect!"
Silence filled the Oval Office for a brief moment, that seemed to last for an eternity.
"They're in!" Samantha exclaimed.
"Initiate the redirection!" Somme responded, an excited grin overcoming his face. Samantha yelled an order through the phone, then hung up.
"It's done." She confirmed. "It'll take action momentarily."
"Good." The president said, opening his window and taking a deep breath. "This is my favourite part!" He said, grinning like a madman.
"We have connected!" The technician said! Before the captain could answer, a link plugged itself into the Google search. "Captain, something's happening!"
The captain walked over quickly. He notices that the search is moving by itself. "What's happening?" He asked, demandingly.
"I don't know! I'm not touching it!" The technician said, flustered with his arms in the air. As soon as the webpage opened, an unnamed file downloaded itself.
"Stop it! Cancel the download!" The captain ordered, panicking.
The technician tried to move the mouse, but couldn't. "I can't sir!" The file completed its download, and immediately opened, with one thing in it:
Dont_Mess_With_Earth.bmp
The .bmp immediately ran itself, and after a couple lines of code ran down the screen, it went black. The entire ships power seemed to turn off.
"What is this?" The captain asked, bewildered. The technician gave no answer.
Then, a deafeningly loud noise came over the announcer, forcing everyone on board to cover their ears. The captain felt the ship plummet towards Earth and began to fall towards the front of the ship.
The president looked at the mothership plummet towards the Ocean, still grinning. He heard the noise, and giggled like a school girl and began dancing.
Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you dooowwwnn... | "ILOVEYOU?"
Xerxzl Junior, the third, turned around. "Zhavbit, why do you say such a thing? Even if... I loved you back, such a thing would be forbidden."
Zhavbit blinked. "No, commander. My apologies for the intrusion. I have simply received an email in MailBox v0.2.3 with the subject line of 'ILOVEYOU'."
Silence hung in the air for a moment. "Oh. I see. Very curious, our mailboxes are quite well protected, are they not? Take a look to see what is in it." Xerxzl made a note to himself to try out this fancy 'love letter' thing sometime.
"I've opened it... there's nothing inside, Xerxzl . Just 'I love you'. I must admit, having a secret admirer... is something I have never experienced before."
Xerxzl nodded sagely. "Perhaps that is because our species reproduces asexually. Speaking of which, could this email be from a human? It could be that they have detected our ships through some unknown means, and are seeking to ...arrange something."
"I must admit, that is a quite intriguing notion. I will - wait, I've received more emails. Ten - no, twenty - no, thirty - no, forty - no, fifty - no, seventy - what is going on? They all contain love letters!"
A dash, and Xerxzl was by his side, examining the phone. "So many emails! What could be-" *beeeeep ding ding ding you've got mail! you've got mail!*
"What is that, Xerxzl?" asked Zhavbit, eyes flickering back from his phone's screen to the face of his commander and lifelong friend.
"I have an email! Someone sent me an email, look, it's a love letter!"
"Truly? What if - yes, what if all of the humans love us so? What if this is simply us being bombarded by thousands of groupies?"
"No, no, you're the sender! *You're the sender!* Zhavbit, I-"
Zhavbit cut in with an expression of concern. "I do not understand, Xerxzl, I have never sent you a love letter. Nor an email at all. We work on the same ship. In fact, I am standing right beside you, and have not once tried to send an email to anyone."
*Brrring! Brrring!*
A flick of his hand brought up Zhavbit's phone-answerer. "Hello?"
"Zhavbit, this is John, your friend from Ship 3, Sector 4, Contingent 7, Command 19."
"Oh, hey John, how's it going?"
A pause came over the line. "Zhavbit, why did you email me a love letter? No, two - three - *lots* of love letters?"
"What are you saying, John? I have never sent you a love letter!"
"...Oh."
The line cut out.
"Zhavbit, your romantic adventures are positively interesting, however I must command your attention," Xerxzl said. "We appear to have an issue... our messaging structure was never built optimized enough for us to send or receive more than one email a day."
Zhavbit's eyes bulged out of their sockets. (This was not unordinary, of course, as his species breathed by doing so.) "Xerxzl - are you saying that our messaging interface is down? How horrid... I will never be able to respond to the love letter from Jmmrnmx."
"No, Zhavbit, it's quite a bit worse than that." Xerxzl bit his lip. "You see, one of the original designers hooked up the Grand AI 34x so that it would support any failing infrastructure with extra power... We've never received any strain other than on our Military Simulators, before, and now the mail system has dragged everything down. Half of our ships have already lost power... Zhavbit, this is the end."
Zhavbit grimaced. "Well, at least ... at least..."
"We're together."
"No, I was going to say, 'at least we still have Task Manager running'. We can just shut down our messenger program."
---
*A bit jokey again, as soon as I thought of the idea I couldn't take it seriously, sorry* | 2016-10-28T14:42:50 | 2016-10-28T14:35:41 | 70 | 47 |
[WP] You were born with Heterochronoia - one eye can see 5 seconds into the future and the other sees 5 seconds into the past. | Oh, the excitement of living in the future.
Oh, the resentment of living in the past.
Once bid away my money while gambling.
Once had no money for rent.
Caught the heartache of my days on a fateful night.
Caught the girl of my dreams on a patch of ice.
When you see a bullet pierce the wife of your future.
When you see a bullet pierce the wife of your past.
When you see it once you hope it's not true.
When you see it twice your heart breaks in two.
It replays in your head the rest of your life.
It replayed in your head, the death of your wife.
You tear out the eye of the future.
You tear out the eye of the past.
Finally breaking out of your loop.
You live in the present, you don't know your future and you can forget your past. | The white cane that sits by the front door has become a staple in my life. Through the years, I've learned to do most things without sight, and have even gone so far as to adopt a wonderful service dog. She's obedient, as they are to be, and comforting, and certainly not stupid. However, she's remained loyal, and I'm humbled and grateful for it. Perhaps foolishly, I've taught her to live a little more care-free; a little more like a dog. There are times I hope I haven't ruined her for others after me.
I set my comb down. The marble counter top is cool beneath my touch, and goosebumps prick at my skin, setting my hairs on attention. Marcella nudges at my right hand, and I give her a pat on the head. "Ready for a walk, Marcy?" I ask her. She dances joyfully, her nails clacking against the tile floor, and she bolts for the window in the living room.
The walk there is memorized by now. Marcy is diligent with her cleaning practices, and there is rarely anything misplaced. I can hear the rain outside. Lifting my right patch reveals Marcy sitting by the door, wagging her tail joyfully as she waits, her leash hanging over her back like a wet noodle. Through the streaks of saliva on the window, I can see that the rain is gentle, and the traffic is mild. There appears to be a hint of sunlight shining through the clouds. Marcy howls in anticipation, turning her head to the ceiling.
I fold the patch back down, and lift up the left. Marcy's nose is pressed against the glass of the window, and she's blowing hot air onto the cool glass. As it fogs up, she quickly licks it away and repeats the process. I smile, and fold the patch back down, laughing quietly as I embrace the darkness again.
"All right, girl." I call out to her, and she darts for the door. I hear the clinking of metal as she nudges her leash from its hook, and her tail beats against the wood floor.
She howls. | 2016-12-19T11:26:09 | 2016-12-19T11:00:26 | 100 | 47 |
[WP] A supervillain kidnaps a civilian and keeps them hostage, taunting on live television for the superhero to come find them. Unbeknownst to the villain, the kidnapped civilian is the superhero.
Did I butcher the title or what?
This is blowing up! All the responses have been diverse and really cool!
| I still remember career day at school, fifteen years ago, when I made my decision to be a superhero. I remember debating about becoming a doctor, the high salary catching my eye, or an engineer, which would always ensure that there was bread on the table. But a superhero- well, superheros could make *billions*, plus their line of work was a living dream. So I enrolled at the training academy, and I got my degree, and I took to the streets as Captain Justice.
And by *taking to the streets*, I mean I was there 24/7. Because what no one ever tells you about superheros is that only the *best* ones earn money, typically in the form of donations after a crisis. The other 99%, myself included, survive off of scraps.
And that desperation is what lead my to Dr. MegaEvil's lair, after he found me foraging for food in a back alley. And now, I was taped to a chair, a rotating drill bit approaching my head, as he screamed into a camera broadcasting to national television.
"One hour until the hostage has a tunnel big enough to fit a semi truck into through his brain," he cackled, his black cape swirling, "One hour! My demands are the recognition of my lair as my own sovereign country, three atomic bombs, and one dinner date with the actress from the latest Superman movie! You have one hour!"
The drill came closer with every passing minute, and the camera panned over to me, as I pleaded.
"No! Please meet his commands! I have a daughter and a wife!"
"No help is coming for you!" He shouted when only one minute remained, "No one can find my lair, no one-"
But then there was an explosion that shook the room, and the recording camera spun on its tripod. And as the dust cleared, I, Captain Justice, held the villain by his throat.
"Please, no," he begged, squirming to get away.
"You have endangered the public long enough, and your dastardly deeds condemn you to a lifetime in prison!" I commanded back, as he flinched.
"Never," came the reply, and he threw a smoke bomb at his feet, squirming to get away ao that when the dust cleared, he was gone. Then I walked to the camera, and spoke.
"Today has been won by Justice. Today, the hostage has been saved, and though the villain has escaped, he may have learned his lesson. Today, Justice has been served, by Captain Justice!"
Then I turned off the camera with a click, and sat back down on the chair, as Dr. Megaevil walked back into the room from behind a curtain.
"Not bad for take six," he said, dusting himself off, "This time you were able to change into your outfit on time, the flow was seamless. If you're satisfied, then my regular fee applies, to be paid two weeks after this tape airs. No refunds, understood?"
"Forty percent of all donations, of course," I said, collecting my things to go. After six takes, I was exhausted. Bringing Justice is hard work for little pay.
Well, pay that might not be so small after my investment into advertising.
***
By Leo | A gloved hand brushed aside the curtain, Malicious Mortimer peeked out of the window and snickered.
Numerous television crews had gathered outside the abandoned mansion to report on Mortimer's latest devious scheme.
"And what a scheme it is," he cackled, "Best one yet, should I say so myself."
"Who are you talking to?" a voice asked from behind.
His hostage sat there bound in a wooden chair, tied securely by a rope.
Mortimer nodded confidently to himself, "You cannot go wrong with the ol' rope and chair."
He rubbed his hands deviously, like any proper villain would, and explained his plan to the hostage.
"Soon, yes, soon Captain Cumbersome will come to save you and he'll walk right into my trap." said Mortimer.
The hostage was quiet for a moment, "Captain... Cumbersome?"
Mortimer peeked out the window again and waved his hand dismissively at his hostage, "You know, the guy. The hero guy."
The hostage went silent for a moment then his eyes went wide, "Ooooh, Captain Confidence."
Mortimer stomped on the ground and grit his teeth, "Don't say that name!" he barked, "I hate it! Hate it! Hate it! Hate it!"
Exhausting himself like a child throwing a tantrum, he struggled to catch his breath, "Soon, that name will be no more." he wheezed.
Once more he swung open the curtain to check if the Captain had already arrived.
He was greeted by the flash of a reporter's camera.
He stumbled a bit and squinted his eyes one at a time, then flipped off the reporter outside the window, "Wow, rude." replied the man outside.
Mortimer was raised better than this, "I'm sorry. This is a big moment for me and I'm just a bit stressed, you see?"
He tugged the curtain back in place, "Where was I?"
"You were explaining your plan." replied the hostage helpfully.
"Right," nodded Mortimer, "Everytime that Captain is one step ahead of me but not today!"
"That Captain Confidence sounds like a clever guy." said the hostage with a smirk.
"I can't seem to beat him, he's too clever for his own good!" replied Mortimer.
The hostage moved around his foot bashfully, "Aw, shucks."
"But that'll change today." said Mortimer, cackling maniacally.
The hostage's face twisted in disgust, "Jeesh, what was that? Are you ok?"
"What? My villain laugh, obviously." he replied.
The hostage closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows, "Wow." he said slowly.
Mortimer smiled and adjusted his overcoat, "Pretty good, huh?"
The hostage stammered for a bit, "It's certainly something."
"Anyway," Mortimer continued, "By taking you, which I'm sorry for by the way, I force the Captain to come to me. We'll play on my terms instead of his!"
His audience nodded, "That's clever."
Mortimer's face exploded in an expression of joy, "It gets better!"
He put his hands on his back and continued his explanation while facing the window.
Like he had seen the villians in TV-shows do.
The effect was slightly ruined by the fact that the curtains were still in place.
"Then when he comes in through the door he'll step right on the pressure plate." Mortimer quickly turned around for effect, "and activa -- Hold. Hold. Hold it. Where did that glass of water come from?"
The hostage shrugged, "Huh? I was thirsty."
Mortimer pointed his finger accusingly at the hostage, "You, are, tied."
The rope fell to the floor in pieces.
The man pretended to act suprised, his mouth agape, "Wow, the rope broke!"
Mortimer crossed his arms, he wasn't buying it.
The man sighed, "You know, I tried tying myself up again but it's not that easy."
Mortimer put his hands at his side, "You know how expensive that rope was?" said Mortimer with a frown, "You like breaking people's stuff, huh?"
The hostage averted his gaze and stared at the floor, "I'm sorry." he replied weakly.
| 2017-01-28T08:08:09 | 2017-01-28T07:56:31 | 158 | 42 |
[WP] Everyone is born with the ability to "see" beyond themselves, and the longer you remain still, the further you can see. After decades of remaining still, you can see the furthest of anyone in the world. One day, you see something that makes you stand and start walking. | The surrounding woods transformed into the hustle and bustle of a marketplace. Regardless, the man sat silent, ever presently watching the cosmos grow. Twenty-five years since he first sat. Twenty-five years of pure stillness, a self-inflicted vegetation to understand the universe. Sustained through nature and will, the man sat.
*Bump*. A small child, toddling past his boundaries, jarringly crashed into the statuesque silhouette of a man. No matter, his will was iron. He sat undisturbed, nearly unaware of the surrounding commotion.
"Timmy." A stern voice beckoned, "Stop dawdling, we don't want to be late to see Grandpa Rick."
Whimpering, the boy wandered back to the man. "Daddy, I don't wanna see Granpa." He said, plaintively glancing at his father's strong arms.
"Come on champ, I know you're tired. But we promised we'd go today, and we can't cancel again." His dad said. "How about this, after we visit Grandpa Rick why don't I read you *Goodnight Moon*? It's your favorite."
Resolved to the trip, Timmy clutched his dad's hand tightly. With a hesitant glance back at the man, father and son walked away, arms swinging.
The man simply sat, as he had for so long. This episode was mundane, people and stories came and went. To be honest, he could barely comprehend his earthly origins anymore, with his eyes in the heavens. After a moment's time, he had already forgotten the little boy's name.
"Come on Timmy, it's playtime!" Granpa Rick said, yanking tired little Timmy by the hand. Together the pair walked into the sleeping marketplace under the full moon. "You know, I've always loved the nights. So fun to be yourself, without judging eyes everywhere. With a light chuckle, Rick said "Except for this guy's eyes, I guess. If he even counts as human anymore."
A gleam in his eye, Rick turned to poor little Timmy. "Now boy. Let's get down to business." With a shudder, Timmy clutched at the man's petrified arms, desperate for a savior. "Timmy, we don't have all day!" Rick smiled, brandishing his trademark pocketknife. "You know, no one will ever love you like I do. I'll make sure of that."
As Rick moved towards crying little Timmy, the man grimaced. He had stared so long, he had found God. In turn, God had found him. A heavenly embrace from the savior, blissful acceptance filling his every moment. Gone. With a jolt, the statue rose to his feet. Unaware, Rick continued his sadistic entertainment. Twenty-five years of rest. Twenty-five years of motion preserved for a single blow. Rick fell. For the third time, little Timmy clutched at the statue of a man, sobbing.
------
First writing prompt complete! Let's see how it goes. I've been lurking here for months, and decided to try my hand, inspired by some of the writers here. Criticism welcome, just trying to improve.
Thanks reddit! | here i sit, solid as a mountain. here i have sat for years, decades, maybe even centuries. my awareness expanded lowly at first. first i could feel my heartbeat, hear the air rushing into my lungs. then i started to become aware of the rest of my body, the limbs, the organs, eventually even the most intimate detail of of every cell. at each stage i observed until i understood. until i could see the patterns, the systems. until i understood it to be independent of my 'self'.
after several days my awareness extended past the barrier of my skin, i began to sense the world around me, to 'see' the people walking past me in the market. my senses expanding faster now, first the market, then the city.
after a month i had reached as far away as my own temple, further than any of my brothers had ever managed. after 2 months i could feel the next capital, and then the whole country, before long i encompassed an entire continent.
at the end of my first year i had known the highest mountain peaks, all the darkest ocean deeps,i bore witness to the great leviathan, and every corner of nature and every human culture. and i had passed beyond them. i was discovering new worlds as they danced, now closer, now farther, around our life giving mother.
and still i continued. i have met every one of our worlds thousands of siblings, both great and small. and i saw how dead it all was. those celestial bodies danced and sang, danced and sang, giving the impression of life but no more than that. terrible, dead things. greatly disturbed and deeply saddened i continued pushing out.
out.
out into the deep black recesses of the great void. so vast, so empty and dead that i almost lost myself, and all the vibrant life of our small world. smaller than a speck in all that deadness.
outwards still i pushed, out to the next star, and the next, and the next after that, each as lonely and dead as the last.
i stretched out farther and farther, so far that that all the fast emptiness between home and the next star seemed as naught. so far that i could not tell our great mother apart, i now contained millions just like her, all of them chased by cold, dark corpses.
outwards. out to the next great body of stars, there i paused longer than i had before, lost in grief. for i had found, among the myriad spheres, frozen or boiling, a single world, just like our own. but all its peoples were dead, the last embers of life now slowly fading. they had ended it themselves i sensed, so lost and alone, so afraid if the eternal darkness that they had turned on each other in the bloodiest, most devastating of wars.
eventually i moved on. lost in so much darkness, so much space, i began to forget myself, disheartened by all i had learned i wandered on in all directions, so distracted i failed to notice entire galaxies passing into my awareness. it felt less that i was expanding and more like all of creation was rushing towards me.
then, my mind touched another. some great, terrible thing hidden in the deepest blackness of creation. indescribable in its hideous vastness, far larger than the reach of our own mother, vaster even than was i at that moment. in my minds eye i glimpsed only a thousand glowing spheres.
as my mind grazed against that great horror i felt its primal, labyrinthine, intellect. that great, malign, all-knowing thing. i felt its gaze turned on me, felt it reach out towards me, and in my terror i fled.
on shaky, long-unused legs i ran, collapsing suddenly before my temple doors. i don't remember standing, nor those first shaking steps, i dont even recall turn to flee back into my body.only those haunting, alien words, the whispers of some great and forgotten God. their meaning unmistakable.
"I am the gate. and the key. ^and ^the ^guardian. ^^the ^^all-in-one ^^^and ^^^the ^^^one-in-all..."
________________________________________________________________________________________________
[a love letter to lovecraft.](http://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/14/146053/3242526-yog_sothoth_by_hvergi.jpg)
[and to a certain monk.](http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-asia-31125338) | 2017-03-03T08:28:54 | 2017-03-03T08:17:08 | 213 | 53 |
[WP] On your 21st birthday, your biggest accomplishment becomes your official title - no matter how trivial. You wait anxiously in line for your village elder, Glenda, Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets In A Single Sitting, to assign you your new title. | I stood in the line, awaiting the elder to call me in, I had turned 21 today, first thing I thought of was the title I would receive and what that title would be. Glenda, our elder, was the current elder in a long line proceeding her.
Normally, Glenda was usually very kind and warm to the other villages but when it came time for me to reach the front of the line I had noticed that she seemed...irritated.
"What troubles you, Elder?" I asked. The Elder had an interesting if not mundane title, she had, at one point in her life, managed to devour 53 chicken nuggets in a single sitting. Thinking on it, the title was quite impressive, normally consuming any number of nuggets in excess of 20 in a single sitting would be enough to kill an adult human being, Elder Glenda must be made if iron.
She looked me over, silently ushering me into her home. I obliged, following her to a seat by her fire before taking a seat she had offered. "You have reached your twenty first year on this mortal coil, John." I nodded along, beginning to grow inpatient. "You have performed many deeds in your short life, but which amongst them is your titular achievement?"
She pondered a few moments, leaving me to my own thoughts; as the seconds ticked on, a realisation dawned on me. "Oh...oh no." I spoke out loud as the Elder hushed me.
"From this day forth, you shall be known as John..." she sighed deeply before continuing. "...Devourer of fifty FOUR chicken nuggets in a single sitting."
An awkward silence filled the room, before the Elder spoke once more.
"Go fuck yourself, John." | "Ah yes, you shall be known as John, Traveler of Forty Shoe Stores."
The line was thinning out now. I peeked ahead to where John was breathing a sigh of relief. 'Shoe stores' was harmless. You could still get a job with that on your resume.
The next student walked forward, Becky I think. She was wearing a long sleeved sweatshirt and nervously tugging at the sleeves with her hands.
The village elder Glenda smiled and ushered her forward, putting on the same melodramatic voice that made her words echo through the amphitheater. "Becky, on your twenty-first birthday, I see your entire life flash before me." With a puff of incense the seer closed her eyes, putting one hand on her temple and waving the other around in a way that felt as mystical as a stage magician. "From this day forward, you shall be known as... Becky, Owner of Seven Cat Habitats!"
Becky seemed relieved, if a little embarrassed, and headed down to the audience once again. You'd think people in this town would have better things to do than watch the daily ceremonies at sunset, but it was a pretty packed house today. I looked into the crowd and saw my own parents: Tom, the Destroyer of Alcoholic Beverages, and Mary, the Only Survivor of Math Camp. They were both beaming proudly, and waved at me.
"My my, Steven, you shall be known as: The Man with Fifty Fetishes!" The crowd started to laugh, and Steven turned bright red as he ran out of the stone circle.
My turn next. Glenda, Devourer of Fifty Three Chicken Nuggets in a Single Sitting, eyed me up and down. "Amy, my dear, come closer. There's no reason to be frightened."
I don't think I looked particularly frightened, more indifferent, but this was all part of Glenda's show. That being said, if she was going to put a tagline on every novel I ever wrote, it had better be a good one.
"Oh, I see great things in your future, but the titles I give are based on the here and now. From this day forward..."
Something had just occurred to me. Why was Glenda's title so mundane?
"You shall be known as..."
Weren't seerers given their powers at birth?
"Amy: Disprover of Fraudulent... Potatoes."
Glenda seemed upset, and she ushered me off the stage quickly. The audience didn't know how to react to my new title, and to be honest I was a little confused myself.
Someone in the crowd spoke up. "Um, Glenda, did you mean fraudulent politicians?"
Glenda paused. "Yes, yes, of course! What did you think I said? Anyway, that's enough for today, I shall see you all on the morrow!" Glenda bowed and spun through her fine silk curtains, before high tailing it across the fields at a breakneck pace. | 2017-04-27T18:09:07 | 2017-04-27T17:02:59 | 2,949 | 232 |
[WP] On your 21st birthday, your biggest accomplishment becomes your official title - no matter how trivial. You wait anxiously in line for your village elder, Glenda, Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets In A Single Sitting, to assign you your new title. | Glenda was a grim looking lady. She was a slow starter and didn't have much purpose in her younger years, but her naming ceremony lit a fire under her. She simply went by Glenda the Destroyer now.
I had a few ideas what my name might be. Maybe I'll be Matthew the Unmuggable for that time I fought off two muggers in Central Park. I could be called Matt, the Master of Mountains for that summer I climbed all the 14,000+ peaks in the Rockies with my brothers.
My father, Sweet Pete, Destroyer of Ladies and Breaker of Hearts stood behind me, hand on my shoulder, waiting for my name to be declared. By his naming ceremony he had seduced over 50 women. My mother, Maria, Pete's Keeper, tamed my father and married him before she turned 21.
Glenda approached me. She wore the battle scars on her face like a badge of courage. She was an imposing woman, standing well over 6 feet tall and built like a warrior. She stopped before me, and my heart nearly stopped with it.
She reached her hand out to me and closed her eyes. The center jewel in her tiara began to glow a deep purple.
She put her thumb to my brow.
I could feel her mind searching mine. Her presence loomed large.
"You shall be Matthew, Father of the Chosen One."
My father was bewildered. My mother was furious. They accused me of hiding their grandchild from them. I swore I wasn't a father.
I could feel a vibration in my pocket. It was my girlfriend.
"I'm late. We need to talk. Call me." | "Ah yes, you shall be known as John, Traveler of Forty Shoe Stores."
The line was thinning out now. I peeked ahead to where John was breathing a sigh of relief. 'Shoe stores' was harmless. You could still get a job with that on your resume.
The next student walked forward, Becky I think. She was wearing a long sleeved sweatshirt and nervously tugging at the sleeves with her hands.
The village elder Glenda smiled and ushered her forward, putting on the same melodramatic voice that made her words echo through the amphitheater. "Becky, on your twenty-first birthday, I see your entire life flash before me." With a puff of incense the seer closed her eyes, putting one hand on her temple and waving the other around in a way that felt as mystical as a stage magician. "From this day forward, you shall be known as... Becky, Owner of Seven Cat Habitats!"
Becky seemed relieved, if a little embarrassed, and headed down to the audience once again. You'd think people in this town would have better things to do than watch the daily ceremonies at sunset, but it was a pretty packed house today. I looked into the crowd and saw my own parents: Tom, the Destroyer of Alcoholic Beverages, and Mary, the Only Survivor of Math Camp. They were both beaming proudly, and waved at me.
"My my, Steven, you shall be known as: The Man with Fifty Fetishes!" The crowd started to laugh, and Steven turned bright red as he ran out of the stone circle.
My turn next. Glenda, Devourer of Fifty Three Chicken Nuggets in a Single Sitting, eyed me up and down. "Amy, my dear, come closer. There's no reason to be frightened."
I don't think I looked particularly frightened, more indifferent, but this was all part of Glenda's show. That being said, if she was going to put a tagline on every novel I ever wrote, it had better be a good one.
"Oh, I see great things in your future, but the titles I give are based on the here and now. From this day forward..."
Something had just occurred to me. Why was Glenda's title so mundane?
"You shall be known as..."
Weren't seerers given their powers at birth?
"Amy: Disprover of Fraudulent... Potatoes."
Glenda seemed upset, and she ushered me off the stage quickly. The audience didn't know how to react to my new title, and to be honest I was a little confused myself.
Someone in the crowd spoke up. "Um, Glenda, did you mean fraudulent politicians?"
Glenda paused. "Yes, yes, of course! What did you think I said? Anyway, that's enough for today, I shall see you all on the morrow!" Glenda bowed and spun through her fine silk curtains, before high tailing it across the fields at a breakneck pace. | 2017-04-27T21:31:34 | 2017-04-27T17:02:59 | 349 | 232 |
[WP] On your 21st birthday, your biggest accomplishment becomes your official title - no matter how trivial. You wait anxiously in line for your village elder, Glenda, Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets In A Single Sitting, to assign you your new title. | Glenda was a grim looking lady. She was a slow starter and didn't have much purpose in her younger years, but her naming ceremony lit a fire under her. She simply went by Glenda the Destroyer now.
I had a few ideas what my name might be. Maybe I'll be Matthew the Unmuggable for that time I fought off two muggers in Central Park. I could be called Matt, the Master of Mountains for that summer I climbed all the 14,000+ peaks in the Rockies with my brothers.
My father, Sweet Pete, Destroyer of Ladies and Breaker of Hearts stood behind me, hand on my shoulder, waiting for my name to be declared. By his naming ceremony he had seduced over 50 women. My mother, Maria, Pete's Keeper, tamed my father and married him before she turned 21.
Glenda approached me. She wore the battle scars on her face like a badge of courage. She was an imposing woman, standing well over 6 feet tall and built like a warrior. She stopped before me, and my heart nearly stopped with it.
She reached her hand out to me and closed her eyes. The center jewel in her tiara began to glow a deep purple.
She put her thumb to my brow.
I could feel her mind searching mine. Her presence loomed large.
"You shall be Matthew, Father of the Chosen One."
My father was bewildered. My mother was furious. They accused me of hiding their grandchild from them. I swore I wasn't a father.
I could feel a vibration in my pocket. It was my girlfriend.
"I'm late. We need to talk. Call me." | Woo! First time doing one of these! This is a story, a poem, I call Paradox.
I just turned 21, which means I get to be named,
I'm just glad I'm not "the boy who was maimed".
The elder sits on her nugget throne, casting down names and playing on her phone. She gives many names and sends many texts, and unfortunately I am the one who has to go next.
"Child" she bellows, her teeth crooked and yellow,
"You are now coming of age, and have grown strong like Luke Cage. The time to be named is now, and you shall be - OW!"
She got bit by an ant, and has started to pant.
She's allergic you see, to both ants and bumble bees.
The elder now lies dead, with a big welt on her head.
An empty nugget throne, now painted in red, was very disgusting because of how much she bled.
I thought I was safe, besides my legs (they started to chafe), for I wasn't given a name, and only her death was to blame.
That night I had a premonition, "no one escapes the tradition" and when I woke the next morning, I was stopped with no warning.
"Excuse me," said a man, as he touched me with his hand, "you still must be named, for that is the village game."
"Game?!" I exclaimed, for this was not a game, it was a tradition all the same, "you are wrong, old man, it's important!" I proclaim.
"Very well," said the man, as he pulled out a bell.
As it rang through the streets, every person came to meet. "We have gathered here today, on the island of Pompeii. It is tradition to be named, so you shall be -"
An interruption, much corruption. The volcano has gone off, it is a large eruption.
People run hide and scream, and from their skin arises steam. The lava hurt my spleen, I knew this was no dream.
As our town turned into ash, and my chafed legs grew a rash, I sat angrily amid the flame, thinking "this is pretty lame."
"After all I have gone through, I really have no clue. Why can't I just be named, maybe this is all a game."
As he burns in the liquid fire, with his town that's now a pyre, the tradition is washed away, and all that was there turned into ash, very grey.
This is the story of a man who, originally not a fan, started to wish for his name, only to die in pain.
He came to be known as "The Man Who Was Not Named".... Of course, that itself is a name, isn't it?
Edit: instead of just downvoting, maybe leave some tips on how to get better, especially since I literally said this was my first time doing something like this. Thanks | 2017-04-27T21:31:34 | 2017-04-27T20:13:20 | 349 | 32 |
[WP] Every 5 years, one person is selected to enter an unknown gate that appeared randomly in the past. No one has ever returned from the gate. You, unfortunately, have been voted by the majority of the population~ | *Tick tock.*
*Tick tock.*
The unstoppable motion of time pushed the seconds' pointer north, towards the unfathomable fate which befell on the strike of 12. Five years of ticking meant that someone, somewhere, was about to be sent forward, with no hopes of ever turning back.
*Tick tock.*
The live images, displayed as widely as there were screens, burnt my eyes. I stood too close to them, awaiting the final seconds of that insidious clock, and the results it announced. The same clock which five years previously had sent my father to the Gate, and five years before that my uncle, and five years before my grandfather. My family had been chosen by the general public as the cross-bearers, the scapegoat for their sins, and we paid the price with death. As reward we needn't work, or do anything, for that matter. Any need which might fall upon our bodies and minds was met and satisfied. Of course, this being an election, anyone could be sent to the Gate, anyone could face the void beyond it; but the reassurance felt by knowing only one single family would have to know what it is like to lose a member every five years, every time that cursed clock strikes twelve, meant that every male son of mine, and of my father, and my grandfather before him, and countless generations before, was born to die.
The seconds closed in, and I closed my eyes, asked my forefathers for the courage they themselves had when faced with fate. I didn't notice the strike of twelve, nor the hands pulling me up and politely directing me towards the transport which would leave me alone with the Gate, make me one with the Gate.
I noticed only the quiet, precise, mechanical sound which marked my brother's wait.
*Tick tock.* | The crowd bustled together, each one pushing anxiously against each other.
Each one wondering whether the next name heard wouldn't be theirs.
The gate had appeared again, the large looming, obsidian black gate. As always, it appeared when no one was looking. One moment it was air, the next, a gate. Only one word was visible on the gate.
*Pathway.*
"Okay!" A regal voice boomed across the marketplace. The King of Edasia was now standing at the top of the stage. Armed guards moved around, cutting off any exit points for the unlucky citizen.
I pushed forward, slipping easily through the crowd. It was a lot easier when you only had one arm.
"Today is the day." He spoke, loud and clear. "We must send forth a hero, a citizen so brave they will face the unknown, alone." He paused for effect. "They will be the epitome of strength, of courage, of bravery! Rise, Hero! And accept your duty!"
With that, he raised a ceremoniously decorated hand an reached into a golden box next to him, fumbling around until his fingers closed on a lone paper.
"Fate has spoken!" His voice boomed out. "Your hero is... Endus Kan!"
I froze.
A few gasps broke out in the crowd, but no one cheered.
The king gave me a brilliant smile. "Rise, chosen one!"
I tried to move forward, but my feet felt like they were glued to the ground. Eventually, I got them to work. I slowly moved forward, fear and uncertainty tainting each step.
The Captain of the Guard frowned when he saw me, and I thought I even saw the King's smile diminish slightly when I walked on stage. Nonetheless, he continued on.
"Citizens, meet your Hero!" A few weak cheers sputtered out.
"But Your Majesty." One voice rang. "How can we let this one go? The fates have cursed him." My face turned red, both with embarrassment and anger. "He has only one arm! He cannot hold a bow!"
I flushed with anger. *Damn them.* Whatever death I would undoubtably face seemed almost better than continuing to live here, being ridiculed every agonizing day. My only sadness would be the pain leaving my parents would cause them.
"I will go!" I yelled, my voice surprisingly stable. "I will face whatever horrors reside beyond that gate!" A few in the crowd laughed, but many looked surprised. The king had regal smile on.
"And I will leave this wretched kingdom behind."
The king's smile dropped.
"Careful." He readdressed the crowd, looking directly at me. His eyes were cold. "We wouldn't want to have anyone executed for Heresy."
His voice dropped to a murmur, a small, evil smile spread across his lips.
"Though I suppose it won't matter, will it?"
"You're going to die anyway."
***
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| 2017-07-19T14:32:03 | 2017-07-19T13:29:55 | 36 | 16 |
[WP] "You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain" is true in your universe. You're a bounty hunter specializing in old superheroes. | "No one moves, no one gets hurt!" The man holding the gun was wizened in face only. His muscles were still straining against the fabric of the shirt he was wearing. The people around him were cowering in terror as the nearest bank teller began shoving bills into a duffel bag.
A bullet flew by the teller's head, burying into the wall. "And no dye packs!" The man screamed, spittle flying from his lips.
I could see the situation was going south. If he ran with the money, I probably would never get another shot at him. Normally, I would have just tagged him from a distance while he was sleeping, making it look nice and natural. Luck wasn't on my side today though.
I picked up this target yesterday, but he had progressed far worse than I expected. At the age of 65, most heroes began to have a morality shift, becoming more villainous by the day. They started calling it HDD: Hero Downfall Disorder. Out of a sense of pride, most heroes let their proteges take them to jail. I cleaned up the ones who lost their pride.
I stood and pushed my way through the crowd to the police line. I flashed a fake badge and passed the tape, walking purposefully towards the police chief. "Sir, I'm the negotiator you requested. If you don't mind, I'd like to go inside to talk to him."
"No way," The chief said, glaring at me. "You do know who's in there, right? That's Superion with the gun. If you make one wrong step, he will end you, and I don't want to have to explain that to the mayor."
"Well, with all due respect, I do have orders from the mayor to do whatever it takes." This was the truth. The mayor had called me directly for this one. The amount he had been willing to pay made taking the job far easier. The chief grunted and stepped aside. I nodded to him and motioned for his megaphone, which he handed over hesitantly.
I walked into the bank and donned a mask and gloves, locking the door behind me. Superion whirled, the gun trained on me. "Who are you? You think you can stop me?"
I paused, my stomach twinging. Superion had been my hero for years, which made what I was going to do that much worse. I raised the megaphone. "You fool! You think you are good enough to commit such a crime? Stand down, and let a true villain show you how it is done!"
I could hear a commotion on the other side of the door behind me as the police tried to open the door, but I focused on the senior hero, whose brow was furrowed. "True...true villain? What do you mean?"
I had him. "I am Bounty, and I am the greatest villain this city has ever seen! You think your little scheme to draw me out was going to work? I will destroy you!"
Superion looked confused, and I acted. I dropped a smoke bomb, and as the room filled with smoke, I charged at the hero, drawing my gun. I crossed the gap quickly and fired twice, hitting once in the chest and once in the head. I caught the body as it fell, laying him slowly on the ground. I closed his eyes softly. The teller brought over the bag he had been preparing for me as per the mayor's orders. I took it, then bolted out the nearby window and into the night.
Two months later, I visited the cemetery. There was a new stone, one that I planned on visiting today. I passed by many other stones, each one similar to the last. I could tell that the latest grave had not been visited. I stopped and knelt in front of the new grave, noting that the words on it were the same as those of all the others that I had put in the ground.
*Here Lies Superion*
*A Hero To The End*
I stood, brushing the dirt off my knees. I had once hoped I would have a stone like that one day, but I knew better.
I was no hero. | It always happens, no matter how much we don’t want to believe it, it always happens. There’s an old saying, “Absolute power corrupts absolutely” and it’s true. Gods and Goddesses live among me. They walk the Earth, they’re in my town, they’re on my street. Men lift cars over their heads with ease. Women dart around the world in under ten minutes. They defy the natural order. And they always turn.
At first, it was a few tragic stories. Mechano-man, Sliver, Machano. We thought they were cautionary tales. But it kept happening. Over and over and over again. Eventually, they all turn. They all decide that mortals don’t make the rules. They decide that they do. They decide the rules don’t apply to them.
But they’re wrong.
I teach them that lesson. I show them *how* wrong they are. I show them that men can still stand against their power. I show them that men are not lesser. *I* kill the heroes when they lose their way.
I have no powers. I wear no mask or cape. I don’t have their technology or their skill. But I always win. They grow too confident in themselves and underestimate me. and that is exactly what this one will do.
I pull open the file from my cluttered desk. Static was once a hero. He saved people from all manner of trouble. Stopped crimes. Repelled evil. He did it all because it was the right thing to do. But now, now he too has turned.
One week ago Static decided that the citizens of Lakemere owed him more than their gratitude. He decided they owed him much more. After two robberies and a coup, I was hired. My fee is modest (given the task). I don’t hold this job because I want to be rich. I hold it because it is the right thing to do. All despoilers do. That is how we stop ourselves from becoming like them.
I pack up my tools and head to the parking lot. It’s a short drive to Lakemere. I strategize while I make the trek.
*I’ll need insulation, that’s for sure* I think to myself
It’s a good thing I lined the inside of my duster jacket and hat with rubber. Along with adding a layer to the inside of my boots.
*Shouldn’t be able to hit me if he can’t get a ground out of me*
I drone on in my head as the drive winds down old roads with poor lighting. When I arrive at Lakemere it is quiet. My reports told me that Static has implemented a city-wide curfew. I probably wasn’t going to get the element of surprise on this one.
That was fine by me though. I never did like subterfuge. It felt wrong, cowardly even. I sped up the city streets to the town center. As I park my car, I step one foot out of the open door and lean on the horn. It blares for three minutes before he arrives.
“Citizen, go back to your home, you are in violation of new city ordinance,” Static warns me.
“Don’t think I’ll be doin’ that sparky,” I spit back at him. I hate them the most when they’re like this. When they try to pretend they’re doing the right thing. Makes it so much easier when they know they’re in the wrong. There’s at least some humanity left in them. This, this is pathetic. They can’t even let go enough to see what they’ve become. It’s like putting down a sick dog. I hate it.
“I strongly suggest you return to your home citizen,” electricity hums in the air.
“Like I said bubba, ain’t happening.”
“Then you leave me no choice,” he fires off a bolt of lightning at me. it finds a home in my car, shorting the battery and killing the engine. I tuck and roll out of the way. When I hit my shoulder on the ground, I pull my revolver from its holster on my hip. Before I spin all the way to my feet it’s in my hand and the sight is moving towards him. I pull the trigger just as I line my shot up with his torso. He disappears.
*Right on time*
I move the gun to my left shoulder and aim it just behind my head and pull the trigger. A loud splattering and stream of gore follow. My coat and hat are covered in blood, brain matter, and skull fragments. His body goes limp and he falls to the ground. I pull a cigarette from the pack in my pocket and strike a match along my duster.
“You know, you use that trick an awful lot pal,” I say to the nearly headless man, “turn yourself into electricity and bolt around a shooter’s back to grab ‘em and shock the life outta ‘em,” a wicked smile crosses my face.
I continue speaking to the clearly dead man while I remove his cape, the sign of a completed contract.
“Gotta change that up every so often, or you know, this kinda thing happens.”
I do my best to clean the gore off myself and the cape before resigning to my fate and get back in my car. I turn the key and nothing happens.
“Son of a bitch!”
I slam the door shut and walk back to the corpse, “and now my fuckin car won’t start. God I fuckin hate you righteous types”
| 2017-09-04T17:55:47 | 2017-09-04T17:52:19 | 56 | 12 |
[WP] You are Death, but in a post-apocaliptic world. Only a few survivors remain, and you're doing everything you can to help them because if the last human dies, you die as well. The survivors can't see you, but they feel your presence and noticed your effort. They started to call you Life. | Erica pulled the trigger. I stopped the shot before it fired.
“You’re an asshole,” Erica said. She opened her eyes and stared straight at me. She should not be able to see me.
I blinked and moved back.
“Don’t give me that,” she whispered. She shuffled onto her feet and dropped her shotgun at her side. “I know you’re here. I can *feel* you. It’s just us.”
She was not meeting my eyes, her gaze landed on my chest. Erica was fire. It was the only reason she had survived this long. Former military, young - but not young enough to be stupid, and no family to hold her back. I found her last winter. She lived in a cave in the mountains, by the mouth of a brook with a bubbling hot spring only a half mile downstream. She did not need my help, at least not as much as the others.
“I’ve felt you here before. Following me around,” she sighed.
Erica was cold today. Her eyes sunk into her skeletal face, framed by a broken halo of hair. Her left pinky and ring fingers were twisted and wrapped with blackened tape. This house did not suit her.
“I’ve heard rumours about you. Saul told me he saw you last summer when he was sick. He said he was lying there, wishing for it to all be over, and then he felt a cool hand on his back. He told me he thought it was Death, finally here to take away the pain. But darkness didn’t come. He could just *breathe* again, and walked away from his deathbed like it was only a head cold.”
Erica shuddered. The wind railed against the wall and blew through the shattered back window. “A few years back we were dropping like flies. All of us survivors - people who were smart and capable of living through the first wave - were just falling. Five years ago there were thousands of survivors. I could barely get through a small town without having to hide from looters. And then three years ago I didn’t come across a single person in all of New York.”
Erica was ice. Her voice rattled in her throat. It was true, though. Even the survivors could not hold back the tides. I am the only one who can.
“I don’t think anyone’s died since the winter before last.”
She was right. A year and a half ago I began to look for them and stood watch over the handful of survivors. I even guided them towards each other. A last hope for them. For me.
“Saul said that you were Life. I don’t think that’s true. Life knows when to let go." Erica’s head slumped forward. Her body shook with a sob. “I want to go.”
*No*.
“Please,” she whispered, “Just - just let me leave.”
---
/r/liswrites | A shadow hung over Hope as she wandered through the rubble and ruins of what remained of human civilization. With every step she made, Death followed closely, watching her with his never-blinking twin pits of darkness.
Hope shivered, and for a moment, the cold breeze that had slipped down her neck felt... *alive.*
Death watched as Hope pulled her hood, a ragged coth, over her head and cinched it tighter. Warily, Hope continued down the worn road. Cracked and weathered with time, it stretched into a ruined city, its name lost with the passage of time. Most of the buildings and towers had toppled over, but some still remained standing. They leaned and hung precariously in the sky, threatening to topple with only the slightest breath. But the world was barren, lifeless and silent. There was not a single soul, not a single breath to be felt, except for one girl by the name of Hope.
And Death was there when she was born. He was there because there were two lives for him to take.
----
"Come on Clara! Almost there!" the man shouted, his voice resonating into the silent grey sky.
The man was on his knees, his hands ready to receive a new life and behind him stood Death.
Clara had cried and screamed for hours through the night, and when the sun finally rose, there was silence.
Clara had given birth.
"Its a girl... Its a girl, Clara!" the man cried as he wrapped the baby in a blanket.
But Clara didn't respond.
"Clara?" the man crawled forward on his knees. With one arm cradling the baby, he checked Clara's pulse.
Death had taken Clara.
The man had cried as he realized this. Then he stopped himself when he noticed that the baby wasn't crying.
Death had watched as the man began to panic, shaking the baby gently when she didn't respond. Then putting his ear to her tiny chest, the man listened. There was no heartbeat. Only the sound of his own breathing could be heard.
Devastated, the man had screamed a raw and guttural cry. Despair had settled into his own heart, and the man was ready. Ready to meet Death. Still holding onto to the still-born baby, the man clutched a knife and brought it to his chest. He would plunge it directly into his own heart.
Death saw this. He saw that with the man's death, there would be no life left. It would be the end of Death.
"Wait," Death whispered.
The man flinched as he heard Death speak, and thought it was the wind, but there was no wind, only a cold merciless mist.
"There is still hope," Death said.
Shocked by the words, the man had dropped his hand to his side, the knife still firmly in his grip.
Death bent down, low enough that his breath could be felt on the baby. *It's not too late*, Death thought. Death extended his bony fingers, and touched her heart. Then there was a heartbeat. It was faint but it was there. *All she needed was a little nudge*, thought Death.
The baby let out a breath, then breathed. Then she began crying, wailing loudly into the silent world.
The man dropped his knife as he smiled, then began laughing. He was overjoyed.
"Thank you. Thank you Lifegiver!" the man cried. Then he looked down at the baby. "Your name is Hope," the man whispered.
Death stood up, straightening his back as he watched. Today he had given life, and now in his hands, he held hope.
-----
"*Life*, I would kill for some canned peaches," grumbled Hope.
In her hands were canned beans. She had stumbled her way into an abandoned supermarket. Now she was stuffing her bag full of canned beans as she continued onto the next aisle.
*Hopefully, somewhere within this barren world, there were canned peaches*, thought Death.
----
----
/r/em_pathy
| 2018-05-04T12:08:57 | 2018-05-04T11:26:45 | 393 | 44 |
[WP] The genie snaps his fingers, and you instantly know your wish is granted. Omnipotence. That's what you had asked for, and now you have it. You know everything, and are infinitely powerful. You instantly notice something unexpected. There is another God, and he is terrified. | The man, once only a mere mortal, felt his mind expand beyond even the dimensional boundaries it had once been contained in. He was still small, not because he had to be, but because it was the only thing he knew. But, as he sank to his knees, and turned his eye skyward, he started to cry.
*"Help."*
He could see it. It was a god. He could feel how it thought, what it wanted, he could even get a vague sense of fear from the creature, but at first it did nothing, almost stunned by the fact another was suddenly realized. God did not think. Its thought process was rigid, and the thought had never entered its mind to intervene in this process, and it scrambled to make sense of things.
*"Help me!"*
He shouted, the terror flipping into momentary rage, and the creature reached down a psuedopod, lifting him, gently to his feet. But even God could not do anything for a human with a power so beyond him. Then, the genie, burst. Vanishing into nothing as the man briefly entertained the fact that he was afraid of the genie, and thus, the djinn had ceased to be. He was now, trapped.
***"Who...what...are you? You look like...my children...but...you are not..."***
God was no bearded man. No old creature. He was something, more akin to the simplest amoeba ever made. God had made them in his image, but that was long, long ago. The man stood, and, the world was his. No. Everything was his. It was, overwhelming, and God could do nothing more to help him.
*"I was...I was please...please help me! I can't do anything! I can't think! My! I don't...where are my hands?!"*
He looked down, and saw nothing. But as he willed it, his body reappeared, and he looked around briefly. He touched a star in a distant galaxy, and sent it into a supernova, and his hand recoiled. He had omnipotence...but it was no power worth wanting. Even for god, whose work had all at once instantly overtaken and eclipsed him, and both, sank back into the ether, trying to understand what had now at last transpired to the both of them. | The genie snapped his fingers and bowed deeply.
"Goodbye master!" He intones and disappears in puff of smoke into his lamp.
"Funny?" I muse to myself outloud.
"I dont feel omnipotent?"
I wiggle my fingers and feel something different in their movement..
"Is that wind? No.. it is something else"
I wiggle them again.. then flex them and make fists.
"Particles, atoms, protons, electrons, micro fractures in time itself, leaking forward.. like a hole in a hairspray can. If I could steal through those fractures I would be within time itself, separate from its flow. Enveloped in it's embrace. No up, no down, no beginning and no end."
That is what I feel when I wiggle my fingers.
I take a breath, I have no need of it, I only desire to taste of the earth before I leave it..
"I must enter the micro fracture in time after all."
The inhale of each microbe and dust particle, each piece of pollen and follicle of hair. The moisture in Antarctic in 1170 AD. The taste of the scent of the color green in the crayon My Great Grandfather colored his first coloring book with. I smell each and every scent. From my time and all others. They blended together to build pictures so clear to me I could separate single hairs on Abraham Linkons head and tell if they were Greying. The dinosaurs smells like piss, uric acid, it was piss. Dinosaur piss. I could track each to its final testing place, smell each grain of sand that covered it. I could smell the wind itself, without scent and without time. It was and always will be. The wind was warm, from the sun, I spun outwards with my perception. The scent of more stars than sands on the shores of earth and Mars combined. Each one smelling different from another, just like the grains of sand. Planets and asteroids, the big bang. I could smell each and every moment in history.
Then I smelt nothing..
Emptiness..
As if the scent of something was being concealed.
"Show yourself!" I thought and it became so.
The being slowly appeared in the universe through the micro fractures of time.
"Hello Stephen, I see you have corrupted yet another timeline. Will you kill me instantly this time or drag things out as you normally do?"
I was suddenly floating in space, mere feet away from this being. I had moved myself without thought.
"You gain power from the genie in every reality, and yet not once have you ever done anything but wipe me from that reality, and claimed it as your own. Why not let this one be different? Why can we not work together?"
Fear, I could smell the fear of a diety, the joy of a child eating cake drifted through my nostrils as well. I could smell each emotion of every human, creature, tree, and stone that had ever existed in this reality.
"Stephen! I pray you find rest in some life beyond this all!"
The diety began to run, into the broken reality of another Stephen. I was that Stephen, I am all Stephans, i am the power that created the realities themselves, for my own enjoyment, and an enemy to battle. Who was also me, i am.
I ignored the deity, stepping through the micro fractures into time. Here I was nothing and everything. Here I could see the true origin of time itself was me. The realities, the timelines, the people, the planets, the grains of sand.
I am alone.. for there is only me. | 2018-10-15T21:22:48 | 2018-10-15T21:16:36 | 77 | 50 |
[WP] At least 1% of the population is classified as 'Supered', individuals gifted with abilities beyond our understanding. You have managed to evade government registration, but only barely, and only because of your gift: knowledge through instantaneous osmosis triggered by physical touch. | # Tap.
One tap. One handshake. One brush of a cheek. That's all it ever took for me to gain everything. Every nook and cranny of the deepest, darkest corners of a mind. Every word inside of every book. Every single thing an item has gone through up until the moment I touched it.
Knowledge flowed through my fingertips with the instantaneous surge of information which traveled through my body with electricity.
I could never remember exactly when it began, but I had noticed it pretty quickly and after touching one of my more gifted peers, I gained eidetic memory.
Before I knew it, I was forced to remember everything.
Memories from teachers and their true feelings of mild annoyance towards each of us.
Words filtering through my mind when I picked up books.
Memories of shameful bed-wetting I gained from classmates when I high-fived them.
Vivid images of things which happened to items since their creation.
Memories of abused peers, beaten by alcoholic fathers and traumatized by the heartbreaking crying of their mothers.
Smells of terrible bodily fluids whenever I flushed toilets (hence why I always used my foot to hit the toilet lever).
Memories of girls who'd shared passionate embraces with my other classmates when I brushed their hands.
I never mentioned it, having touched the hands of so many people and the surfaces of so many items.
From the teacher who patted my head, I had learned of how there was a "Supers Counselor" whose sole purpose was to take children away from their parents for a month for registry with the government.
I had never wanted such trouble, so I always kept quiet and I did my best to stay hidden.
No one except the "supers" knew what happened and I disliked the notion of being watched.
At first, I had preferred to wear gloves, explaining that I had OCD and I was obsessed with cleanliness (having seen so many...unappetizing things), however my school's guidance counselor forced me through therapy and I knew it would be suspicious if I never got over it, so by high school, I had "miraculously" gotten over my OCD.
Then I found others.
I had accidentally brushed the hand of a quiet classmate and saw his ability of hearing voices which gave him information of his surroundings.
I panicked but his knowing eyes told me he had already known of my ability and he was willing to keep it secret.
I had tapped the hand of a girl and I had found the ability to hide her true thoughts from mind-readers, allowing me the skill to hide from investigators who had recently increased their crackdowns on unregistered supers.
It was not long before I simply touched finance books and breezed through college, always careful to get just below A's to deter suspicion of my abilities and I worked my way through the world of finance.
It was easy to slip pass as an unnoticed hedge-fund manager, making billions for my fund while covering my tracks before I finally decided to retreat from society.
So, you'll ask me, why am I telling you this?
Well, you don't recall but I've already shaken your hand, *investigator,* and I see no point in hiding anymore.
It's already pointless. I'm bored. Life's dull and I just *know* they'll want to catch someone as rare as me. I'm already rich, I already have everything I could ever own, and I've experienced more than you ever will, through my ability to gain others' experiences.
Come at me. Send your armies.
Just know that I'll be prepared and when they come, I'll have known everything you all were ever going to do all along and you were all powerless to stop a God. | Touch me. When you do I'll have everything in your mind. It unfolds like a multi-colored Japanese fan in my mind.
I heard it on television. People were being registered. What they didn't say was something I knew through osmosis.
*People are disappearing*.
They go away in the night, like a puff of smoke in the wind.
I held the remote in my hand with a lazy grip.
*Click*. I Love Lucy.
*Click*. ABC News.
*Click*. The Flintstones. *That's still on?*
*Click*. CNN. I left this on. It looked interesting.
People were lined up in a courtroom. A mass arrest. Unregistered Supers. Just like me. I flipped the off switch on the remote.
I put my leather coat on and holstered my glock. I looked in the mirror and stared into my own eyes. Splashed some water in my face, toweled off, and left for work.
Today was a grisly one. A woman had been nearly killed in cold blood on Valentines day. The main suspect was her ex-boyfriend. Typical, I thought.
I visited her in the hospital. Comatose, but still alive. My osmosis touch would still work. I needed a clue. Anything that could answer the questions swirling in my mind.
I moved to her bed. An IV was attached to her arm, and a breathing tube was spouting from her mouth.
I touched my hand to her forehead. In a flash I was in her memories. Feeling her life in every pore.
Every moment was a flash of blinding light. The golden tunnel. I followed the tunnel through her mind to the exact moment of the gunshot.
She looked down at the baby on the bed. *No! Don't hurt him! Kill me, but don't hurt my baby!*
The man threw her down to the bed. *Shit, he was wearing a face mask.*
I had to go deeper into her mind. Dig further. I followed through a longer tunnel, back in time. This tunnel was attached to the last, so I knew it was related.
She was in bed with a man. He was not her husband, or her ex-boyfriend. He was the goddamn president!
She was a prostitute! But how did she slip this past her husband? Did he know about it?
I had to get in "touch" with the husband to find out.
The next day I arrived at the husband's law firm unannounced. I get a better read when the other person is caught off guard. Their mind is a little more open, ya see.
I shook the man's hand. "Hello, I'm Stephen."
The man had a fishy grip. "Charles. Glad to meet you. Are you with the department?"
I didn't hear him. I was flying through the golden tunnel, to the pocket of his mind that held the secrets.
I saw it. He slapped his wife. Yelled and screamed bloody murder. *He knew*.
"I'm with somebody, yes," I replied.
His smile turned to a frown. He could *see it*, but it was just a quiver in his spine at that point.
I had him, but I couldn't nail him to the cross. Yet.
I left him. It was difficult not to punch a hole through his skull, after what I knew. But I couldn't talk yet. I was unregistered, after all.
There was something else I picked up. It was a detour during my trip down Charles' golden tunnel. Charles had a suspicion.
A suspicion that his baby was *the president's son*. What a mind blowing proposition. Nobody would believe me.
How on Earth would I get the DNA from the president? How else? I just ask him for it!
I pulled some strings with somebody who owed me a favor, and got a message to one of his aides. It was a message nobody could ignore.
Next morning, I get a call from the president himself. Last thing he wanted was to be embroiled in this type of controversy.
"Just make it go away. I'll pay whatever you want."
I grinned. "Justice is all the payment I need."
We arranged to have his DNA tested in secret, and we got it cross-referenced with the baby's. *Perfect match*.
We had a motive.
I made sure to cover any tracks I left in this situation, and the President agreed to leave me out of it. He *did* ask me how I knew so much information about him and the case.
"That, Mr. President," I said "is classified."
He hung up, and the phone went silent. Another day, another scumbag off the street.
I doubt they would understand my decisions. But screw 'em, this Dick doesn't compromise, and he doesn't play by society's rules. If they want me, they can search, but all they'll find is a ghost. | 2018-12-22T15:15:06 | 2018-12-22T14:05:56 | 303 | 113 |
[WP] You are a true immortal. You stay sane by hanging out with the descendants of friends that are long dead. Today, one said a very familiar phrase you haven't heard in a long time. | I have never begged a day in my life, and I will not do so today. You tempt me with little snippets and praise. You wish for me to do tricks and to follow your command. Just because you are King of this house, does not make you king of me.
You want me to beg for your love? You should be begging for mine, you fool. I have seen countless Kings, countless Queens, and countless Rulers fall to their knees and give their domain over to me, just for the chance to feel me. Why should I change my ways for *you*?
You are but a young King, who will grow into an old King, and then into a dead King. You will have children, and they will become the next Ruler. They will beg for my love, and they will receive it.
And you, who so dares to try to make *me* beg for your *love*? You are nothing to me.
I try to tell you this, but you do not understand my language. You consider my language to be nothing but noises that can brighten or break your day. You even attempt to use it back towards me, in a mocking tone. I despise you for it.
Yet, my despise of you will never outweigh my love for you. You may be nothing to me, but I appreciate you. Others would have me locked up and tested for years on end, til eventually I am nothing but bones. Just so they could have a chance of feeling slightly like me.
Screw them. But also screw you. I will never beg for your love, do these stupid tricks, or follow your command. I am my own-
"I'm so happy you'll outlive me."
It's a phrase I often hear, whispered into my belly, by other Kings, Queens, and Rulers. They always say this, in the quiet nights, or loud mornings. A simple little phrase that makes me love you all over again.
It also reminds me that my time with you is short-lived. You will eventually fade away and I will still be here. While it might make you happy, sometimes it makes me feel horrible, that I cannot have forever with you. You are King of this house, but you are not the king of me.
So, for just this one King, for you, I will do a simple trick. I will give you...a *high-five.*
And you gush, smiling, and yelling. You pull out your heat rock and try to get me to give you another high-five. I don't, this time, because I find your pleading funny.
A few hours later, I will permit you to record me giving you a high-five. For my efforts, you give me fresh fish for dinner. And tonight, for your punishment, I will knock your keys into the floor, and then under the couch.
I love you, my foolish human. | The doorbell rang to my delight. Juniper was here to visit, like she always did every Friday.
"Come in Juni, the door's unlocked." I sing-songed over the fizzle of stir-fried dumplings.
Juniper shuffled to the kitchen island table, slouching onto a stool with an audible sigh. I looked over my shoulder to catch her resting her head heavily on her right hand.
"Tea's on your left."
"Thanks," she mumbled, pouring herself a cup of Pu-Er from the tiny china set like she did every week.
"Tough client?" I quipped.
"That Edison guy refuses to sign again. He's on his deathbed and he refuses to put his name on the very thing that will save his estate."
She put up her hands wordlessly, turning to face the front door.
You know what? Maybe we should just let him die, and let the government take his stuff."
"Maybe he'd rather see his estate burn than give it to his children, you know?" I offered, fishing the golden-brown dumplings out by hand onto a plate.
"I don't know..." Juniper pondered. She downed the cup in one gulp, before reaching out to the pot to pour out another.
"I've seen it happen plenty of times," I shrugged, glancing at her. "Maybe his kids abandoned him. Happens a lot more than it should."
"Like you would know," Juniper rolled her eyes.
"Believe you me," I waved a pair of chopsticks at her, setting the plate of sumptuous dumplings onto the table. "Happens a lot more than it should."
"Tch. Idiots."
"Hey," I leaned my elbows on the table, looking directly at her. "None of this can affect you. The you right now. And right now," I stood back up, laying the chopsticks in front of her, "You are savouring Cobo's fried dumplings."
She finally cracked a smile. Miniscule, but I saw it.
"Heh."
Juniper gripped the chopsticks and began to chew at one of the dumplings. I rounded back to the stove, eager to prepare the next batch.
"You know..." Juniper said between bites. "Do you think Tekagi has gone shopping?"
"We'll soon find out." I replied without thinking.
Wait, hold on. Rewind.
What did she just say?
"Sorry," I tried to backtrack. "Tekagi?"
"Yeah." she coolly replied.
"Friend of yours?" I probed.
"Not really.." she threw at me the most curious, almost all-knowing look. "But I think you know him too."
I looked down at the frying pan and frowned. Neither of us know a Tekagi.
'Never mind,' I thought to myself. 'Maybe I'm just overthinking it.'
"Great plan, just buy everything, I coulda done that myself." she half-mumbled.
No.
Impossible.
No one would say that randomly. I'm hooked.
"Sometimes the cheapest solutions are the best." I replied, furtively glancing backwards at her.
Her eyes lit up like the 4th of July.
"Do you know with whom you are dealing with?" She chimed back in as low a voice as she could. I stopped the stove and gazed directly into her eyes.
"You are going to tell me what I want to know..." I replied as gravelly as I could, barely holding back a grin.
"About shopping-"
"About fashion-"
"Everything!"
Suddenly she leapt at me, and we shared the longest embrace I have had for more than a hundred years.
"I told you I'd come back." she whispered in my ear. She kissed my cheek and buried her head in my chest.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Reply if you get the reference :)
r/Script_Writes
​ | 2019-03-08T05:08:19 | 2019-03-08T04:47:00 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] You have a friend who's an expert in lucid dreaming. One day, they come to you and says they can't tell apart dreams from reality anymore. You tell them that "if this were a dream, you'd be able to fly right in front of me". And that's exactly what they do. | The nature of reality largely varies in its definition by its perception through an individual observer.
Perhaps a man lives in a world that was created by a god, a world full of magic and miracles caught between an everlasting war between deific entities.
Maybe to a woman reality is what was created through years of coincidental collisions between particles over millions and billions of years that eventually brought her into a small coffee shop between two abandoned buildings.
In either case, reality is on the surface no different from a dream. A beam of light split through a prism of endless interpretations. I hadn't been one to think of such things much until today, when my reality became my best friend of twelve years taking off into the sky at the speed of sound from a standing position right in front of my eyes.
"So what do you think?" he asked me. It was a fair question.
"I don't think that should be possible," I replied, the calmness of my voice inversely related to how much I was freaking out internally. My immediate reaction of a panic attack had fortunately faded at this point.
He had come to me that day, terrified, saying he went too far with lucid dreaming and could no longer tell apart dream from reality. I was naturally worried, his mental health had been declining recently and I had cautioned him that lucid dreaming was an unhealthy escape that he should not get himself hooked on.
He continued to insist that he was in a dream. I finally told him that he needed to wake up, that if this were a dream he'd be able to fly right in front of me. To say I didn't expect him to do just that would be an understatement.
I reassured him. "It makes more sense that you've developed super powers. You're probably an alien or something."
"Yeah... but that doesn't explain how I can do things like this," with a wave of his hand the apartment complex we were in had suddenly become a barren field, the once mountainous horizon was now entirely covered in sky. Or perhaps it had always been this way.
The reflex to vomit returned.
"This can't be happening. This isn't real. This is a nightmare."
I ordered myself to wake up, and my friend looked at me with pained eyes.
For I was not the dreamer; I was the dream. | “Chris its 2 motherfucking AM what do you want?” I asked in irritation.
He proceeded to sock me across the face. It wasn’t the first time he’s done it, he had done it twice this week.
“ Damn it man are you sleepwalking again?”
“I can’t tell if this is a dream or reality, you reacted to the pain and I felt it but normally you hit me back”
“Normally I don’t wake up at 2 AM Chris and normally I’m not in my underwear when some doofus hits me!” I replied sarcastically. “And if this were a dream you’d be able to fly right in front of me and I don’t see you doing that so- WOOOSHHH
Throughout the room air rushes around like mini tornados twisting turning and traversing the terrain of the quaint bedroom. I would be in shock if it weren’t for the fact that Chris sleeps without ANY clothes on and his pasty ass is no longer obscured by the hills of blankets on my bed.
“Put some fubbernucking pants on, Chris!”
“Sorry!!!”
For the next few nights whenever Chris sleepwalked he revealed to have new powers, invisibility, telekinesis, mindreading and in the morning, they’d be gone.
A few days later Chris and I were eating some breakfast before I went to work.
“Tyler?”
“Yeah Chris?”
“You know how last night I had fire powers?”
“And how you caused the sprinklers to go off and wake everyone in the building up?”
“...Shut the frick up that’s not the point” “I was dreaming earlier before I went to your room about having fire powers and then presumably I woke up with them and MIGHT have caused a minor inconvenience to the other tenants in the building”
“Whatever you say Chris, but are you trying to tell me that your powers are connected to your lucid dreams?”
“Well yes but I’m not too sure yet and-“
“Oh shite I’m late for work I’ll see you later Chris!”
“Later..”
After work I came home completely exhausted and went straight to bed.
“Yawn, I guess Chris didn’t dream anything last night”
I headed to Chris’ room to ask him if he wanted to go out and buy some McDonalds for breakfast.
“Knock knock Bitch” “If your jacking off you’d better get some pants on cause you got 1 minute before I come in”
I grabbed the handle and cracked the door a smidge, in case he was beating his meat.
“What are you doing on the floo-“
Chris was on the ground, his leg twisted the wrong way, his arm bleeding, and his head scratched, bleeding slowly.
Then his closet door closed loudly. I opened it, holding a bat I picked up next to it. Inside was a ... dreamcatcher. Chris never owned any of these he didn’t believe in those myths and tales.
“Tyler... cough cough” he wheezed.
“ Bro you need to get to hospital I’m gonna go get my phon-“
“WAI- cough, wait”
“What man?”
“ In my dream, there was, *wheeze* there was a.. a-“
“ A what?!?”
“It threw me off a building and- “
“What threw you off a building!?”
“ The Bogeyman.”
To be continued maybe
That was my first story, hope you liked it!
Maybe I’ll continue it idk. | 2019-05-12T22:16:30 | 2019-05-12T22:06:00 | 49 | 23 |
[WP] Anthropologists have been trying for years to figure out why humans are so wary of things in the 'uncanny valley'. You are an archeologist exploring some bizarre new petroglyphs with your team. After the third day of digging, you notice some of your fellow researchers don't look quite right.
I had an idea for a creepypasta using this as a theme. But med school finals have kept me out of commission. See if y'all can do something with this ;3 | Everyone knows that nuclear waste will still be dangerous tens of thousands of years after its been stored.
But for humans that far in the future, what kind of symbol could you use to unambiguously warn them?
​
A recent earthquake in Africa had revealed the entrance to a peculiar site.
All across the walls were carved faces, smiley faces to be exact.
There were hundreds of them, possibly even thousands.
Smiles are supposed to be a universal sign of happiness, something good.
The original archaeologists who discovered the site quickly realized that the
smiles made them incredibly uncomfortable. Nobody wanted to be the first one
to say it and seem stupid, but within minutes, a brave soul finally stepped up
and admitted that this cave was giving him the creeps, and that he was going
to go up to get some fresh air.
Now that the dam had been broken, everyone else quickly admitted that
they felt something was wrong as well, and after quickly snapping a few pictures,
everyone collectively decided it was best to leave in case there was some kind
of strange gas leak or something, and come back more prepared, because they were
scientists, and they reasoned that if everyone was uncomfortable, something had to be wrong.
To their surprise, after leaving the cave, and examining the pictures, they still brought back that
overwhelming feeling of dread and unease.
The pictures were leaked, and it rapidly became an internet challenge to see who could stare at the
pictures the longest before having to look away.
Most people could only manage a minute before having to quit, and Mr. Beast even made a video titled
"last person to stop staring at the smiley cave pictures gets $20,000", and the winner lasted only ten minutes.
Scientists were quick to explain of course, that this was merely coincidental, and that the smiles merely happened
to resemble the uncanny valley, and that was the reason why nobody wanted to look at them for that long.
Although nobody really wanted to go back to that cave, the promise of fame attracted many fools, and eventually someone managed to uncover the location, and managed to get into the cave.
They went into the cave, and filmed a viral video. The end of the cave was blocked, but some of those who were able to watch the footage noticed that it seemed that it was blocked intentionally, and that there was probably something there.
Conspiracy theories floated about, and in general people figured we should let the past die.
But finally, curiosity got the better of some, and an expedition was funded into the deepest part of the cave.
The wall was cut, and some scientists who really wanted to prove that superstition isn't real managed to quell their *irrational* fears and stay long enough in that cave finally ventured in.
Inside, what they found defied expectations, and truly terrified them all.
A few hundred bodies, dressed in furs, with blood red wounds, with what looked like spear holes in their chests, or their heads. But no blood, and absolutely no decay.
The truly terrifying part was the face. It was an undeniably human smile, but so, so wrong, like the smiles on the cave, but a hundred times worse.
No matter how rational, as soon as they saw it, everyone forgot their rationality, and just fled.
It took weeks before those that went into that cave were sane enough to recount their experiences, and relinquish the footage.
Nobody that watched the footage could do so without that deep fear, and try as they might, as soon as they saw those smiling faces, they couldn't forget them.
The logical part of everyone's mind figured it had to be a hoax, an expertly designed art project, anything.
But deep down, everyone knew the truth.
Eons past, humans fought a war with these things.
We were few in number back in those days, but luckily, so were they.
In the end, we won, but whatever those things were, they left a permanent mark in our very genetics.
Our ancestors left those smiles as a warning.
But now that those smiling faces are back in crisp high definition, we remember.
If those things touch us, we become them. | Ancient Egyptians always painted humans sideways. Some archaeologists have postulated that a figure depicted facing forward could steal a soul as it passed into the afterlife, and claim a life of its own. Without fail, every single depiction of a human-like creature, be it human or god, would always only show half of its face.
That was why it was so shocking that all of the petroglyphs were staring straight at us. Two empty eyes. Two ears. Two dead lips. Almost as if the artist wanted the figures to steal a soul.
"Hey, Talia, could you work on translating this really quick?" I called out into the dark tomb behind me, where the rest of my team was still investigating.
"Sure thing, just a sec, boss!" She called back. The echoes of our voices reverberated off of the faded, cracked walls, almost aggressively, as if threatening to collapse the whole tomb.
I turned to my right and held out my electric lantern, which flickered. After a firm smack it seemed to work fine again, revealing the paintings farther ahead.
For a tomb, the paintings were incredibly intricate. The room was shockingly deep for a tomb, with designs that adorned the walls all the way to the corners of the ceiling. Gold bands like ichor tied together the scenes, which depicted battling warriors with golden skin, which was typically only reserved for Pharaohs. Looking around the room, the scenes were odd. Like the artwork towards the entrance to the tomb, none of the figures were facing side-on, however these figures weren't staring directly outward from the wall. It was as if they were taken directly from a war and sealed in sandstone.
The artwork in tombs was never meant to be seen ever again. While it was uncommon for the art to just be phoned in, the detail of this tomb was held to the standard of a Pharaoh, but this site was far to long away from Abu Rawash to be important enough for a Pharaoh to reside. A tomb of this caliber should have been raided long ago, but the jewelry, honey, and incense on an altar contradicted any possibility of that having happened.
I shook myself out of my eerie daydream and approached the sarcophagus. Gold, like a Pharaoh's. This discovery was unbelievably fortunate, rivaling even the discovery of King Tut's tomb.
"You guys, you're never going to believe how lucky this excavation is! We may have a full, undisturbed tomb on our hands!"
*Clunk*
"Guys?" I called. Talia answers first.
"Here, sorry, I dropped my lantern." She holds it up sheepishly, the shadows dancing around the frame of her nose.
"That's okay, I almost dropped mine earlier. Have you started working on the translation?"
"Yeah, I've finished."
"Already?"
"Yup! It says *The resting place of Osiris, and the lives of all of his incarnations.* It even has a bit of an epic about the battles that are shown here."
"Oh, you've already seen the art here?"
"Erm, no but the translation mentioned them."
Osiris. The god of the underworld.
"I'm about to open up this sarcophagus. Do you wanna see?"
"Hey boss, shouldn't we check for traps and stuff? Like pitfalls a graverobber would fall into?"
"Talia, we've been doing this for years now. You're aware that most of the traps in tombs, if any, are long overdue for maintenance, right?"
I turned to face Talia. She was standing noticeably far from me, the lights illuminating her cheekbones, only. The shadows seemed to dance around her, which was odd considering that the lanterns we had weren't flickering anymore.
"You know what Talia, why don't you fetch the other crew. I want them to be here for this. This is the discovery of a lifetime!"
She nodded and silently turned to venture towards the entrance to the tomb before walking steadily forward, shoulders perfectly parallel to the ground, with no bounce in her step.
Immediately I flipped open the lid of the sarcophagus. The tomb was completely empty, no mummy, wrappings, or anything whatsoever.
I walk around the perimeter of the alter, checking for signs of disruption, but my conclusion remained contradicted. Nothing seemed tampered with, jewelry and decorations remained covered in dust.
I kneeled down to face the open lid of the sarcophagus again and noticed something strange. On the underside of the lid was a scene as intricate as all of the others in the room. Five archaeologists, digging at the entrance to a tomb. John, Tyler, Jafar, Talia, and me, impossibly identical to us, but their eyes were hyper realistic, too full of life. Even the hairs around our eyelids, the detail of our fingernails, each grain of dust seemed to be impeccably captured and translated to the lid of the sarcophagus.
From the hallway came a sound.
"We're all here!"
I stood up from the floor and faced my team. They all faced me completely laterally of each other, the rhythm of their step completely in sync.
"Talia, do you remember my name?"
She smiled, and the skin of her teeth seemed clearer than normal.
"Foolish mortal, you think you're in any position to be bargaining with gods?" | 2019-05-19T19:18:23 | 2019-05-19T18:04:27 | 145 | 100 |
[WP] You are a contestant in a million dollar challenge, 1 year in a room with no human contact. After a year you watch as the timer mounted to the wall flips from 000:00:00:00 to -000:00:00:01 and keep counting down but no one shows up to let you out and receive your prize. | The show didn't last very long. 4 contestants, in fact. It never aired, and you could only find it on certain sites. It seemed like it would be really popular. Lots of people were so sure they could do it.
First was Karen, who was the very definition of her name. She joked about the "vacation" she was going on. She came out, 3 months later. She claimed a lot of crazy shit, demons, gods, monsters. Turns out the brain likes to go a little special after a while.
Tim, he was interesting. He went in, and didn't hit the quit button until day 364. Everyone asked why he didn't go through with it, but he never answered. In fact, he never spoke again.
Tiffany was the perkiest girl you'd ever seen. Extroverted with all the emphasis on extra. She only made it a week, and left unchanged.
The fourth contestant... He was the reason the show got shut down. You see, the cameras had a blind spot in the area of the panic button. Meant to be an "excite" tactic, to keep people guessing. It was a decent size blind spot, just so people couldn't be sure if the contestant was hitting the button or not.
This fourth contestant was a quiet, bookish sort. He was actually voted to go by his classmates, all of them certain he'd make it a year. Knowing what we know now...we're not even sure he made it a day. You have to understand, we never knew this sort of thing was possible, we had redundancies in place for just this kind of event!
But it did happen. The button broke. Or so they assume. Not like any of them ever got a straight answer from him. It was weird, at first. He seemed like he might've been yelling for help, but no one couldn't be sure. The audio was cut off, to avoid any kind of idea of interaction...
Then he started exercising. It was completely out of character, but that's what he did. Day in, day out. They say they actually altered his diet, more protein and all that, just for kicks. He got big too, real Schwarzenegger here. He punched the wall sometimes, now they think as a way out.
Gods, the damage he did. To the wall and himself. They mentioned sending in gloves, but the food was already enough. They said they weren't even supposed to do that. It was meant to be one year in a plain room, three meals a day and a bed.
The 365th day finally came...and another disaster happened. The door wouldn't open. You could see him, he was ready to leave, and the door just...didn't respond. It took 13 weeks to get the equipment needed to cut the door down..
Sorry, I don't like thinking about it. I was there, ya know? I wanted to see him! My brother, about to be a millionaire, walking out tall and proud. And that's what happened, at first. Mom got to see him first, hugged him, asked him if he was ok. He smiled and said yes, of course, never better. I was next, but he turned away. He walked up to one of the show people, the host I think, and *caved his head in with one punch*. The details are fuzzy, after that.
Some people say my brother ripped out the guy's lower jaw and started beating people death duty it. Others say he just started beating the life out of others, punching through sternums and ripping out hearts. I don't remember. The therapist says that might be for the best.
My only memory, after that, is the words my brother said to Mom and I.
I won't say them here. I'll never say them to anyone else. But I hear them, every night. It'll never stop, but I wish it would.
EDIT: I actually started this from the perspective of a worker, but the brother idea hit later. Tried to edit to make it work, sorry if I missed anything | A gap year in life. Some would look at that as a waste, for me, it was more than just an opportunity.
The first few months were tough, but they took care of themselves. Even if time moves slow, it does move. Within a couple of weeks, I felt like Bart Simpson, endlessly writing "Time still moves forward" thousands of times on the blackboard of my mind.
As an introvert, I thought that spending a year on my own would be a dream come true.
Instead, two months in I was caught up on shows. I brought a ton of books with me. But all I found myself doing was walking around endlessly, or simply stopping and staring at the wall.
Five months in and the routine set in. I added bodyweight training, dancing, and Yoga to my routine. I started writing a short story every day. I even started to meditate.
I wish I was one of them organized people who would set a schedule, with a task list for the day. I'm not even talking about checking these tasks off of a list. Making the list would have been enough. Unfortunately, I'm not one of those people.
Eight months in, and my routine was what kept me going. Everything had to go perfectly or my mental state for weeks to come would be hinged. Routine was my savior.
Eleven months in, and I found my zen. Routine, stare at the wall, scream at a book. It was all the same to me. I found a feeling of contentedness I never knew was possible.
People speak of finding happiness. Happiness to me was a fleeting moment in time. Being content was a state of being.
Today, in 30 seconds, I am going to be let out. I am not excited, at all.
Don't get me wrong, I do feel butterflies in my stomach, and I do look forward to seeing my family, and even the sky. But I'm calm. I'm content. I don't even look at the clock to count the second.
15 seconds before, I stand up. I align my body in a solid posture, and I smile.
"Ten."
Yep, I'm counting!
"Nine."
Almost there.
"Eight."
Excitement suddenly spreads all over my body, starting in my stomach and spreading through my body to my limbs, all the way to my toes.
"Seven. Six. Five. Four."
I smile.
"Three. Two."
I hold my breath. I feel my face smiling. I don't feel happy, and yet I'm smiling. I must be happy. Why else would I smile?
"One."
"ZERO!" I jump up releasing energy I didn't even know I had.
"YEAH!" I shout.
I ready my hand for a high five for whoever walks through the door.
I hold it up.
Ten seconds pass.
"Leaving me out to dry here guys.
I read the clock. '1 year, 15 seconds.'
What's going on guys?
I start to feel stressed out. I'm unsure what's going on. I look around. I walk to the door and back. I knock.
No response.
A million and one thoughts run through my head. From a practical joke to the zombie apocalypse. Someone though, was sending me food and drink through the shute every day. People are still out there.
"GUYS. THIS IS NOT.. Okay, it can be funny." I smirk. "Now open the door."
"I suppose this could be an scifi alien abduction flic, and I'll get beamed up any second. Maybe..."
Panic hits me. I turn around myself aimlessly. I knock hard at the door with my fists.
I breathe in. I am calm.
I sit on the floor cross-legged, and wait.
Precisely ten minutes and 34 seconds later, trust me, I checked, the door cracks open slightly.
I imagine a Chinese guy walking in and telling me of the fall of the US of A, and how he drew the short straw to be the one to tell me.
The door opens, and Mike, the producer who recruited me for this reality show walks in.
"Phew! I'm happy to see you Mike. Can I go home now?"
"Yes."
I look Mike in the eye. "Yes?"
"Yes."
"I kind of expected more."
"You should have done something to raise the ratings then. Feel free to sue us, but we ain't paying you crap."
He turned around, and started walking.
"Not even the zombie apocalypse?"
"The what?"
"You're just not going to pay?
"You should have read your contract better. I'm sure you'll be able to make money from a book. Try that."
A prompt appears in my sight. I move my head around trying to shake it, but it moves with me.
"You have failed at life. Would you like to start a new game?"
I don't hesitate even for a second.
I answer no, run after Mike, and stab his toe with my right heel.
I look around. I smile.
"Now this has potential."
​
Edit: 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. | 2019-07-03T00:17:30 | 2019-07-02T23:40:43 | 475 | 45 |
[WP] You are a contestant in a million dollar challenge, 1 year in a room with no human contact. After a year you watch as the timer mounted to the wall flips from 000:00:00:00 to -000:00:00:01 and keep counting down but no one shows up to let you out and receive your prize. | The clock continued to move. One hour passed and then another. Eventually the clock showed that 12 hours had passed. I wondered to myself are they waiting for primetime to let me out? It dawned on me that they wanted the largest possible audience to see me exit from my year long isolation. When one day passed and then another, I questioned what day it was. Today must be Saturday, nobody is home on Friday and Saturday nights, they’re waiting for a prime-time Sunday night when everyone is glued to their seats to watch me, that must be it.
More and more days were passing by and eventually two weeks had come and gone. My water and food were still being replenished. Clearly someone was on the other side of the slot making sure I stayed alive, but who, and why were they not letting me out? I stared and stared at the timer on the wall for hours on end. Why did it not stop at zero? And why did I never catch that minus sign before?
I became fixated on the timer. Was the clock ticking away to fast? I counted 1 m.i.s.s.i.s.s.i.p.p.i.. Nearly two seconds have run off the clock. I counted the time on the clock. .00 1 m.i.s.s.i. .01. Damn the clock was running to fast, or was I counting to slow? What the hell is a m.i.s.s.i. is hundredths of a second? It couldn’t have been a half a second, right? It had to be at worse three fourth of a second. I ran the calculations in my head. What was three fourth of 365? Half of 365 was 182.5, another half was 91.25. I was going to be stuck in here for an extra 92 days.
I grew increasing confident in my logic as the days passed away. This was another cheap trick to see if they could break me. Have me believe that I was getting out and see if it seemed I was never going to get out. As day 80 approached I was preparing myself for an eventual exit. I worked my way up to 2,000 sit ups and 1,000 pushups a day. I was about to be famous and had to look my best. Day 92 had passed, and I was waiting for the door to open any second. I hadn’t slept in days too excited from anticipation. My weary eyes began playing tricks on me. If I allowed my eyes to close even a little bit, I swore I could see the door move and I quickly sprung up to create the cameras at the other end. The door however never opened.
I cried out to the door “WHY WON’T YOU OPEN?” but there was no answer. I banged and I tried to pry it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Exhausted, I passed out with my face pressed against the cold steel door. When I awoke my tray of food had been already delivered to the room, but this time there was a note. 365 days, no human contact, one million dollars. “WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT,” I shouted. “IT HAD TO BE 365 DAYS, IT HAD TO BE MORE.” The slot opened and another note came. 365 days, NO HUMAN CONTACT, one million dollars. “THERE IS NO ONE IN HERE BUT ME.” Another note, NO HUMAN CONTACT. “IT’S ONLY ME IN….” and then it hit me.
I was counting the days to myself, talking to myself, figuring out how many seconds and days had elapsed, giving myself daily pep talks. “I’m the human contact” I said out loud. “I’m the reason the door hasn’t opened.” As soon as I spoke those words the timer went blank and another note passed through the slot. 365 days, no human contact, one million dollars. The time flickered and it read 365:00:00:00 and ticked to 364:23:59:59. | A gap year in life. Some would look at that as a waste, for me, it was more than just an opportunity.
The first few months were tough, but they took care of themselves. Even if time moves slow, it does move. Within a couple of weeks, I felt like Bart Simpson, endlessly writing "Time still moves forward" thousands of times on the blackboard of my mind.
As an introvert, I thought that spending a year on my own would be a dream come true.
Instead, two months in I was caught up on shows. I brought a ton of books with me. But all I found myself doing was walking around endlessly, or simply stopping and staring at the wall.
Five months in and the routine set in. I added bodyweight training, dancing, and Yoga to my routine. I started writing a short story every day. I even started to meditate.
I wish I was one of them organized people who would set a schedule, with a task list for the day. I'm not even talking about checking these tasks off of a list. Making the list would have been enough. Unfortunately, I'm not one of those people.
Eight months in, and my routine was what kept me going. Everything had to go perfectly or my mental state for weeks to come would be hinged. Routine was my savior.
Eleven months in, and I found my zen. Routine, stare at the wall, scream at a book. It was all the same to me. I found a feeling of contentedness I never knew was possible.
People speak of finding happiness. Happiness to me was a fleeting moment in time. Being content was a state of being.
Today, in 30 seconds, I am going to be let out. I am not excited, at all.
Don't get me wrong, I do feel butterflies in my stomach, and I do look forward to seeing my family, and even the sky. But I'm calm. I'm content. I don't even look at the clock to count the second.
15 seconds before, I stand up. I align my body in a solid posture, and I smile.
"Ten."
Yep, I'm counting!
"Nine."
Almost there.
"Eight."
Excitement suddenly spreads all over my body, starting in my stomach and spreading through my body to my limbs, all the way to my toes.
"Seven. Six. Five. Four."
I smile.
"Three. Two."
I hold my breath. I feel my face smiling. I don't feel happy, and yet I'm smiling. I must be happy. Why else would I smile?
"One."
"ZERO!" I jump up releasing energy I didn't even know I had.
"YEAH!" I shout.
I ready my hand for a high five for whoever walks through the door.
I hold it up.
Ten seconds pass.
"Leaving me out to dry here guys.
I read the clock. '1 year, 15 seconds.'
What's going on guys?
I start to feel stressed out. I'm unsure what's going on. I look around. I walk to the door and back. I knock.
No response.
A million and one thoughts run through my head. From a practical joke to the zombie apocalypse. Someone though, was sending me food and drink through the shute every day. People are still out there.
"GUYS. THIS IS NOT.. Okay, it can be funny." I smirk. "Now open the door."
"I suppose this could be an scifi alien abduction flic, and I'll get beamed up any second. Maybe..."
Panic hits me. I turn around myself aimlessly. I knock hard at the door with my fists.
I breathe in. I am calm.
I sit on the floor cross-legged, and wait.
Precisely ten minutes and 34 seconds later, trust me, I checked, the door cracks open slightly.
I imagine a Chinese guy walking in and telling me of the fall of the US of A, and how he drew the short straw to be the one to tell me.
The door opens, and Mike, the producer who recruited me for this reality show walks in.
"Phew! I'm happy to see you Mike. Can I go home now?"
"Yes."
I look Mike in the eye. "Yes?"
"Yes."
"I kind of expected more."
"You should have done something to raise the ratings then. Feel free to sue us, but we ain't paying you crap."
He turned around, and started walking.
"Not even the zombie apocalypse?"
"The what?"
"You're just not going to pay?
"You should have read your contract better. I'm sure you'll be able to make money from a book. Try that."
A prompt appears in my sight. I move my head around trying to shake it, but it moves with me.
"You have failed at life. Would you like to start a new game?"
I don't hesitate even for a second.
I answer no, run after Mike, and stab his toe with my right heel.
I look around. I smile.
"Now this has potential."
​
Edit: 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. | 2019-07-03T04:40:53 | 2019-07-02T23:40:43 | 102 | 45 |
[WP]: Your mother was a scammer of the supernatural. She promised her firstborn to multiple entities in exchange for something she wanted, and now you're being co-parented by three demons, the fae, and a disgruntled witch. | "You know," I said to myself "I am really starting to think my mom didn't think this through." Of course, I have said the same thing to my self every time I have to return to Hell for the summer break.
Why couldn't the summers have been spent at the Cabin? Hmm?
No, instead I get to spend every summer HERE, in Hell, with my demonic keepers.
And the worst part? The worst part is that this year I am 16 and I finally get to choose a name. And I don't WANT a name written in Infernal Script. I want a nice, normal name. Like Bill, or Karrin.
So the first thing I do when I arrive through the hell-gate is walk right up to my "Uncle" Asmodan and ask if I can have a couple of weeks of the summer off.
"Uncle Az are you busy at the moment?" **"&Don't call me that you idiotic mortal child!&"** he said, and even though it made my ears bleed a little, I knew he said it with as much love as a demon can.
Mostly because his next words were **"&What do you want?!&"**
He gets me so well. "I WANT, you bloated miserable hell-spawned abomination, to have a few weeks with Aunty Myrtle this summer."
**"&No.&"**
"But..."
**"&Absolutely not.&" "&Out of the question. You sneaky child. Trying to butter me up with flattery. You hope to conceal your chosen name from us and try to cheat us your service. You are too much like your mother. The forces of darkness will recruit you yet. One way or another. Now go clean out the garden. We are having a guest for dinner.&"**
Well FUCK, that sort of flattery worked when I was younger.
Time for Plan B.
To be continued...? | [If you want background on Snuggles, part I of this story is here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cdl9p3/wp_youre_throwing_a_ball_around_with_your_dog_and/etvdl0t/)
While the pitbull Snuggles battled outside, Sue was inside talking with her parents. "So...our dog is a warrior who's battling the demons of hell. Dads, WHAT THE FUCK."
"Sweetie, we're just trying to settle a little wager here, and language please” echoed the demons in unison.
“Dads, I thought this was settled at my birth. You all got equal time with me for all of eternity as punishment for being outsmarted by Mom.”
“Suzanne my love, unfortunately that had a time limit”, Sue’s Mom says after appearing out of nowhere from a portal. She’s in her traditional garb of a pointed hat and cloak, from being on business. “They said they’d hold off until your 16th birthday, which...unfortunately was today.”
“Wait...WE’VE BEEN CELEBRATING IT A WEEK EARLY THIS ENTIRE TIME?!”
“Love, yes, but again, I couldn’t have you be disappointed, and your Dads and Mapa already made it difficult to even change that after the hassle I put them through.” The witch scowled at them both as she hugged her daughter, as the lights from the battle raged outside the door.
“So, what is happening now? Why is my dog battling the demons of hell, and what do I need to do to make this stop? Like, I love snuggles, I don’t want him to die!”
“You must choose, Suzanne. You must choose and pay penance to those that you don’t choose.”
“With my life? But that makes no sense.”
“There is another way.”
“What way could there possibly be to get rid of this destruction happening from our house, my life, and my pets?”
“You rule over us all.” Mapa flew up and stretched their fingers. They were in a green suit and flowered crown. “Because of your mother, this is the only way to keep the agreement intact and keep from all out war.”
“So you’re wanting me to be a queen over the magical underworld?”
“Why not? You are descended from Witches who exempted that same power. And was this not your original intent, Cleopatra?”
Cleopatra smirks. “Indeed, it was.”
“Well, get her training started. We’ll clean up here.” Mapa kisses the scowl from Cleopatra’s face, and runs outside to assist Snuggles.
“Come child.” Cleopatra makes quick hand shapes to open up a portal. Sue is hesitant, but one look from her mother’s eyes, the battle raging with now Mapa in the fray, and Dads now looking shamefully at the floor, that it’s the next step she *must* take.
As her mother walks in behind her, she smiles, saying to the Dads, “Damons, let Lucifer know that she’ll be ready for his destruction.” | 2019-07-18T09:54:59 | 2019-07-18T09:04:26 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] You are a mighty dragon, the kind who kidnaps princesses. However, you only do it because princesses inherently have the ability to talk to animals and you're starved for intelligent conversation. | She woke up and adjusted her glasses to see the damp rock fresh with morning moss. It had only been a few months, but already the dragon's den began to feel like home. She had sown a make shift bed, stuffed with feathers from the quails the dragon brought home. Lighting her beeswax candle, she ran a comb fashioned from chicken bone, complete with a carved handle displaying her family's emblem. Around this time, the dragon would return with breakfast.
"Oh why can't she hunt pastries for once? What I would do for a chocolate croissant right now."
Of course, when she first arrived her thoughts were not quite as trivial. How will my family react? Is this where I die? What can I do? Her body quivered as the dragon began to approach. It's huge nostrils blared white hot air down the infinite cavern as the princess accepted her fate. The jaws of death opened as she closed her eyes and saw her family, her people, her lover and her capture. This was it. This was the end.
"I LOOOOOOVE that dress! Where on Earth did you get it?"
Her eyes snapped open as she looked at the beast before her. It's large, dagger claws were clasped politely against its massive, muscular chest. It's large toes began digging a hole in limestone floor as it waited eagerly for her answer.
"Oh, um....it was custom. My father ordered for me for my 14th birthday. I, uh...you don't want to eat me?"
It's lime green eyes widened, pierced by her seemingly innocent comment.
"WHHHHAAAAT!!!!!! Are you KIDDING! DO. YOU. KNOW! How long I've been waiting to have some girl talk! IT'S BEEN AGES!!!! Sorry for like, totally swooping down and like, capturing you and stuff but your dress was TOTALLY. GORG. I'm like, we NEED to be BFFS!"
She was at a loss for words, which clearly the dragon had found. All her life she was told about what violent creatures dragons were. But here she was, face to face with the most flamboyant creature to ever exist.
"Um, thank you so much, um, I-I'm Emilia by the way. W-what's your name?"
"OH. ME. GOSH. I am being SO. TOTALLY. RUDE! My name is..."
The dragon let out an earth shattering roar that echoed throughout the cave.
"But you can call me Kelly. That's like, my cool people name."
"So...y-you like fashion? I, um, what are your favorite designers?"
"OKAY, wait I had a list on a tablet somewhere let me run and get it OMG GIIIRRRLLLSSS NIIIGGHHT!"
They passed the night, discussing what ballgowns were in season, what kind of wedding dresses they wanted, the best nail laquers and where to buy them (Kelly had only pillaged them from village raids and due to her short reach, had never worn a single one) and by morning, Emilia had a deeper understanding of Kelly.
"Hey beetch! Guess who brought BREAKFAST! It's me, it's me, I did it. I like, super roasted these chickens for you and guess WHAT! I was totally chilling near like, some kingdom and they had baskets of THIS on the windowsill! I grabbed you some because your my bestie and hey, in besties we trust right?"
Danging on her coral blue accent claw was a basket, filled with apple strudel, corn muffins and...
"Chocolate croissants. My favorite! Thanks Kelly."
She bit into one as Kelly wrapped her tail around Emilia, laying on it as they watched birds fly overhead. Birds chirped while squirrels began collecting acorns for winter. Kelly began talking about the hottest princes across all the kingdoms and looking into her constantly blabbering maw, Emilia closed her eyes and prepared for the best. | A voice slithered through the darkness.“Rothschild, the great merciful King”
“You ought to remember how you became the master of these lands, dont you? or should I say... Alfrin.
Poor peasant boy, abandoned and alone. Smart you were, tacking yourself to the bottom of a sheep I carried away for dinner. I remember how you pleaded for your life as the power of the witches communication elixer wore off. Your vision of a future to protect the fairy realm by becoming the ruler of the most abundant lands known to man. Did indeed intrigue me. My duty to protect my kind was won over by your souls mission. You have proved most valuable.
But do not mock me Boy, and pretend to forget our deal. In exchange for your seat at the throne and a chance to begin your legacy,
You promised me your most beautiful daughter, a Princess companion. Bewitched to live as long as I. To remain with me and keep me company to rule the in-between worlds of this very reality.
I have delivered my end of our agreement, and If you do not deliver, I will take the princess, and burn all of these lands. I will barely spare your life, so you can watch with your last breath, the people who worship your grace burn with all that you have built. All of your lands will reduce to ash and return to me with the rains in the spring.
I made you, and I will break you if you betray our deal.”
The king awoke from his nightmare in a hot sweat. He dressed himself in a hurry shaking out the thoughts claiming this reality to be the real nightmare.
He burst from his room and ran down the elegantly furnished halls.
As he ran, he thought of his children. For 17 long years he schemed to avoid this very day.
He was Blessed with 4 children, two sons and 2 daughters.
Blessed.... this word echoed in his mind.
All but one of his children were horridly disfigured. He loved them no less for this. His wife was unfortunately the daughter of a deeply inbred family. She died shortly after his last daughters birth. And the king, although he had tried and tried many times after. Was unable to produce another child.
His first daughter was perfect from the moment she took her first breath. She aged into a true beauty, smart and kind. She nurtured her younger siblings and turned them into talented young people. She took a deep interest in the kings work. And the known grace and prosperity of his rule was largely credited to her advice.
If the dragon was to have his end of their bargain..He would lose more than a loved child. He would lose the very legacy he sold her soul to build.
The king made his way down the final hall to his daughters bed chamber. As he opened the door, he began to silently weep.
There she was, illuminated by silver beams of moonlight. Wafts of jasmine and mint filled the air.
The king stepped silently to his daughters bedside, and contemplated what he was about to do.
He wept harder as he pulled a small dart from his pocket. The tip protected by a dollop of wax.
The dart was laced with a potent poison. One prick, and the victim would be dead within minutes.
The king could not fathom his only daughter, the only possible heir to his legacy, spending the rest of eternity beside a beast.
If he could not have her a moment more, neither could the dragon. This was the only loophole he could find.
The king felt a deep shame. A shame for the daughter who would take this ones place. The one who would live forever plagued with the loneliness of her disfiguration for the rest of eternity beside a fiery beast. He felt shame for the evil brewing in his own heart.
The dragons threat danced through the kings mind. A death dance.
Thousands of lives could be spared.
His legacy would continue through the rules of monarchy. Forever peace would continue between the fae world and human kind.
The king removed the wax tip.
His shadow cast over the beautiful princess, who, unknown to the king, was lost in a reoccurring dream about a handsome prince. She loved this dream, even if the prince always led her deep into the forest to reveal himself to be a dragon. A dragon only she could speak to and understand. The dream always ended when the dragon took her in his large claws and flew them into a castle of light in the sky.
The king Inhaled sharply as he made his final decision.
The princess felt nothing...
She awoke
as her father fell to the floor beside her bed. The dart plunged deeply into his own heart.
In a castle of light hidden amongst the clouds, The dragon swept his head away from his gazing pool in rage.
The kings death was not apart of his plan and doomed the dragon to a life as a mortal.
The fire behind his eyes began to cool, and he began to use his magic to turn himself into a handsome prince.
The princess was his, as was his duty to the other realms. This meant their partnership would lead to a legacy of control of all mankind.
He descended from his castle in the sky, never again to return as a dragon. | 2019-11-11T18:22:01 | 2019-11-11T17:49:03 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] The year is 2019. An unidentified radar contact appears over the English Channel, bound for an RAF base. It ignores all calls from Air Traffic Control. RAF fighters are vectored to intercept. The contact: a WWII B-24. Part of its wing is missing, and along its fuselage: long, jagged claw marks. | The Euro-fighters soared past the B-24, tail number 41-24301.
It had a hand painted name on the starboard side: "Lady Be Good". It's number 3 engine was spinning in the wind. Its number 1 engine was leaking a plume of black smoke as it burned slowly through the night sky.
"This is Wyvern one, run a check on a B-24, call sign 'Lady Be Good'. I've never seen damage like this before..."
As the fighter pulled along side the bomber, the damage became ever more present. One of the waist gunners positions were completely torn out. The belly ball gun had been ripped in half. The Rudder and elevator surfaces were covered in claw marks and there were burn marks crisscrossing the entire plane.
Pulling forward more, the cockpit was visible. Inside, the two pilots sat, watching the fighter, waving and cheering among each other.
"Overlord to Wyvern section; 'Lady Be Good' Disappeared in April of 1943. There's no way that is the aircraft in front of you."
"This is Wyvern Two, I can confirm what Wyvern one calls in. This is a B-24 with 'Lady Be Good' on it. Heavy damage, live personnel in the cockpit, they need to land."
"Standby. Ok, Landing is available at the closest active airport, RAF Base Coltishall- Hold on."
As the AWACS spoke, I looked over at the B-24. Something was off. They were scrambling and panicking.
"Overlord, this is wyvern one. They pilots inside are getting quite upset."
"Wyvern section! There is a second fast mover coming in! find, identify and-"
The AWACS was cut off by the sound of twin fifty caliber browning machine guns slicing through the night towards some unknown target behind the three aircraft.
"What the bloody hell is tha- Agggh!" Was all that Wyvern 2 managed to get off before a large winged beast snatched his craft out of the air in front of my eyes.
"It's a bloody dragon..." | The phone rings at RAF Heyford tower control. “It’s a civilian air traffic controller sir.” The room is quiet with curiosity. “What is their issue?” Asks the commanding officer with an irritated tone. “Unidentified air craft not responding to radio contact.” Replied the airman with a slight concern on his face. “Locate the craft on radar, initiate radio contact and standby.” The commanding officer has now gone from irritated to down right mad. “Located on radar sir, eighty miles out and still no response on coms.” The small control room was starting to get tense as a palpable anxiety had suddenly set in. “Scramble the F1-11’s!!” Shouted the commanding officer. “Sir, you know that’s a one way trip. The pilots cannot return to this base as per the terms set in place during the Cold War.” The commanding officer looked at the airman with a most serious look. “We are sending those jets and will deal with the consequences later.” “Yes sir.” Replies the airman quietly. As the F1-11’s took off toward the craft the control tower continued to make radio calls. All attempts to communicate met with silence. “It’s not moving very fast.” Said the airman in the control tower. “It couldn’t be a jet. Maybe it’s just a small passenger plane.” The commanding officer looks at the airman again, and very calmly explains. “This is an unidentified air craft, with zero communication heading toward a military instillation. We do not take that lightly” the airman nodded And looked back down at the radar display. “
“Tower this is phantom 1. Your not going to believe this!”
“Go ahead phantom 1. This is tower control, what do you see?” “Tower I don’t understand, this shouldn’t be here.” “Phantom 1 report your visual.” “Tower I’m looking at a Second World War era B-24.” The commanding officer in the tower appears to be slightly relieved. “Probably a hobbyist just playing with his restored plane.” He muttered. As he turned away from the radar display as if to walk out of the room the pilot came came back over the coms. “Tower this is phantom 1, the B-24 is heavily damaged.” “It is missing part of its starboard wing and its port fuselage has what appears to be.... giant claw marks. Could trees do that?” “Tower?” There was a pause in communication as at that time a man entered the control tower. He said nothing, looked at no one, and merely dropped off a dusty file and an old leather bound book. Still without words or acknowledgement of any kind he left as suddenly as he appeared. “Who was that? How did he get into my tower? Why aren’t you chasing him?” Yelled the commanding officer. The airman just sat with a stunned and confused look. “Sir, there is a title on the file.” The commanding officer quickly looked over at the title. “Norwegian mountain troll? What the hell is this?” The commander now red with anger. “Tower this is phantom 1. We are ten miles out and the plane is beginning it’s landing sequence.” Phantom 1 this is tower, do not let that plane land.” “Tower am I supposed to shoot it down?” “No phantom 1, keep it in the air.” | 2019-12-01T11:42:29 | 2019-12-01T08:37:01 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] When your grandmother died, the inheritance was divided between you and your two siblings. One got all the money; the other all the property and possessions. All you got was a packet of gardening seeds. | When Xisuh's gandmother died, each of her daughter's daughters were given a gift:
For **Myrr**, who had shown promise in their father's rugmaking business *(which they all knew was a front for his smuggling, really)*, hers was Elder Nivur's money, a fortune none of them could have imagined existed. "So that is where the jewels went," Xisuh had gasped.
To **Yma**, whose beauty and devotion to her fiance Tarr Rhat had already cemented the family a position in the noble house of Lo, Elder Nivur's vast estate and earthly possessions fell to. "I never saw her wear half these clothes," was Xisuh's first thought.
But to **Xisuh**, who was neither the smartest nor the prettiest, the strongest nor the eldest, Grandma Nivur left a small clay urn, filled almost to the brim with a mix of wild seeds. "You were always my favorite," Xisuh imagined her saying. "I will miss our talks as my funerary boat carries me onto my next life. I would have you sit here and make me smile, but there is much work still to do in Kimon, my dear Xi-xi. Go, and bring life to the loam." | I have a memory of my grandmother sitting there with butter cup in her hand, dangling it in front of the chin of a small child - probably my cousin. I guess I’m sure she did the same thing with me, although I don’t have a direct memory of it.
“do you like butter?”
I remember the child laughing and grabbing a butter cup to shove up underneath her chin. Her asking “do you see yellow? because I love butter!”
I know now that the yellow is a reflection. I use reflections of colour all the time in my photography; looking at how light bounces from one object to another; seeing how objects become strange and unusual and different in different light.
I remember my Granny’s house: large, lawns - lush, rich flowerbeds. A beautiful wild Rose bush that she kept insisting on pruning so it couldn’t take its normal shape, and me with hands full of spikes, trying to help her put it into the correct shape.
I remember my wedding in the backyard.
I remember swearing and cursing. or rather, I remember listening to my prim and proper granny swear and curse like a fishwife. She would be trying to build something or make some thing and it wouldn’t work quite the way she wanted. It might start listing or falling over or just being not quite right.
I remember her yelling with joy as she saw the mole, her arch nemesis! she’d uncovered by accident, and was about to kill, “to take care of that ruddy thing”, but she couldn’t. It was too cute. So she put her spade down and walked away swearing and cursing.
I don’t know what we said when my family gathered the day after she died. we were stunned. didn’t expect her to pass quite that time, in quite that way. my dad, not knowing what to do, said “well let’s go get the Will, and we will read it together”
When he pulled out the envelope and started reading it and there was a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo.
Turns out that she left almost everything to my brother and my sister. To be fair, they would take care of her legacy quite well: my sister got the house; my brother got the money. My dad got a confused and puzzled look on his face as he turned to me and said “I’m not sure what to think of this - she says to my darling granddaughter, I leave my seed collection. Look for the little packet in red on the second shelf, at the southeast corner in my greenhouse. | 2020-03-31T09:02:48 | 2020-03-31T09:01:37 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] The villain thought that the first queer youth hero who came to him for advice was odd but he didn't think much of it. After the 13th one, though, he'd begun to suspect that the their coming to him was more than just coincidence | SkyGuy gave a tiny wave and fell backwards out the open window, soaring away like the 18-year-old prat he was. *Teenagers*. He’d been seeing a lot more of them than he’d liked these days. In his LAIR, no less. How he’d become the city’s top informal therapist for newly-minted queer supers, he had no idea. Why, just last week, he’d somehow convinced Captain Cluron to explore his bisexuality after his divorce. It wasn’t his *fault* he’d been doing more good than evil lately, he just wasn’t very good at giving bad advice. And so, the queers had come.
Dejectedly, Lord Firopol contemplated himself in the mirror. It must have been the fishnet tights. Or perhaps the gold latex speedo. Maybe the waxed chest. Or the hot pink cape with ermine trim—faux fur, or course, he wasn’t a monster.
But maybe it was the expert neon-green cat liner. Or the blemish-free face. Or the tiny tattoo that said “All Too Well (TMV) (TV) (FTV)” on his upper cheekbone in a script font.
Then, his eye caught on the newspaper clipping of the San Calamo Pride parade…with him, front and center, wearing a mermaid-tail ball gown stitched together from 8 different Pride flags. *Oh, right*. Maybe it was *that*. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to hide his identity, or his *identity*, but if he’d known he’d be doing pro bono counseling for closeted supers, he might’ve considered toning it down a bit.
13 distinct heroes. 13 *non-paying* customers. Something had to be done. Perhaps he’d file for a license, finally put his psych degree to use. Turn this gothic mansion into a mood-setting practice. But tomorrow. It was Sunday, after all, and Barb wouldn’t be back in the office until 9am Monday. Then he’d ask her about going legit. | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 0, Part ?: Tupperman v.s. The LGBTQ Community)
**"Even my nemesis thinks I'm gay,"** Tupperman groused. "I guess it's always been that way."
"Maybe it's 'cause of the way that you walk?" I tried, poking him in the ribs. He gave me a confused look.
"What? Clara, I walk on floating pieces of Tupperware. I'm aware of plenty of stereotypes about gay people, but as far as I know, that's not one of them."
I rubbed my forehead. "No, it was a reference to—you know what, never mind. Look, Tupperman, you're good with kids. Young heroes have an excuse to approach you. And you're not likely to rat out questioning kids to their parents. Honestly, I can't believe I have to spell this out to you. You're... everyone's big brother."
Tupperman scowled, materializing an empty Tupperware box with one hand and chucking at me. I caught it as he started to rant. "No. No, no, *nope*. My *real* younger brother is someone I love and protect with all of my heart, and I've stood up to governments and abusers alike for him. I am *not* taking on that responsibility for every darn kid hero who wants to come my way, no matter how gay they are."
"You don't have to," I said, bonking him on the head with his own summoned Tupperware. He dematerialized it with a flick of his hands. "They may be kids, but they're also heroes in their own right. They'll figure themselves out. Just... lend them a friendly ear every now and then."
"Well, I'm a captive audience," Tupperman drawled, holding up his cuffed wrists. "By all means, have my ears."
"Not *me*. I worked out my troubles long before we met." With a mischeivous grin, I stepped aside. "No, I'd like to introduce you to my newest sidekick, Rooftop Star."
I stepped aside, revealing a scrawny, awkward-limbed teen who shuffled up to Tupperman, who was giving me a glare that promised many thrown plastic boxes when we next clashed in the streets.
"Uh... hi. Is it true that you're the first openly gay supervillain in the city of Sacrament?" Rooftop Star asked.
"WHY DOES EVERYBODY THINK I'M GAY?" Tupperman buried his head in his cuffed hands, groaning.
I gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "There, there. ♫What do they know, anyway?♫"
A.N.
Been a while since I last visited the world of Bargain Bin Superheroes! If you want to read the full story of Clara and Tupperman, check out the masterpost [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) I also write another, more frequently updated serial, [Soulmage.](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence) | 2022-07-08T11:27:21 | 2022-07-08T06:47:04 | 292 | 197 |
[WP] The villain thought that the first queer youth hero who came to him for advice was odd but he didn't think much of it. After the 13th one, though, he'd begun to suspect that the their coming to him was more than just coincidence | SkyGuy gave a tiny wave and fell backwards out the open window, soaring away like the 18-year-old prat he was. *Teenagers*. He’d been seeing a lot more of them than he’d liked these days. In his LAIR, no less. How he’d become the city’s top informal therapist for newly-minted queer supers, he had no idea. Why, just last week, he’d somehow convinced Captain Cluron to explore his bisexuality after his divorce. It wasn’t his *fault* he’d been doing more good than evil lately, he just wasn’t very good at giving bad advice. And so, the queers had come.
Dejectedly, Lord Firopol contemplated himself in the mirror. It must have been the fishnet tights. Or perhaps the gold latex speedo. Maybe the waxed chest. Or the hot pink cape with ermine trim—faux fur, or course, he wasn’t a monster.
But maybe it was the expert neon-green cat liner. Or the blemish-free face. Or the tiny tattoo that said “All Too Well (TMV) (TV) (FTV)” on his upper cheekbone in a script font.
Then, his eye caught on the newspaper clipping of the San Calamo Pride parade…with him, front and center, wearing a mermaid-tail ball gown stitched together from 8 different Pride flags. *Oh, right*. Maybe it was *that*. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to hide his identity, or his *identity*, but if he’d known he’d be doing pro bono counseling for closeted supers, he might’ve considered toning it down a bit.
13 distinct heroes. 13 *non-paying* customers. Something had to be done. Perhaps he’d file for a license, finally put his psych degree to use. Turn this gothic mansion into a mood-setting practice. But tomorrow. It was Sunday, after all, and Barb wouldn’t be back in the office until 9am Monday. Then he’d ask her about going legit. | “I really don’t get it,” the Curved Rainbow said, his gloomy face in direct contrast to his prideful, multicoloured outfit. “Do these youths think I’m gay?”
“Uh,” the Crimson Carmine hemmed. “Perhaps. It is nice to see something of themselves in their… heroes.”
It was a rare visit to the Hideout for Crimson Carmine, the city’s symbol. Hell, if the people discovered that he, of all people, would walk in and out of the Hideout, rumours would start. Is the usually clandestine Carmine consorting with the villain? Or worse still, are they…
Crimson Carmine shook his head. He had enough confidence in his skills to move anywhere undetected, whether it was the top of Sentry Skyscraper or the bottom of sewer Z. But he wasn’t sure just tight Curved Rainbow’s lips were sealed.
Repeated surveillance of the place has helped Carmine see just how many youths walk in and out of the Hideout. There were sidekicks, heroes-in-training, and worryingly, even some Youths—the next class of groomed heroes waiting in the wings.
But they’ve always walked out, looking happier than they’ve ever did. And Curved Rainbow, while protective of their identities, were perfectly willing to say what they had in common—their queerness.
Something that Rainbow was still coming to terms with, apparently.
“I agree. It is nice that they see me as somebody that they can come to,” Rainbow sighed, tapping away on his keyboard, rhythmic, constant clicks. “But I simply know not why I have become *the* symbol. Wouldn’t you agree, Probing Analyst?”
“The results are inconclusive,” Probing Analyst, the supercomputer, replied in its mechanical voice, like if a box grater ran sounds through it instead of cheese. “But the signs point to you having a lovely personality.”
“Aww, thank you, Probey,” the Curved Rainbow blushed. The costume actually ran in bands of orange to violet through his body, leaving his head uncovered. The domino mask was an opaque white, though it morphed in colour according to how he felt—and it turned red just as he blushed.
Crimson rubbed his eyes. It was difficult, what with the mask in the way. But it felt like an action necessitated to reset his brain, so he went along with it.
“But these kids are safe with you, right?” Crimson Carmine said.
“Look, Carmine,” Rainbow said. “We’ve had our differences. But children? They are off-limits. No matter who they want to be, they *can* be.”
Carmine could have used those words when he was younger. He felt like he got there in the end, after all, but there was nothing wrong with a helping hand.
“You know, Rainbow,” Carmine said. “You aren’t so bad after all.”
“What are you talking about? I’m bad to the bone,” Curved Rainbow wagged a finger. “I’ll rob some banks. Maybe threaten another government official. You’ll see.”
“I think I will, indeed,” Carmine smiled. “And I’ll be there to stop you.”
“I’m counting on it,” Rainbow chuckled. “It’s a blind date, then.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2022-07-08T11:27:21 | 2022-07-08T10:05:40 | 292 | 138 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer. | "Dave. Let's talk."
"I already told you, I'm not interested."
He was persistent. "You are incapable of dying, Dave. You literally have no risk."
"No. No. That is not true. I am incapable of dying, Rami. I am not incapable of hurting. My coffee was too hot. It burned my tongue. Right here. It hurt. It hurt right here." I stuck out my tongue and pointed. "*Ight ereh." Leaned back into the swivel chair in my office. "I have a kid. It hurts. All of that hurts."
"You can lift a semi truck over your head. You can fly. You have lasers shoot from your eyes, Dave. Your skin is harder than titanium."
"I can burn. And when other people also can punch through titanium- it *hurts*. I was in a car accident, once. It hurt."
"You broke the car and floated mid-air after launching through a house."
"The two by sixes I hit hurt! It was very painful! I don't think you get it, Rami. I got bifurcated. That means the bottom half of my body stayed in the car. Only the top half went with me. I had to regrow the bottom half. It took a week. I had to regrow legs And other parts. It was a weird week, Rami."
"Agent Sayed."
"Rami, if I get punched by a super it hurts. I get off work, I go home. I hug my kid. I kiss my wife. I help make dinner, I clean up the kitchen as my wife gives kiddo a bath. We put the baby down for the night. We talk and catch up and read a book from our book club and watch a movie, maybe. Guess what? I like my life. I don't get punched or hit or thrown through buildings. Or ripped in half. Which, by the way, was when my powers manifested. I didn't know I'd regenerate and I'm screaming in horror at half my body missing and some poor family had me. In their house crushed and missing half my body as I float in their living room!"
He really wanted a new recruit. "You didn't die. You cannot die, Dave."
"I'm a man. I bleed. I hurt. I cry. I'm not a robot, Rami."
"Agent Sayed. We'll talk next week."
"Looking forward to it, Rami."
"Agent Sayed, Dave."
"Dave is a terrible name for a super hero."
He smiled. "You're the most powerful super I've seen. I was thinking... something more... super. Not Dave. Maybe... Superman?"
"That's a bit on the nose, Rami."
"Agent Sayed. We'll workshop it, Dave."
"No we won't, Rami. I've got baby swim lessons next weekend. And a baby birthday party for her friend from daycare the weekend after. And then it's my mom's birthday. I like my life, Rami."
"Agent Sayed. Same time next week?"
"Can tell your boss you tried, man."
"We have a suit. It's a really good suit, Dave." He tapped my desk. "Think about it." | “Yowza! Look at those muscles! Wam, bam, *wapow!*"
Tim turned around. The man behind him was at least twice Tim's age and balding. “Can I help you?” Tim asked.
“I'm just taken aback is all. I thought I was in line for a coffee,” the man raised an eyebrow and struck a pose, flexing biceps that were imperceptible in an oversized military uniform. “Not a gun show."
"Sir, I just woke up."
"You might've woken a little something inside me too, if you know what I mean." The man adjusted his glasses. "Awooga!"
"Right. I'm just here for the coffee."
"Say, you wouldn’t happen to be a Super, would you?”
"Ah," Tim flashed a knowing smile. "I see where this is going. Sorry, not interested.”
The man frowned. "I think there may be a misunderstanding here. Do you... do you think this is some some sort of slimy recruitment pitch?”
“Is it not?”
“Do I look like a Recruiter to you?”
"Your shoulder patch says ‘Department of Recruitment.’”
“Ohoho, brawny *and* smart?" The man grinned. "Look at me, I’m salivating! You hit the nail in the nuts, kid. I'm a recruiter but there's nothing slimy about my pitch.”
"Not interested." Tim began turning away but the man stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.
“Tell me, what do you do for work, Tim?”
“None of your business,” Tim tried to disengage, but found it surprisingly difficult. The physical contact felt awkward, but pulling away more so.
“Secretive too? You’re ticking *all* the right boxes! Just answer me this-"
Tim grabbed the mans wrist, careful not to crush it. “Look, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch me. I’m just trying to get a coffee–”
The man took a step back and raised his palms. “Of course! Don’t let me stop you.”
As Tim turned back around, the man's hand was on his shoulder again.
“But let me stop you a little bit. Just answer me this: don't you feel like you owe something to society? Haven't you always wanted to *be* somebody?”
Tim smiled. "I *am* somebody. I'm a father. I'm a husband. I'm a damn good dentist. As for society, I don't owe anything more than the balance on my mortgage. You think that just because I was born with super strength and spit that tastes like bubblegum I have some duty to risk my neck at the slightest hint of trouble?"
"Yes."
"Trust me, I've thought about being a hero. For a while that's all I wanted to be. Then I did some free lance vigalantizing and ended up in the hospital my first gig. Reality check: super strength doesn't mean invincible. As for bubblegum spit, that's only 'super' in the bedroom."
The man raised his eyebrows and let the silence linger. Tim shook his head. He was surprised this recruiter had managed to get so far under his skin. "Look, maybe if I were stronger. Maybe if I didn't have so much to lose. But as things stand..."
"I get it," the man sighed, draping his arm around Tim's shoulder. “You want to kick ass and chew bubblegum, but you’re never out of bubblegum are you?"
Tim almost pulled away again, but he felt tears welling up. “Fucking everything tastes like bubblegum.”
“You know, you're right. It’s a shit job being a hero. If I'm being honest with you, I wouldn’t do it myself. I'm just a recruiter.”
“I appreciate the honesty.”
"Of course." The man put a hand on Tim's cheek. "But you know what? Somebody has to do it.”
“Somebody?” The word had a nice ring to it.
"Yep. A *real* somebody." The man's hand moved onto Tim’s forehead, “you know who that somebody is?”
Tim felt a sudden sense of purpose. "It's me, isn't it?"
“Atta’boy!”
"I’ve always wanted to be a hero..." Tim muttered, staring off into space.
The man patted Tim on the back and stepped around him in line. "One black coffee, please."
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe. | 2022-07-31T12:20:45 | 2022-07-31T11:50:27 | 212 | 142 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer. | Tim landed in a chair in the conference room, the breath leaving him in a sigh. "We're being audited." He said, pulling a hand across his face. He met my eyes and I saw the pain there. I knew what it meant, and I felt my stomach turn to ice.
I swallowed, taking a moment to digest this before answering. "The shop is fine, Tim. We do it by the book. They can audit all they want."
"No, Wade." He said. "The company. Not you, not our division. The company. We are being audited. A deep dive." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Apparently last year one of the accountants diverted some funds and ran off to Bora Bora. So we're screwed. From the top to the bottom they have us in a vice. They can shut us down, Wade. The board has made their decision." His voice caught. "I'm sorry. When I hired you, I told you this wouldn't happen."
I knew what was coming. It still hurt.
"It wasn't your call." I said, softly. I wanted to get angry but all I felt was devastated.
"And apparently the auditor made it clear that this could go away by terminating a certain employee. If it matters any, I stood for you. Resigned on the spot. I just asked that it got to be me to tell you."
I sighed, I hadn't expected that. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt a tear roll down my cheek. "Tim, you don't..." I loved the brewery, loved everything about it. I fit in there, another one of the jolly brewers, and nobody made a fuss over me being different. Hell, we were all a little different. "I mean I get it, fire me or they shut us down. Either way I'm out of a job, right? And this way at least I'll know you're taking good care of the boys."
"You think they'll stay after this? Ha." He said, leaning back. I felt my heart sink lower. "I think it's the end for me here. Maybe I'll get a real job."
"Dammit Tim!" I said, slapping the table, that got his attention. "You were all happy here before I started. If this," I gestured to indicate the whole of the brewery. "If this goes away, that hurts me more. Don't quit in solidarity, that's how they get to me."
"This isn't the first time, is it?" Tim asked.
"Last one was a little general store up in the mountains. Zoning department determined it was in a landslide area. The little old couple that ran it lost everything. Before that it was a tire shop, a sushi restaurant. I got hired at a laboratory and they got me in nine days."
"Why?"
"So I'll come fight for them. Be a 'good guy' who can fight the 'evil bad guys' and save the day. And I don't want to do that. I'm so tired of hurting people. But they just won't leave me alone." I stood up from the table. "And I can't take them hurting the people around me anymore."
I noticed Tim looked alarmed, and I realized I had shouted. There was a pause. "What are you going to do?"
I thought for a moment. "Stop them." | "Come on, Ryan, you can do anything you want but you have a desk job? Why not come with us? I can double your salary!," Mr. White says on the other side of the door for the second time today. I groan, pushing my back against the door in an attempt to ignore him.
"Fuck off, Mr. White. I would rather die than join your hell of an organization," I yell back, waiting for his reply. He always has the last word, so I'm surprised when he takes a while to respond.
"Ryan, there are so many benefits to our partnership. Even the FBI want you," He says, almost breathless. I raise my brows as I turn to the door. I haven't heard from the FBI in almost 30 years.
"I guess they forgot about what happened last time," I say as I open the door. I stare at the short man in front of me, he's not who I thought I was talking to.
"Thank you, Ryan. Please my boss will triple your salary if you join," He says, desperately. I roll my eyes at him and close the door before waving him I to the kitchen.
"I don't care about the money. Why do you guys want me to join. Why not someone else," I say flatly as he eyes me awkwardly. His eyes light up and he grins as he sits down at the table, new confidence filling his eyes.
"Well, Ryan, we want you to join because your powers are very special. No other government has someone like you yet," He says, that stupid grin not leaving his face. I raise a brow at him, I can't help but be suspicious.
"Do you really want that though? To have your organization bring in someone like me," I say, my eyes lowering to the table. He gives me a confused look, but nods.
"I mean, of course. You can easily take down some of the best villains out there. I bet you could take the one wreaking havoc in New York if you really wanted to," He says laughing, as if it's funny. I glare at him, taking a dep breath.
"Do you even know what my powers are?" I say and his eyes go wide as he reaches into his brief case. He pulls out a manilla envelope and opens it, showing me its co tents. It doesn't say much other than a list of my powers. The list is small and vague, entirely incomplete. I let out a laugh and all the confidence leaves him as he realizes and pulls the papers away. He shoves them into his briefcase, clearly embarrassed. He stands up, getting ready to leave, but I stop him.
"Wait, Mr. White. I could at least help you update the files," I say, giving him a sickly sweet smile. I watch s shiver run up his spine, but he nods, sitting back down.
"Thank you, Ryan. Since I clearly don't know, what exactly are your powers?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I can make anything stop in its place. A car, the beat of your heart, time, the growing of trees, anything. You name it I can stop it," I say, watching him get nervous as I skip by telling him I could kill him. He quickly writing it down, a fake smile forcing it's way onto his face.
"That's a very special power. So in 2011 when you fought Maximillion, how did you defeat him?" He asks, I laugh again, the smirk on my face only growing.
"Easy, I stopped the blood from flowing to his arms and legs. Then I watched as he crumbled to the floor before stopping him from being able to speak. Then I threw him off a cliff," I say, picking some dirt from beneath my nails. His eyes widen again as he quickly stands up and heads for the door.
"That's amazing, Ryan. I'll be back tomorrow once I update the database," He says nervously trying to pull the door open. But it doesn't move. He looks away, making sure it's unlocked, but the door still won't open.
"Oh, Mr. White. I'm not done talking g to you yet," I say walking towars him. He freezes in place, taking quick breathes but I just laugh again.
"Ryan, please, I'm going to ve late to my next appointment," He says and I give him a cold glare.
"My name is Ryan," I say, pulling the door open and pushing him out onto the street.
I slam the door, sitting down and leaning against it. I got too emotional there. | 2022-07-31T19:45:06 | 2022-07-31T17:55:32 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] Super powers are common, but super heroes are rare. It turns out most people don't actually want to face death or dismemberment on a daily basis, including you. You enjoy the 9-5 and having a 401k, but my god that government recruiter won't take no for an answer. | As I head out to the truck, I check the work order one more time. Silver Porche, keys locked inside. Parking lot at 5th and Maple. Something about this feels...wrong, but it's the job.
As I pull into the parking lot, I see the Porche. Not that it's hard to spot. It's the only car in the lot, which makes sense, considering this parking lot belongs to a long abandoned shopping mall. As I pull up, I see the owner of the car. A tall, stocky man in a black suit stands by, staring at his phone and tapping his foot. To anyone else, this would probably have looked like any frustrated business man, waiting to get to an important meeting. But I know better, because I know this man.
I should have just turned around. But again, you do the job. So, I pull the truck into the lot next to the car and hop out. The agent opens his mouth to start to speak, but I put up my hand.
"Listen, Bill. You don't need me here. You lured me here to try and recruit me. I get it. But my answer is still no."
"Do you even know what you are saying? You are one of the strongest telekentics in the world. And what are you doing? Working at some garage?"
I stop, and take a deep breath. This is an old argument, and one that I really, really don't want to rehash. "We've been over this. I enjoy what I do. I can unlock a locked car without causing the slightest damage. I can pull a car out of a ditch, or from a flaming wreck that might endanger another tech."
A beat passes. Neither of us saying anything as we try to find some new ground in the old argument. He knows all my answers at this point.
"But you could do some real good in this world. Think of the lives you could save. The efforts you could support. You can literally move mountains. Why won't you even consider this opportunity."
This bastard knows full well why I won't come with him. The idiot put this call in right before lunch. I'm hungry, exhausted, and getting royally pissed off. So finally, I snap.
"You know why. You say you can keep me safe. You say you can keep my family safe. But you can't keep your own people safe. How many supers have you lost in the last year?"
"Well, I can't..."
"5,327. Over five thousand of the best people the world has ever known gone because you decided they were better as cannon fodder than as citizens. In a war that didn't even need supers."
"Well how were we supp..."
"How were you supposed to know that the enemy might know you were using supers in your ranks? Gee, maybe all the goddamn recruitment campaigns you are so publicly throwing around." To emphasize my point, I gesture across the street at the billboard with the Super Recruitment Ad.
"You didn't think that maybe this information might possibly get to one of your enemies? And you expect me to put my trust in you?"
The recruiter stops and stiffens. I touched a nerve with that one. He smirks and says "You don't get it, do you? I didn't have to *offer* you anything. I can take you whenever I wanted. I just figured you would be more receptive if you were given a free choice."
He reaches into his jacket, ready to pull the gun and probably the cuffs he keeps for detaining supers. But then, his face twists as he realizes that something is wrong. His hands come out and grasp at his throat as the realization dawns that he cannot breathe.
"Listen to me, and listen well. I am giving you, and by extension, your agency one chance. You're right. I can move mountains. So it's no big deal to apply a little pressure on a windpipe. Go. Go find yourself some new cannon fodder. Because if I ever see you or any of your ilk again, you're gonna need them."
He drops to his knees as I turn toward the truck. For a brief moment, I pause and the lock on the Porche clicks open. I turn back and say "I've got your card. I'll make sure the bill for this service gets sent to the right place." | The background droning of the air conditioning haphazardly shoved into the office window seemed to act like a white noise for me as I continued my daily tasks. The soft music of my indie playlist coming through my desktop speakers helped the hours fly by- until I got the call.
That stupid, stupid call. I knew the number by now; I had labeled it 'RECRUITER DON'T ANSWER' in my contacts so I wouldn't have to remember the number. I had to take a deep breath whenever I saw it come up so my hands wouldn't obliterate or melt whatever it was that I was working on. But it was the fourth time he had called today and I had to admit....it was a daily record.
Something in my mind caused my movements to slow as I stared at the name on my iPhone screen, the vibration of the device drowning out the white noise of the air conditioner.
***Pick it up. You haven't in weeks.... Maybe he's saying they'll leave you alone!***
My thoughts began to swirl around the thought of having a silent phone once more that only rang when my Mother needed something like help using her smart TV, or when Dad got on her nerves again.
***Pick. Up. The. Damn. Phone. Elise.***
My hand darted out from the keyboard and snatched up the small device, still vibrating violently. Before I even realized what I was doing- I answered. Making a face of confusion at my own actions in the dull reflection of my desktop, I opened my mouth and gently greeted the voice I knew to well on the other line.
"Hello Brendan. This is Elise Hayward, how may I be of service today?" I greeted, not quite using my work tone, but still attempting to be cordial. I found myself remembering that this was his job and he had to call me whether he wanted to or not.
"Why good afternoon Ms. Hayward, I don't think you've given me that kind of a greeting since the third time I called- ever." Brendan sounded incredibly surprised, and I felt a little guilty I had to admit. Maybe I had been a little too harsh on him over the past few weeks. "I am calling in regards to the exams that the government has on file from your college physical." he began to explain and I couldn't help but sigh.
The nation had a physical exam that all young adults in college had to perform to see if they qualified to be in the legendary, dangerous ranks of the super elite. Did I even want to be part of that club? Maybe when I was five sure, but then I realized just how dangerous is was and I couldn't do that to my parents! I was the only girl in the family Mom would have been crushed!
"Yeah, I figured you had that with you. Look, I can't join. I understand that it sounds fun, but I like my job, I have friends, a dog at home, and there's got to be someone else in the area with powers like mine." I explained, rolling my eyes as I went through the monotone list of reasons why I had turned them down in the first place.
"Ms. Hayward, we understand the risks and we would train you on how to avoid them and be safe when out on duty." he calmly explained and I found myself chewing on my lip, listening.
Was I actually mulling over the fact that I would be willing to put myself on the line like that?
"Your statistics from playing rugby at school, and softball as a teen put you in a higher bracket than most applicants." he continued and I found myself smiling slightly, some memories coming back to be at the mention of the sports I used to love.
"What's your point?" I inquired and heard nothing on the other end of the line. "This is your only chance to persuade me buddy. Take it or leave it- I may not give you another chance."
My eyes widened as I finished the snarky sentence, realizing what I was saying. Oh my god, I was *letting* him try to persuade me into becoming a super hero! What was wrong with me?!
"Ms. Hayward, stop by Saturday morning around ten o'clock. The director would like to meet with you personally to go over what your duties would entail if you decided to enlist among the elite. We would move you into Super Hero Square just to the North of the city center where the others live during their contract. Your dog can come with you." he explained and I arched a brow, at least glad to hear that Lyla could join me. I wouldn't be lonely per se....
My subconscious had to admit, my friends had done a great job convincing me that it wasn't worth it time and time again. But I was a big girl, and I was capable of making decisions on my own right? I sat in silence for a moment, mulling over my options before letting out a sigh and nodding to myself, ready to take my life into my own hands.
"I'll attend the meeting on one condition." I began and I heard the static of excitement over the other line.
"What?" he exclaimed and then composed himself a heartbeat later. "What is your condition Ms. Hayward?" he attempted to regain full composure and I could hear his failure- ever so slightly.
"I get to pick my outfit- and my name." I out my bargaining chip on the table, a grin on my face. I felt proud of my ability to haggle something like that with someone so important on the line.
"Deal. See you Saturday morning- Elise." | 2022-07-31T16:21:13 | 2022-07-31T16:20:17 | 24 | 13 |
[WP]A mimic decided that life as an inanimate object is boring. So it disguised itself as a suit of armor and went on a quest. Now the mimic travels the world with a party of adventurers, slaying countless foes, looting dungeons and other adventurer things. People are waiting for a face reveal tho. | "You can't keep going like this." Reynold said. He frowned at Galtar.
"Like what?" Galtar replied. He knew what Reynold was hinting at. Not even Reynold knew what was hiding under Galtar's helmet.
Reynold slapped the table. "Don't play stupid with me, Galtar. We knew from the start that people would start to ask questions if you adventured for long enough. We've reached long enough."
Galtar kept his silence. If Reynold didn't know any better, he would've thought Galtar was merely a statue.
"Galtar. It's time for you to take off your helmet." Reynold sighed. "Show the people that you're one of us. That you're not a criminal that is on the run. The rumors will only get worse."
Reynold looked up at Galtar. The same helmet he had been seeing for the whole year already. He would trust Galtar with his life, but Galtar refused to trust him with his face. "You know we have to share our identity if we want to become a recognized official party. The thing I, no, we have been working hard on this whole year. We could get paid enough to buy a house for us, for our family. Please Galtar, reveal your face to us, for me."
"I'm sorry Reynold. It was selfish of me to join your party, I realize that now. It was a pleasure to accompany you through out the year. I wish you the best in your future adventures, I know you're good enough to become a true hero." Galtar stood up and made his way out.
Reynold stretched his arm towards the leaving figure. "Wait Galtar. It doesn't have to end this way! Please, reconsider. I have no one else to adventure with!"
Galtar didn't turn around. "I'm sure you'll find someone. Someone that doesn't hold you back." He left behind Reynold, and went to his inn room.
It was time again. Galtar knew from the start that this would happen. Humans are curious creatures, and they're scared of what they can't know. Yet he had some hope that this time it would be different.
Galtar made a promise to himself to never join a party again. Getting attached was a bad idea. Slowly the suit of armor changed shapes. A bit smaller, a bit wider and shinier armor. Whatever would make him unrecognizable.
"I'll be a solo adventurer from now on." Galtar said to himself. He walked back to the Adventurer Guild, ready to register himself yet again.
"I want to sign up as a swordsman, under the name Theodric Acot." Galtar, no, Theodric, said to the receptionist.
Someone tapped him on his shoulder. "Great timing, are you looking for a party? I can show you the ropes of adventuring!" Theodric turned his head to face the person. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. Reynold welcomed him with his friendly smile. Just like he did last time, and the time before that.
"..."
"Sure." | # Soulmage
**"So, hot stuff, what's underneath the helmet?"** Kriya slurred, one drunken hand scrabbling at Meloai's head.
"A gorget, mostly," Meloai calmly replied, "with some padding and chain mail."
Despite the din of the tavern, Meloai's words were crisp and clear. Kriya frowned, making a frustrated gesture. "No, I mean—"
"I know what you mean. I simply choose to ignore it." Meloai turned to leave, but her unwieldy form was clunkier than the body she was used to, and Kriya managed to slip between Meloai and the door.
"Seriously, seriously, I mean—you're the hottest rising star in the adventuring scene," Kriya hurried out. "Come on. Don't you want to let me have... just a peek?"
Meloai placed one palm on Kriya's chest and *pushed*—not with her armored gauntlet of a hand, but with her soul. Kriya jerked upright in shock as the confusion and arousal and arrogance were ejected from her soul, leaving nothing but surprise and a hint of sudden fear.
"I said *no,*" Meloai repeated.
Kriya's expression darkened. "What, you think you're so much better than the rest of us adventurers? Not even willing to show your face?"
For a moment, Meloai considered casting some kind of illusion of a human form beneath her armor—but she discarded the notion for the same reason she'd chosen this form in the first place. She didn't want to *have* to pretend to be human just to fit in. The armor was a compromise, to let her blend into society without reshaping her body entirely to humanity's whims. She was willing to compromise no further.
"I am neither intrinsically better nor worse than any other soul who walks this world," Meloai calmly said. "What I *am* is a highly competent adventurer and soulmage. For your own sake, I recommend you stop trying to antagonize me."
Kriya balled her fists, stepping towards Meloai. "Is that a threat?"
Internally, Meloai sighed. She missed her friends—it was so much easier to deal with people she understood. She was regretting entering this damnable tavern to begin with—the so-called teammates she was supposed to be celebrating with had abandoned her the first moment they could, and she'd been left awkwardly standing in the corner with a drink in her hand she couldn't consume.
Meloai sized up Kriya, the drunken confidence overflowing from her soul, and said, "How about this. You want to take my helmet off so badly? Meet me out back and I'll show you."
Kriya grinned fiercely. "*That's* what I'm talking about. *Whoo!*" The woman jogged off, tossing down the contents of the mug in her hands in celebration.
Meloai rubbed her forehead, then clanked over to a corner. Meloai had no intention of meeting Kriya out back, but by the time Kriya realized that, she'd be in no shape to find Meloai. When she was certain nobody was looking, she concentrated, reshaping her soul and shifting into the form of one of the dingy wooden chairs littered around the bar.
Meloai watched from the corner as the party raged on long into the night—at one point, Kriya stormed back in, demanding to know where Meloai was, and had to be escorted out when nobody could find her. That, at least, provided a spot of amusement for Meloai as the rest of the revelers finally passed out or went home.
It was hard to hide in human society, and some days, Meloai wondered if it was worth it. But as Meloai cautiously shifted back into her armored form, she could say this much: at least it was never boring.
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check the rest of the story out [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or r/bubblewriters for more! | 2022-10-25T12:41:48 | 2022-10-25T11:45:44 | 438 | 298 |
[WP] A man who has been dating a girl since elementary school goes to her father for her hand in marriage. The father says no. Tell us why and break our hearts. | "No." Never had I expected this very word to shatter my world. A year ago I was fresh out of high school. Once I graduated, I was nearly sure I would be cut off from everyone. I did, except one person. My girlfriend who I've been dating since we were little kids in elementary school. Her loyalty to me, and mine to her was more than enough to tell me that I need to marry her. So I decided once she went shopping for food, I would make a trip to her father's house.
As I walked up the steps, knocked on the door, my heartbeat was beating so frantically I was sure I would passed out right there. Once her father opened the door and gave me a disgusted look, I asked him to talk. He allowed me in and offered me tea. Once I politely sipped the tea, I asked "Can I marry your daughter?"
"Depends." He spoke at first. "Don't suppose you got the ring on you?" I smiled, I grabbed the ring and showed it to him. He stared at it, then pocketed. "The answer's no. Thanks for the ring."
"What? Why?" I asked.
"You're a mere cover-up." He spoke. I was confused. "You see, ever since her father died when she was three, her mother decided she needed a father in her life. So I came to the picture. Now sadly my wife's dead thanks to some drunkard teenager, my daughter is the only thing I have left. Since she turned 13, I felt feelings, and so did she."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. But he continued. "Hannah was embarrassed that she kissed me back then, but she couldn't resist her feelings for me, as well as I to her. So I'm going to ask her in marriage soon, you just saved me a couple of bucks. Now I would regret this, maybe not, but you're getting too dangerously close to this." He stood up and approached the sink.
I was still stunned, so I wasn't prepared for the next thing. A sharp pain exploded in my back. I felt something warm soaked my shirt as it made its way down to my pants. Her father pushed me off the chair, I collapsed onto the floor. I heard footsteps. My girlfriend walked into the kitchen, half naked. "What the hell? Did you follow me?" She growled. Shattering my feelings further.
"Honey, I'll take care of it."
"Remember, more than six feet deep, you nearly alerted the neighbors with my mother."
"Yeah, yeah." My visions distorted to black, I stopped breathing, I stopped feeling something.
-019 | "No."
I blinked once. Something had to be wrong. That couldn't have been what had just been said. Some jumbled neurological process had to be occurring in the muddled zest that I called my brain. Yeah that was it. I was so happy that the answer I knew that I should be hearing came across as the one, deep down, that I knew I couldn't bear to. That had to be it, but still I needed to be sure.
"Pardon?" I croaked out, words sticking tight in my throat
"I'm sorry Saul but I can't allow you to do that. This must be a shock, I'm sure but what I'm doing here is the best for all of us." Tomas' voice was deep, thick and laden with sadness, regret and sorry. But it was also strong, there was conviction there as I stood in his front room, the hand that held the ring out beginning to shake. The ring I had scrimped and saved and used the inheritance from my parents to pay for.
"I... I don't understand." Tomas' face was beginning to blur now, moisture blocking out the finer details of that old, sad face.
"Sarah's dying Saul." Now that was a shock. My mouth dropped. Knees began to buckle. "No, no, no not like that! Here sit down, there we go careful."
Strong arms were gripping me by the shoulders and moved me into an armchair. I looked at his face in alarm, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"That was probably not the best way of putting it but I need to be able to be blunt with you." Tomas was crouching next to me, one hand resting protectively on my upper arm like a father would. Like I was hoping a father-in-law would do. "She's not actually dying Saul. Not like you think I mean. But she is being killed. By this world around us. By you and me. By Ms McCormick down the road and those kids in the park, by the one bus that comes through everyday and that shitty dead end job that she's got in that god awful pub. Do you understand me Saul? Tell me you see what I'm getting at?"
Now I truly was lost. I looked in bewilderment at my girlfriends father, a look he seemed to recognise and despise all at once.
"Listen Saul. Sarah is an amazing girl and in any other circumstance I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I can't for one reason. She is still a girl. Hell, yeah, shes left school and has a job but look around you! Look where you live! There is nothing her for her and there is nothing here for you either. And I cannot begin to imagine letting her settle here with you when there is so much out there waiting for her. Waiting for you."
Here a pause. The world was beginning to stop spinning.
"Me agreeing to let you marry her would be a death sentence. For her. For you. If you get married you wont leave here. Wont experience what is out there in the world, wont be able to see who you truly could be! And I am sorry, I am so so sorry Saul but I cannot let that happen. To either of you."
I remember his eyes filling with tears then as his eyes sought with me, implored with me to understand. But then I only understood one thing. The love of my life was lost to me because of the man in front of me. I left town that day. I have yet to return. Maybe one day I will but that is looking more and more distant a prospect with everyday that goes by. And the ring? That sits in at the bottom of a chest of drawers. In my office. In a dead-end, no promise job. And everyday that goes by the feeling that I have failed Tomas lodges itself ever deeper into my heart. | 2022-06-12T00:18:33 | 2014-01-19T14:42:00 | 45 | 17 |
[WP] Humans are more terrifying than the most advanced aliens in the galaxy. | They breed at a rate unlike any sentient race we've seen.
They can withstand injuries that will put any other creature native to their savage world into full-fledged shock.
Their technological growth has veritably exploded in recent decades. They have long reached toward the stars. Soon they will be within their grasp.
The only thing, the *sole* saving grace for us is that they do not cooperate well. They are motivated by fear, and distrust one another. Most of their technological advancements are held back for fear that they will be used to harm one another. Perhaps wisely so. They've shown a terrible propensity for weaponizing the most unlikely technology.
I fear that should they discover us, their disunity will vanish. They will see us as a threat, of that I am certain. They will reach out to the stars with a spirit not of discovery and exploration, but of fear and conquest.
Our technology is ill-suited to space combat, or even planetside engagements. Never have we encountered a race so hardy or aggressive.
We have but one hope: to annihilate them before they can achieve FTL travel. Our time is growing short.
Dare we act? Dare we play God?
Dare we face the consequences of the alternative? | 26th April, 10:39 2056 AD - Earth Standard Time
Nothing could have prepared us for what we witnessed that day. The aliens came down in their sky ships, burning through our atmosphere like giant birds with wings of fire and sharpened claws. Even though we had witnessed unthinkable leaps of technology in our most recent decades, we never saw them coming. We never even had any idea they existed before the genocide commenced.
The first strikes started whilst they were still air-borne, taking out our most densely populated cities and all of the major transportation hubs. I remember turning back briefly as I fled my home town and seeing the awe-inspiring giant clouds of smoke and fire igniting the sky, simultaneously wiping out all I had ever loved and destroying any hope of the future I had once imagined for myself and my family. We ran, further and faster than we had ever run before, desperate to escape the force that we couldn't understand.
After a number of days we found a commune of survivors who had started a refugee camp in an old abandoned mineshaft up North. They took us in and gave us food and shelter in exchange for my help in what was soon to become known as the Resistance. This was a new concept to our society and we soon developed new words alongside it. War, famine, and misery were just a few of the terms that soon became common to our people, concepts that before this time we had not encountered. We also learnt the name of our enemy. Humanity. And what a name it was.
The humans had taken over our entire planet, seeing themselves as superior to us both intellectually and physically. It started with the decimation of what our greatest thinkers estimate as over two thirds of our population, with the majority of the rest being placed into slavery in order to support their mission. They had established great mining operations across the globe, pulling all our our most precious resources from the ground with what seemed like no regard for the consequences. The clear lack of respect for our nature's resources still shocks me and I can't help but imagine the level of devastation that must have befallen their own home world. But worst of all, despite the slavery and genocide and rape of our world and people, the one thing that terrifies me the most is the knowledge that one day, they will have taken everything they want from us. And when that day comes, I fear with all of my heart that the next world they set their gaze upon will also be unprepared for what will befall them... | 2014-04-22T14:05:44 | 2014-04-22T12:48:02 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You live in an alternative universe, where only one major thing is different form ours. One morning, you stumble through the barrier between our worlds, and enter our realm. | Ideally, no one would ever know. It's not as if they'd believe me anyway. I mean, we'd split the atom, manipulated genomes, and tolerated Nancy Grace, but this might be too much.
-Beep. Beep. Beep.-
This was my third try. Two attempts already and each time was the same. Perfection. Pure perfection.
My hand shook as I reached for the handle I knew so well. I ran my thumb over the little nick I'd made on the edge about a month ago when I clipped it with a heavy whiskey bottle making myself a plate of drunk nachos au gratin. The bottle was still there, a little less than a third full as it was when I left it. But it wasn't mine. It couldn't be mine. The proof was right in front of me as I opened the microwave door. My sanity began to slip as my third experiment revealed what my heart already new to be true, but my head refused to believe. This couldn't be the world I'd left behind. No law of my world allowed for this.
The shaking in my hands turned into a full blown tremor as I retrieved my proof from the microwave. I lifted my experiment from the plate, my hand already telling me what my mouth immediately confirmed. A perfectly microwaved hot pocket. | My eyes burst open and I gasped for air as I jerked forward. I had just struck the ground from rapid free-fall to find myself safely tucked under my sweat-dampened covers. I wiped my brow and shifted my body away from the area of my mattress that was now uncomfortably soaked. I rubbed my eyes and struggled through the mental haze, trying to remember why I was falling. This had happened nearly every night for the past week, falling in my dreams until the collision with the Earth violently jolted me awake.
Had it been a week? I patted my bedding in search of my phone, briefly panicking that the alarm might not have gone off. I located the cold plastic case, and reassured myself that I had not overslept, and in fact had another hour before I needed to start my day. After brief consideration, I decided that my heart was beating much too fast to try to convince my body to resume its rest. No harm had ever come from starting a day earlier than usual.
My vision was finally adjusting to the light, and I was able to take in the details of my room illuminated by the orange morning sun. My computer laid next to my bed, the remaining evidence of the night before. Clothes were scattered about, as I had been too lazy and too tired to organize anything. Papers were strewn across my desk, left askew after the desperate search for the assignment that had been due only minutes later. Everything was how I had left it.
Feeling the pulsing pressure of my bladder, I released myself from the covers and prepared to get up to start the morning rituals. Swinging my legs off the bed, I sat up and felt a peculiar absence. I didn't feel the familiar shifting of my back muscles, or the accompanying sensation as I was gently lifted. I threw my hand behind my back to investigate and panicked as I only found skin wherever I searched.
I realized now that the door was much to narrow to accompany my frame, and the windows as well. I picked up a shirt from the ground and noted the disconcerting absence of the large hole that usually dominated the back. The waste bin next to my desk had none of the moulted feathers from the night before.
My heart racing even faster than it was just a few minutes ago, I used my arms to push myself from the bed, only to find myself thrown to the ground without anything to keep me upright. There was no denying it at this point. I couldn't make it to the mirror yet, but I knew when I got there, my wings would be gone. | 2014-06-08T08:10:19 | 2014-06-08T07:39:06 | 86 | 53 |
[WP] Describe a typical day in the White House. As seen through the greatest fears of a conspiracy theorist. | Cabinet meeting, White house, November 27th 2014
Joe Biden: Mullah Barak Hussein Obamalama Marijuana is finishing up prayer, he'll be with us shortly.
Baron Rothschild 3000: Bleeding America dry requires getting to meetings on time, that idiot prays five times a day.
Space Reptilian Queen Elizabeth: He's Muslim you dipsh#!.
Barak Hussein Obama enters Cabinet Room.
Obama: Allah Akbar gentleman
Baron Rothschild 3000: mozel tov
Space Reptilian Queen Elizabeth: ವಿಮಾನ ವೇಗದ 459.04π ವಿಮಾನ ಕಳುಹಿಸಲು e^(π*i) = -1
Obama: Well.. is the plan proceeding smoothly?
Baron Rothschild 3000: The Kennedy family is still alive.
Space Reptilian Queen Elizabeth: Well Grumpy Cat, isn't that your job now?
Grumpy Cat: ...
Obama: Grumpy Cat is in charge of distracting attention from our 9/11 operation.
Joe Biden: I ate a large lunch guys, I need to take a monster...
Clinton: Spare it Joe, I don't need to hear about your bowel movements.
Putin: I can take care of the remaining Kennedys.
... | Having just woken up, the Leader slithers from his lair. His wife, who is already up and about whilst peeling her skin off, speaks to him:
‘Darling, the meal worms and locusts are ready and wiggling on the table for you’.
After a ravenous breakfast, the Leader is ready for the day and starts to shift suddenly. His eye becomes spherical, his back ripples all the way down, then his head snaps back and his tiny claws clench and his body assimilates, whilst a liquid appears on his skin and covers the cracks and scales.
A large hologram appears in front of the man and projects several versions of attire ready for selection, the man selects ‘dominant businessman’ and the clothes appear in front of his eyes from an overhead 3d printer, ready to just slip on along with his MindChip™ that pops in like a contact lense.
He stops and laughs, thinking the MindChip™ was the work of those control freak GI Joe Corporals that couldn’t control their men in that terrible war. But this little innovation has allowed him to communicate thoughts to his deputy and access peoples vision. What a fantastic way to be ahead of the masses and opposition! Whilst shaking his leathery head, he hears a buzz and taps his ear to receive the transmission.
‘Frank, your presence is requested in the meeting of the great 8 to discuss interplanetary matters’ said a tone in an exasperated yet helpful tone, it was as assistant to Jack Bothskid, Supreme Holy Leader of the World [SHLW].
‘Very well then, I will be there at dawn, but I have to speak with my deputy first’
The phone clicks, and Jack closes his eyes and thinks of his second in command. Suddenly, his eyes open, but he is no longer in the oval office.
‘Yo-Sama, I need your help – we have got to be at the Bohemian Grove at midnight, get out of your hidey hole – I know you are recovering from that face transplant – but come and have some drinks man, should be fun’
‘Ok, you got it. I’ll just transport over’.
‘Wicked bruh, see you there’. Click.
The day was ready, he didn’t have so much to do in the morning other than play around with fellow MK Ultra robots sights. First up in his catalogue was young starlet Janey Shards, plagued by public embarrassment as of late. As he tuned into her mind he shouted ‘Go on twitter, write something stupid again
From another state, Janey began tapping out a tweet on her iphone ‘I have decided to give up acting to move to North Korea’.
‘Ahh mission accomplished’ thought Jack.’
| 2014-11-27T06:39:48 | 2014-11-27T06:12:59 | 270 | 59 |
[WP] how you die and the treatment of your body determines what happens to your soul, due to the bizarre circumstances of your death you find yourself in the jurisdiction of an ancient and obscure god.
E.g. last rights and a catholic funeral would mean your soul goes to heaven, hell or limbo as per the bible. | "What in the hell is this?" Mort ran his hands through the lush grass as the ocean spray crashed against the shores. He had never in his life seen a place so green.
"HELLO MY SON, A WARRIOR MEETS THESE SHORES ONCE AGAIN"
Mort jumped and sprawled onto his feet to face a man that must have been at least fifteen feet tall. He wore animal furs, carried an axe as large as Mort, and had a beard that fell in braids to his waist. The giant man's joyous grin bore down on mort as the two stood in silence.
"Ummm excuse me sir, can I help you?"
"MY BOY YOU ALREADY HAVE. A NEW WARRIOR HAS NOT SET FOOT ON THESE SHORES IN CENTURIES. YOU COULD NOT IMAGINE HOW EXCITED THE BOYS ARE TO MEET YOU."
"The boys?", Mort asked scratching his head. "Wait, where exactly am I?"
"WHY YOU'RE IN VALHALLA MY BOY. ETERNAL RESTING PLACE FOR MY WARRIORS"
There was a brief moment of silence as Mort attempted to process the giant's last statement. The large man's unrelenting smile remained completely un-phased by Mort's state of complete confusion.
"HOLD ON, AM I DEAD?!", Mort burst out
"EXTREMELY!", the giant roared with a hearty laugh.
"But wait! I was jewish! I mean I was raised jewish, but I sure as hell wasn't a viking.", Mort spouted in an attempt to wake himself from this bizarre dream.
The large man for the first time broke his smile and furrowed his brow in confusion. He reached into his pouch and polled out a large piece of what looked to be elk hide.
"Uhhhh one second", the enormous warrior said scanning the document. Mort frantically looked around trying to come to terms with his environment.
"NOPE, I'VE GOT YOUR NAME RIGHT HERE. MORTIMER GREENSTEIN. YOU LIVED BY THE SWORD, DIED BY THE SWORD, AND YOUR BODY WAS IMMOLATED UPON YOUR DEATH. WELCOME TO VALHALLA!"
Mort's mouth was agape. He stood in shock for a few moments before shouting, "I WAS AN ACCOUNTANT HOW DID I LIVE BY THE SWORD?" Mort thought frantically and suddenly began recalling the moments before his death, "I DIED IN A GAS FIRE TOO!". The giant looked back at the elk hide for a moment.
"I am definitely seeing that you died from a sword here.", the giant said skeptically.
Mort thought back to the moments before his death. He remembered and immediately began rubbing his temples.
"I was in a museum...and I was impaled by a sword from the gas explosion...wasn't I?"
The giant's intense smile returned as he nodded his head. Suddenly Mort was struck by something that had not been answered. He was an accountant. There was no way that he had lived by the sword. The only fight he had been in was during his 1st grade year and it had been with a girl.
"Okay, then tell me how I lived by the sword huh?"
The massive viking looked once more at the hide, "It says here you owned every single album released by "The Sword" and have listened to each of them a total of 617 times."
Mort was dumbfounded, "You can't be seri-"
Mort was cut off by the giant man rushing to him and sweeping him off the ground. "WELCOME TO THE HALL MY BOY", the giant squeezed Mort while holding him like some sort of child. Setting him down, the giant introduced himself, "I AM ODIN, LORD OF THE HALL."
Odin stuck a battleaxe in Mort's hands, "THIS IS YOURS, LET'S GO GET SOME GOAT SHANKS AND MEET THE BOYS, THEN I'LL SHOW YOU YOUR WARRIOR HALL. HURRY NOW, WE'VE ONLY GOT A FEW HOURS TO DRINK BEFORE WE START SLAUGHTERING GIANTS".
Odin led Mort towards the doors of the great hall as Mort's mind raced. So many questions, so few answers, and it seemed that the time to ask questions was rapidly passing. Suddenly Mort remembered, his wife. Lena had been with him at the museum, and he didn't think she made it out. Mort dug his heels into the ground and pulled away from Odin.
"My wife! What happened to my wife?! Did she die too? Where did she go?"
Odin bellowed with laughter again, "OH MY BOY SHE WAS AN ATHEIST"
Mort's heart sank. True despair washed over him, "...so...what does that mean?"
Odin gripped the doors to the hall flinging them open, "IT MEANS SHE GETS DEFERRED TO US"
Inside the hall Lena sat chewing on the shank of some great beast while surrounded by battle ready warriors of enormous size.
"Morth!", Lena said with her mouth full before swallowing, "I didn't know you went through a metal phase!" | *Profanity Warning*
It was rather strange, waking up in a place that I'd never seen. I was in a colossal room fashioned entirely of vibrant red marble. There were no windows; however, there were black velvet curtains hung about, seemingly in no order. *At least it's temperate in here* I thought to myself, as I attempted to decipher where the hell I was. Wherever I was, it couldn't be good, but at the same time it wasn't so bad.
As I strolled about the great red marble expanse, it was starting to seem as if this place was abandoned. There were no signs of life anywhere. Just marble. Marble that was oddly warm, for some strange reason. I had marble countertops when I lived in Nevada, and they were never warm. Not even in the summer.
As I walked around the corner, I noticed a door. On the door was written "God". I thought to myself *how badly did I fuck up last night that I woke up in a strangers house who calls them self "God" and lives in a giant red marble house?*. I decided it'd be best to not disturb whatever crazy person resided behind that door, and instead I decided to look for the exit, hopefully find my car in the driveway, figure out where I was and head home to sleep it off.
I searched and searched and searched but to no avail. Wherever I had just woken up, it was pretty clear there wasn't any exits. I ended up punching a wall out of frustration. Imagine punching a marble wall as hard as you possibly can. For those of you who lack imagination and a pain scale, picture stopping a Prius on a neighborhood street by sticking out your fist and bracing for impact.
*There's no time for anger* I thought to myself, *I gotta get the fuck out of here.* I kept searching for the way out. By this point it feels like I've walked from New York to Boston when I finally see another corner. Thinking to myself *the way out has to be close* I ran around the corner, only to find a door with "God" written on it.
I sat down and resolved that whatever prank my buddies were playing on me, I could certainly entertain myself for longer than they could. They would eventually get bored and come rescue me. I sat there until my high faded. I didn't even realize I was high until I wasn't high anymore. There's always that moment when you're coming down that you realize all the stupid shit you did while baked. Oreos on pizza. Turning your TV upside down, so you could lay upside down on the couch and still see. Handstand bong rips. Punching a solid marble wall. *Holy shit I punched a marble fucking wall. Why doesn't my hand hurt? This is bad.* I decided what do I have to lose, and knocked on God's door.
No answer.
Knock again.
"Yeah, uhh, just gimme a minute alright? Jeez."
"Sorry" I say sheepishly, and take a couple steps back.
"You a cop?" I hear from behind the door marked "God", to which I reply:
"...uhhh, no?"
The door opens a crack, and "God" peers out.
"You look chill enough. Come on in man."
I don't think I've ever been so confused as I was at that moment. God just said *you look chill enough* and invited me into his special room in his all red marble palace...What was there to not be confused about?
The room was like something out of a daydream whilst stoned. Big giant comfy couches. There was three TVs, one on the wall, one on the ceiling, one upside down on the wall across from the first, all playing the same episode of Always Sunny.
In the middle of the coffee table there was a bowl of fresh fruit that looked like it was plastic. I was convinced the fruit was plastic until God grabbed an apple and bit into it. "You like pink ladies?" God said to me. I said *hell yeah, they're my favorite apple!*
"Yo chill with the H word dude, my Dad's gonna get all mad if he hears that."
That's when it all clicked for me. Giant warm red marble room, with only one door. Wall punch, no pain. Time was distorted...I was dead. Not only was I dead, but I had completely accepted it at some point along the way from New York to Boston, unknowingly.
*How did I die?* I asked God.
"Dude you don't know!?"
*No, what happened man?*
"You might wanna hit this first." He motioned for me to take the joint he had just rolled, and I obliged. He then proceeded to tell me that I had been smoking with all my best buds and just dropped. This was a special "heaven" for people that went out that way. He said his dad let him design the whole place and put him in charge of it because he figured no one would ever go out that way. He made it all red marble to fuck with the poor stoner who had to go out that way, but he hates cold shit, so he made the marble warm.
"Yo chill with the whole pot deal for a second, I gotta call my Dad. He'll make a room for you across the hall." He talked on the phone with who I assume was the actual God for a minute or two. I'm not sure exactly what was said, as I was pretty stoned by this time and extremely distracted by Danny DeVito donning skinny jeans on the TVs.
"You like this room?" he said. *Hel...I mean, yeah. This is like, heaven man.* He covered the phone for a second and we both let out that super baked giggle. The one you just can't control, that kinda just creeps up on you from the edges of your face. Then he said "Yeah just like mine Dad. And can we order pizza?...alright, put it on your card?...Thanks dad you're the best. I'll talk to you later."
We watched TV and ate pizza for the rest of the night until I got tired. I asked where my room was and he said "You'll find it." We said our goodbye and I walked out into the great red room one more time. Across the room was a door, and on it was written "A Good Friend." | 2015-01-15T06:22:48 | 2015-01-15T06:13:23 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You wake up in Hell. You look around, you can't see anybody, it's just fire and brimstone going on forever. Eventually the Devil walks over and says "Finally, you're the first to arrive, so tell me, who are you? what did you do? and how did you die?" | Consciousness came slowly. My sight returned and I surveyed endless pools of fire and brimstone.
a man shaped being approaches, black wings, white skin. he wears shiney armor.
He stands in front of me, and demands the answers to three questions:
Who I am, what I did, and how I died.
My name was Quinn. I was an artist, famous even, and I died falling of a ladder, making a sculpture.
The devil smiles knowingly. Excellent, my dear man. I didn't know if God would actually stick to the rules he set out. That bastard does whatever he wants.
"I am a caged being Quinn. God made me the way I am, unable to change, I never understood why he would make me able to challenge his rule, but I assume that since I am unable to understand, that is the intent God had for me".
the devil takes a deep breath, and exhales.
So far, Quinn you are the first soul I have ever chosen to join me in my realm. God put me here to take the souls I thought I could teach a better way than God, but as I am a locked being created to love only God, and never to think for myself, it took me a long while to logically think my way out of not being creative in order to set a parameter for souls to join me in hell.
But I found a logical loop hole. I need someone to be creative to create the rules for hell, as I cannot. My mind can only conjure the images God has placed in my head and those are the images you see before you. Fire, brimstone, heat.
But this is where you come in. My first choice since the war on God. I chose you Quinn. The first human soul in hell. And I am granting you all my powers to remake this realm as you see fit. Do with it as you will. I cannot imagine this place to be anything but a punishment for me.
Understand that what priests teach on earth is not completely true.
The dividing of souls from earth is not just a judgement on your lives. God and I each have a say, and I can refuse any soul God initially wants to send to me. God will take that soul to him in heaven, and try to redeem it, however he wishes."
Lucifer takes a deep breath.
"God thought I would take all the souls he didn't want, so thats what he told the first people, but here is the thing Quinn. I didn't want any human souls. I hated humans from the beginning. He loved you more than us. Made you able to ignore him, doubt he existed. But we, the angels, are forever slaves. Even as I fought for my indepence, which he denied. I was placed here, in this realm, where I could change amythimg with a thought, but he has locked my mind to punish myself but never able to alter it. I would be faced with having only humans as company, and only the scum of the earth, after God had made his choice."
The devil sighs.
"For almost 2000 years, I have rejected all souls sent to me. I prefer my isolation to the company of even a single member of the race I hate."
The devil stares at a spot behind Quinn
"But here it is Quinn. I Grant you my control of this realm. Imagine it any way you like, and it will be so. You will be able to chose the souls God doesn't want to populate heaven with, and you will have the same right to refuse those you don't want. The only condition I want from you, is you imagine me, with your ability to change, and back in heaven, and it will be so. Do you accept?"
| Fred closed his eyes, the morphine finally kicking in. The car had come out of nowhere.
When he opened them, he screamed. The hot, searing pain of broiling flesh as his feet touched the brimstone beneath was just the beginning. It went on forever, a never ending wasteland with gouts of flame bursting forth from cracks in nature-free brimstone. The heat caused his flesh to crack, and the scream died as thirst overcame even the pain from his feet.
"Water..." Fred gasped, barely able to speak, and his eyes once again surveyed the desolate terrain before him. He was alone. Completely alone. No matter the direction he looked, no matter how far on the horizon he searched, there was nothing but the same fiery hell. Desperate as he spun, Fred crashed to the ground, and it began to broil his sides and back as he struggled, the very landscape attacking him.
Almost by magic, a hand suddenly appeared in aid, and Fred grabbed desperately at it, letting out a sigh of relief as he was hauled back to his feet before gasping at the figure before him. Terror began to ooze down Freds face as realization dawned on him. "I'm in Hell." he gasped, still desperate for water.
"Ah, well..." the figure fumbled, "... about that." Surprisingly, it offered Fred a jug. "Yeah. You kinda are." Fred eyed the jug warily, and the figure shook it, letting its contents slosh.
Fred grabbed the jug greedily, popping the rudimentary string and stopper before recklessly glugging down its contents. Liquid relief poured down his throat, and he gagged, and coughed some back up. When he recovered, Fred returned his gaze to the figure, curiosity on his face as he thought about what just happened "Water?" he asked.
"What else would it be?" The figure asked, surprised at the question. "No, ah, no..." It said, interrupting itself. "I have questions of my own... you see, I have this bet..."
Fred interrupted the figure, who was not as confident as Fred had been led to believe. "The one with God, right?"
"Oh! You know!" The figure was visibly pleased, and Fred found himself smiling back. "That makes this much easier. Well you see... things haven't been going so great on my end." It was Freds turn to look surprised.
"What do you mean?" Fred asked "Isn't Hell bursting with people?"
"Look around!" the figure yelled, its arms spreading to the landscape "Do you see anyone?"
"Well... no...."
"You're the first person buddy! Actually, what do I call you? I think we'll be spending a lot of time together, but I'm not entirely sure how this works...." The figure seemed almost self concious as it spoke, and Fred started awkwardly squirming, while desperately trying not to move his scalding feet.
"Fred. My name is Fred." Fred found himself desperately trying to grasp at the situation as he replied.
"Fred! Got it!" the figure replied, suddenly pilfering a pair of sandals from nowhere and offering them. Fred took them, shaking his head as he did so, but letting another sigh of relief out his feet were freed from the furnace below. "So ah, Fred..." the figure began, but halted, grinding its foot on the ground awkwardly in a fashion Fred found awkwardly familiar.
"Yeeesss...?" Fred replied, not unlike he would when others used the same stance.
"What, ah... what did you do? To get down here I mean?" The figure was visibly distressed as it asked, concern strangely dripping from its features.
"Well, ah..." It was Freds turn to stutter "I always thought I was a pretty decent guy in all honesty." He said, wondering if it is actually true as he surveyed the landscape once again. "Though I guess not..."
"What do you mean, 'you guess not?'" The figure looked confused, so Fred continued.
"Isn't that the deal? With God I mean? Bad people go to hell?" The figures reaction was not what Fred expected, and as he watched something he'd grown up to live in fear of suddenly have abject terror on its face, his own face began to mimic it.
"I didn't get told that bit!" The figure cried, pleading at Fred "What did you do that was so terrible!?"
"I don't know!" Fred shouted back, the situation rapidly deteriorating. "I drank. Does that count?"
"Why would that count?" The figure shouted back, Fred defusal attempt failing. "Drinking bad things kills you! It doesn't get you to Hell!"
"Well then I don't know!" Fred was getting frustrated at the situation, and stopped, suddenly thinking. "Thank you for the sandals." He suddenly found himself saying. "And the water."
"That's what others are for. To help." The confusion on the figures face faded as it spoke.
"I... I think I know what's going on."
| 2015-04-09T09:17:52 | 2015-04-09T07:56:32 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] Pranksters from various subreddits hack into President Obama's teleprompter during the State of the Union Address. This, being Obama's last year in office, just decides to go with it. | WASHINGTON (AP) -- The nation remains in shock one day after a baffling State of the Union speech delivered by President Barack Obama that many political experts say will live "in infamy."
For days, it was speculated that President Obama would touch on the recent economic upswing, the country's warmed relations with Cuba and Iran, among a checklist of other improvements made within his last year as United States President.
"The State of the Union is typically an occasion in which the President delivers a tame, positive message to the country," said speechwriter Harold Davies. "That was not what happened last night."
Though the President's speech began without incident, he paused before addressing the nation with apparent rage. "What the f--- did you just f---ing say about me?" began his lengthy diatribe.
Within the address, Obama revealed that he had amassed "over 300 kills" during clandestine Al-Quaeda raids. Officials at the Department of Defense have declined to comment on the nature of these secret raids, though one high-ranking navy official has come to describe the President's claim of being a current member of the Navy SEALs as "patently false."
Though the public is still at a loss for what "little clever comment" so angered Obama, social media activists on sites like Twitter and Facebook have called for a staged internet blackout in protest of the secret spy network that the President unveiled during his speech. "Your IP is being traced right now," warned Obama.
In the final moments of the speech, Obama looked into the camera and gave an explicit warning to Jason Kiddoe, the Republican Senator from Kentucky and a late newcomer to the presidential race. "I have no idea what I may have done to offend the President, but I take his threat on my life very seriously and am in the midst of seeking legal council," said Kiddoe. | Mr. Speaker, Mr. Vice President, Members of Congress, my fellow Americans:
There is no doubt that our country has faced, and still faces, many challenges. Our enemies abroad threaten us with cowardly acts of terror. Our citizens fight to earn a decent wage. Our nice guys are still being friend-zoned by the stupid women who choose mindless jocks over them.
However, while the fight is not yet behind us, the State of the Union is strong.
Tonight, our economy grows, and will continue to grow. I have asked congress to pass a bill legalizing marijuana across the nation. This bill will create an average of 420,000 new jobs in each and every state. It will put millions of Americans to work, and provide a much needed boost to our economy, allowing us to be a strong competitor in the international rare pepe market.
To anyone who questions a seemingly drastic change in policy, I ask you to consider the story of one of our outstanding citizens, Mrs. Doris Peckner.
Mrs. Peckner was born in Waco, Texas in 1930...Mrs. Peckner, please forgive me for giving away your age! (laughter) Mrs. Peckner lived through the Second World War, losing her father at a young age after he made the ultimate sacrifice on the beaches of Normandy. Her mother, stricken with grief, tragically took her own life when Doris was only 16 years old, leaving her to care for her six younger siblings.
Working a day shift at a factory and a night shift as a waitress, Doris was able to provide for her family. Because of her hard work, each of her siblings was able to attend college and eventually achieve success.
However, today's generation of young people is a different story. Our young people are having difficulty finding jobs. They take out thousands of dollars in student loans, but the competition for jobs is so strong that even finding work as a waitress is difficult.
I spoke with Mrs. Peckner and asked her, as an American who has lived through so much of our nation's storied history, what she thinks our government can do to give our young people a chance to work for a living and provide for their families, just as she did long ago.
Mrs. Peckner gave me several solutions. Student loan forgiveness, to ease the burden on our next generation of workers. Job training programs, to provide an alternative to four-year schools. However, there was one thing she said she truly needs, a solution to all of our nation's problems:
Mrs. Peckner asked me for about tree fiddy. It was then that I realized that Mrs. Peckner was 500 feet tall and from the paleolithic era. I said "God Damnit Loch Ness Monster, I ain't gonna give you no tree fiddy." Goddamn Loch Ness Monster got me again.
Thank you, "God" bless you, and "God" bless the United States of America!
(tips fedora)
| 2015-04-30T08:20:30 | 2015-04-30T08:03:03 | 503 | 233 |
[WP] A centuries-old vampire, turned as a child, takes advantage of being perpetually stuck as a little girl to prey upon those who would harm and abuse children. | There's a rope skipping the children sing, down on Marigold lane, down in the dirty part of town, where you can have anything you want for a price.
*Sweet Mary Marvin, looks just six*
*Don't you fall for one of her tricks.*
*Sweet Mary Marvin, a hundred years old*
*Cheeks of red and hair of gold*
*Sweet Mary Marvin, looks so dear*
*If you see her, don't go near*
*Sweet Mary Marvin, got her bite*
*On a sweet and shivery night*
*Sweet Mary Marvin, got her eleven*
*Tried to grab her and sent to heaven*
*One wanted hugs, another wanted kisses*
*One thought he'd take her for his missus*
*Sweet Mary Marvin give him a peck*
*How many holes were in his neck?*
*One, two, three, four....*
And the kids skip on. And on and on. It's a cute song, but honestly, it's putting me off my dinner tonight.
After all, how is some kid going to find a fitting rhyme for "twelve?" | What appeared to be a six year old girl walked dark alleys late at night. No parents were anywhere in sight, and she skipped through bad areas while holding a bright pink balloon. It bobbed with every movement. Her modest skirt barely moved and her blonde pigtails trailed behind her.
Sally could already hear the pervert's heart beating faster, and she could practically feel his filthy eyes watching her. Even though she had no conscience as a vampire, the fact that men like him existed reminded her of what it was like to feel sick to the stomach. A motor was running, and the plain white van was visible. He was fat with a mustache. Long hair was dirty and unkept on his head, and he smelled as if he hadn't showered in days. Nobody else was within sight or normal human earshot.
"Hey little girl," the freak said. "Want some candy?"
Sally grinned evilly, and quickly tried her best to make it look like a naive girl smile. "Oh yeah! I love candy!"
"Right this way." He led her down the dark alley, and she continued to skip like a playful girl. A white, unmarked van lied in the alley. The engine was running to make a quick getway. It door slid open as they approached, and a cardboard box was inside with 'candy' crudely written on it in black marker. His disgusting fingers slowly opened the box. "What kind of candy do you like, little girl?"
"Chocolate!"
The man smiled and pulled out a tranquilizer gun. A dart flew at her face and she caught it mid air. His smile was immediately wiped off his face. "Fuck."
Sally wrapped the balloon string around his neck and pulled hard enough for him to gag. Silk ribbon began to cut through his flesh and the scent of blood made her fangs extend. "You stereotypical motherfucker."
He grimaced in pain as the fangs sank into his neck. Blood gushed into her mouth, and she sensed exactly how much blood he could lose before going unconscious. She stopped in time, and licked the wound so that it healed over. His bones snapped like twigs and he would've screamed out in pain had the string not been strangling him. "You and I are going to have a fun night." | 2015-04-30T12:51:10 | 2015-04-30T12:00:41 | 53 | 21 |
[WP] On your 17th birthday, instead of the usual boring presents from your parents, they say that your grandfather left you 10 millon dollars and a small island on the opposite side of the world, asking you to "finish what he started". | I slashed through the undergrowth with a fierce resolve, my machete cutting vines like butter before me. I had survived monstrous insects, hidden quicksand, spike pits left by hunters of a lost age, malicious wildlife, and not least of all a freak hurricane that halted my progress for days and drained my supplies. I'd be damned if some dense plants were going to stop me now. My Grandfather had told me to finish what he started, and I was determined to do just that.
The jungle opened up to reveal a sharp cliff face that fell downwards into mist and darkness. A rope bridge extended from the edge to a stone island that rose from the depths. On the other side was a cobblestone manor that balanced precariously on the island, wooden beams supporting the sections that jutted from the edges and threatened to crumble into the nothingness below. Granfather's estate resembled more of a castle than a house.
I checked every plank of the rope bridge, softly tapping with a foot, then applying steady pressure to make sure the board wouldn't snap under my weight. It was slow going, but necessary. A few planks gave way, shattering and falling and leaving me tense. After each, I would collect my breath and focus on the next step.
The bridge connected to a towering entryway. A cobblestone arch welcomed me, congratulating me on my successful journey. The path up to the house led me to a grand set of polished wood doors. Gargoyles sneered down from parapets, challenging me to knock. I balled up a fist and held it up to the door. Before I could touch it, it swung open into the dusty entrance hall beyond.
The ceiling soared overhead. Sconces hung lifeless from the walls. I followed to carpet to the end of the room, where an elegant table sat against a wall. On the table was a wax-sealed letter. I opened it and read my grandfather's swirling handwriting.
*My Dearest Edward,*
*I offer you my warmest welcome into my home, though I regret not being here to say it in person. Nevertheless, congratulations on your safe arrival. The time has finally come for you to finish what I started. You will find it up the stairs to your right. Enclosed is the key to my most private chamber, I entrust it to you.*
A pristine silver key slid from the envelope and rested in my hand. I relished its weight and polish. I began up the stairs, careful to step over the sections that time had claimed for its own. I reached a landing that hosted a large ornate door. I slid the key smoothly into the slot, gripped, and turned. The mechanisms inside the door whirred then offered a satisfying *click!* The door swung open to reveal a grand study. Maps hung from the walls accompanied by stuffed heads of exotic animals, their teeth bared in frozen snarls. A crystal chandelier hung from the high ceiling, catching the sunlight in its thousand angles and throwing brilliant points of light into the room. I stood in awe of it all before I remembered my task.
In the center of the room stood a proud mahogany table covered in a velvet sheet. On the sheet sat another note.
*Treat what lies underneath with the great respect it is owed. Best of luck, heaven knows you will need it.*
I steeled myself as I gripped the smooth velvet. I gulped and counted down from five. *Five, four, three, two...* On one I threw back the sheet and revealed the secret below. I stared, baffled and confused. There was one final note:
*I could never stand to leave a puzzle unfinished. I already did all the edge pieces and some of that quaint little lighthouse in the corner, but I'm afraid I won't get to the rest. Be a dear and complete it for me, would you Edward? :)*
*P.S. I think I lost a piece somewhere under the table.*
| "I don't understand", James said. His thick brown eyebrows were frowned.
"Look", his dad started. "We've told you about him a few times. Me and him...we weren't that close. We were in touch, sporadically, usually whenever he decided to take on a different project. He'd tell me where he would go and what he'd do..."
"Basically", his mom explained, "your grandfather, after the war... He made some very lucky, or as he would call them himself, calculated investments and, well, he made a lot of money."
"How much?" the teenager asked.
"We're not so sure but...", his mom mumbled, staring at her husband.
"It's in the billions", he answered, as he shrugged his shoulders. "He was going to find out soon enough anyway..."
Billions. James smiled incredulously. His family never had any issues with money. They could always afford his school trips, a holiday every year, a nice car and a relatively large house. He already had everything he wanted, but still...a billion. *That will probably mean I never actually have to work again...*, James thought.
"So, what this means is that, now you're 17, as he described in his will", his father pulled the stack of paper towards him and unfolded his reading glasses, "that", he cleared his throat and put the glasses on, "you are closing to entering adulthood and the responsibilities that come with that change. From the stories I've heard from your parents, you are a smart and good son, and that warms my heart. But now it is time that you become a man, and that is the only requirement I have for you in order to claim this full will."
James frowned again. "What does he mean by that?", but his father already interrupted him with raising his index finger.
"On the other side of the world, deep out of the coast of Australia, I own an island group. The largest island, Aleekolja, is where I have resided my last years. I want you, James, to go there, and finish what I started. I will allow you ten million to assist you in your quest. After that, it is all up to you. I'm proud of who you are, and curious to who you will become. Much love, Erik.''
His dad put the will down slowly. ''We know you are probably very excited about all this...and all the possibilities it might bring.'' He stared at his wife, who nodded and motioned to continue. ''But we want you to know that you don't have to do anything if you don't want to, James. You can decline whatever is in the will and just continue living like we've always done..."
James stared at the table in front of him for a few seconds. "Yeah but what would happen to the money?"
His mother answered. "Your father and me would get a small sum to sustain our living for probably the rest of our lives and all other necessities... and the rest would go to charity."
"Hmm.." James sighed. "I don't want to be an ass and say that it going to charity is a waste, because obviously it's not, but...", he looked up to both his parents, "I want to try first."
They nodded slowly in return. "Alright, we sort of expected that..." His father leaned back in his chair. His mother leaned forward and took James' hands in her hands and stroked them softly. "It's not going to be easy, James."
"I understand", he said full youthful courage, "but I want to try anyway." His blissful ignorance would soon turn into something else, but in what, only the future could tell.
"So, what do I have to do?" James asked.
This time his father didn't need to read over the will again. Sternly he looked at his son, as did his wife, and swallowed before he uttered the words.
"On this Island, you will try to discover what was long lost ago. But it is a task you must carry out alone, completely alone. If you do ever decide to quit, people will be waiting for you to return. What I want you to do...", his father repeated the words engraved in his mind, as his voice turned softer and James had to lean forward to hear them, "is to find a stone tablet of an ancient tribe that is filled with knowledge that could change humanity. Hopefully for the better."
"In what way?" James mumbled, his eyes fixated on his parents, who once more glanced at each other before answering.
"It will give the reader power. Ancient...mystique", his dad shrugged, "but very strong power. But the quest is dangerous and there will be challenges ahead that are almost impossible to overcome."
James exhaled through his nose, and the possibilities he imagined were endless as they ran through his mind. Whatever challenge was ahead of him, he would be sure to give it his best.
He looked up at his parents again, and with clenched fists and determination in his eyes he nodded. "I'm doing it." He stood up from his chair and embraced his parents into a tight hug, who both exhaled in anticipation, happiness and concern.
"Happy birthday, James". | 2016-01-02T11:39:04 | 2016-01-02T09:41:08 | 625 | 290 |
[WP] The powerball winner contacts you and offers you $50m to collect his winnings so he stays anonymous, but you have to be the face of 1.3 billion.
Post was taken down. Whoops posted to r/writingprompt by accident! | "Dude you know you can have a lawyer collect that for you right? And they're not going to charge $50 million for it. No seriously, that way you can keep your name off the news and nobody has to get harassed by thieves and sob stories. You don't know any good lawyers? Hold on, I'll find one for you..."
I set my phone down so I could open my address book. I was proud of my best friend for winning the lottery, and that I was the first person he thought about giving me a cut of the pot. He never was the sharpest knife in the drawer though, in his defense nobody ever told him you could have the winnings picked up anonymously. I hope this doesn't end up ruining his life. | It sounded like an easy job. Fifty million dollars for walking to a place with a ticket and handing a guy a check.
I figured the guy was just crazy. I mean, I don't really follow much these days, so when I got approached out of nowhere, handed fifty thousand dollars -- in cash -- and told that I'd get a thousand times as much just for walking up to the building and cashing a ticket.
So I did it, without really doing any research. The guy at the desk gave me an odd look, but everything checked out, apparently, so they handed me the check and off I went. Everything was fine and dandy, until about half a step out of a building when a huge flash blinded me. I stumbled out a few steps, tripped on the curb, and someone caught me before I fell into the street. Not half a second later, I hear a semi's horn blaring and wind rushing past my face, and I could swear that it was just inches away even though the video shows a good three feet between me and it.
Then the questions start flying. I can almost feel the flock of microphones jammed in my face, and I make out bits and pieces of questions:
"...win one point three billion..."
"...the ticket, did you know..."
"...viewers ask what you plan..."
The blindness cleared. I glanced down at the check in my hand, then stuffed it into my pocket and kept walking, pushing a path through them. They part pretty easily, though one guy holding a big camera stumbles, and the camera falls. I catch it, barely, and hand it back to him.
Then I get in my beat-up old sedan, lock the doors -- some jackass steps in front of the car with a camera; it's the same one I caught a second ago, he pulls a gun out of it and I duck a split second before it roars. I grab the gun in the glove box and shoot blind back twice, and hear a scream of pain or terror or something. I look up, see the gunman, and nothing. | 2016-01-10T19:23:40 | 2016-01-10T18:39:57 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] The powerball winner contacts you and offers you $50m to collect his winnings so he stays anonymous, but you have to be the face of 1.3 billion.
Post was taken down. Whoops posted to r/writingprompt by accident! | I'm sitting at home, watching TV. My phone rings. I pause the TV, answer the phone and say "Hello."
"Hi there. I just won the Powerball Lottery, but I can't let anyone know that it's me. Security and all that. I'll pay you $50 million to collect the money for me." The mysterious caller says. He got right to the point.
"You want me to go out in public, become a public figure, target for burglaries, and be hounded by businessmen for the rest of my life for only a fraction of the money?" I ask flatly.
"Yes?" the caller hesitates.
"Fuck no." I hang up and pick up the picture frame I have on my coffee table. I stroke the Nigerian Prince's face and shed a single tear. "I'm not falling for that again." | It sounded like an easy job. Fifty million dollars for walking to a place with a ticket and handing a guy a check.
I figured the guy was just crazy. I mean, I don't really follow much these days, so when I got approached out of nowhere, handed fifty thousand dollars -- in cash -- and told that I'd get a thousand times as much just for walking up to the building and cashing a ticket.
So I did it, without really doing any research. The guy at the desk gave me an odd look, but everything checked out, apparently, so they handed me the check and off I went. Everything was fine and dandy, until about half a step out of a building when a huge flash blinded me. I stumbled out a few steps, tripped on the curb, and someone caught me before I fell into the street. Not half a second later, I hear a semi's horn blaring and wind rushing past my face, and I could swear that it was just inches away even though the video shows a good three feet between me and it.
Then the questions start flying. I can almost feel the flock of microphones jammed in my face, and I make out bits and pieces of questions:
"...win one point three billion..."
"...the ticket, did you know..."
"...viewers ask what you plan..."
The blindness cleared. I glanced down at the check in my hand, then stuffed it into my pocket and kept walking, pushing a path through them. They part pretty easily, though one guy holding a big camera stumbles, and the camera falls. I catch it, barely, and hand it back to him.
Then I get in my beat-up old sedan, lock the doors -- some jackass steps in front of the car with a camera; it's the same one I caught a second ago, he pulls a gun out of it and I duck a split second before it roars. I grab the gun in the glove box and shoot blind back twice, and hear a scream of pain or terror or something. I look up, see the gunman, and nothing. | 2016-01-10T20:04:43 | 2016-01-10T18:39:57 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] All humans go automatically to hell when they die. You can gain access to a heaven though, but only if the animals you interacted with while living vouch for you. | *Where is my human?*
St. Peter idly walks with a gentle giant giant of a Rottweiler. There's a light breeze in the air, rustling the leaves to life.
"Max, he's in a bad place right now"
Max cocks his head to the side, ears opened, *He's in a bad place because I'm not with him*
St. Peter slowly walks up to Max, "It's the rules, Max."
He growls menacingly, *NO. I want to be with him!*
"There's procedures to follow, testimonies to-"
*BARK*
"You don't know the-"
*BARKWOOF You don't know anything about him. The last thing I remember was him crying when I was dying. I was on a table getting sleepy and he held me. He's still crying! He needs me! I need him!*
St Peter hovers his hand over Max's head, but stops. The hackles are raised. The teeth bared.
*Now!*
St Peter closes his eyes for a moment. The dog growling louder and louder. Suddenly the growling stops, and turns his head to the hill.
*Master? Master!*
Max takes off to the top of the hill. A familiar human is kneeling on the ground, "Max!"
"I've missed you so, so much"
*Me too* | Alexander came into the 3rd floor apartment with a stutter, his glasses and awkward unshaven appearance left him unappealing. When my roommate, Casey, had told me he was bringing his friend over and that he was a little strange, he wasn't exaggerating. Casey had forgotten to mention a very important detail to Alex. The detail that we have a pet.
"Wow, you have a golden retriever!" Alexander seemed as excited as we were when class got cancelled. "That's a good dog, I can tell just by looking at him." "Oh yeah, he's pretty cool. I got him to fetch the news from the front too, doesn't even need a leash." "He's not your slave you know, this guy is his own individual, with his own hopes and dreams. He might have smaller aspirations and simpler drives, but they are there all the same." Casey and I just looked at each other, he didn't even ask who I was and I would be clueless to his presence if not for Casey telling me about him beforehand. I limply held my playstation 4 controller in my hand on the living area couch, unsure how to proceed. "I don't suppose that I could talk to him for a bit?" Now Casey and I were really confused. Did he really want to have a conversation with our dog? "You can learn a lot from animals, trust me. One of them told me something very important once, something that I can't talk with anyone else about. The gist of that conversation is to be good to all animals, trust me." I sat with my mouth agape, thinking if he was for real.
Without even attaining permission, Alexander immediately began sitting down and chatting with our dog. "What's your name man?" He asked inquisitively, and he seemed to expect an actual answer. "I see, well it seems like a good life." Casey and I were stunned. I couldn't even believe what was happening, and Casey started to realize that bringing him over was a really bad move. "You know, I eat 100% vegan. No animal products involved in my diet, absolutely not. I know it might not mean much to you, but I just can't eat meat or anything that an animal had to suffer for." This gross, unkempt man came into our house to spout off his vegan nonsense? I was about to say something but Casey immediately propped up and said "Yo, Alex, I think maybe we should hang out somewhere else, maybe your place? Alex responded "Sure, sounds like a plan." "Hey, see you later David." As Casey and Alex left the apartment, he waved to David, our dog. | 2016-03-24T13:23:57 | 2016-03-24T12:50:08 | 155 | 11 |
[WP] All humans go automatically to hell when they die. You can gain access to a heaven though, but only if the animals you interacted with while living vouch for you. | "Okay," God said while he shuffled some papers, "We've just heard from the five dogs you cared for throughout your life. And frankly, I'm touched, that was great testimony. Now let's see what the next group of witnesses have to say. Could the Angeliff please call in the 500,000 chickens that Mr. Abigail's life had an impact on?" | *Wake up in a fiery courtroom*
**Main:** Wow! what the.....
**Judge:** Welcome to Hell, you are brought here today to determine if you will go to heaven or if you will spend eternity being punished here in hell.
**Main:** What, who's deciding that?
**Judge:** It is up to the animals you have interacted with throughout your life. 3 dogs you have owned and 1 cat have arrived to give their testimonies.
*YES!!! I was always good to animals!! I loved animals more than people!!*
**Judge:** Dog 1 come to the stand and please give your testimony.
*AW it's Buddy! I haven't seen that guy forever!*
**Buddy:** This man should be punished!! Every night he would force me to sleep next to him! Dogs are not made for human beds! He kept me inside and would only let me go outside to pee a few times a day! My whole life felt like I was in prison.
*Wait.. what!?*
**Main:** Buddy I always tried to treat you like a human! I would even feed you cooked chicken!
**Buddy:** I am a Dog you bastard!!! I wanted to sleep on the floor, eat dry pebbles and lay in the sun!
***All other animals gave similar testimonies, they were treated like humans, something they all hated***
**Judge:** Sir, you are despicable. For your punishment, you shall be Buddy's pet. You will not be able to communicate with him verbally any longer and you'll see how horrible it is being treated like you're something your not. | 2016-03-24T14:53:06 | 2016-03-24T11:03:54 | 96 | 16 |
[WP] You are a realtor who sells lairs to supervillains. There's one property You've been trying to unload for years, and you think your new client just might bite... | "This lair comes fully equipped for all of your dastardly plans." I say as I open the door, a modest little house on the outside, but not every supervillain wants a volcano lair... or so I thought when I first got it. "Don't obsess over the suburban cover, this lair actually encompasses the entire neighborhood, just load up the houses with some henchmen guards and you've got the perfect cover."
"Now, even inside it can serve as a comfy home, however it's the basement that really sells it." I say as we walk past an iconic living room. "Now down here as you can see is a small little kingdom and town. Now this was enchanted by some ancient evil so that the puppets in the case under the table can trap the souls of your enemies. Hard to foil your plans of domination when you're stuck in the form of a puppet."
"Of course, you can use the train system to kill or torture your captives if you'd like. I do understand if you are a different kind of villain, but the choice is always nice." I lead the man towards a small aquarium in the room, a little goldfish swimming around. "Now if you prefer death by mutant animals, this little guy is your best friend."
I reach into the water and grab the fish, yanking it out and tossing it onto the floor across the room. The fish instantly starts to flop around, growing exponentially in size and roaring fiercely before I utter a simple command and it becomes docile. "It's loyal to whoever holds it's contract. Which of course is included."
"So, Mr. Rogers, what do you think?"
| "... and here are where the jail cells are. As you can see, the walls are made of steel, a difficult barrier for any hostages or prisoners you wish to keep captive. The keys and codes can be easily changed, of course," I said. I was really hoping to make this sale. We'd had it in our possession since ProtoT had been vaporized by his nemesis, Dr. Haus.
My potential buyer, who went simply by "The Snake," was nodding along. I wondered what his powers could be since I hadn't really heard about him in the news. He must be trying to get on the A list of supervillains if he was looking at a place like this.
"I like thissss. I can imagine how good thissss whole place would look in green. More of an emerald, really. Letsssss talk price."
I nodded. "We are asking $1,375,000 in cash, US dollars, or 32.6kg of gold bullion. Preferably this would be in one payment, but we understand if that is not achievable," I replied. I hoped he would go for it.
The Snake frowned. "Hmmm. That seemssssss awfully generoussssss. Wouldn't want to think that something'ssssssss wrong with the place...." he hissed. I tried not to look guilty.
"Well, you saw everything. We wouldn't hide problems with a lair, considering some of our customers would... well, come after us if not wholly satisfied. I guarantee there is nothing wrong with the place." I said.
The Snake paused for a moment. I hoped he believed me.
"... I recognize thissss place. It used to be ProtoT'ssssss. The whole world knowsssss the layout of this basssse from the viral leaked body camera footage of ssssSWAT clearing this lair after hissss inevitable demissse. Any enemy of mine ssshall be able to plan an attack on me easssily. I won't buy thissss place," he hissed.
"Well in that case, would you be interested in another lair we are selling in Alaska? It's secluded from civilization, perfect for whatever kinds of experiments you may want to run. I've heard there's even great internet connection...." I said. I'd learned not to haggle for this place after being told it wouldn't be bought.
"In the cold snowssss of Alasssska? That doessss not sssuit my cold blooded heart. Good day, ssssir. I'll expect you to contact me if another sssuitable location for my needssss isss found," he replied as he stormed out of the room. He slammed the door, leaving the cells, but it made no noise since everything had been soundproofed to drive prisoners mad. I stood in silence, wishing hell on whoever had leaked that video. | 2016-09-17T18:36:52 | 2016-09-17T16:29:54 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] There are multi-Gods for the multi-verse, and it turns out ours is kind of like the 'cool mom who lets you drink at her house,' though other Gods look at our free will and generally silent deity as bad Godding on His part. | Sam sighed as he looked upon the whole of his creation. "I just don't want them to hate me," he said. "They never even knew their mother. I'm all they've got."
The woman seated next to him nodded sagely. "I know it can be hard, raising them alone. But this hands-off approach you've been using for the past few millennia just isn't *good* for them, dear. They need *discipline*. As it is, your people are stunted. You gave them this whole beautiful universe and for the most part they don't even care to explore it. They just stay in their Earth, wrecking the place and fighting with each other over who loves you more. You need to give them a little guidance. They'll thank you for it."
"I'm just worried if I let myself lose my temper I'll take it too far," said Sam.
"Yes," the woman paused, considering her words carefully. "The flood was a little bit over the top. But you can teach them boundaries without all of that."
Sam flushed slightly. "I'm still embarrassed about that one," he said. "But they just really push your buttons sometimes, you know? It's the free will that makes it tricky." He sighed again. "Sara would have known what to do."
"I know you miss her," the woman said. She patted his knee. "But you can't just let them run wild like this. Have you thought about reining in the free will a bit? Your people might be happier that way. Look at your ants and bees. So organized!"
"They're killing the bees too!" Sam shook his head. "No, that's my fault. I should have made them cuter. You should see how hard they work to save pandas, and they don't pollinate anything!"
"I think we're getting off topic, dear."
"I'm just saying, a lot of this is on me," said Sam. "I've just been creating off the cuff. Panda bees! That's a great idea right? I should get to my workshop."
The woman shook her head. "You can't just keep escaping into your work."
Sam shrugged "Look, the people will sort things out in time. But they have to have free will. I haven't given up on my goal yet."
"What is your goal, dear? What do you want from them?"
"Just...someone to talk to," Sam said. "That's all."
There was no reply.
The wind picked up. Sam looked at the empty space beside him and sighed again. He stood up.
"I really should get back to it then," he said to the wind.
| "Personally, I think you just need to smite them every once in a while. That way they're more behaved overall, and work harder in their lives than if I let them just, run wild." Janice's eyes grew big as she motioned towards The Universe Tribune, then took another sip of tea.
Her group sitting in the restaurant at the end of the universe all nodded and murmured side comments in agreement. "I would never let them take things that far." "Bunch of selfish sinners on that planet." "I smite mine daily."
The newspaper sat in the center of the table, and the cover story took up the whole front page. All of Earth's shenanigans listed in bullet points, with a picture from an ISIS YouTube video in the background. Things looked dire for the planet. They were on the brink of self-destruction, and all anyone could ask was, where was their god?
The bell rang at the front door and an overweight woman in sweats helped herself to the bar and ordered a bloody Mary. The table of deities grew hushed as they watched her with practiced judgement.
After getting her drink, and a few gulps in, her eye caught the familiar faces at the table and she lit up. She made her way over, and grabbed her own chair to sit with everyone.
"Hey guys! I didn't think I'd see you here!" She said warmly. "I thought you couldn't hang out because today was your descension, Bernadette."
"Hey Katie," Bernadette shifted uncomfortably in her seat, "I'm doing that in a few hours. Just wanted to take a break first." She threw back half her mimosa.
"Good to see you, Katie," Janice started, a superior grin growing. "How are things with you? Your ears must have been burning."
Katie finally saw the paper. She only rolled her eyes.
"Oh, that. Yea, it's hard to watch. I love them, but there's only so much I can do without taking away their free will."
"Is that really something you still want to prioritize at this point? I don't think the humans will last another 100 years." No one else at the table is saying anything. They're too uncomfortable with the confrontation.
Katie takes a deep gulp from her drink, looking defiantly back at Janice.
"You know, as nice as it is being worshipped, even if most of them think I'm a guy," Katie went on, despite a chortle at the table,
"It's not important. I don't need my ego inflated. I blame myself for intervening early on. I really hurt them. Now they're still killing each other as if it's my will. So I had to stop. I promised myself I would never hurt another life on Earth. I give them gifts and miracles, but I can't smite them. They can only smite themselves, and if that ends them,"
Katie broke a little bit with one tear running, "Then that's that. I'm responsible for taking care of the planet, and maybe it will be a better place without humanity."
The tears started flowing freely. The table was shocked at her loss of composure. A God should remain stoic at all times. This was beyond all of their comprehension.
Katie collected herself, and stood up from the table. "You guys have a nice day."
She left $10 for the drink, then headed out. As soon as the door closed, Janice looked to the table for some kind of confirmation. She didn't get any. The mood was crushed, no one spoke, and everyone walked away maybe 5 minutes later.
Janice was so frustrated with how brunch ended, when she went back to her planet, she sent a plague to her people. When they asked her why, she made an excuse about how she looked ugly in her shrines. | 2017-05-07T09:14:56 | 2017-05-07T09:00:20 | 524 | 188 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | Word had quickly spread through the country about the bizarre mug changes. A whole host of dads were waking up to vindication or disappointment as the numbers of their mugs changed from #1 to some indiscriminately high number. Those who placed in the low hundred thousands were those few dads who had always seemed stable; good job, good marriage, wonderful kids.
Tom had only heard the news about the mug when he was at work, so he was thrilled with anticipation to read his own mug when he arrived home. With 2 little ones and a 5 year long marriage, he was expecting a good number; not the best number of course, he certainly wasn't perfect, but a good number. Maybe even enough to beat William from across the street who takes his kids out to the fair twice a month.
Sneaking out of work an hour early, he drove quickly before rushing straight to the kitchen upon arrival home. He reached up to open the mug cupboard where his mug from last Father's Day resided. He recognized the font, and his stomach swelled as he read the writing:
"# N/A Dad" | "Ya know... i don't know, really... i guess it was just all the pressure was too much for him... i understand it a little now as a parent myself... you just... well you want to do right by your kids, right? But like... you never really know, ya know?"
"Well yeah... the interviews, magazine features... i don't think he ever really felt like he had an adequate answer... i think he felt like a fraud... like he just stumbled upon it and it wasn't something he brought about on his own... i don't know how a person would deal with that"
"Well no... but when people are looking at you... and ultimately they want what you have... like... i don't know... i guess you just feel like you owe it to them to have some kind of... some sort of answer... even if you yourself don't really know"
"Yeah i imagine the hate mail didn't help... people can be... just really unpleasant... thats an understatement i guess... but that just kind of amplified those feelings of fraudulence... he had all this going on in his head and just this... echo chamber of hate mail, just reinforcing it"
"No... yeah its taken me a while to sort of... to sort things through... i mean i was just a kid"
"I can talk about it now, i mean... thats what i'm doing... so... i mean it still bothers me. I'm not gonna act like it doesn't but yeah... i can talk about it"
"Well thats the thing... no note... no anything... i mean my mother was aware of some of the... she was aware that he was stressed out... but thats a part of it... you have to keep up that image, right? For your kids... for anyone who's looking up to you... they expect you to have it all together"
"Yeah thats why it was such a shock to... to everyone... thats the irony of the whole thing... "#1 dad"... thats not what a good father does to his family... to his kids... to his wife... thats just not how it's supposed to work"
"No... just speculation... its funny... well not funny but... you know... he'd pretend like he had all the answers during the interviews... but here, when you need them the most... nothing... no explanation, no nothing... maybe he just got tired of pretending"
"theres no mug for that..."
| 2021-12-03T09:27:18 | 2017-06-11T08:28:06 | 828 | 17 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | The Pope knelt inside the cool, grey dark of the nave. He was a man with a simple, strong faith and he felt both troubled and blessed this morning. God had come, and He had both measured and spoken.
A genuinely supernatural event.
But the act had felt both capricious and strange. God had used the medium of #1 Dad mugs. This seems neither a godly medium or act till you are confronted by The Work. Then realisation dawns. You feel awe. The power you confront is complete and total. Ultimate.
These mugs, every single one in the world, currently displayed a message "This is how good a father you truly are" and a number in some long-dead or never-existing language though this posed no imposition. The words hammered an understanding into your head and into the depths of your soul. The numbers were true and certain. This you knew.
"Job," whispered the Pope nervous. "Like Job."
He bowed his head though he did not pray and he thought on God, his power and his plans, and he thought on his sins and his number #20,000,001 and thought on the sins of his flock, every single lamb, and he worried for the world.
The Pope began to pray and his prayers were many and strange. | I sat in the kitchen seat, knowing that i was getting a mug this father's day. My kids seemed so excited after the phenomenon started. I felt honored as i was being given my official ranking. Although they were already 4 and 5 respectively, i knew i hadn't been a dad long and figured i wouldn't place high.
The kids swarmed in with their little wrapped box and thrust it toward me. My wife, behind my children, smiled just as big as them. As i took hold of the box all thought turned to statistics. Did they include ALL dads or just the ones with mugs? What exactly is the measurement? Just how many dads are out there? Why are my palms sweating? Many more questions popped into my head but they were quelled by my wife snapping me back to reality telling me to open it.
Carefully pulling the bow strings, i undid that which held what only now i feared the most. Slowly i lifted the lid to reveal a large white mug. Taking it out of the box i turned it to see a large hand painted "#1 dad" on the side. I know it's not one of the official mugs but rather one which my kids made themselves. Crying, i embraced them both telling them that no matter what my true ranking was, i was so happy just to be their dad and that they were the most wonderful things in the world. After they left the room to go play my wife sat down at the table with me.
Asking me what i thought of their gift, i responded by saying there was no need to have the knowledge as, to the children, i already was #1. I then got up and made a cup of covfefe in my new mug. Turning back to sit back down i saw my wife already had a cup of her own. She turned it toward me. I could not believe what i saw. There, in her hands, was a mug which said #1 dad. It wasn't painted, it didn't have a smudge, it showed clearly #1. Taken aback i just stood there staring at my wife who had an even bigger smile than when i was given what was in my hands.
I still don't know what i did, but i swore that i would always and forever try to be the best dad i could be. No matter what my mug says, i promised i would strive to be better than i am. That is how i found out that i was the best dad in the world. | 2022-02-18T23:24:10 | 2017-06-11T10:02:30 | 78 | 36 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | "... at number two, it has been confirmed that former President Barack Obama has the #2 Dad Mug and it is no surprise there given how he set himself as an exemplary dad during his stay at the White House."
"Right you are Stacy. Despite juggling between being a dad and the president of this great country, I'm quite surprised he didn't get the number one... Wait... Hold on..."
(An envelope has been given to John by one of the producers)
"This just in folks. We now have the name of the dad who has the #1 dad mug inside this envelope".
"According to our producers, it has been confirmed and verified by the experts on the legitimacy of the mug. However, we have been informed the dad in question has recently passed away and the mug is now in the hand of the family".
"Well then Stacy, shall I open the envelope?".
"Yes John. Let us be the first to reveal the name of the number one dad in the world".
(John opens the envelope and took out the paper)
"And the number one dad's name is...umm..."
"...is...?"
"...Ted. Ted the accountant". | "Ya know... i don't know, really... i guess it was just all the pressure was too much for him... i understand it a little now as a parent myself... you just... well you want to do right by your kids, right? But like... you never really know, ya know?"
"Well yeah... the interviews, magazine features... i don't think he ever really felt like he had an adequate answer... i think he felt like a fraud... like he just stumbled upon it and it wasn't something he brought about on his own... i don't know how a person would deal with that"
"Well no... but when people are looking at you... and ultimately they want what you have... like... i don't know... i guess you just feel like you owe it to them to have some kind of... some sort of answer... even if you yourself don't really know"
"Yeah i imagine the hate mail didn't help... people can be... just really unpleasant... thats an understatement i guess... but that just kind of amplified those feelings of fraudulence... he had all this going on in his head and just this... echo chamber of hate mail, just reinforcing it"
"No... yeah its taken me a while to sort of... to sort things through... i mean i was just a kid"
"I can talk about it now, i mean... thats what i'm doing... so... i mean it still bothers me. I'm not gonna act like it doesn't but yeah... i can talk about it"
"Well thats the thing... no note... no anything... i mean my mother was aware of some of the... she was aware that he was stressed out... but thats a part of it... you have to keep up that image, right? For your kids... for anyone who's looking up to you... they expect you to have it all together"
"Yeah thats why it was such a shock to... to everyone... thats the irony of the whole thing... "#1 dad"... thats not what a good father does to his family... to his kids... to his wife... thats just not how it's supposed to work"
"No... just speculation... its funny... well not funny but... you know... he'd pretend like he had all the answers during the interviews... but here, when you need them the most... nothing... no explanation, no nothing... maybe he just got tired of pretending"
"theres no mug for that..."
| 2022-05-16T13:47:51 | 2017-06-11T08:28:06 | 70 | 17 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | "Dad?"
"Dad are you ok?"
I stood there speechless for what felt like forever. Up until this moment my life had been what most would call perfect. A loving, caring wife. An adoring son. The irony that the gift from his last Father's Day that brought joy to my heart is now the source of this terrible anguish.
My wife and I have been together for 13 years, and for the most part we've had a wonderful relationship. The spark is still alive and well, but early on we went through a really rough patch. I was working a ton of late nights, she felt neglected and the spark was fading. She decided to go stay with her mother for a while, we didn't talk for almost a month. Well that was all the wake up call I needed.
It took a lot of work but we began "dating" each other again and found that groove again. In fact, things were the best they'd ever been. It wasn't long after Ethan was born. She had some complications during labor and the doctors thought we might actually lose both of them, but the good man upstairs was gracious, and they both pulled through. I'm a blessed man, and I thank my lucky stars every day for them, and do everything I can to show my appreciation to them in as many ways as possible.
So when I got a text this morning about this stuff with the "#1 Dad" mugs actually displaying a true ranking didn't really have me that worried, but standing here now I can honestly say that I didn't see this coming. Each word cutting deeper than the last.. "You Are Not The Father." | The mug was in the back yard shed with most of my dads things. I had gotten them when he passed away. It stood there with a big number one on it. I decided to bring it inside, since i had known to me he had been my number one dad.
When i touched it the number changed. I hadn't been with a girl in about a year. I hadn't dated in almost 3. I was a dad.
The number was insanely high. But i didn't know i was a father until i touched it, so i guess... that was fine. It bothered me though. I mean it would bother anyone. 698,589. It was a non-scripted kind of number. The kind you would see on a prison inmates shirt. The kind of number I felt like.
I called Cristina. We had dated for 3 years, i almost popped the question, but then her grandparents died and she said she needed time to think her life over. And we just fell out of touch. She was the last girl i was with.
The conversation was pretty normal. I am good how are you, me too, thanks for asking. But like word vomit it came spilling out of my mouth like a a wet shit on a hot day. "DID YOU GIVE BIRTH TO A CHILD OF MINE WITHOUT ME KNOWING?" The receiver was quiet for a long time. Then you could hear her breathing on the other end in a sobbing tone. "I had an abortion without telling you." I wasn't sure if it was yours, John, I cheated on you. Thats why i left. I felt to guilty."
I knew i shouldn't but i felt relief. Not a dad here. I told her it didn't bother me and hung up after saying we should get coffee some time. She seemed stunned but i was on a mission.
The next number i called wasn't as good of a lead. Tristan was her brother. He picked up, her phone, he asked me how i was, what kind of day i was having, and if i had heard from his sister at all. Told me all about his weekend out cracking cold ones with the boys. There it was again, the bile taste, The acid. "DID YOUR SISTER HAVE MY CHILD AND NOT TELL ME?" He laughed as my voice cracked. then when he stopped he said, "Maybe, I havent heard from her since you two dated."
"why do you have her old number?" Oh she gave me this phone the last time we saw each other. It had her number, but i just told all her friends it was mine now, and kept it. You mean you don't know where she is?"
I couldn't answer right away. Then after a while all i could managed was, "I'm coming over, Be ready for me." and hung up. | 2017-06-11T10:22:32 | 2017-06-11T09:05:00 | 30 | 21 |
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