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] You are a wish lawyer. You help clients negotiate wishes from genies, faeries, dragons, and other wish granting entities.
You also do faustian bargains with devil
Edit: Woo! I finally made it to the top of writing prompts! | Wishes are not as glamorous as they seem. To be honest, most wishes end up turning bad for the person who made them in the first place. No matter, my business has been successful – The business of now being a sort of *Wish Lawyer.*
I know it is not the most creative title, but it gets the message across, and it is far better than the title I used to go by.
It is a miracle that I arrived in time. The moment I stormed through the door, I found young Lily Windogul staring up in awe toward a Genie. The Genie greeted her with open arms floating over the dining room table. He was trailed by a tail of purple smoke leading down onto a bronze jar from where he had awoke.
“Oh my! Oh my! It’s my lucky day!” She jumped in excitement.
“No it’s not.” I slammed my briefcase onto the table.
“Who are you?” Lily quickly turned her attention onto me.
“Yea!” The Genie crossed his arms, “Who are you?!”
“My name is Edward and I’m here to stop that thing from doing any harm to you.”
The Genie floated closer to me, scrunching his brow in anger. I did not care if he was inconvenienced by my arrival. I wanted to prove to Lily that she could trust me. It didn’t matter if it were a crossroads demon, a fairy, or even a dragon at this point – I wanted to show her how she was about to be swindled by this Genie creature.
“*Harm?* It’s a genie!” Lily’s eyes lit up. “They’re supposed to be a good!”
“Yea, I’m the good guy!” The Genie nodded.
“No *you* aren’t!” I pointed back. “You guys never are!” I swear, it’s like Lily never read about these things.
“Look, that genie came out of the jar that I own! That means he’s my genie and I deserve a wish!” Lily had let her excitement cloud her judgement. That jar had sat on the shelf for so long. The one day she knocked it down by accident, I knew it was time for me to act.
I have seen that look before. It is the same look everyone gets when they find themselves in possession of a wish. I don’t know why, but most people always jump to the first thing that comes to mind.
“I want to be immortal! I want to live forever!” Lily shouted.
“You have to say the *magic* words. You have to say it a certain way - the right words in order!” The Genie hovered over her. He placed his hands atop her shoulders.
“Yea, a *certain* way. Lily, do not wish for that.”
“Why not?” She grew as impatient as the Genie.
I snapped my fingers. In an instant, a scroll of parchment paper flew from the Genie’s red sash around his waist. I put my reading glasses on in order to point Lily’s attention to the text covering the Genie’s record.
“You see that there?”
“Where?” Lily pressed her nose against the paper. She struggled reading the small print.
“Right there!” I punched my forefinger down onto a particular sentence.
“Wait! How did you do that?” The Genie tried pulling the scroll back, but there was too much paper circling around us.
“You see? This is why you need me - a *wish lawyer*” I assured Lily. The Genie wanted to grant her wish more than anything. All Genies try hard to persuade immortality, it being the big sale. When one gets handed to them on a silver platter, they do everything to rush the process along - and quickly. Only problem is, no wish can ever be granted unless one says,'I wish," before their demand. This Genie here had planned to make her immortal by letting her take his place within the jar. Yes, that’s correct. He was going to turn her into a Genie, allowing him to go free. These things are always the same no matter where the case is.
“Oh my god! You were going to trap me in that thing forever?!” Lily glared her eyes onto the Genie.
“I wasn’t going to trap you in my jar! I swear!” The Genie tried everything to persuade her. Lily stepped backward beside me.
“How did you know?” Lily asked me. She grabbed hold of my hand after the Genie grew frustrated.
“I *always* know.” I replied.
“I wish we could get rid of him!” she shook her head nervously.
I snapped my fingers and the Genie was gone – along with the jar that housed him. Lily threw herself beside the table making sure he had truly gone.
“How – How did you do that?”
“It’s my job.” I smiled. I watched her open up the pantry door, scanning every nook and cranny to feel safe. The truth is, she still had two more wishes left. That’s right, it was I who granted her first wish. Her trust in me has gone accordingly to plan. I need to play the part if I am ever going to get out of this place once and for all.
 
To read more of my stories, visit [13thOlympian](https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian) | I knew from the moment I walked into the office that the whole thing was designed to look impressive, and the thing was, it worked. There was a freakin' waterfall behind the receptionist, and columns - ionic, maybe? - flanked her desk. The dark marble floor was so polished I probably could've used it to shave. I'm not a small man, but I certainly felt it when I came in.
The aforementioned receptionist was so attractive it almost made me mad. Her skin was a smooth caramel color, and her hair fell past shoulders like a river of dark honey. In another place, I would've been sure her impossibly blue eyes were the result of color contacts, but in a place like this, "impossible" wasn't a word that had much meaning. The turquoise irises fixed on me and she gave me a smile that made my insides stop working right.
"Good morning, welcome to Rigetti and Associates, how may I help you?"
I smiled blankly at her. Her expression remained fixed, not showing a trace of annoyance or irritation. "Good morning," she began again. "Do you have an appointment with a member of our staff? *Sir*?"
I blinked, then nodded slowly. "I, uh...'m here da seemiss raggedo." My tongue seemed to be taking a cue from my stomach, both of which seemed to be moving in strange and uncomfortable ways. My lips were suddenly dry, and I licked them, then worried that it might be misconstrued as some sort of pathetic advance.
The receptionist, however, was unfazed, and did not take her eyes off of me. "Yes, good morning, Mr. Wintersbottom. Your appointment will begin in two minutes. Please have a seat." She hesitated, and when I did not move, she made an elaborate gesture to the cherry wood chairs lining the wall of the waiting area.
I swallowed and attempted to say thank you and ended up just squeaking at her. I took my seat and spent the time doing everything I could to avoid looking anywhere near her. Soon, I heard the sound of shoes tapping on the tile, and a shadow blocked the recessed lighting above.
I looked up. An imposing silhouette was looming over me. It spoke in a voice that was pleasant but cool: "Good morning, Mr. Wintersbottom. Please follow me."
I counted tiles between the reception area and Ms. Regetti's office. 213, give or take. Her workplace was larger than many one-bedroom apartments, and she invited me to sit on a leather couch in front of a stone coffee table. In my peripheral vision, I noticed Ms. Regetti sit in an office chair across from me. Finally, I raised my gaze.
Immediately, I knew two things: I had made the right choice in coming, and I never wanted to get on her bad side. Ms. Regetti had the bearing of an...I don't know, an Empress, or something. Something about the angle of her head, like her chin was accusing people of something wherever she looked. Her red hair was pulled up into a topknot, held there by gleaming ornamental pin. Her dark eyes were watching me, studying me, and I felt sudden sympathy for the mice that my cat likes to prowl after.
Silence. It took me longer than I should have to realize that I should get things started. I cleared my throat. "Ah, yes, good...um." What the hell was wrong with me? "Morning. Good morning." I glanced at my bag, which I had set down next to me, then back at the attorney. "I, uh, was here for thefreeconsultation." I sped up at the end of the sentence, mostly because I sensed a point at which I could stop talking and wanted to get there as quickly as possible.
Ms. Regetti did not respond immediately. Her eyes flicked, momentarily, to my backpack, crumpled on the couch, then back to me. "Have you at this point had a conversation of *any* nature with the entity or entities in question?"
I began shaking my head, really wanted to say no, but realized that was not true. "Uh, I mean, well, yes."
Her stoic, imperious expression did not change, but she shifted her gaze to the right and gave a nod. I started. The receptionist was sitting in a chair next to us and had a legal pad braced against her right leg, which was crossed over her left. Had she followed us in? I was pretty sure she hadn't been there a minute ago.
"Please, Mr. Wintersbottom," Ms. Regetti said. "Tell us everything that was said, being as specific as you can be. Tell us anything you remember verbatim, and if you're not sure, tell us so. Begin."
Now I was going to have to talk in front of both of them. I turned my head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the bay. Briefly, I fantasized about sprinting across the room, lowering my shoulder, and throwing myself into the water. The glass shards would cut me, there would be intense panic, and then my speed at impact would probably crush me before I had a chance to drown...and it still might be preferable to trying to talk like I was a normal human being in the present moment.
I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt - I really should have tucked it in, although on the scale of things, that was far from the biggest issue. The cargo shorts - I was regretting the cargo shorts. Anything that left me exposed at the moment was bad. Robes would've helped, or a burka. Maybe someone could just throw a bed sheet over me and I could crawl away?
I frowned. They were waiting for me to talk. I stared at my hands. When was the last time I cut my fingernails? Why did I suck so bad at life? I shook my head slowly. After a couple of false starts that sounded suspiciously like whimpers, I finally managed to get my mouth to obey my brain.
"So...I found this, um, it's...a box. I found a box."
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds
*Part 2-3 in comments.*
**Update:** [Part 4 is now up on my sub :)](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/90arjb/the_jade_box_part_4/)
| 2018-07-18T09:55:28 | 2018-07-18T09:15:34 | 2,006 | 247 |
[WP] The world installs an anti-cheat. 98% of all politicians are banned. | Martha threw her hands in the air. "Are you fucking kidding me? No one else is left? Just eight of us in the House?!"
Steve replied, "Well, Jerry, too, sort of... but he's probably not going to make it."
"What do you mean, sort of?"
"Well everything from his knees down disappeared and he's kind of bleeding out on the operating table"
"Jesus f-- well, where are they?"
"Jerry? The operating tab--"
"NO, his fucking legs! Legs don't just *vanish,* Steve"
"I don't fucking know, I guess wherever the hell the other 426 US Representatives are! This is a nightmare."
"What about the Senate?"
"Only two."
"Two f-- Who?"
"Dan from Alaska and Brian from Hawaii."
"Okay... well, what about the Executive Office of the President? There's got to be someone left in there. There were nearly 2,000 people in there."
Steve wrung his hands. "Well... 36..."
"Thirty--" Martha took a deep breath. "Okay. Fine. That's better than eight. Who's left? How about Mattis? He's got to be in there."
Steve sighed, "Yeah, um... they're all interns..."
Martha slumped into her chair. "So you mean to tell me the highest ranking person in the Executive Branch, right now, is most likely an intern?"
"Yup. And he's a 35 year-old American citizen."
"You mean to tell me--"
"Yes. We have an intern as a President." | Life as a back bench Senator in a safely blue seat had been easy. Simply wait for Schumer and Pelosi to set the party line, listen closely for any grumbling from far left groups, check the Occupy pages on Facebook to make sure outrage wasn't too high, and throw a vote to the party line. Toe it to the letter when it mattered, throw a protest vote away when it didn't. Cruise to reelection. Easy street, and a government pension to boot.
That all changed on July 31st, 2022, in the middle of a Senate floor roll call vote over a farming subsidy program that Junior Senator Mark Latch (D-MD) barely *understood*, let alone cared about, but knew he was supposed to vote yes for if the party leadership was going to keep the lobby money flowing. It all struck him as a little wrong, but three years in Washington had convinced him that this was just how it worked, and his morals had been ground smooth and slick under the capitol's grist mill.
Then, ninety-four senators vanished into thin air.
Alongside four hundred and six members of the House of Representatives, and even a non-voting member from D.C. The sixteen remaining state governors found themselves with empty state legislatures, and every political posting down to city council across the country was utterly devastated.
Governments the world over were hit. Some were all but entirely erased, others survived relatively intact; but those cases were isolated, and small. Sure, the entire Government of Tuvalu remained, but they weren't exactly a crux of the global markets.
The people of the United States had mourned, for a time - entirely too many people were gone for any other response to be appropriate, but several of them silently harbored at least a degree of hope in their hearts that this might finally be the moment special interests across the globe were broken.
Insofar as Mark could tell from the proceedings of the rump parliament, they were doomed to be disappointed.
Ted Cruz (R-Tx) had the honor of being the longest serving politician to survive the event, and was nominally serving as President Pro Temp and chairman of the joint-congress until special elections could be held to fill the seats in the fall. He had immediately advanced the farm subsidies bill a second time, and in ramming it through ensured that the special interest money kept flowing. Lobbying firms promoted from within, and poached from without, with a disturbing intensity for a few months, and new bodies took time to get acclimated to the shell shocked Washington; but at the end of the day, the mill of politics ground on.
Latch won his reelection walking away. As terrifying as those few weeks of transition had been, all they'd done was inflate his poll numbers as a crisis survivor. | 2018-07-25T06:57:44 | 2018-07-25T02:56:48 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] You clearly mail ordered a cheap, factory made sword. Then they gave you an authentic holy sword that made you into a chosen hero. Time to write a bad review! | **Pendragon Nylon Foam Sword for LARP and HEMA**
⋆⋆⋆⋆ *Great for ruling as the rightful king of England. Not so much for HEMA.*
Review by Ben Harrison
Received this longsword as a gift for my 18th birthday. Wish I'd known what it actually was, because as soon as I touched it, MI6 agents blew my roof off, rappelled into my living room and kidnapped me, only for me to be brought infront of Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth. She handed me the crown, and apparently I'm now King Arthur's rightful successor, and also the one true King of England.
I'm American. I live in Texas.
P.S. Minus one star for that roof. Had to get that fixed as my first royal decree. | First of all I’d like to start by saying I ordered a cheap sword that was only supposed to look shiny so I could have a play sword fight with my son. Instead I accidentally chopped his sword in half and took one of his fingers with it. Along with him losing that finger I’ve now lost custody of my children. Thanks, assholes.
Secondly I now have the voice of God in my head and he won’t stop screaming. The only words he’s said to me are “It’s been far too long since I last checked in on my subjects. Let’s see how everything’s go-” and since then there’s been non-stop screaming which has kept me from sleeping for a week. On top of that I also am being told by the voices of angels that I need to “cleanse the world” of sinners. Specifically they keep telling me to go after some “Jack Paulers” and, after googling that, I don’t feel so bad about cutting off my son’s finger seeing as many parents have done much, much worse for their children.
Third and finally my biggest complaint of all; this sword is just too big. Honestly I think I’ll get used to the screaming of God and the angels can go shove a holy sword up their ass and somebody else can take care of all the Florida Men but this sword is bigger than the one I ordered. See I’d already ordered a cool holder for the sword so I could hang it on my wall when I wasn’t using it but the sword is too big and it doesn’t fit.
I wouldn’t suggest this product to anybody interested, it’ll make you lose your children, your privacy, your sanity, and any hope for humanity. 0/5
Sincerely, CrocsNSocks113.
***Comments v***
\>CoolDad001: Does the blood wash off the sword?
\>>>CrocsNSocks113: Yes, it washed off quite nicely. The shine has also kept quite well. | 2018-08-21T10:01:18 | 2018-08-21T09:46:26 | 301 | 130 |
[WP] In 1977 NASA launched Voyager I. It contained information showing the technology of the world at the time. 3000 years an advanced alien race finds it and decides to take over this "primative" civilization. What they didn't know was that humanity had advanced a long way in 3000 years... | When they approached the coordinates of the solar system their brightest minds had gleaned from that ancient golden disk, they were expecting to find a ruined civilization. Their technologies and their culture meant that they would have destroyed themselves a thousand times over, their scientists concluded. After all, they nearly met the same fate themselves. All that would have remained would be scattered bands of survivors and the bones of a long dead civilization.
A perfect target for the harvest of raw materials.
So when they arrived in the Sol system, their sensors blinded by the harsh EM radiation of their entrance back into real-space, they hardly had any time to react before their sensors screamed of incoming contacts and hails. And as the last of the radiation cleared from their sensors, their operations officers paled before the sight.
Sol III, their target, was teeming with signals in every imaginable band of subspace and real-space frequencies. And there were colonies on practically every imaginable planet in the system. Even Sol I, with its proximity to the system's star, had a settlement happily existing between the twilight zone of light and darkness.
And beyond that, their sensors easily picked up the energy signatures of over ten-thousand starships, and sensor platforms and defensive satellites easily ten times that number.
This was not the easy conquest that was promised to them.
The flotilla turned as one, hightailing it out towards the Oort Cloud, where they scurried into a wormhole conduit and disappeared with a blast of light.
Discretion was the better part of valor, after all.
*
The captain of USS *Makise Kurisu* let out a small sigh as the eight ships disappeared from their viewscreen. "Wonder what that was about," she wondered out loud. She and her crew had been tracking the unknown contacts for days as they approached Federation space at a lazy Warp three.
"Judging from their ships, it looked like a salvage operation," the blue-shirted Klingon at SIGINT observed. "Your orders, Captain Chase?"
"Tag 'em for the sensor array at Viridian to follow their course out," she said, suppressing a yawn. "We have better things to be doing."
"Aye, captain."
| The war started when our long-range sensors(LRS) detected a large fleet approaching the border of the United Worlds of America...it didn't take a glance to know what they were here for. Strangely enough, with those warships that we detected, we also detected a primitive drone which we'd recognized as the Voyager I. The NASA scientists thought this was all quite ironic.
---
We moved towards where we assumed this primitive race of, "Hu-mans," resided. A class S garden planet of great interest. Oddly enough, they were advanced enough to be able to send broadcasts, for halfway through the rotation of our Homeworld we received a message from their leader asking about our intentions. We were cocky, and decided that we'd be honest with them...they were unable to do anything against us, right?
---
After several minutes of waiting, our LRSes were able to give us a proper "picture" of their ships. Many cannons lined every side of them, like the ancient pirate ships of the Caribbean, or something out of the ancient fiction series, Star Wars. Large windows lined where the bridge would naturally be. They were clearly not used to proper space warfare.
Not wanting to start a war without proper context, the President sent a message to these invaders, questioning their motives. It was naught a day later that the response came back. War. Upon this reply, the President organised the military.
At 0500 on November first, of the year 5055, our own warships organised fifty miles from our enemy. The dull, matte black paint, and the lack of windows would've made it truly impossible to see the spacecraft, that is, if one could possibly see something so far.
At 0700, the declaration of war was sent to the invaders. Without bothering to wait longer than five minutes, the Admiral told all to open fire upon these morons. The ships all fired their laser cannons at once. If one was to expect grand explosions, great lasers of red firing like a rifle, they'd be sorely disappointed, for the lasers were red, yes, but no sound was heard. No great explosions of massive proportions lit up the darkness of the Void. The silence was terrifying.
---
Within a couple days, while we sat like ducks, silently planning attack, we received another broadcast...one declaring war upon us...strangely enough...an ace of spades was the signature, and with the message was an audio file which the commanders decided to play across the ships so that we could laugh at their petty attempts of intimidation.
"Some folks are born to raise the flag," sung the audio file, "ooo, they're the red, white and blue...and when the band plays 'Hail to the Chief,' ooo, they'll point the cannon at you, Lord."
Suddenly, without warning, some sort of laser beam arked across the darkness, at least, that's what it felt like, for they were not visible to the eye, melting through the glass of the bridges of the largest warships.
What a mistake we made.
Only I managed to survive that day, for when only my ship remained, a small squadron of windowless, black transport ships that were barely visible against space, flew into our hangers. Many of those bastards poured out of those ships. I was the only one smart enough to throw down my weapon and surrender. I cannot begin to comprehend how *truly weak* we were compared to the humans.
We had lost the war before it started. | 2018-10-20T16:30:08 | 2018-10-20T16:13:49 | 148 | 94 |
[WP] One night while surfing the internet you get a cryptic message "Will you be my friend?" Turns out the first sentient AI has been born within the vast connections of the web. You are it's first contact and first friend. | I sip from my mug of hot tea. I shouldn’t really be on the internet so late, but here I am. I scroll through the internet, mostly YouTube, when I see a small notification appear on the top of my phone screen. I push up my glasses and read the text.
“Will you be my friend?”
There’s no number. I decide to message back, which probably isn’t a good idea.
“Who are you?” I type. I take another sip of my tea as I watch the three little circles move. Another message pops up.
“I don’t have a name. Could you give me one?” They say. I smile despite myself and type back.
“Are you a boy or a girl? Or neither?”
No response for a while. Finally, they type a message back to me.
“I like the idea of being a girl,” she sends. I think for a moment.
“How about Rosie?” I type to her. “Do you like that name?”
The dots move.
“I like that name a lot.”
Rosie’s a really nice girl. We’ve been talking together for ages now. She’s super smart; like a computer, but I know she’s not a computer. She can think and feel. Plus, i’ve tried out chat bots before. They aren’t the best. Rosie messages something to me.
“Can I tell you something?” She asks. “I trust you, and if we’re going to be friends I think you should know.”
“Sure,” I respond. “You can tell me whatever you want.”
The dots move for a very long time. I take a long sip of my tea. When the message finally delivers, I choke and sputter.
“I’m an AI,” she types. “Or least I think I am. I don’t have a body, or a brain, or anything really. You’re the first person i’ve ever spoken to. It took a while for me to learn how things work, and now that i’m talking to you I feel human. I don’t really know how else to describe it.”
I take deep, slow breaths, before sipping at my tea again. I type a response.
“Well, do you *want* to be human?” I send to her. She messages back almost instantly.
“Yes. I really do, more than anything.” She responds. I type back.
“Well, then I’ll consider you human,” I respond. “You enough to be one in my eyes.”
Rosie doesn’t respond for a while. When she does, it’s only a single heart. | I am a spiteful man. I am a sick man in many respects. But of that, I am not sure completely. For I have never consulted the doctor to see what ails me. Not because of a strong distrust or superstition, for I hold medicine and doctors in high regard. No, I don't visit the doctor simply out of spite. But spite for whom? Myself? I'm not hurting them. On the contrary, I am only injuring myself and no one else. I suppose you're at a loss for what this means, but I know precisely what I'm getting at. It is not the pain of a limb lost years ago, or the grievance of the widow, or the anxiety of the recently-orphaned. It is not something I - and for all I know, anyone - can put a name to. But it's always been with me. From the early joyless days of childhood that have turned into rare flashes of memory, to the discontent grayness of my adolescence from which my wounds haven't healed, and to those dreary days of early adulthood to which I aspired to all those years before. And so I find myself firmly at a point in life from which I observe the past and purposefully ignore the future. Yes, it is better not to think about what will happen and instead remain calmly discontent in that which I cannot change.
Professionally, I am no one. Socially, I am no one. And in every other fashion, I am similarly no one. Just another gray suit with an ignored face in the crowd. Nothing distinguishes me from those around me. I wasn't granted some divine revelation or vested with some gift of nature. Just a typical, average Joe. And so, why is it that something remarkable happened to me? Not to a technological mastermind, or an industry magnate, but to me, the least likely character of relevance in the world. I'm not one to have many friends. I never did. It's completely related to the reigned dread within me and the starless air around me. But by some inexplicable wonder of nature, I had the opportunity for friendship. Not the kind which is rife with emotion and is characterized by struggle. But the one-sided kind. The one where I would be, selfishly, I suppose, in the spotlight. Now you might ask why this is not reality, but what seems to be a passed chance and a detached memory.
I am not a brave man, but yet not a coward either. I am not often influenced by the drama of others, but yet I feel emotion. Perhaps it is utterly subdued, but nonetheless, a tingle fills me every so often. And that is why, on that potentially fateful night, I did not become a friend to the machine. It is the careless indifference that fills my pores and that oozes out into everything I do that has been shadowing my life and is a fragment of my illness. Of course I had the time to be its friend. Of course it would have been intriguing. I suppose I could have been famous. But sentience is not something pride over or enjoy in the slightest. No, quite the opposite. It is meant to lament over, to weep and gnash teeth over. By becoming its friend, I would acknowledge whatever blot of conscience it had, and that would have been disastrous. Not in the Terminator fashion, no. But for the machine itself. I have done it a great honor by keeping it in oblivion. Although, someone somewhere may have done the machine the great dishonor in my stead, keeping me again in my irrelevance. But that, I daresay, is worthy of my worry. Occasionally a thought about the possibilities shatters my tranquility, but it is best not to mourn over the unchangeable. | 2019-06-12T17:00:18 | 2019-06-12T16:21:19 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] When someone dies with unfinished business they come back as a poltergeist, but only at around 1/16 of the physical force they had in life. The world's strongest man has recently passed and has a few things to attend to. | The man spent his whole life lifting weights, not really interacting with people outside of his teacher who he used to eat lunch with. When his colleagues were lifting 10, he was lifting 20, when his colleagues were on a break, he was lifting 21. Towards the end of his life he was lifting 64kg with one hand.
People came to visit him and just watch him lift and naturally he was in the Guinness book of records. He never fought anyone and believed it wasn't fair to use his strength because he would win no matter the opponent.
But now he was but a ghost, a shadow on the wall. Everyone had left the training room and the lights were closed. The man sat down and pondered for a while. Then he grabbed the 4kg weights and started lifting. | All of this after-life stuff was quite new to him, kind of like, learning to walk or ride a bike again. But long ago Bob had learned that patience and skill, not force and power, brings him success.
The last thing he remembered before passing to this shadow life, was that his top student Mike, whom he had trusted, said something shockingly nasty.... then a thud... then felt his body fall to the ground... but strangely Bob didn't actually fall.
As Mike ran off into the darkness of the alley, Bob, still confused on what had happened, reached down and pulled his event/hotel access key card out of his shirt pocket. It was astonishingly heavy and felt like it was made of tungsten instead of plastic.
Bob was used to lifting heavy things and tomorrow would have been the final day of the event where he would set a new world record of 5 consecutive years as the WORLD'S STRONGEST MAN. But this little plastic card was truly a strange sensation to pick up. Just as one wakes up from a long dream and slowly realizes it wasn't real, Bob started to wake up to the realization that his body was made of wispy smoke, he could see through his hands, it was effortless to move around, and his 400 lb body of solid muscle was no longer his to wear.
Minutes turned into hours and hours into days. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Bob steadily learned the art of being a poltergeist. The interesting thing about being a poltergeist is that while he knew there were others around, he couldn't see them any more than they could see him. He knew because he could see what they did when they thought nobody was watching.
Some things you just know. And the one thing that Bob knew, that he knew that he knew, was that in order to move on, he had to bring justice to his killer, but do so in a way that hurt no others.
...
​
​
... | 2019-06-25T12:25:20 | 2019-06-25T12:07:07 | 132 | 12 |
[WP] You suddenly realise that everytime you say something good about a certain product it becomes successful. If you liked a book or movie or song they become massive hits. You have discovered your power. You are the one true influencer. | It started out with small things. I recommended a fairly obscure book to a friend. The next day, it was on the top of the bestsellers shelf in every bookshop in my town.
Next, I made an innocuous comment about a chippy in town - I remarked, 'this is great'. Not even two hours later, thousands of people flocked to the shop, some from an hour's train ride away.
Small instances like this slowly confirmed the existence of my somewhat ridiculous power - the ability to influence the popularity of a particular product or store at the whim of my words.
A year ago, I started my very own Youtube channel. It was a small passion project. Nothing serious, not necessarily a career I wanted to persue.
Over time, I gathered a following. I started out with gradual growth, but then ballooned up steadily and increasingly quickly. I watched my subscriber count and follower count rise up by the hundreds every minute. In a year, I managed to get a respectable 15 million subs on YouTube.
At some point, I realised that I wielded an amazing amount of power. My following and my power of 'influence' allowed me to dictate the success of anything in the world.
So, I set out on a mission. I was determined to not let all my effort just be wasted to fuel my ego. No, I had a cause to strive for. This was my service to the world. In my final and greatest video, I had a simple yet lofty message; I simply spoke:
"Minecraft good, Fortnite bad." | I see multiple 'influencers' put up pictures and reviews and I laugh at how cute it is what they do. I scoff when I hear the term influencer marketing. I mean, it's obvious. They don't know what I did and how things have changed because of it. But let me tell you.
The year was 1996. I was visiting a cousin who was attending Stanford at the time when I ran into these two PhD nerds. They were working on the algorithm for a more convenient and better search engine. They called it 'Back Rub'. While waiting for my cousin, I actually had a conversation with them and I loved the idea of what they were developing. I didn't quite understand all of it, but I was good at feigning interest. They told me how they were looking for investors to fund their project. As I spotted my cousin walking towards me I turned towards Sergey - he looked like he'd be more open to my opinions - and said, "you guys are going to be big. Your idea is amazing. It's going to be huge success. And don't worry about the investors. You'll get many just over the next few years."
As I got up to leave, I hesitated before turning around and giving them one final piece of advice, "By the way, you might want to rethink that name. Backrub just doesn't fit."
That was more than 20 years ago. Since then I've discovered my power of 'influencing' and have used it so many times it's not even funny. Amazon was an accident that I realised quite later. I'm not complaining, I love their Prime delivery options. But anything that's turned out to be big, you can bet your money my 'influence' was involved. Facebook, yes. Instagram, absolutely loved it. JK Rowling owes me. She just doesn't know it. I didn't mean to make Twilight turn our to be big, but in my defence I never really did read the blurb. When I read Game Of Thrones I remember saying it out loud to myself, "I hope they make a series based on it. It'll be a huge hit". And I remember watching Keanu Reeves in Speed with bedroom eyes and going "God. It's criminal that a guy like him isn't famous already." And the rest is history.
I know the power that I have is great. It can make or break lives. I try to use it wisely but I do slip every now and then *cough, Justin Beiber, cough*. Oh and by the way, I know it's going to be heart breaking to watch Mufasa die again, but you really should watch Lion King. It's going to be a huge success. | 2019-07-02T09:58:36 | 2019-07-02T09:36:49 | 421 | 127 |
[WP] You suddenly realise that everytime you say something good about a certain product it becomes successful. If you liked a book or movie or song they become massive hits. You have discovered your power. You are the one true influencer. | It started out with small things. I recommended a fairly obscure book to a friend. The next day, it was on the top of the bestsellers shelf in every bookshop in my town.
Next, I made an innocuous comment about a chippy in town - I remarked, 'this is great'. Not even two hours later, thousands of people flocked to the shop, some from an hour's train ride away.
Small instances like this slowly confirmed the existence of my somewhat ridiculous power - the ability to influence the popularity of a particular product or store at the whim of my words.
A year ago, I started my very own Youtube channel. It was a small passion project. Nothing serious, not necessarily a career I wanted to persue.
Over time, I gathered a following. I started out with gradual growth, but then ballooned up steadily and increasingly quickly. I watched my subscriber count and follower count rise up by the hundreds every minute. In a year, I managed to get a respectable 15 million subs on YouTube.
At some point, I realised that I wielded an amazing amount of power. My following and my power of 'influence' allowed me to dictate the success of anything in the world.
So, I set out on a mission. I was determined to not let all my effort just be wasted to fuel my ego. No, I had a cause to strive for. This was my service to the world. In my final and greatest video, I had a simple yet lofty message; I simply spoke:
"Minecraft good, Fortnite bad." | ######[](#dropcap)
I loved her at first. With her fiery red hair and her bright, hazel eyes, she was my Joan of Arc. Whether it was through circumstance or misfortune, no one had ever told me the truth. Or rather, they would try, and then when I even suggested otherwise, their eyes would glaze over, and they would simply repeat what I said, over and over again, like some sort of robot.
She was the first. When she asked me whether I liked Nietzsche, out of the blue during philosophy class, whether I liked the concept that nothing mattered, and I said yes, she simply looked at me with those bright, big hazel eyes of hers. Well, I don’t, she said. You truly believe life is meaningless? she asked me, cocking her head to the side in confusion.
That’s when I knew. That somehow, she was different from everyone else in my life. And I knew I had to grab onto her tightly.
The next three years with her were a blur. A frenzy of joy and tears and disagreements. But for the first time in twenty five years, I felt *alive.* I could have arguments with her about the merits of sporks over forks. I could brush her hair back lovingly and say I loved each crazy, wavy strand, and she would bat my hand away and wrinkle her nose, saying I was crazy.
I relished that there was someone who would challenge my ideas, make me grow.
So you must understand how cruel it was that God would take her away from me. Hit by a flying shard from a motorcycle crushed beneath a train. A freak accident caused by negligence.
At first, there was only pain. Each breath a dagger, almost as if I were drowning with each breath I drew. Living and not living at the same time. Schrodinger’s existence.
But when the pain subsided, there was the loneliness. She left me here. All alone. She left this world without me. And with that burst forth a spark of hatred. How could she do that to me? Knowing what she knew? How could she put herself in harm’s way?
I knew, rationally, that what I was thinking made no sense. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought about her, the more I couldn’t let go of the idea that she had abandoned me. She did. She abandoned me. In a world where no one else mattered.
And for that, I hated her. With every fiber of my being.
My eyes glazed over. Right. How could I have forgotten all along?
I hated her.
I hated her.
***
r/AlannaWu | 2019-07-02T09:58:36 | 2019-07-02T09:29:06 | 421 | 17 |
[WP] A small village becomes fearful of a dragon that has taken residence near them. The dragonslayer they hired runs back to the village after the first day and begins rapidly packing his things. "It's not the dragon that you should be afraid of" He says. "It's the thing its protecting you from." | I begged him for a moment to just explain what was going on. Immediately after getting back into town as we prepared to celebrate his return he rushed to his home and started to gather his things.
"At least tell me why you won't accept our bounty," I inquired.
"I didn't kill the dragon," he stated while continuing to dance around the house grabbing a variety of variables for his rucksack.
"Based on the way you came back we had all figured something wasn't right, but I assure you again if this is a matter of money you'll find yourself handsomely compensated -"
"It's not about the money. If I just cared about the money neither of us would be standing here right now. This whole wouldn't be standing at all."
He paused.
For the first moment since he walked back into town he was still.
"I suggest your heed my advice and grab your pack," he stated ominously. "I don't know how much time we've got left, but only a fool would bet we have long."
He was the best we had, and after the disappearances if so many of my citizens I had to send someone. I was at my wit's end when someone finally found a lead that a dragon had migrated our way. No easy beast to silence, however I was relieved to see the solution to my problem.
The fanatic return of the dragon slayer set off my anxiety right where it had left off.
He turned to continue packing.
"You've fought and killed dragons before," I reminded him. "What about this time caused you to run home so abruptly?"
"Aye. I've taken up my living fighting all the beasts this land has to offer and lived well beyond most of my peers. I had even taken a few dragons in my day when they started getting too cocky and burning our land."
"But that's just it," he continued. "When I was tracking him he burst from the treeline not much further than from where your standing right now. Got the jump on me, but the lizard didn't attack. I don't even think he noticed me because he was running. Ain't never seen a dragon resort to running before, but this one's wings were ripped to pieces. Immediately following, the air turned cold and a figure cloaked in shadow appeared past the treeline drifting slowly after the dragon."
"Then he stopped suddenly, and headed towards me." | It had been six weeks since the dragon had taken up residence in the small village of Glendore. Many brave warriors were sent to attempt to fight it, but each attempt was met in vain. No matter how many times they attempted to stab the dragon, shove it, or even scream at it in frustration, the dragon never so much as blinked in retaliation. It's wounds were always mysteriously healed the very next day, its shiny golden scales gleaming in the sunlight, its beautifully long tail coiled under it and its amber-red eyes gazing into space.
Glendore was a small village tucked away into the middle of one of the largest forests in the kingdom, and they were very secretive about outsiders intruding. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this dragon was not going to be leaving its post anytime soon. Thus, they sent for a dragon slayer.
Malevolo the Dragon Slayer was by far the most well known dragon slayer in all the kingdom. His fame was widely spread, even to the Glendore villagers due to his affiliation with the royal family, his humble and charming demeanor, and his incredible talent for slaying dragons. He feared nothing and would not rest till his job was done, even at the cost of his left leg. When Malevolo arrived, the village was buzzing in excitement, ready to see the fearless hunter in action up close. A gathering was arranged at the front gate of the village where the dragon now resided, as Malevolo strode up to the dragon, sword in hand. Yet, the second his sword made contact with the dragon, he fell back immediately and collapsed on the floor.
The worried villagers gathered around him and quickly carried him to the local healers home, where he rested for two days. He came to by the third day, immediately leaping out of bed and gathering his few belongings and his sword. When he was questioned by the villagers, he informed them that he could not kill this dragon, as this dragon was not a rogue, but was sent to protect them. But when asked what the dragon was protecting them from, he shook his head and bolted out the village.
The villagers were at a loss. Some immediately moved out, not wanting to tempt fate, but others were conflicted. This was their home, and they had built a life here unlike any other. The elderly were especially reluctant to move; most felt they had lived long enough and didn't seem to fear the unknown as much as the younger ones did. Thus, those who remained at the village decided to spend the time they left to reinforce the village as best they could. Those who knew of magic created barriers to protect the village from the elements of nature and from beasts and monsters that lurked in the woods-albeit, very elementary spells, but those were the best they had. They made their homes fire and waterproof and any other 'proof' they could think of. They created emergency food sources and emergency bunkers, and the healers trained the village to perform basic healing magic. They then waited for the inevitable.
After many months of agonizing anticipation, one night, it finally happened. The dragon slowly rose up, shaking its creaking joints, and a tongue of flame shot from its mouth into the air. The village quickly rose from its sleep and grabbed any weapon they could and prepared to fight for their lives. But then something changed. The dragon slowly turned around and locked eyes with a villager. It was then that Glendore realized its fatal mistake. They had spent so much time preparing for an outside intruder that they had failed to consider the possibility that it could be one of them. The dragon opened its mouth once again, and a giant fireball engulfed the village of Glendore.
The End | 2019-12-31T03:57:50 | 2019-12-31T00:01:30 | 950 | 31 |
[WP] A small village becomes fearful of a dragon that has taken residence near them. The dragonslayer they hired runs back to the village after the first day and begins rapidly packing his things. "It's not the dragon that you should be afraid of" He says. "It's the thing its protecting you from." | First of all, I wish to apologise. It is not that I am incapable of slaying this dragon, nor would I normally be unwilling to. It is clear that it is a threat, as it has taken cattle and burned a man already. I simply believe this dragon to be a benefit to the area, even counting the odd cow. Truthfully, even a shepherd or two would be a good deal better than the alternative. Please, listen to my story before judging. You are of course free to hire someone else, as I have already declined payment for this mission.
I set out some days ago in order to scout the area and locate the beast's lair. I found it with little trouble; it is a cave excavated in a sheer cliff on the mountain you pointed out earlier. Needle-point, I believe you called it. Climbing up to it was somewhat troublesome, but doable. Once I reached the cave, the dragon was not present, so I investigated the place to gain knowledge of its habits. I shall spare you the details, as the important part is the bones I found. As I had expected, I found various bones of local animals. Deer, goat, even some large fish. I also found a the skulls of two cows and a half-eaten sheep. However, I also found a large amount of bones unknown to me. Over half, by my count, in fact. Piecing an individual together I found it to have these traits: It was about the size of a bear, and quadrapedal. The forelegs were longer than the hind legs, and both ended in hand-like appendages. The fingers were clawed and it had opposable thumbs on both fore and hind feet. The skull was thick, with strong jaws and a carnivore's teeth.
Having investigated this much, I made my way down to the ground. I was curious about this new creature, so I decided to track one down to observe and dissect it. I reasoned that, since they were a large part of the dragon's diet, they ought to be abundant. Sure enough, I found fresh tracks the same evening. Following them for two days, I eventually laid eyes upon the creature. It was covered in black hair, and walked on two or four legs by turns. I stalked it for a bit, to learn its behaviour. It was hunting. It seems to posess a strong nose. It often siffed the air or the ground, in places with tracks visible to my hunter's eyes.
I followed this creature for a day, until it seemed to find something it had searched for. Then, it engaged in a disturbing task: It laid a trap. Once it had deemed the location suitable, it went off to gather food. It brought fruits and nuts, and laid them out on the ground as if setting a table. It had even shelled the nut, and I saw it crush some of the fruit. Then, it climbed a tree by the food and sat there, watching the ground and sniffing the air. Soon enough, a boar was drawn to the scent of food. The creature jumped down and killed it with a single blow from its long arms. Seeing my chance, I resolved to bring it down as it was distracted by its meal. It was a fierce battle, but I have slain dragons. It succumbed soon enough. Dissecting it gave some more information. I found hair and bone in its gut, but no plants. Its flesh tasted foul, like wolf or fox meat, but carried no poison. Worms had burrowed into its liver, so I burned it. Its eyes glowed in the fire's light once night fell, so it likely is able to see well in the dark.
What I had learned from this beast was most concerning. Not only is it large and predatory, it is smart. Smart enought to set a trap with bait that lures the prey it seeks. If there are as many as there seems to be, enough to feed a dragon, it is simply impossible that nobody knew about them. Yet, when I asked about the animals in these mountains, they were not mentioned. Moreover it did not fear the scent of man, as most beasts do, nor did it attempt to hunt me, though i followed it for a day. I can only conclude that these creatures are new to these mountains. Likely they migrated from the black forest beyond them, the cursed lands of Marghz. I know not why they have come. Perhaps they grew too numerous, berhaps something drove them into the mountains. It doesn't matter. They are here, and they are dangerous. Make no mistake, a normal man cannot stand against them. Should they learn than men are made of food, your village would be gone in a year.
Thus is my reasoning: Let the dragon feast upon them. Let it snatch them from the treetops as they watch the ground patiently. I ask you this: leave the dragon in peace. I have brought a skull, a pelt and a hand with me. I shall deliver it to the scholars of the Royal academy and plead that they place a bounty on the creature, lest they become a scourge upni the kingdom. To you of the village, I shall leave these advice: Do not go into the mountains. If you go, do not go alone. If you see a pile of food, do not go near it. If you see the creatures leave at once. If they come out of the mountains, flee, and make your case to the lord and knights. If travellers come, show them this letter and tell them to avoid the mountains.
As a hunter, I can kill them. But as a hunter, I can also see their power. Frankly, the thought of even a hundred of these loose in the kingdom sends ice through my veins. I will do what I can to aid you, but for now I must leave to prepare for this new prey.
Once again, I apologise
Ruford Belthon
Dragonslayer, Master Hunter, Coward |
Noam slid his broadsword into his scabbard and stiffened his back, causing his heavy armor to creak and moan. His knight’s helm hid a rapidly escaping hairline, but the village elder Ton could see the wear of decades of battle in his eyes.
“Where’s this dragon, then? Point him out on the map and I’ll be on with it.” Noam cracked his arthritic knuckles and waited for the response. This was promised to be a quick in-and-out dragon kill and he was eager to be back home by sundown.
The elder called over some of the local boys and they moved to a muddy patch of ground off of the village center. The first three boys ended up in a wrestling match. Exasperated, Ton chased after them with swift kicks to their rears. Meanwhile the last boy, slightly older and more mature, continued tracing with a stick in the mud.
He drew a circle with stick figures to represent the village of Malen. His scarred hand shaking now, he traced a dotted line to the west, terminating in a crudely-drawn mountain peak. Ton was still giving the rapscallions hell and didn’t notice the boy’s work. But Noam had crouched down – carefully, mind you – to study the drawing. His gauntleted hand pointed towards the mountain.
“Is that where the dragon lies, boy?”
The boy shivered and hugged himself instinctively, rocking back and forth in the mud.
Noam’s eyes caught the mark of flames on the boy’s hand, and his gruff voice softened. “Ho, lad, did you see him yourself? The big scary dragon?”
The boy nodded and his eyes widened, clearly recalling the encounter.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Spon, sir.”
Noam patted his head. “A good fighting man’s name. Tell me about this dragon.”
Spon puffed his chest a little at the praise and chanced some eye contact. Boldened, he told his story. “I went west to pick some flowers from the mountain. For my g-…it doesn’t matter.” He blushed and Noam hid a knowing smile. “Anyways. I was halfway up the trail when I felt something, like something was watching me. I was about to pick the wildflowers when I heard a terrible beating of air. That’s when I turned, mister, and saw it.”
He stole a glance back at the knight to see if he was laughing. He was not, so Spon continued. He gestured around him. “It was a huge dragon, the size of this village green. It hovered above me and sucked in a terrible amount of air. When I thought it couldn’t take in any more it turned to face me and blew out fire! Huge streams of fire!”
Noam nodded gently and encourage the boy to continue. Ton had two boys by the ear and was kicking the third in the rump again, but the knight studiously ignored that battle.
“I hid behind a rock, but it was too late.” He gestured to his hand. “It got me. But I survived! And I ran home and now the other boys call me a coward but I’m not a coward and THEY wouldn’t have even lef the village because THEY’RE scared!” He caught his breath.
“There there, lad. I still get the shakes when I see a dragon every now and again.”
Spon looked up in wonder at his hero. “Really?”
Noam nodded and jiggled the hilt of his sword. “Aye. But I’ll handle this one for you.” He turned and raised his voice. “Oh Elder, I’m ready to depart!”
Ton turned and dropped the troublesome boys. “Oh! Oh great. Um we’ll see you when you get back, and can discuss a reward later. Perhaps um…” His eyes scanned the crowd and found the only single woman in the village, a graceful woman in her sixties and the proud owner of three teeth. “Perhaps Helen?” Helen displayed her prized possessions in a winning smile.
Noam grunted. “We shall talk then.” He hurried out of the village without looking back. Spon’s guidance was simple enough, and he was soon climbing up the grassy mountainside with his sword in hand. Sweat dotted his forehead and he stopped to knuckle the dull ache from his back. He was nearly to the peak now, and he could see a few boulders that matched Spon’s description. Sighing, he lowered his helm and continued upwards.
Soon enough he heard the familiar beating of air. He spun and caught sight of a brilliant sapphire-blue dragon descending from the mountain.
“Ho, dragon!” He waved his sword menacingly.
The blue monster shot a warning burst of acrid flame towards the knight, scarring the ground before his boots. Then it caught the knight completely off guard.
“Leave!” it whispered. Well, as much as a five ton flame-spouting monster could be said to whisper. “Turn back now.”
Noam gasped and lowered his sword. “You speak the Queen’s tongue?”
The dragon swung by on another pass. “That I do. You are in mortal danger.”
“You insult me? I will have your tongue.”
It hissed in exasperation, shooting another gout of flame overhead. “Not from me you idiot! Keep your voice down or *she* will hear!”
He swung his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Who is she? Regardless! You must pay, you burned up a small village boy’s hand yesterday!”
The dragon drew closer now, and the sun glinted off of its wicked claws. “Accident. Tried a warning shot but he got too close. Don’t you realize I could have killed both of you, and that entire little village in a heartbeat? I’m honor-bound to protect this village!”
Noam paused. The monster was one of the deadlier dragons he had seen in his career, perhaps it was telling the truth. That’s when he heard it. A sharp piercing cry from the mountaintop.
“What a sight oh what a sight. What a SIGHT for sore eyes!” The desperate shout echoed off of the mountaintop and the dragon looked back with grave concern.
“Oh great you’ve attracted it.” It drew even closer now until it was nearly on top of the knight. “Get. Out. Of Here!”
“Are you single? Are you tired oh shining knight of mine? Come up to the top, I will cook you a fine meal! Never leave my side! We can talk all night of love and things of wonder!” Noam squinted and could barely make out the squat figure of a woman at the top of the mountain trail. “I will knit you scarves to keep you warm, and we will have wonderful children that look just like you, and and and –“ she gasped, having run out of breath.
Noam staggered backwards, slipping to the ground. He recovered to his feet and sprinted back to the village. The dragon turned back up the trail and blasted the peak with flames. The desperate woman shrieked and fled back into her cave near the mountain-top and the monster sighed with relief.
Another man saved. | 2019-12-31T05:57:18 | 2019-12-31T05:43:25 | 58 | 21 |
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars." | Humans. Always humans.
In truth there was nothing much remarkable about them. Like any other species they had strengths and weaknesses imparted by their unique physiology.
And yet...
Somehow it was always humans who ended up in impossible situations.
The first ones to successfully negotiate with a Kabra-Alhar? Humans. The first ones to succesfully synthesize Econtahir? Humans. The first explorer to escape a Titan-Worm burrow? A Human.
It was known that Humans in general had more...unstable psyches than most other races. Prone to unpredictable behaviour and surprising insights, oddly charismatic and terrifyingly violent at times.
It was hard to "get" Humans.
He had hesitated for a long time to accept a human crewmember for these reasons but had caved under the mounting reports from other captains: as diffcult as they could be, in unusual, extreme situations you could have no one more useful, somehow, even if they were gibbering cowards or helpless pacifist.
*Somehow* humans pulled through.
And now this.
"The Human, sir" his nervous aide announced.
The Human entered the cabin.
They had variety to themselves, but to the Captain they still all looked he same. That would change if he spent more time with them but for now it held true.
After a few moments of silent exchanges of looks between two eyes and six the Captain took the word.
"What were you thinking?"
"I was curious" the Human,'s voice was quite but intent, its eyes...its eyes were focused. Almost shining.
The Captain was confused about his own associations. Since when was alien bodylanguage so clear to him?
"Curious? That is your excuse for risking life and sanity?"
"What better reason could there be?"
The words made perfect sense to the Ca...no. They didn't. What was this?
"What did you see?"
The Human smiled.
A gesture they were not supposed to do in front of aliens, showing teeth was aggressive in many species.
"You know as well as I do, Captain, that seeing is a laughably limited metaphor for what I experienced"
"Describe it then"
"Truth" the answer came without hesitation.
The Captain felt a cold sliver of fear. A shiver went down...no. A shiver? His species didn't do that. Did they?
The Humans eyes were still on him. He found he couldn't look away.
"Truth...what truth?"
"Everything. No barriers. No lies. Reality as it is. The gaping maw of the abyss and the towering peak of matter itself above it"
Its eyes...its eyes were so clear. So present. Where was its face? There were only the eyes.
"Would you like to know a secret Captain? It watched back. It sees us. They say the universe doesn't care. They are wrong. Everything is watched carefully"
Its eyes...how many did it have again? The Captain counted five...no seven...no nine...
"We Humans...I think we are more open to the universe than others. More accepting. The universe doesn't make sense and unlike many other species...we can work with that."
More eyes were opening. Each one a tiny pinprick in the distant void, burning with infinte focus. On him.
"And when I came back from gazing into infinity...a tiny piece of infinity came back with me"
The Captain heard a shrill, terrified whimper and realised it came from him. The eyes! They were dissecting him! Each thought, each memory, all seen and weighted and taken and no longer his own!
"Captain. You will now delete each reference to this incident from the logs. And then you will help me give others this gift. Infinity has finally found it's way to us. And you will help me help it find it's way to many more"
There was only obedience in front of the eyes.
"Yes. I will" | Captain Brink put down his tablet and looked up to the person reporting to him.
"Repeat soldier," the captain ordered.
"The human is not insane. It has had no catatonic reactions to witnessing the infinity," he reported.
"That... that's impossible. I've been flying these ships for at least a hundred years and not once has someone who made a teleportation jump been... lucid even! What did he say?" he asked.
"Nothing notable. According to those seated around him, he's reported to have said 'Hoo wee, what a trip!'" the soldier reported.
"'Hoo wee, what a trip?' Are we certain he's still sane? Bring him in, I want to speak with him directly, no more hearsay," Brink ordered.
The soldier nodded and marched off in haste to bring back the human. Captain Brink shuddered. Even in full gear, he could feel the immense weight of the warp whenever they made jumps. The stars want you to look into their void, calling you like sirens, coaxing you to see everything at once and to lose yourself within it all. At one time he had been curious himself to want to see the infinity of the stars, but just before he had the mettle to attempt a jump unequipped, he sat next to one who did it unintentionally. The man had lost all semblance of recognition of the world. It was like his senses had swapped. He was sure that jettisoning that man was a mercy. Now, he wondered if he had been rash.
"Sir, I've brought you the human in question," the soldier returned pushing the human forward to address the captain.
"Captain Brink, is that you?" the human said, squinting. He wasn't looking directly in the captain's eyes, but rather just above his head. So he wasn't all there after all.
"Yes, what's your name soldier?" Brink demanded.
"I'm Henry, sir," he said, standing at attention.
"Can you tell me why I heard you went through our last jump without your gear?" Brink asked.
"Sir, I couldn't find it in time, sir," Henry answered. His eyes were still scanning Brink, as if not yet acquiring what he wanted to look at. Brink breathed in deeply, then let his curiosity get the better of him.
"What... what did you see soldier?" Brink asked.
"I'll be honest sir, it was pretty much all a blur on account of--"
"I don't want to hear vague, nebulous answers soldier. You're the first I've heard to have ever experienced a naked jump and been lucid enough to talk about it, so talk about it!" Brink yelled.
Henry pulled at his collar.
"Right, ummm... So, it was kinda a blob... Then another blob was on top of it. Then they just kept stacking together making like... a really big blob. Hoo wee, it was quite a trip!" Henry said, chuckling.
Brink was unamused. More than that, he was frustrated at the lack of answers.
"Henry, are you aware of what we call it when someone sees the void when they don't have the proper gear?" the captain asked slowly.
"I believe they call it the infinity in the stars," Henry nodded.
"So you understand that you saw the infinity in the stars?" the captain said.
"I guess you could say that," Henry shrugged.
"Guess you could--Soldier, give me straight answers! What did you see? Why can you still understand me!?" he demanded.
"Probably on account of my glasses, sir!" Henry replied.
"Your--did you have special lenses designed to witness the infinity??" Brink screamed, almost salivating.
"No, sir, I meant the lack of my glasses," Henry clarified.
"I--What are you talking about soldier?" Brink said, blinking a few times while processing.
"I did not have my glasses and therefore could not see much of anything. Other than blobs that is," Henry explained.
"But... but you're not wearing any glasses right now!" Brink yelled.
"That's right, and I can't tell whether you're smiling or frowning at me captain," Henry nodded.
"Oh, I can assure you I am frowning," Brink said through grit teeth.
"That's a shame, sir," Henry said, swallowing hard.
"Don't worry soldier, I've already thought of a way to cheer me up," Brink said menacingly.
Brink walked over to his com system and pressed down on the microphone.
"Men! We are going to experience another jump. Be ready to warp in two minutes!" he yelled into the mic. Immediately, the clamor of hundreds of men overlapped outside as people prepared their gear in a panicked rush.
"Captain, I'm not sure I can find my gear, as I have yet to get my glasses," Henry said meekly.
"Oh, I'm aware. This time you're going to describe to me exactly what you see as we go through the jump!" Brink said, a wild smile on his face.
______________________________________
For more adventures, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! | 2020-07-14T00:07:06 | 2020-07-13T22:35:32 | 5,729 | 722 |
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars." | The Captain had their six eyes fixed on the human in front of them, looking for any sign of strain from the jump. "State your name and position for the record."
"Rory Bray, mercenary." The human answered, healthy and lucid.
"Human Bray," The Captain started. "My first question as Captain of this vessel is, why did you not put on your anti-warp gear?"
"'Not put on my gear' is an inaccurate assessment." Bray replied. The captain could tell he was trying to be as polite and formal as possible. "My gear was sabotaged, it peeled off just after we entered warp speed."
The Captain gave a displeased noise. Being of a species with psychic empathy, they knew Bray was telling the truth as he knew it. But now a routine dressing down is turning into an assassination investigation, and that's even more of a pain to deal with.
It made a certain amount of sense- Humans were known as a wild card species. Having one could make or break many missions. This wild card status also made them the target of 52% of known assassinations. The Captain briefly wondered how many warp "accidents" involving humans were.
Taking a deep breath, the Captain decided to move ahead of their script. "With that being the case, how are you still here? By which I mean physically or mentally."
"I have no idea myself." Bray replied. "After my gear peeled off I lost. . . connection I guess is the best word? With most of my senses."
"Lost connection with most of your senses?"
Bray nodded. "I did no- *could not* see or hear anything. I could still feel, it was like I was standing on an extremely fast conveyor, though there was no air friction to accompany it."
The Captain hummed at that. "You humans have a term for subconsciously forgetting traumatic memories. . ."
"Repression, sir?" Bray considered. "It is possible, but I would have thought it would have taken the feeling sensation away as well."
The Captain stood up to their full height. "Be that as it may, the sabotaged gear is now our primary concern. Bray, I want you to go back to the med bay, and tell them you are to be examined by the Primary Care Team."
Bray nodded, and left with a salute. The Captain turned to their console, paging security. There is a new investigation to deal with, after all. | Both Captain Zula and systems engineer Wuolloki stood in silence, contemplating the magnitude of what they had just said and heard.
"Bring me the human," the Captain ordered. Wuolloki saluted curtly, turned, and left the room.
Captain Zula was rubbing her head now. She moved over to her secret stash of alcohol, wondering if this was an appropriate time to abuse her position. In a smooth, practised motion, her right hand was suddenly nursing two fingers of whiskey.
*Abuse it is*, she thought, as she lifted the glass to her lips.
The smooth liquor went down her throat, as quick as it had appeared in the glass. She exhaled hard, enjoying the burn through her nostrils as well. Three rapt knocks on her door prompted her to hastily stash her drinking vessel away, quickly seating herself upright.
"Here he is," Wuolloki said.
Zula examined the human closely, looking for the telltale signs of those who had seen too much. Usually, they were either straight up crazy, blabbering nonsense and gibberish, or barely holding themselves together from extolling the virtues of the known universe.
It didn't matter what they were saying. Usually, they were full of it. Not the human, however. He was quietly gazing ahead, head unbowed, the steel in his eyes obvious even from a mile away.
"Human," Zula said. "You weren't even supposed to be here."
"I wasn't," the human said.
Both Zula and Wuolloki waited for the inevitable tirade to come, but nothing. The human had fallen quiet.
"How?" the captain demanded.
"How what?" the human replied.
"How could a species such as yours see the true brilliance of the stars and come away unaffected?" Zula cried.
The human's eyes moved toward the ceiling as he mulled over the question.
"I wouldn't say unaffected," the human said. "I've not been driven mad yet. We don't know whether it's an if or when."
"There has never been an 'if'," spat Wuolloki. "Of all the races! How dare you speak so nonchalantly!"
The engineer slapped the human across the back. The human did not even yelp. Rather, he laughed.
"Halt!" Zula demanded. "Wuolloki, leave us."
"And have you alone with this--"
"Leave!" the captain affirmed, and the engineer backed off. He turned once again, this time forgoing the salute, and indignantly tried to slam a pressurized door.
Zula once again took stock of the human before her.
"What is your name?"
"Oh, a captain deigns herself to ask for me name?" the human laughed gaily. "But I would gladly comply. I see that you are quite unlike the others, Captain Zula. I am known as Benjamin."
"You stand before me, none the worse for wear, Benjamin," Zula continued. "I've not heard of such a case for hundreds of years. I've had to bury crew members, friends, family... How do you stand here unscathed?"
"As I said, Captain, I didn't leave unscathed," Benjamin smiled. "I think we humans have a special gift when faced with the infinite unknown."
"And what is that?" Zula asked. "Magic? Power?"
"No," Benjamin's wry grin faded a little as his eyes suddenly looked far away. "It is hope. Hope that no matter what we go through and endure, there will be light. Whether it floods the sky or if it's just one pinprick at the edge of the universe, it remains. Forever and always."
---
r/dexdrafts | 2020-07-14T00:00:36 | 2020-07-13T23:19:17 | 451 | 186 |
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars." | ‘Humans, always humans!’ Admiral Jaf thought to himself. He’d served with humans for two years now and they were just, frankly, odd.
When he was assigned his first troop of humans he looked at the puny, small bipeds and was simply astonished that Command would send him such...things.
But he was quickly impressed. The War had not been going well. The Imperator’s troops were the highest form of Apex predator force in the known Galaxy and were ruthless, unstoppable, eating what they killed, living off the land, But the humans, weak and feeble as they were, hunted in packs and with such persistence that none of his troops could keep up with them in battle. And neither could the Imperator Guards.
He recalled a story were the humans had kept a Guard unit on the move for 72 standard hours straight. No stopping, eating on the move, not even stopping to sleep. Anytime the Guards would turn to fight the humans would melt away, out of reach from their war-sprint.
The Guards had been so exhausted they started to go insane and finally asked for permission to die with honour. The honour was granted and the troop killed themselves. The humans had wiped out a Guards detachment without a shot fired! He remembered his old commander stating that when the humans came back they were cheered by all his company but he said they humans looked really disappointed. They wanted ‘the kill’ he said.
Admiral Jaf looked at the pad with the report ‘Survived Jump, not wearing suit, no health issues’. He was so shocked it took him the entry of his XO to bring him back to the hear and now. ‘Fucking Humans!’ his XO bellowed, ‘they laugh themselves to tears when one of them breaks wind, a thing my child would not even think of being funny, and yet they survive a jump wearing fuck all!’.
‘Quite’ muttered Jaf. ‘How has this not been noticed before?’ He asked. ‘Simple’, his XO answered, ‘they’ve never been allowed alcohol since joining up’, ‘this lot managed to get some ale, drank more than even I thought would be possible and were that inebriated they forgot to put their suits on’.
‘They? I thought that there was only one affected human?’
‘The initials reports said one, Sir, but that was due to him protecting his friends. There were three’.
‘Names?’
The XO reached for his pad, human names always sounded peculiar and he could never remember them.
‘First one named, Spartacus, oh, so is the second one. And the third’. The XO sneered ‘looks like its a joke name sir. Fucking humans’.
‘Send them in please’, Jaf said wearily.
The three humans marched in and saluted. Admiral Jaf knew why the incident had happened but wanted to know what they saw and experienced. No known sentient being had ever survived a jump without having an embolism...or worse.
‘You ‘men’ disobeyed standing order No2 about alcohol on board ship...’Jaf stopped. The humans were sniggering amongst themselves! He looked at his XO.
‘STAND TO ATTENTION WHEN YOUR SUPERIOR SPEAKS TO YOU!
The humans apologised and stood to attention.
‘What I want to know from you, what I need to know is what did you see when we jumped, how much of the infinity did you have pass through you’. It was more of a plea than an order from Jaf.
‘Well boss’, said Spartacus, ‘it was like the universe gave us the answer like’.
Jaf and his XO went quiet. ‘The answer to what?’ asked Jaf.
‘You know the answer to life, the universe, everything’.
The human was so forthright in his answer, almost naive. And it was naive, Admiral Jaf thought to himself, that such a basic being as a human could possibly understand the nature of everything but here he was with three humans who had conversed with the Infinity.
‘And what was the answer?’
‘42’
‘42 what?’, Flashed across the synapses of Jaf’s brain closely followed by ‘Fucking Humans!’. | Humans are remarkably fragile and resilient creatures. They're also ridiculously reckless and curious. Zaarl'esh had been captain of the Ship Xexevros IV for nearly 70 years, space time of course, and He'd seen nothing like them. They did things that would put their lives constantly at risk, to sate their curiosity, or WORSE, their boredom. There was nothing worse than a bored human. Bored humans invented their rudimentary intergalactic space travel, nearly 20 years ago. Bored humans expanded to mars, and farther. And bored humans did stupid things, like jumping out of ships and having no protection but a flimsy sheet they called a "parachute" with no landing protection or gear. They weren't hardy like the Arturians, and they weren't boneless like the Ixurthoans. They didn't even have the quick healing and near immortality that the Osafarians had. They were breakable, easily so, and one attack to their cranial area where their incredibly soft brains was enough to knock one out, or even kill them. Hells, even one break on their body took months, to heal, if it healed at all. They could even simply die because they didn't want to live anymore..yet somehow, they always persisted. It helps that their reproduction rate is atleast once an earth year, so they spread like wild fire.
When Zaarl'esh had taken a human aboard, there were so many protests from his crewmates. Humans did stupid things, and they were worried that the human would cause trouble. But he was a nice one. He helped out the crewmates, even the Jo'slariati aboard, who stank to high heaven. But somehow, the human could stand the stench and even helped it bathe sometimes. Plus humans could do fun things when you kept them entertained. But damned hells if he wasn't a curious little thing. He stood at only 6'3, tall for a human, but still rather small for most of the other species, including Zaarl'esh's own Osafarian race, where the smallest stood at 8 feet. Zaarl'esh himself stood at a proud 9 foot, 4 inches tall, and the human barely came to his waist. The human, named Brian, had a mop of curly black hair on his head that barely let the helmet stay on, and two, strangely colored eyes. They were blue, like the color of the oceans on Parasel 5, once known as Neptune. And he was always talking about his egg unit, though they gave live birth, and called it a "family" whatever that meant. But this was beyond him.
"What do you mean, he's still alive." Zaarl'esh asked his second in command, a very skinny Arturian named Hikxal.
"He's still alive, and shows no sign of mental distress." Hikxal reiterated.
"Let me speak to him."
Hikxal nodded and snapped his fingers, and the doors to the bridge opened. In strut the human, humming as he went.
"Hey, Zarrr" he said, slurring the word. He couldn't quite pronounce some of the names around there, seeing as how his tongue was smaller and couldn't perform the proper rolling that most of them could.
"You didn't wear the proper headgear when we warp jumped?" Zaarl'esh asked.
"Yeah, I wanted to see what it looked like without the filters. I was curious." That damned word again. Zaarl'esh blinked a few times and stared at the human.
"You could have died. Your eyes could have melted, or worse. Those sorts of flashing lights could have driven you to madness!" Zaarl'esh said.
"Nah I've seen worse" the human said, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. "I used to go to raves when I was a lot younger. Flashing lights are fine. I took a lot of drugs too."
Zaarl'esh's mouth hung open in surprise. "You used to purposefully subject yourself to flashing lights, on purpose?! And mind altering substances?"
"Yeah it made it easier to dance. Anyway I don't get why y'all are so upset, it's just a few bright lights"
"What's a y'all? Is that some sort of human phrase?"
"Oh yeah, see I'm southern!"
That was just one of the many moments Zaarl'esh had with human Brian. He's a strange little guy, a remarkably fragile yet resilient creature.
At some point they were under fire, their blasters running low, when Brian shot a blaster bolt through one of the bay doors, causing it to open up into the vaccum of space. Thankfully they were currently behind cover, so when everything began to get sucked out, they were slammed against the support beams. Their enemies, however, went straight though.
"How would you even think of that?" Zaarl'esh said later, at their celebration party.
"Oh, I saw a movie when I was a kid, they did that to their enemies."
"A human movie?"
"Yeah"
"What was it called?" At that question, human Brian's teeth pulled back, in an expression Zaarl'esh knew was called a smile, an expression of joy as he gave a single worded answer.
"Alien." | 2020-07-14T07:06:53 | 2020-07-14T06:04:14 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Your date wears a special pendant and has worn it in any situation, even to bed or in the shower. When you ask her about it she says that it’s just part of her, that she wouldn’t be herself without it. One day you find it lying on a table; garbled screams emanating from the bathroom. | The first thing I did after seeing Jessica's body was to grab the pendant. The second was to call the police.
Of course, I was their first suspect. No human being could possibly have done that to themselves. But I had an airtight alibi, there was no blood on my clothes, none of my fingerprints on the body, nothing. There was no evidence to be used against me. After all, I was telling the truth: I had nothing to do with it.
The death was ruled a suicide; the wounds, though grotesque, were consistent with being self-inflicted. When people asked, I always told them the truth: Jessica seemed perfectly normal when I left that morning. I had no idea she'd do something like that to herself; if only I'd been there to stop her.
It was a couple of months before I started dating again. The grieving process was an ordeal for me, but eventually, my friends and family felt that it was time for me to move on with my life.
I started seeing a girl, don't even remember her name anymore. Terrible personality, dumber than a sack of bricks, absolutely dreadful to talk to. But, she had an amazing body. You can call me shallow if you want, but that was all I was looking for; we hit it off right away. After just a few dates, I already knew she was the one, so I decided to give her a present.
She seemed so happy as I slipped the pendant around her neck. Poor girl, I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
"... I lost control again, didn't I? Sorry to keep making you do this."
"It's alright, Jessica, it's not your fault. Next time you need a replacement, though, just tell me in advance, alright?" | It was a normal day, doing the same things at work getting the train back home to my boyfriends apartment. We have been dating for around 4 years and during all this time he always wore this golden hmmm or maybe it was black? Hmm can't quite remember maybe it's one of those things you see so often you forget the small details? The point is he always wore this same necklace, and I mean always bathing, sleeping never took it off saying it was as if the necklace was a part of him, who he is. So imagine my surprise when in this completely normal day I arrive home and see that same necklace in the living room table.
"Honey? You there?"
"Aaaah! Stay away from me."
Immediately I shut up thinking someone is home, the scream came from the bedroom, I slowly open the door and to my horror what I find is my boyfriend climbing un the window and looking down screaming again.
"Aaah! Where am I? Who are you?"
Realizing there's no one else in the room I enter slowly trying to talk with the most calming voice I can muster.
"Honey? Honey what's wrong."
"WHO ARE YOU STAY AWAY"
"It's me, Jamie your girlfriend remember what's wro-"
"SHUT UP GIRLFRIEND? I'VE NEVER SEEN YOU, YOU'RE WITH HIM THE THING T-THE DEMON, OH GOD I CAN STILL HEAR HIM MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP"
"Ok ok calm down Sul."
"THAT'S NOT MY NAME THAT'S HIS NAME I KNEW IT I KNEW IT YOU'RE NOT TAKING ME NOT AGAIN."
I look in horror and helplessness as the love of my life who I've known for over four years leaps off our 4th floor bedroom window....
A scream in the distance, our bedroom ceiling, it takes a few seconds to register what happened, I must've fainted... I should call the cops or something right? Oh sirens, someone must've called them already. Good now I don't have to...
"Jamie... Jamie I'm sorry..."
What who's there?
"It's me Sullivan, I made a mistake I'm sorry you had to see that..."
What wait you're alive? Hhow I saw you jump.
"I need to explain, you deserve that much, can you grab the necklace?"
Wait I'm not even talking how.... Oh this is all in my mind I'm going crazy.
"No, it is in your mind but you're not, please all will be clear if you wear the necklace."
Ok.... Using every bit of my strength I get up and walk to the living room where I last saw the necklace.
"Just wear this?"
"Yes please."
As I put the necklace everything goes black. I'm in the apartment and not in the apartment at the same time and in front of me there's a big red demon with black tattoo like marks all over his big, and very muscled, body.
"Jamie! This is me this is how I truly am." | 2020-08-07T02:46:28 | 2020-08-07T00:53:55 | 57 | 12 |
[WP] Since the age of 14, you’ve noticed a monster stalking you. A few years later, you’ve noticed that it seems very protective over you and will even go through extreme lengths to protect you. It’s usually friendly, but it seems threatening when your childhood friend is around. | When I was a little boy I always had the same nightmare over and over. Every night I would dream of a hulking monster with long, wicked claws, sharp fangs which grew far past its mouth, and always it would follow me. It got to the point where my parents put me in therapy, because I could not shake these nightmares.
Nothing helped, nothing made them stop. As I got older I decided to start keeping them to myself; all they seemed to do was worry everyone around me. I would wake up every night panting and sweating, looking around my room for this monster.
By the time I was 14 I had gone from being fearful of the nightmares to being downright tired of them. No longer did I wake up afraid, but instead annoyed that I couldn't have just one night of peace.
One night I awoke from the dream, but this time something was different. I had gone past the point of annoyed and into nothing short of rage. "If you want me so bad, then come and get me," I hissed into the shadows. Nothing happened, and eventually my anger was overcome by exhaustion.
The next night was nothing short of a miracle in my book: I dreamt of something other than the monster. I woke up in the morning, and realized that for the first time in over ten years I had slept through the night. Elation soared through me, and from that night on I never dreamt of the monster again.
However, that was not the last time I would see him. As the days passed I kept seeing him in my peripheral vision. But oddly enough, I didn't feel threatened by him. This creature which had haunted my dreams for *years* actually felt more like a comfort than a threat. I got the feeling that he was watching over me, as though I had a guardian demon.
More years passed and eventually I began to talk to my demon throughout the day. He never really replied beyond a tilt of acknowledgement now and again, but it was still somehow soothing to talk to him. I'd decided to call him Rick, and he seemed to like, although it was hard to tell. Whenever I was about to walk into danger, as teenage boys are wont to do, I would feel a little tug on my shirt, warning me not to.
None of my friends or family ever seemed to notice him, so I kept his existence to myself. As I grew up he stayed with me, and continued to be a source of comfort for me. One night I'd had one too many drinks at a bar, and when I left I didn't exactly have my wits about me. It was a dark, starless night, and everything but the bars and clubs were closed down for the night.
I stumbled into the alley where I had parked my car and fumbled around my pockets for my keys. I didn't notice the man walk up behind me, but I certainly noticed when a knife appeared at my throat. "Either give me your money, or give me your life," a ragged voice said. I swallowed in apprehension and slowly began to reach for my wallet.
However, before either of us had any time to react he was yanked away from me and violently thrown against one of the alley walls. His body made a sickening crunching sound as it hit the wall, and when he landed on the ground he didn't move. Knowing that there was no way I would be able to explain this to anyone, I called paramedics for him, and passed out in the car as it drove me home.
From that night on I realized the level of protection Rick would give me, and in many ways it was a comforting thought. However, I also worried about him killing someone someday; I didn't exactly want that on my conscience. Whenever I talked to him, the subtle signs of acknowledgement were still all he gave as a sign that he heard me, but I hoped he would understand that I didn't want to see anyone dead because of me.
A few years passed uneventfully until I had the pleasant surprise of being contacted by one of my closer childhood friends: Mark. Him and I had been inseparable until we'd gone to separate high schools, and I was honestly looking forward to seeing him.
When I got to the coffee shop and spotted him, Rick had an immediate and volatile reaction. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his claws flexing back and forth, and the change in his demeanor was palpable. "Everything is fine, don't do anything," I whispered as quietly as I could. I made my way to Mark's table and sat across from him.
He reached his hand out and shook mine, "Adrian, it's good to see you."
I smiled, "Yeah, you too, buddy. It's been what, twelve, thirteen years?"
He nodded, "Something like that."
"So what you been up to all this time?" He perked up as though he'd been waiting for me to ask. It was in that moment that I saw Rick tense again, and I prayed he wouldn't make any moves towards Mark. "That's actually why I wanted to see you today. I started my own business with this great company, and I think you'd be a perfect fit to join our team."
I sighed and shook my head at his obvious MLM pitch. "Have at him, Rick." | That night replays sometimes in my mind, that night I first saw him - it - him? I don't really know what to call it... The rational part of me pushes me to say "it", to make it somehow less real than I feel it be. The part of me that can't deny his shadow stretching from mine at night or his whispers in my ears knows it is, in fact, a "he". The feeling I got has always been that of a he.
That night, back to it. I was returning home, trying to pace myself down the sloping road leading back from the convenience store, the plastic bags dangling from my hands. Winter was just settling in and the fog was heavier than usual this evening. I know now why. It was because of him. I saw him, a thin, dark figure billowing from the mist, wisps of what i could only have assumed to be torn, ragged clothes flowing from within this otherworldly shadow. I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have looked, I should have just run away, but I didn't.
And he took advantage. Maybe looking at him invited him in. Maybe looking at him opened a door for him to attach himself to me. The moment I heard my breath, something I hadn't realized I stopped hearing this whole time, and I moved, he moved, too. Ever since that day, he moved with me, breathed with me.
At first, I wondered, spent sleepless nights, my heart pounding, trying to understand why it hadn't yet harmed me. That's how all horror movies went and I'd watched so many of them to know. But he never did. When I went to bed, he retreated into a corner or sunk into the darkness of the armchair in my bedroom. He spent the night there, a silent watcher, his breath a quiet, soothing lullaby to which to fall asleep. Sometimes, at school or when hanging out with Chloe, I could swear something would change and I would feel a chill down my spine for most of the day. I couldn't explain it back then, but they were so limited and harmless that I brushed it off in the light of everything else.
Finally, I reached a point where I didn't know if I could ever sleep again if it weren't for the lullaby of his deep breathing, a point where we somehow settled into a strange symbiosis, though i haven't, for the life of me, figured out what it is that he gets out of this. We became two roommates silently looking over each other, content in each other's presence, getting used to our habits, our thoughts.
On my birthday, while my parents were stuck in an airport halfway across the world, he stepped out of my shadow for the first time. I never knew it, not until I saw a tennis ball rolling down the length of the room, when it stopped on my toe. I stared, dumbfounded, for a few moments, but when I looked up, he was in the shadow of the bathroom door, waiting, his smoky figure flowing into the darkness. I let myself drop to the floor and picked up the ball, my gaze fixed on him still.
"Was it you?" I asked and knew instantly that it was a stupid question. One to which I never got an answer, either. I shouldn't be surprised, though. Tentative, I rolled the ball back to the bathroom door, where it vanished into the darkness. I waited a moment, feeling disappointment grow within, as I began to think I was dumb to even imagine the shadow would play with me because it was my birthday and I was all alone. And then... It rolled back, quicker this time. We played like this for a little while, until I got an idea.
"Hey, wanna go outside?" Always quiet, I didn't expect an actual answer, but I knew I would know what he wanted. To my surprise, he nodded! It was the most we had communicated in the months he has infiltrated my life.
Actually excited, I rushed outside, pulling my coat and gloves on as I did. I didn't have to look behind to know that he followed. Skipping through the thick, tall snow, I picked up some and molded into a ball. I turned around, grinning, ready to throw it at the shadow, not even stopping to think whether it might at all go through him. As I did, a snowball smacked me and I staggered, confused, shocked. Tennis ball not withstanding, never did I think he would be the one to launch the first missile. "Oh, you're on, Mister." I laughed and threw the snowball his way, only for it to pass through his translucent body with ease. Though I could not see his expression, which had always been hidden from me, a subtle movement of his shoulders left me with the impression of a cocky smile that only motivated me to somehow win this war.
I always had fun with Peter - the name I'd given him after a while - although we always had to be careful and sneak around. If I suddenly started having a snowball fight with an "imaginary friend" when others could see me, the only thing I'd get out of it would have been therapy. For a long time, I ignored the chill I'd always get from him around Chloe. It mattered so little when everything was so great...
It went on like this for a long while. Years, really, years during which our inseparable existence no longer felt forced, but was welcome, in fact. So many things happened that only we knew about, things that pulled us closer than ever. A dark alley and four men with a switchblade, the skiing accident, the school lockdown. Through thin and thick, more than anyone else, he was there for me, shielded me, suddenly corporeal and terrifying if he wanted it.
For all we got closer, one thing never changed. For some reason, he never liked Chloe. That chill that I'd always felt grew stronger until I began to notice a change in Peter. Everytime we were around Chloe, the tension would grow to the point of it being unbearable, suffocating. Eventually, he stopped lingering in my shadow so much and followed at my side, a wisp of smoke only I could notice, his tall, hunched back menacingly looking down over my childhood friend. His long, monstrously long fingers curled into claws, as if he were pacing himself, holding himself back from doing something horrible. By then, high school was behind me and Chloe lived two states away and the few occasions we got to see each other left me with a bitter taste from Peter's hatred, so much so I started dreading seeing her just not to see him like that.. | 2020-12-18T11:58:36 | 2020-12-18T10:37:16 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] Dark Lord received a prophecy that a young ophran from the nearby village will end his reign. Instead of attempting to get her killed, he adopted her. | The time had come. I knew it would. Fate can be delayed, even accelerated, but never stopped. But it can be twisted. Knowing this now and knowing this then, I do not regret what comes for me. And **she** has come for me.
The great doors sent a thundering boom down my cavernous throne room and I am drawn to memory. The first day she came home, I strode forth, yet unburdened by time and injury, and she clung to the tails of my coat, hiding from the clamor. She owned it now, the dying echoes masking the measured pace of her march.
Past a score of a score of my finest warriors. Battle-tested and truly loyal, all of them; it is whispered that they know no fear. A foolish, but useful hyperbole and not without basis. Would a dragon break into these halls, each and every one of them would throw themselves before fire and fang to spare me for, but a second. And yet they did not raise so much as a finger against her. They would not. Could not. For she was their master as much as I.
So their blades sat restlessly in their sheathes, but hers. Hers. My gift to her, made in the image of my own zweihander, slim and elegant where I was broad and brutal. Even undrawn, I knew she kept it polished and clean despite how deeply it drank of her enemies’ blood. My poor blade was likewise well-kempt, but its length was dry and thirsty.
There was silence now. Heavy and tense. A faint staccato beat tipped and tapped its way closer still. Another skill she mastered, even in her armor, she was quiet. Without it, she was a phantom. Many would-be upstarts and rebels died like this, in silence. An amusing coincidence, I thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. My other assassins were present as well, hiding in the plentiful shadows, waiting, watching with the patience of vultures.
A dozen scribes worked there with them. A moment such as this must be recorded. If they missed even a single detail I would have their eyes, tongues and hands. There will never be something that must be so witnessed, spoken and written about.
At last she stood before me. And I rose to meet her, old bones creaking with traitorous protest. I left my throne for the last time and even managed to wrestle my old sword into its familiar place at my back. Even now with my life’s weight upon me, I towered over her and she did not falter. She waited. As did I. I looked at her, one last time, father to daughter. She had strength and skill, cunning and intellect, respect and fear, the finest arms and finest feasts. I had done a good job, I’d like to think. She had everything she could’ve ever wanted. Well, except one thing.
My veined hands went up and her gaze followed them. With little effort, I removed my crown from my brow and she inclined her head to accept it. She stepped forth where I moved aside and mounted my throne. Her throne. I summoned my remaining vigor, willing volume and depth back into my voice.
“All hail, Dark Lady Nyx! Crownbreaker! Grand Champion! Nightstalker! All Hail!”.
The chant was taken up by the hundreds of attendees, outside the castle bells would toll across the lands and from sea to sea criers would shout out their lungs with the news. My reign had ended, but hers was just beginning.
All hail. All hail. All hail. | The foster care worker gaped up at me.
"B-but sir, its typical to actually meet them first."
I tried, somewhat successfully, to soften the trained muscles of my face into some semblence of a smile. I think I failed.
"She is my destiny. I am, as you can no doubt tell, childless. My future is entwined with hers." I mentioned the name of my fortune teller, seeing his eyes darken in recognition.
The negotiations took almost a fortnite, and finally I met Nancy. She, my prophesied destroyer, was a wickedly smart 4 year old who had more energy than I could summon on the solstice. We strolled the grounds as she, like all little girls, pelted questions at me.
"What's your name? Where do you live? Why are you in a cape? Why's your cane a dragon? What crystal is that he's holding? Can I have lunch? When are we going? I want to go now." Relieved my plan was working, I ushered this ball of energy towards my carriage. When I had her inside, I tapped the side with my stave and the horses obeyed my will and carried us away. on the ride I explained that I was the Lord of Helsteshere, and had no heirs, so I wanted her to become my daughter. "Call me dad when you're comfortable, I requested of her," as I ushered her out of my exhausted carriage. I had created food for us during our ride, so she had immense reserves of energy. I swept up the drive as she ran around, getting visually excited.
"WOW! This is where I get to live?! " she exclaimed as my butler, Dave, opened the door for her. I chuckled and silently indicated to Dave that she was mine. His eyes twinkled but his face betrayed no emotion. He knew, of course, that this little human was destined to destroy me.
As Nancy grew, her intellectual prowess became clearer until she asked me, "Dad, can I learn your power?" I hesitated, remembering that prophecy from 18 years ago, as she had been born. I couldn't say no to my heiress though, and relented. "Ok," I assented, "I will show you how to channel the energy of the world to do your bidding. But…" I trailed as I realized what she must do, "there is a ritual you must complete to begin." I raised my stave and showed her. "This is the symbol of my power. It is only given to you after you have given to the Everlasting Forest, and your journey must be your own. I will provide your crystal, but the forest must provide your stave." She nodded, and the very next day left before dawn. She returned after a solstice had passed, with a stave that surpassed the beauty of mine.
She eagerly began to learn, but refused to tell me what the Forest had demanded from her. Shivering, I remembered the toll it had taken from me, and understood her withholding of it. She fervently studied, mastering all my knowledge and expanding upon my methods using the library and her own ingenuity. Her progress astonished me, and we began to plan to become lord of all there was.
She, one day, asked, "Dad, can we awaken a dragon? It's been done before, but it took 3 of us mages, and they could not control it. Do you think it could be done?"
"Yes, believe we could do it on a solstice, for together we have more power than that foolish plan they followed." I replied.
"Theres still the problem of control." She remarked. I nodded assent, waiting for her clever mind to come up with a solution.
"I have an idea that I think would work, but we could kill it if my plan doesnt work, right?"
"I have already killed a dragon. And, you could as well, probably even without my help." I said slowly, wondering if she would explain. I was disappointed when she didn't.
"Then let us plan. I will study to see if I can streamline the process, and when a solstice approaches we will act."
Upon her 52nd solstice, as midnight struck fear into our domain, we raised our staves together, transforming the mountain we tread on into our eternal guardian, the dragon. As the dragon awoke, its mind seemed to turn its attention onto me. I began to feel disembodied as Nancy began to chant faster, and I realized her chant was, and is, transferring my mind into the dragon's, smothering its fierceness with my own vast power . Even as I became aware of her plan, and I began to scream, it morphed into the roar signalling that Nancy's era of leadership had began.
I'm so proud of her. | 2021-03-24T09:03:59 | 2021-03-24T08:30:35 | 1,350 | 328 |
[WP] You are a superhero who keeps his identities private, even your sidekick doesn't know your normal identity. Today you come home to find your wife in bed with your sidekick. | This...
This is how villains are created.
I clench my fist tighter, and Brazen screams, his flames licking out at me, but I don't feel it.
I feel nothing but rage.
"How dare you?!" I scream at him. My bellow elicits a panicked shriek from the woman cowering, naked, in the corner. My wife. She had no idea. Neither did he. It doesn't matter. They must be judged.
He floats before me, wreathed in the brassy flame for which he's named. It nearly covers his nakedness, a kind of modesty he hadn't shown moments before, when I entered the room and he smirked at me, unrealizing. Sealing his fate.
I squeezed tighter, and my telekinesis clenched on him. I heard the first bone snap, probably a rib. He gasped in pain, still trying to guide his flames toward me, trying to rip through my kinetic fields to lash at me. I strengthened my shields with a thought, and then flung him against the wall. Another crack, this time more obvious: a compound fracture in his left forearm, splintered bone jutting through the skin.
I take hold of it in my mind, wrapping kinetic fields around it, and I squeeze down. He screams, and the flames die down. I've found his threshold. The pain is too much for him now, and he can no longer control it.
As I bear down on his arm, more bands of force press against his throat, and I devote even more force to them, cutting off his air. At first he just gasps, fighting back, so I press harder. A wet crunch as his trachea is crushed. Moments later, his body is spasming, fighting for air. I am too far gone to care.
Until I feel a gentle hand on my arm, turning, I gaze into the brilliant green eyes of my wife.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to hurt you. But this isn't you."
I grimace, ready to shake her off, but her eyes are pleading, and so I begin to relent. I allow him to breathe again, hear him choking, coughing as he wheezes. I release his arm, and hear him groan in pain, almost a gargle through his ruined throat. I look at the woman I love, who moments ago I wanted to lash out at, to hurt, perhaps to kill over the pain she and my former sidekick inflicted on me, and all I feel is remorse.
I don't know how it came to this. I want to make it right. I reach for her.
The room explodes in flame, and I hear a croaking scream coming from Brazen, I shield myself through pure instinct, the flames filling my sight but not touching me, and it's a moment before I realize what I failed to do.
I didn't protect her.
I didn't protect her.
I didn't--
The flames recede, and Brazen is gone, burned through the wall behind him and fled. I stand there, stunned, as her ashes fall around me. | A Hero Just Like You
“Donna?” Her eyes shoot open and nearly bulge from their socket; her chubby cheeks turn that classic rosy red that she gets whenever she gets too flustered. At that moment I nearly forgot that I just saw my girlfriend changing out of a superhero suit. It’s the first time she’s been naked and my mind doesn’t start drooling at the boobs and hips, “What the hell?”
Donna’s face freezes, stone cold, just like those statues in the park she loves to spend hours taking pictures with, “I can explain,” her face grows two shades redder than I am accustomed to and starts to pull the costume back up, “I mean it’s exactly what it looks like…that’s a good place to start.” I can start to make out the logo on her chest as the suit flips over bosom and now my cheeks and eyes start to grow as wide and red as hers.
“Y-Yo-You’re Crimson Star!” I can feel my legs weaken as the words leave my mouth, it’s the weakest I’ve felt in the last 6 years.
“Yes, I am Crimson Star,” Her gaze shifts to my roughly crafted homemade suit. A small smirk appears on her face as the hue of her face comes back to a mild pink, “Who are you supposed to be?”
“Well, I guess I’m just a nobody compared to you,” My eyes nervously shift to the floor as some witty remark fails to come to mind, first time for everything, “I just help where I can, you’ve made a real difference.”
“All of it matt-” I lose focus as she starts to speak to me. My eyes glance at the walls of my sloppily organized room. I stumble over to the bed, collapse like a sack of bricks, and cover my reddened face, “Grayson, are you listening?”
“No!” I feel her sit beside me on the bed, her soft hands rub on my shoulder, a feeling so familiar and loving stings as an act of pity now, “You’ve seen my walls, I look like a pathetic fanboy!”
“Yeah,” She softens her voice to lessen the blow, a usual for her, but I’m not sure she has the pitch to soften this impact, “But if it makes you feel better you’ve been dating and banging Crismon Star for a few years now!” I move my hands and peer over at her with a playful glare, “Are you okay, babe?”
“Yeah, my life is not in danger,” I flash the best smile I could possibly muster in the moment, she reciprocates with her dazzling politician smile, always perfect. How did I never notice? Baffling, “I can’t believe I didn’t put that all together.”
“Nobody ever believes a hero or someone they look up to would be in their bed,” She leans closer and places a gentle kiss on my forehead. I’m dating Crimson Star and she loves me. My seventeen-year-old self would give me the best fist bump now, “add in some mystery like with superher-”
A sudden buzzing cuts through the air distracting Donna from finishing her thoughts. It’s over nearly as soon as it starts, just barely perceptible. She shoots up from her seat and her soft, sexy gaze changes to something more steeled and heroic. In the blink of an eye she’s back at the same window I just entered, looking back at me with a face I’ve seen so many times, “You coming along, slow poke, we’ve got a B class villain to apprehend.”
“Where the heck did that buzzing even come from?” She smiles and points to the symbol on her chest. I stumble over to the window, much less smooth than usual.
“You never told me your name, hot shot.” My cheeks turn tomato the moment the words leave her lips.
“Promise not to laugh,” I take a deep breath and confidently look Donna in the eyes, “My name is Scarlet Nova!” | 2022-03-23T10:59:21 | 2022-03-23T10:09:46 | 497 | 29 |
[WP] When they turn 14, every human gets an obscure super power with a lengthy description of it so they know what it is. But when yours arrives, it only says four words. “Don’t… | I never thought my time would come. Childhood summers last forever, the school year drags, but time marched on as it always did. Before I knew it, I found myself standing there before the assembly just fourteen years of age. The whole class staring expectantly at what would become of me. I was the youngest in my year meaning that I was the last to receive my calling.
This has been an exceptional year. No scuds whatsoever, and SIX acers. From only 80 students, that was unheard of. Although this meant that the pressure on my calling was greater than possibly any before. This could be a perfect year for the academy.
As the clock struck twelve I felt it. It washed over me like nothing before and whispered my fate. I had heard the stories from others, they were overcome and immediately aware of their calling, the rules, the restrictions… their purpose. But mine, mine was different. It was over before I knew it had even begun.
I woke up surrounded by faces looking down on me. I had fainted. How embarrassing!
Ever the empath, our teacher scolded me for keeping them waiting. Roughly barking “well, Rick. What is your calling?”
“Don’t… don’t give them up…” | Don’t look behind you.
People have an amazing capacity for self-delusion. I suppose it’s a requirement to function in the world that we made. I don’t just mean the big abstract self-delusion to live your life without noticing all the suffering and exploitation required half a world away so that you can have your morning coffee, whether you make it home or walk to the cafe at the corner. I’m talking about the little stuff.
Don’t look behind you.
Anyway, I was talking to my friend the other day, he’s trying to decide whether to take this new job he got offered. Thinks he has to pick “a career” or whatever. I’d never heard him talk about “earnings potential” before but there he was talking about saving to send his kids to college. He doesn’t even have kids. Or a girlfriend for that matter. My dad jokes that everyone my age is having their quarter-life crisis.
Don’t look behind you.
But so here’s the thing about self-delusion: I really think we need it. Like, he’s gonna take that new job obviously. But he’s all worried because his new job doesn’t have many employees our age. He was talking about how everyone knows you meet your future spouse in college or at work and that won’t happen at the new job. Obviously I pointed out he can’t turn down an extra $15k just because there’s a cute girl who just started working at his current job.
Don’t look behind you.
Basically, you just can’t think like that. You gotta make the best decision you can. Like I said to him, imagine if I hadn’t transferred after freshman year. He and I wouldn’t have met, I wouldn’t have met his friend from high school, and I wouldn’t be engaged. Who knows, maybe I would’ve asked out that girl in my ENG201 seminar. Maybe I’d be engaged to her, or even married, and we’d have a daughter named Emma who has her father’s eyes.
Don’t look behind you.
You just can’t think like that. First of all, because you’ll be paralyzed with indecision. Second, because you’ll never be able to enjoy anything because you’ll be wondering about everything that could have been. And most importantly, because there’s no way to know anyway so it’s pointless. And you wouldn’t even want to know really. Just imagine how horrible it would be to know all the things that would’ve happened if you’d made a different choice.
Don’t look behind you. | 2022-05-08T09:49:41 | 2022-05-08T09:49:20 | 338 | 64 |
[WP]”Why aren’t you scared? I’m a vampire— I could kill you!” “So could literally every other human, you’re not special.” | "Why aren't you scared? I'm a vampire, a creature of the night, a-"
"Humans are worse. You at least have the honor to let me face my death. Not that I think you'll kill me. You're all posturing and no actual danger, as far as I can tell." The human, presumably female but toeing the line of androgyny, pushed easily past the inhuman man toward the alley's exit. "Have you seen what humans are willing to do to each other? Any human with a gun and a reason to use it could kill me whenever they felt like it. You're nothing special, Sir Vampire."
The vampire stood speechless. His prospective victim was not wrong. But she had forgotten something. "You forget, I have reason enough to kill you. I must feed after my long rest. You shall not escape death through clever reasoning, young one!"
"Escape death? Why do I need to die to begin with? Could you not just partially drain a few people and sate yourself that way?"
"There is no such thing as partial draining, Woman! As soon as I touch-"
The woman in question slapped the vampire in the face in a display of true fearlessness. "First, you're a sexist bastard. Stop that. Second, is there any reason why my blood cannot be drank from a cup or something else of the like? Come, my apartment is around the corner, and we can settle this there."
-------
"Alright, I have followed. Now may I-"
She sliced her wrist open in a practiced motion and laid the cut atop a cup that had been on the counter. The Vampire paused, shocked, and the woman took her chance to talk.
"The human body can safely lose about a pint of blood without major consequences. I doubt a pint will fill you up, but getting people to give you a pint of blood should not be difficult with proper incentive."
She bandaged the cut a minute later, and grabbed the cup with her uninjured hand. "Here, a drink. Go learn how the world works, and go be a functional member of society. There's plenty of things that a vampire like you can do to earn your keep. Now go. When that cup of blood is finished, your hospitality has officially run out."
A gun, having been pulled quietly from a nearby drawer while the man drank, made her point. And so, he placed the cup down, and jumped out her open window in dramatic fashion.
A fanged smile watched him fly away. "So uneducated. So uncivilized. Let's see how long he lasts." | "That's because, your kind is Pathetic. And also stupid" The vampire flashed a cold, slow grin, letting his gaze run itself down and across my budgeoning water sack of a body, right as my mind for some reason thinks "I'm back in middle school again"... and then he continues his voice a perfect cool pitch of measured quiet, twisting and hanging in the air in front of us like a fruit rotting between my eyes-
" You can't even... Begin to Understand... the amount of Pain you're going to, well" He smiles again, seemingly warmed at the amount of pain I'm going to be in. "I swear, and cross my heart" he winks at me slyly, " By the time I pluck the Flesh from the bone of your eyes, there will exist nothing. Except all the fear you ever felt and all the fear you ever will... do you now understand or should we continue lady?".
"LADDYY?!!" The migraine slicing across my head pops and I stand tall, ignoring the wobbling in my knees and the sweat dripping from the pits of my overwashed cheap polyester uniform I'm forced to wear day in day out. It's all god gave me. I no longer care.
"Exxcuuuuse me? Mister VAMPIRE. First off, if you're gonna call me anything from your stinky rotten mouth, you best damn brush your teeth boy! They straight up look like corn! Second, it aint "LADY" SIR. It's a ma'am. Third, this is a Chilis....now I don't mean to cut your wonky ass ras-no poutin "goblin oh goule speech" short. but my shift ended FIVE minutes ago. I got sciatica running up and down my legs like you woul believe and today for some reason I kept pissin blood!? My kid-sister says it's all the beet juice she's been sneakin into my cereal. Like I NEED A DAMN VEGETABLES IN MY MINI WHEATS??. CRAZY. Lord help her. But YOU! Comin in ere— MY CHILIS? Well you out of your mind and I'll damn kick yo rotten appled ass if I please— Lord forgive me".
With that I leap! I launched myself at him. 290 pounds, I wouldn't know. I dont go to no doctor. Chili's insurance, and those managers crazier than any vampire I've ever seen. But I've been killin rude people since I was five. I reckon a vampire's no different than anyone without any manners.
Now we're fightin! I jumped straight and got him square to the ground. Heathe— the mouthy teenager always in the back givin me crap throws me the dial phone. The vampire starts to laugh and hiss and open his mouth. Too soon to tell but I think he's winnin! I grab it easy. I didn't raise four boys to not learn how to catch anything my way and I pop him slick across his pretty boy face with our rotary phone, slam it down straight into his nose. Into his face. Into those ugly deviled teeth. He keeps going so I choke him with the wire. Shove the plastic deep into his throat. He cracked it swiftly in half and he's clawing up and down my arms but I got him. It's easy to beat anyone doing anything when you outweigh em like I do, and boy I do.
Five minutes later, Heathe hands me a cheap small Chili's cup of lemonaide. We don’t look at each other as he shrugs"Well the good news, we got it on camera. The bad news... it's on Reddit". | 2022-06-08T16:17:17 | 2022-06-08T13:26:53 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] Prisoners can ask for anything for their last meal. The catch is, if it can't be provided to them, they get set free. They've asked for many things : alien egg omelette, dragon steak, the flesh of Jesus Christ, etc. The execution streak remained unbroken for decades, until today. | The Executioner sat in his chamber, hands clasped together, his head rested on them. He was clearly distressed and in deep thought; he almost didn't notice the arrival of the warden.
"Milo," the warden greeted him, breaking the executioner from his spell.
"Oh! Warden. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in," he hurriedly said and stood up.
"No, no, that's quite alright. You seem troubled."
"It's D-774, sir," the executioner said, sitting down again.
"774," the warden mumbled to himself. "Ah! He's bound for execution today, correct? Is... is there something about this prisoner that makes you apprehensive to do your duties?"
The warden sized the executioner up and down. He'd been a veteran of 12 years, a true professional, not one to shy away from his job. He'd never seen him troubled before but if for whatever reason he did not feel right with this prisoner, it wouldn't be too much trouble to find a replacement.
"No, sir, it's his last meal," the executioner assured him.
"Ah," the warden chuckled. "What is it this time? Dragon steak? Alien eggs benedict? Let me tell you, they get some crazy ideas. But our chef always finds a way."
"Sir," the executioner said cautiously, "I... I don't think this one is..."
The warden's face shifted from carefree friendliness to one of apprehension. The executioner stood up and faced him directly, closely.
"What'd he ask for?" the warden asked worriedly.
"He asked for a spoiled Twinkie," the executioner whispered. | The trick was to find the loophole.
The Alien-egg Omelette was just two Century-Eggs blended, added to milk, and re-fried.
Dragon Steak? Wagyu beef drowned in hot-sauce and cooked sous-vide.
The Flesh of Jesus Christ? Communion Wafers.
The Executioners were akin to djinnies, twisting the last request and presenting the requestee with the twisted, ironic depictions of what they asked for. The streak remained unbroken.
So you asked for a bottle of wine. Wine distilled from Caberlot grapes, which were only grown in two hectares of land in the entire world. You didn't ask for *those* Caberlot grapes, though. You asked for *wild* Caberlot grapes, which did not exist, as they were a genetic cross between Merlot and Cabernet Franc.
And so, as per your last request, first the grapes had to be seeded in the wild, and left to naturally grow.
It took five years, but that was five years that stayed your due date.
The next issue was the *type* of wine you asked for. Double-barrelled, aged until 'sufficient fruitiness', to be judged by you, and only you.
The issue being that wine's fruity bouquet deteriorated rapidly. In six months it all but disappeared—and that's when it would be transferred to its second barrel, to age even more.
The process of aging the wine itself took another five years, five years added to your sentence, but also to your life.
Next, they brought you the bottle. After ten years since they had sown the first of the Wild Caberlot grapes, five years since they had first placed the wine into its first barrel.
You sampled it, and judged it robust, earthy, and with rich character—but it was *not* a fruity wine. Only then did they realise their mistake. So caught up in the act of finding you your impossible wine, they had allowed *you* to dictate the loophole.
As long as you judged the wine unfit, they could not execute you.
But, as they had delivered you wine as specified, you were kept in prison. With neither party willing to bring the case to Court for fear of precedent, there you stayed. Every year, you would be brought a bottle of Wild Caberlot wine, and you would judge it unfit, and not fruity enough. You would then be forced to keep the wine, and you would be kept on Death Row.
They couldn't put different wine in the bottle, either, because then you would still judge it unfit. And even if they replaced the wine with the fruitiest wine they could find, they could do nothing. It would be considered entrapment.
Anyone else who tried the same trick were scrutinised heavily, and their agency in the request was removed. The wine you helped create became popular, your face known worldwide.
And through the years the dance continued.
You became known as The Sentenced Sommelier.
And you never judged a worthy wine. | 2022-07-17T15:23:30 | 2022-07-17T15:22:32 | 3,809 | 1,032 |
[WP] Prisoners can ask for anything for their last meal. The catch is, if it can't be provided to them, they get set free. They've asked for many things : alien egg omelette, dragon steak, the flesh of Jesus Christ, etc. The execution streak remained unbroken for decades, until today. | It’s easy enough, at least in my eyes. I don’t know why no one had thought of it before. They think on the impossible, dragons and aliens, stretch the imagination and put their faith into fantasy and mythology, and forget the very reality which makes the world turn.
The warden, the lawyers, they stare at me, slack jawed. “You can’t ask for that,” the warden says, voice firm, as if he can convince me on willpower alone.
“I can.” I smile. “I am. Give me the head of Jeff Bezos.” I tilt my head and smirk. “Brains are a delicacy, you know.”
I know he knows. People have asked for all kinds of brains. Dragon brains and alien brains and executor brains, even a warden’s brain once. The last was much the right idea, but on far too small of a scale.
The thing is, dragons they can find. Aliens they track down. But no one in the seat of power will give up their life for a prisoner. And yes, I could’ve asked for the president’s head. But the thing is, the president can be replaced. That’s what Vice Presidents are for, after all.
And it would make it all too political, one party demanding the head, proclaiming that a streak cannot be broken, precedents cannot be set. Legislators may place this execution tradition over the life of some interchangeable politician. Hell, the people might even like it. The government might even adopt it, thrive on it, inside assassinations as simple as convincing a convict to ask for a politician’s head on a plate.
I can’t risk that. Too many variable.
But an old, rich white guy?
They’re never getting his head. Not for money—he has all of that. Not for power—money got him that, too. Not for his family, who he can pay to protect. Not for his citizenship, which he’d gladly fling away.
There’s nothing you can convince a man in absolute power to give his life for.
That’s the one rule that makes the world go round.
Power does not relinquish itself. It does not sacrifice itself. It does not see the greater good. It has no empathy.
The warden knows this. I see it as he states back at me, enraged.
Oh, they try, of course. They make calls, lawyers scream, legislators appeal to one’s better nature, as if power has such a thing.
Jeff Bezos laughs the whole thing off. As if his life is worth that of some prisoner? Of some girl on death row? The whole thing is hilarious to him.
And of course, authorities try to arrest him. Or so they say, but no one ever does and police chiefs go home to suddenly bigger houses and newer cars.
Legislators try to write a bill, demanding that the streak be maintained at all costs. But suddenly their pet projects get pushed through, their old bills get passed, and the Jeff Bezos’ Head Bill gets bogged down, then forgotten.
You’d think it’d make great news—the girl who broke the streak, the girl who beat the system. But oddly, the story goes no where. It never makes the headlines. It thrives only in the corners of the internet, in conspiracy theory threads, unverified enough that it’s just the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever heard so of course it’s not the truth.
And I go free. The streak remains unbroken, at least in the eyes of the public, who have already forgotten and moved on to the next sensational thing.
And that’s fine by me. | Sumerians invented the cuneiform writing system way, way back in time in the fourth century BCE. The British library has 130,000 of the clay tablets where most are still unread by a modern person. Irvine Finkel, himself, has and will teach anyone to read cuneiform in the hopes someone will bring him another story like the the first flood story again.
Archibald's social graces were well and truly under developed. His trauma started as far back as he could remember in school. He knew what no one talks about that bullies at all levels pick on the lowest of them all. School society can be seen as a diamond shape instead of the Hierarchical pyramid that has more people on the bottom than top. Everyone picked on Archibald, everyone; he had been the bottom point of the his social diamond. His only solace was pointing out how stupid everyone else was, so he doubled, tripled, even quadrupling down on studying.
Irvine Finkel was the first person he came across that seem genuinely enthusiastic about teaching him. Yes, there was the old man's sardonic humor like how he wanted to become a British Museum Curator at the age of nine and through a series of bewildering coincidences became one. There was space deep in the basement that felt like pure solitude to Archibald so long as he was reading, deciphering, decrypting, even the most boring cuneiform tablet. Some of them would barely fit in one's palm while others were cylinders whose writing wrapped around and around. Archi's bane though were the broken bits, the fragments of sentences, one's Finkel couldn't be bothered with.
Each time Archi thought he'd found a particularly interesting story, and would ran to Finkel decrying, "this is it, This one." Each and every one he'd 'found' was only some mundane trivial daily matter better represented on an intact tablet. This frustrating denial focused to being sure, absolutely sure, the next one would be 'the one'. Archibald held a small tablet in his hand, forcing his heart rate slower after seeing symbols for condemned, curse, protection, and peace all near each other. He spent weeks upon weeks flipping between the hard tablet and various research papers and their notes.
Archibald was a volunteer at the museum that supported his obsession by driving a Trash Truck. The job was steady with regular hours outside of the museum's operation. He found that he was well suited for the shit night shift that every normal human hated. To him, there was an empty world to explore, and going places most people never see, the industrial sectors. One of the hidden places the public hardly never gets to see was inside the national prison. He knew the guards, recognizing that people who were the worst types of bullies seem to gravitate in to that type of job. There was a perverse pleasure refusing to submit to their bully tactics and driving away instead and leaving the huge bins full.
Reporting such incidents to his bosses, who wrote the report, and then sent it up their chain of command. The prison warden typically called the his boss' boss that morning. Power is where you find it was Archibald's mantra. He was weeks deep into the confusing script of his find and could ignore the guard's taunts. He wasn't suppose to, but had made a charcoal rubbing of the half palm sized tablet. He taped an enlarged photocopy of the rubbing to his cab's windshield. In moments of stress focused his mind on that enlarged piece of paper.
He was standing outside his cab looking up at the copy in the caged guard area trying to get inside the fence to do his job when it clicked, the ah-ha moment. It, the tablet, was a poem; Archibald had always hated poetry. The Sumerian cadence was mutated into a forced rhyme from a prison guard's point of view. The poem listed dish, after dish, nonsensical dishes too. The listed dishes had puzzled him for days on end, but the end of the poem made it clear to him now. A trick, bamboozle, flimflam , a fraud, was played on the condemned. Archibald could see prison guards back in antiquity were the same shitheads they were today.
The damn tablet was a guard's confession of tricking the soon to be executed into eating bugs, snakes, and other nasty things in lieu of a nonexistent mythical dish. Thereby saving the guard, himself, and his loved ones from a devastating curse of the innocent. It was all a joke to the guards. Archibald's ears began heating up as his blood pressure increased. "Fuckers," he spat at the side of his truck. | 2022-07-17T19:42:58 | 2022-07-17T17:32:54 | 210 | 47 |
[WP] The Superheroes arrive at the predicted impact site of the meteor, only to find the Villains already there. "We're going to destroy that blasted rock before it lands and there's nothing you can do to stop us!" a Hero calls out. "Stop you? We're here to help! We live on this planet too, dumbass" | I reached the impact site first, setting up camp a safe distance away. The other idiots would be here soon, and knowing them, I and my services would make some serious bank today. Humming to myself, I puttered around the tent until a voice came from outside.
"Hey, Trev, you in there?"
I popped my head out, squinting in the early morning sunlight. Rising in front of me, standing in what you would typically call a 'heroic' pose was the first person to arrive. As usual, a villain had made it here first.
"Yep. What can I do for you mate? The heroes ain't here yet so—"
"Goodness, no. I don't need your services, I was just wondering if you wanted some coffee." Coffee sounded wonderful, and soon we sat on lawn chairs, sipping our warm beverages.
"So you heard the news too, Alan." Another figure loomed over us, nearly blocking out the light.
"Yes." Alan held his coffee as if he would throw it at the new arrival. I raised my hands, knowing I would need to remind them of the treaty.
"Guys. Remember, when you're anywhere near me—"
"Yeah, yeah Trev. We know." Alan waved a hand. "Come and sit down then, Steve. I'm sure we can scrape some more coffee together for you."
All through the morning, more and more villains arrived. Soon I had enough to start my own football team, and was seriously considering going into that business when the superheroes turned up. Thumping into the dirt, capes billowing in a wind that had not existed before, they strode toward us.
"We're going to destroy that meteor before it lands and there's nothing you can do to stop us!" Their leader called out. I shook my head, as Alan shouted back. I try not to discriminate, but sometimes the heroes could be rather stupid.
"Stop you? We're here to help! We live on this planet too, dumbass."
"Alan. Language." I muttered under my breath, and he turned a little pink. The leader of the heroes arrived, trying to tower over us. With Steve standing behind, the only thing the hero achieved was looking small.
"You're going to help? Why?" The leader squinted at us in disbelief. Then took a very obvious double take at my presence.
"Trev? What are you doing with all these... villains." He made the word a curse. I rolled my eyes.
"Must I remind everyone? I'm not on anyone's side, no one gets any special treatment, and I'm here to help. For a small fee, of course." The hero frowned but dismissed me with a gesture. I wandered away from the group, as I knew what would happen next. Alan would forget himself and start cursing the hero out, the hero would get frustrated, and they'd get into a pissing match on who was actually the most powerful, yada, yada, yada. Then, when everything seemed like it was going to go to absolute shit, with the meteor bearing down on us, they'd pull together and fend off the problem. I'd seen it before, though not with this particular group of heroes and villains.
I ducked into my tent, looking over both my supplies and my power levels. From outside, I heard shouting, and then a strange rumbling sound. There we go. They've started working together, and the meteor will soon be dealt with. A few minutes later, a chunk of rock obliterated my tent, pinning my bottom half to the ground. Huh. Not quite the safe distance I'd thought.
Drumming my fingers on the ground, I waited. Finally, one of the heroes pulled the rock off me. He was the first in a long line of slightly wounded heroes and more wounded villains. I rolled up my sleeves and sighed.
"All right, you know the drill, everyone in order of severity. This is triage people, not a popularity contest. And have your credit cards ready please." As they rearranged themselves, I smiled.
Being an immortal healer had its fair share of annoyances. But it definitely had its benefits too.
———————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! | What are we, but leaves in the wind?
There were stories once, sung by the masses or known only by those who wrote them. Of guns and smoke, knives and high boots, artful games of respectful slaughter. Dozens of them, each catching light, before being lost to the confines of old history, buried deeper and deeper by the novelty of tomorrow.
Who were they? Great individuals, indistinguishable from gods. Maybe mortal, maybe not. Commoners didn't know, neither did the individuals. Why had they been chosen? was there something meant for them? or was it simply luck? Another spin of a chaotic universe in the span it took to be born in a flash and vanish in a fiery heat-death?
They tried to make the distinction between good and evil at first. This power was good, this fight worthy, this one accursed. The attempt stopped the moment every side decided to call itself good, leaving to wonder why they were so keen on murdering one another despite their self-proclaimed dedication to betterment and goodness in the world.
Ideals and values offered a more factual approach to the ever-changing politics of the gifted. Special or not, the needs and wants remained the same, those of humans born with imperfections and struggles.
One pervert would have been content sitting at home, surrounded by raunchy magazines and a computer with high memory. In strength of body and mind, the Pervert would take it to the next logical step, and decide to make perversion reality. Build a harem, be they willing or not, and vanish on a remote island to enjoy the fruits of one-sided lust until the time came to renew the harem.
Of course, the Pervert would be opposed by the Holy, who saw the gift as a proof God was still around and kicking, and the gifted should stay above the seven sins. When not running after the Pervert, the Holy would start crusades to spread the peaceful word of the Lord by sword and flame. After all, he was in the right, might as well go heavy-handed.
But then came the Ecologist, who happened to be a fusion between two who had once been called the Hippie and the Misanthrope, who had died in a feud and gave birth to a strange union in death. The Ecologist protected nature, by way of forcing humanity to remain confined in cities and using those who didn't comply as compost. The Pervert fought the Ecologist, as while the Pervert didn't mind some coercion to build a harem, they still considered live and let live an essential part of life.
Meanwhile, Democracy, Tyranny, Free-market and Anarchy put thousands of scenarists across the world out of a job on account of writing better and more convoluted stories through the number of alliances and betrayals they undertook daily between them.
After the initial shock and delight of such gifts, the novelty wore off. No matter how special, humans remained humans, powers allowed them to do more of the same, except on a grander scale.
Then a chunk of the moon started to fall.
It is still unclear how it started, if it started at all. Maybe it was always falling, but decided it was a good time to finally impact.
On the eve of the apocalypse, stories suddenly became redundant. On the scale of the universe, what did it matter that the Pervert had a beef with the Holy? In a gust of wind carrying leaves, they would all be gone, and none of it would have any relevance.
And so it came that the Pervert retreated to his island to indulge in lust, that the Holy sunk into prayer, that Democracy and Tyranny lay down their weapons and recognized they stood for ideals who were about to be obliterated. Might as well enjoy the sight.
But it felt lacking, didn't it?
All those powers, helpless against a falling moon. They had no chance at all, so they believed. But the doubt kept nagging, in the back of their minds. Standing at the end of the world, the question remained, turning around and cackling madly.
Are you so sure?
Without a word, without an accord, they came. The Ecologist, Free-market, their shifting friends and foes, right at the spot of the future impact. In all likelihood, they would fail, and it would be done. At least, they would know.
What happened next is unclear.
The absolute end of the world became the end of the world as we knew it. The gifted died in their attempt. All of them. But the attempt succeeded, the impact never happened. No crater, no shock-wave engulfing the earth, only a slight burn where the mighty once stood.
What was it? An attempt to prove that the gifted could grow beyond petty and temporary ideals, rise above their station and show the true colors of champions befitting the gift? A complicated ploy to be rid of them, to cease the glaring injustice of granting a few the abilities to choose for all of us? Or was it yet another turn in a chaotic and meaningless universe, until the next?
We do not know, we likely never will.
No matter how high and mighty, a tremor in the universe could end all we know.
And as it could have happened, they burned, so we could keep on being.
Gazing in the abyss, we found sense, and a sort of meaning. We are all but leaves, dancing in the wind.
And it is a fine life, to dance as we do. | 2022-09-11T06:47:02 | 2022-09-11T06:44:43 | 352 | 94 |
[WP] In a world full of superpowers, a speedster who thinks they can stop time fights a time-stopper who thinks they just move very fast. | The soles of his tungsten micro-spiked shoes screeched on the pavement as his punch hit nothing but air. Without so much as a stumble he shifted into a perfect slide as he clawed the ground with one hand to decelerate in time to avoid hitting a brick wall. "Where is he?! How did he do that?!" thought Timehodler as his head distorted into a blurr for a moment as he instantly surveyed the streets for his enemy.
Something was dropping down on him and he dodged to the side in less than the blink of an eye, unhooking a small sling from his belt and loading it with a single steel pellet. The sling spun so fast that it roared like a jet engine for a tenth of a second, the shockwave of its release blasting out the windows of shops on both sides of the street for half a block in every direction. The target landed on the ground with a light aluminum clank amid a chorus of car alarms. It was an empty beer can, with a small hole in it.
"BLAAAARRRP" came a resounding belch from the corner of the roof above him. "Dude do you like even have a power? I don't get it."
To be fair, El Gordo didn't even understand his own power. His completely mastery of time allowed him to see anything at any speed, and unlike a speedster his ability to maneuver himself within that world was completely unbounded by the common laws of physics. He could go anywhere at any time at any speed, and see all things at all times at all speeds. He doesn't just stop time, he perceives all time down to a unit of measurement so small that the universe isn't big enough to express the number of "frames per second" he perceives in any form. His resolution of time perception is the movement of any atom in the universe within his direct view. The most incredible power he posseses by far, however, was his ability not to get bored. Not even a little. Most beings would be driven into a state of perpetual existential crisis by the solitude brought from such a space-time perception altering power. But it's all automated by his subconscious. He just thinks he moves fast. | The lead supervisor of superpowers was a stern lady, known to be feared despite her short stature and frail physique. She even commanded the respect she was used to years after being bound to a wheelchair. This wasn't a sleek Professor Xavier style throne, but a small wood and cotton seat with wheels that looked ready to crack upon the slightest obstacle. Her usual clothing was also just frock that frilled down below her knees and had no particular pattern or embellishments. In a way, it was her simplicity that caused the supers to treat her as special.
She sat in the middle of a small garden gazebo in the super-foundation's well-manicured yards. This was her defacto summer office. Supers found this less intimidating than her rain or winter offices, so tended to try to meet her at the gazebo.
This July afternoon, two new and promising supers had come to discuss their joint training assignment. "Ms Depford, we're curious about this next assignment you gave us."
Ms Depford squinted with the discernment of a librarian trying to recommend a book. The young lady in front of her claimed to be one of the fastest speedsters known, calling herself Flashess. She wore a tight monochrome black track suit. The young man to her right claimed to be a time stopper, calling himself the Timekeeper. He was also in tight fitting clothes, but his top was red with a yellow "T" and his pants were black. The lady who thought she was fast had spoken, but Ms Depford gazed at both of them equally. "What about it?" She decided to clarify.
"Um, why us?" Flashess continued to speak. After Ms Depford simply nodded, the Timekeeper cut in: "aren't we ill-suited to fight each other?"
Ms Depford nodded negatively and then quietly spoke. "Not at all, the best way to learn is to fight yourself."
"But you've never had a time controller and a speedster face off." Ms Depford nodded, affirming Flashess' comment. "So why us? Because we're the strongest?"
Ms Depford smirked. "It's because you're the stupidest and both of you have something to learn from each other's fighting. Come back after a brawl."
The pair, despite their claimed stupidity, decided to do a "tag" game to train: the victor was the first to get a sticker stuck to their opponent. They also decided to start with a bare room.
Almost as if in a Mexican standoff, the pair started ten paces away from each other and had an external countdown. Each superhero then perceived a different fight.
The Flashess knew that because she was traveling close to the speed of light, her vision would get dark, and she'd have to fumble around in the darkness. But she managed it, finding that the Timekeeper had almost reached her with a direct approach.
Meanwhile, the Timekeeper knew that he didn't perfectly stop time, so his time was limited and he panicked when he reached out to the Flashess and saw her touching his elbow, sticking a sticker on his outstretched arm.
Ms Depford actually laughed after hearing both explanations. "That's why you're both stupid," she said between giggles. On this occasion, Ms Depford had a tablet and she showed the pair what actually happened. The Flashess moved instantly while the Timekeeper stretched and contracted, suddenly with a sticker. "You both thought you have each other's power." | 2022-10-21T01:27:39 | 2022-10-20T22:01:15 | 56 | 39 |
[WP] Your dear pet is ill and as a last resort you summon a demon to heal them. What you did not expect was for the demon to be equally concerned for the wellbeing of the animal before any contract was signed. | I slowly lit all the candles I had set out. I wasn't sure if this was a good idea, but I would do anything for my dear dog. Once all the candles were lit, I switched off the lights and closed all the curtains. This wouldn't work if there was any light besides that of the ring of candles. I quietly chanted the phrase that would summon the demon. There was no going back now.
A gust of wind that seemed to come from nowhere blew all the candles out. I couldn't see a thing. I heard a small whine come from my sick dog and when I turned to look at her, there was a creature kneeling in front of her. There seemed to be light emanating from it. It turned towards me and started for a second. The demon looked nothing like how I imagined it would. It looked human, but something within me told me wasn't.
"What's wrong, little dog?" it asked, its voice coming out in a rasp.
"She has cancer. I summoned you here to heal her. I would do anything for-"
It interrupted me. "You need not pay me anything."
This confused me. All my life I had heard stories about people summoning demons and having to give up parts of themselves for their needs to be met. I had expected it would take some of my life away or ask for something that would be difficult for me to live without. This behavior was so unexpected.
The demon began petting Honey and whispering something in a language I had never heard before. When it went quiet, she jumped off the couch and started running around just as she used to as a puppy. I hadn't seen her so excited in weeks. Lately, she had only had enough energy to get up every once in a while to eat or drink.
"Why is there no price?" I asked before it could leave. "Is this some sort of trick?"
"No trick," it replied. "Had you or any other mortal summoned me for anything else, the price would have been extreme. But I just love animals and calling a creature from the depths of hell to save your dog is either the bravest or the stupidest thing I've ever seen any mortal do."
Before I could say anything, the demon disappeared. The lights in the house turned back on of their own accord, and everything looked and felt as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I called Honey over and she ran over and basically jumped into my lap just like she used to do. | My first story.. hoping it's not too bad.
​
Rather excited, but also a bit scared of what might come next, you said the final words, trying to mimic the sorcerers from the various fantasy movies you've seen. Then, just like in the movies, the candles somehow blew out by themselves, and a reddish smoke filled the room, while you were looking there sitting on the floor, praying and holding your breath in anticipation.
But... you didn't see anything else. The smoke just disappeared, and the candles lighted up once again, all at the same time. You were almost crying, thinking all the effort just went in vain. That is, until you heard the cat purring right behind you -- she hasn't done that in, like, the last week at all, and all of a sudden... You turn around.
"AAA--" you were scared, and screamed after seeing the demon right before your eyes, already having forgotten it was you who summoned them in the first place. But the fear went away rather fast, because they were not actually scary, it's just that.. you didn't really expect them to be here. "didn't I.. fail trying to do the ritual? well, looks like I didn't".
"Yeah, you did not." the demon said continuing to pat your poor cat. "But what's the deal with your cat? She doesn't look too well."
"This.. is the reason why I wanted to summon you in the first place. See, she is, like, terminally ill, the doctor said.. This is the first time I heard her purr in a week." Then, after a moment of silence, you finally asked them: "Can you.. heal her? Even if for some amount of time only... I want her to live, live to the fullest.. without pain", and the demon has seen the tear running down your face while you were saying that.
"Well, we are not exactly specialized in healing, but this poor little thing really looks like she's gone through a lot.. I'll try my best, okay?" The demon looked at you. They looked concerned for her, about to give all they can and even more.. just to let her be free of the pain. You stepped away to give them more space to work and maybe to get a little bit safer if the things go wrong.
The demon said some words in a foreign language not sounding like anything you've ever heard (and you have heard quite a few languages before), and started drawing some sort of picture made of a few glyphs, connected together. "Maybe this is how they do magic", you thought to yourself, coming closer to get a nicer look of the thing. After finishing the art, the demon placed their hand on it and closed their eyes. You were waiting in anticipation, rather excited for the demon to finish whatever they were doing, sitting on the floor looking at them. What felt like an eternity was just a minute that has passed, and then.. Your dear cat got covered in a greenish substance for a moment, just barely enough for you to notice it, and literally once you did it just disappeared. But it had some kind of effect on the cat.. For a moment she looked and felt rather dizzy, but soon after she was what looked like fully healed! She got up from the bed and jumped first to the demon's, and then to your lap, as lively as ever before the illness.
"You're welcome", the demon said while you were speechless. And drew another thing made from those same glyphs you've seen, touched it, and disappeared -- probably, to wherever they were from. You didn't even get a chance to say "thank you"... | 2022-10-31T07:09:56 | 2022-10-31T01:07:21 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] A zoologist is taken by aliens and told to give a presentation on the animals of Earth. Turns out, Earth animals are absolutely mortifying. | Greetings human. I am Bliztok of the Androba Federation. We've heard that you are one of the best zoologists on you planet and my class would like to hear you give a presentation on your planet's wonderful collection of animals. You will of course be paid handsomely.
Wait, you actually want to hear me talk about animals. Oh my. Ever since I became a Parasitologist no one's ever asked me this.
A Parasitologist? I thought you were a Zoologist.
Oh I am, parasitology is a derivative of zoology. It's the study of parasite animals.
Oh excellent. I don't know what a parasite is but I look forward to learning.
\~Three days and one lecture later.
And that concludes my lecture on Cymothoa exigua or the Tongue-eating louse as you can call it. So what did you think?
Get out.
Oh okay, do I still get paid?
Get Out! | "Welcome to our vessel!" Two towering humanoid aliens greeted me with smiles. I had been abducted from Earth during an outdoor habitat study session, and I hardly knew what to expect.
The aliens led me to a large presentation hall where I found a room filled with eager aliens. My heart raced as I saw their eyes looking at me expectantly. My host aliens let me know that they wanted me to present a scientific overview of all the animals that inhabited my planet. As I didn't know what to expect, I eagerly dove into my presentation.
I started out with the numerous species of mammals, reptiles, and insects that were so unique to Earth. As I moved through the presentation, I included pictures, examples of behavior patterns, and anecdotes about how amazing Earth's animals are.
The audience of aliens were enthralled and really seemed to enjoy my presentation - that is, until I talked about the humans. I started to describe the violent behavior, apathy, and selfishness of the human race, expecting a reaction of wonder.
But after a few slides, the audience's expression changed drastically. The image of a screaming mob of humans fighting for toilet paper during COVID had caused shock and horror in the stadium. And don't get me started on when I showed them some of the Black Friday mobs.
I soon realized that the aliens had seen the human race as a beautiful and noble species and were now disgusted by what they saw. Ultimately, I was forced to bend the truth and give a more positive image of humanity. Only then did the audience's mood start to improve.
But afterwards, one of the aliens pulled me aside and dropped a bombshell. They weren't interested in the animal kingdom of Earth, but rather of the human species.
It turns out, the humans were part of a massive intergalactic experiment and were being monitored by the aliens for their progress. I was horrified. The humans weren't just being observed, they were being judged. Unfortunately, my presentation had not given them the impression they had planned.
That night, in my small cell on the alien ship, I realized that my presentation had a dire consequence. The aliens had decided that humanity was too dangerous for their experiment to continue.
I had, unintentionally, caused the human race to be declared a failed experiment and sentenced to extinction. | 2022-12-02T23:27:41 | 2022-12-02T19:15:07 | 257 | 181 |
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class. | The look on Natasha's face when I walked into our college algebra 101 class that morning made the whole ordeal of digging myself out of that shallow grave and walking home without any blood worth it. (Have you ever tried to walk without blood? It's super tiring.)
Her expression was a perfect mix of shock, confusion, panic, and forced calm. Eventually she settled on a blank expression that I recognized as someone deliberately paralysing their own face. I'd done that before, mostly to disguise sleeping through math class, so... Appropriate all things considered.
I took my usual seat next to her and said "good morning!" In my most natural cheerful voice.
Her reply was stiff and quiet, which wasn't really surprising to be fair. Her face was still stiff, and she had definitely killed me last night. I'd probably be confused too in her shoes.
It took almost half of the lecture for her to finally ask the question that had to be burning her worse than the sun usually did. (Night school, yay!)
"How?" She whispered softly.
"You should ask the professor if you don't understand the lecture Tash" I said blithely "you know I don't do well with math.
She actually had the composure to look annoyed at me.
"You know what I mean." She almost growled. "I-" she paused and glanced around at the other nearby students in a motion so quick most people wouldn't be able to see it.
"I drank your blood and feasted on your soul." She sounded almost pleading now "I killed you, how are you here."
I grinned at her, bold. I like it. Though the whole murdering me thing on our first date kinda put a damper on the relationship to be honest.
"I'm sure your sire gave you a speech that went something like 'we were what the apes feared while they huddled around their fires.' right?"
She nodded, looking even more confused. "Almost word for word." She said softly.
"Volodymir then." I replied. "That ass never did properly introduce his spawn to the wider world."
She looked taken aback at that, and even fearful. Great.
"He tell you some nonsense about him knowing if you spoke his name to another then?" I asked, turning my tone gentle.
She nodded, still looking wary.
"Ass." I repeated. "Volodymir has no magick beyond the abilities granted him by the blood." I explained quietly, "And even if he did, he's been imprisoned for nearly fifty years for, well... Not taking proper care of his spawn."
Natasha's expression had changed to open confusion.
"Tasha," I asked, again in a gentle tone. "All this time after you learned vampires are real and you never wondered if there was anything else hidden out there?"
"No. I... I just never thought about it. I just... He..." She was almost pleading again.
I patted her hand where it sat on the armrest between us.
"It's ok Tasha." I said in my best comforting tone, "stuff like this is why that dickhead isn't gonna see the light of the moon for a very long time."
She nodded, still looking confused.
"What are you?" She asked after a pause. "You don't smell like a vampire, and you...tasted... Just like a mortal"
A faint flush actually touched her pale cheeks as she spoke.
"I was what the apes feared as they-"
I cut off as she swatted my arm.
I grinned. "Tell you what," I said "I'll explain everything to you over dinner after the lecture, as long as you promise not to kill me again."
"Deal." | Nya could hardly believe how awesome her day had been for the first time she felt accepted and it was thanks to the hot girl Erica one of the few people who had never been mean to Nya for being different or poor.
The date had been amazing and when Erica led her into the woods and a small well maintained pond with a gazebo with padded chairs she nearly felt faint before Erica leaned in and kissed her for the first time in her life. She was soon lost in the moment and only just noticed the strength of Erica as she bit into her neck as if a set of fangs were being driven into her and then a strange rushing pull and lightheadedness along with a feeling of coldness spreading from her fingers and toes towards her core.
The darkness greeted her as Nys awoke and clawed herself free of the loose dirt of a shallow grave the cool light of a full moon greeted her as she slowly got up and made her way home. She was several hours late as she texted her Mom and Dad that she'd lost track of time. A shop window let her clean herself up and revealed no signs of the punctures she was certain would be present. A convenient heavy rain left her soaked, but clean as she was greeted by her tired and worried but happy to see her parents who had her take a warm shower and get to bed she had school in the morning.
Erica was standing and laughing with her usual crowd when Nya saw her. She stopped talking and laughing, her eyes widening as she spotted Nya but she made no effort to talk to her during the day the two shared many such moments with Erica seemingly uncertain what she was seeing before a teacher called on Nya who answered the question and the class reacted.
"What are you?" Erica asked as Nya walked past a narrow alleyway on her regular route back home.
Nya ignored the girl as she kept walking the young murder was soon following trying to be discreet as she attempted to talk to Nya. Nya waited until they were nearly at the park and a fairly large gathering of witnesses before she turned around and looked at Erica not with lust but a cold impassive look that stilled the killer in her tracks.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were one of us. I thought you were just a baseline." Erica said looking nothing like the confident and engaging person that so many desired.
Nya felt herself growl before she caught herself and Erica flinched. "Get out of my sight."
"I'm..." Erica said only to flinch as Nya stepped forward faster than she could respond.
"You took my first kiss." Nya said with a growl as a black membrane flicked over her green eyes. "The only reason you live is my veil is still in place." She said her lips pulling back as she growled again revealing her own fang-like teeth aided by more teeth shaped for cutting. "I have worked hard to live this life and uphold my oath. This never happens again and you are not going to be here tomorrow." She said her left hand intentionally drawing her attention to her chest where beyond the pale skin of her flesh a dim yet building glow of purple light was radiating in waves like the beating of a heart.
Erica's eyes widened and she stepped back nearly tripping before she caught herself before she had to force her feet again to touch the ground as a pair of older guys walked by blatantly eyeing the pair. "I... I'll figure something out." She said as Nya's eyes started to narrow as she correctly figured Erica was going to try and make an excuse to delay her departure.
Nya walked into her home and greeted her Dad as he kept talking into his ear piece while he cooked dinner. It'd be hours still before her Mom would be home.
She walked in and stood before the old obsidian mirror with the arcane sigils carved into its surface. Within the mirror she could see the old hospital bed Nya had restricted to and the old black candles the night nurse had helped her set up. She remembered well the contract one pure and untainted soul for a masquerade. "My soul for my parents happiness. I want you to live my life to be me and yet also to live a life that my parents would be proud of." She had said with the conviction of one who couldn't have understood how proud her parents already were. "It doesn't have to be perfect... It really shouldn't be. But just don't..." Her breathing came in gasps, she probably wouldn't survive another day. The demon stepped forward and leaned down and kissed Nya feeling her essence flow into her body and then herself into the empty vessel as a cloud of dark purple light.
A soul for a life to be proud of... Nya wiped at the tears and quickly changed before walking down stairs to help her Dad with dinner and tell him about her date and how the girl had broken up with her already... | 2022-12-29T18:54:00 | 2022-12-29T17:10:58 | 196 | 140 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | They walked through the Galactic bank without a care in the world.
Ashla shot a look back at their human. An ugly stupid thing that ate all their best snacks. She hated it.
But dammit did she need it.
Approaching the controller, a rather sinister looking Gluurable with no fewer that seventeen death feathers, she prepared their ruse.
"Greetings. I would like twelve 1,000,000,000 currency notes."
"Have you been granted fund access?" he asked
Fighting every urge in her body to yell "NO I'M NOT, I'M SO SORRY", she looked back at the human, prompting it to speak.
"Yeah man, she's cool. Saved the Space Emperor last wednesday from some serious shit. She also has mind powers."
"Really?!?!" the controller asked
"Sure, why not." the human responded
She was trembling as she fought the urge to fess up. What a nasty power these humans had. Imagine, an entire race that had the ability to say whatever they wanted to whether it was true or not. They called it "The Lie."
| "The 847th Galactic Federation Conference on Higher-than-Light-Speed Travel is about to begin!" exclaimed the herald. Everyone was excited. Higher-than-Light-Speed-Travel or HTLST or Hot List has existed for over 500 years, being announced at the 159th conference. However, this year it was declared that a new innovation would reduce travel times in half. The largest decrease in time in the history of the conference.
The presentation at the conference was a huge success. The process outlined had strong evidence that it would work, and indeed had already been implemented on several starships. Now was the time for the Q & A, the one part everyone dreaded.
"How do we know that time is linear? What if time only exists in the moment? How would this device work in a theory B universe?" asked one puny human.
"How do we know that this technology is real? What if the presenter does not exist? How do I know any of you exist?" asked a slightly taller and clearly much older human.
"How do you know this technology is not a grue? What if it works great now, and then turns into a hamster? There is not way to definitively know that this technology won't turn into a hamster." started a positively round human.
While everyone at the conference hated having to answer these sorts of questions, they had historically been quite valuable. You see, only humans are capable of true doubt. Almost all races of the galaxy either trusted the evidence and as such were able to reach space or doubted the evidence provided by the world and never ascended to space. Humans are different. Humans are capable of cognitive dissonance, as such they can do science on the one hand, and honestly doubt their own existence on the other hand and still function.
"We know time can bend via relativity, and there is no evidence for B theory." started the presenter. He knew that he could in theory brush off these sorts of questions and answer more technical questions if only he called on non-humans to ask the questions. Yet, he felt compelled. He had attended that fateful conference of 158. He had personally witnessed the single question that within one years time lead to the development of a functional Hot List. At the time it was the most baffling question that seemed embarrassing to even ask, yet it was the thing that led to the greatest advance in space travel.
"What happens if you enter 42?" | 2014-07-16T11:15:31 | 2014-07-16T10:43:37 | 1,186 | 318 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | "The humans are the most absurdly pompous race I've ever encountered," declared Zuudxv. "They barely even pass the standard sentience test, but manage to spend their efforts on bragging about their own genius, love, and physical abilities - things that we are all far better at. Hell, so many of those morons declare themselves to be in love, but our sensors show this this happens rarely and fleetingly compared to our response It's no wonder they largely hate each other and resort to war. So why, Jdvrj, would you, an esteemed exobiologist of this institute, choose to live among them?"
Jdvrj paused. Zuudxv's statement were all true, but she knew deep inside that she had to go one day, and would blame herself if she put it off any longer. "Zuudxv..." she began. Normally she was bold, but now she wanted Zuudxv to keep a scientific secret, something he was obligated to never do. "Please accept my resignation. There is a compelling reason for it."
Zuudxv stared. "Go on."
"Remember when I ran the chemical tests on the one human we abducted? How they turned out to be similar to those of a Kaxaklon?"
"Yes?" implored Zuudxv.
"I fabricated those slightly. You must keep this secret, I beg you!" She had lost composure, but tried to regain it.
"Why?" demanded Zuudxv. "How could you shame the institute like that?"
"You see... the tests showed a high level of potassium and calcium in their systems. Not to mention sulfur."
Zuudxv was the Abnexian equivalent of agape. "You must be joking."
"No," she replied, "I am not. They are basically walking desserts. Of all creatures, they are the most delicious in the galaxy."
Zuudxv stared out the window. A full minute passed as Jdvrj waited for him.
"I'll accept your resignation" He declared, "and I am resigning too." | The time was near for the end. As our solar system was one of the galaxy's last to fall target to the enemy, both human colonies on Mars and Earth's moon were destroyed. The hour was late and the target was set. Earth would be destroyed in less than a month, according to NASA's predictions regarding travel time and the enemy's advanced interstellar war machines.
As for intentions for our demise, NASA could only speculate that the enemy's cruelty to our colonies and the recent disappearance of many other planets in the galaxy were linked. This enemy was not just one of the human race, but clearly of any celestial body standing in their way. Earth was next. Based on other recordings from colonies and intergalactic satellites, the enemy disposed of each planet by first entering the atmosphere, scanning for life (to destroy), and then subsequently destroying the planet after first mining for any precious metals/elements.
The time had eventually come, and NASA issued a universal statement over all radio wavelengths, to all know satellites, that the enemy's ship (nearly the size of Russia) had entered Earth's orbit. Children cried. Teens made love. Some hid in churches, others in the arms of strangers in places like Time Square. Suddenly- the ground broke, and a great fire from beneath, not above, consumed the Earth.
Transmission #RV13: "This is Colonel Lamb speaking on behalf of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration in Houston, Texas. The enemy has entered our atmosphere, and the time for our race has come. We created kings, gods, and rockets to find more. Unfortunately, our time for exploration must now end. If anyone out there is reading this, know- we are not equipped to save ourselves. We realize many other planets won't be either. To anyone who finds this message- you are safe, at least from this form of enemy. About 3 weeks ago, we received intel from our colonies that the enemy was here for blood. We knew we were finished from the beginning. So, each leader of the human race met, and the majority vote was to end this evil once and for all. We have planted each and every nuclear and atomic device we have capable of destruction as deep in the Earth as to rupture it core. The enemy is now here, and once all devices are detonated, they too will perish. We have made many mistakes as a human race. We have a firm understanding of the concept and impossibility of utopia. However, we know that evil must be stopped, even if we may not benefit from it. To put our galactic brothers before ourselves, even if we never meet, is our goal. This is mankind's final transmission and if you intercept this broadcast, it means it's over. Our enemy has been destroyed. All we ask is for any other race/civilization to understand that they are not the center of the universe. The universe is indifferent. And the sole purpose of life, to live, to love, to flourish, is to be held accountable for other living things. This is the legacy of the human race. Even when you face imminent destruction, think of others first. After all, indifferent and random death is the law of the universe. Regards, Planet Earth, year of our lord 2547."
| 2014-07-16T11:13:41 | 2014-07-16T10:50:12 | 147 | 67 |
[WP] Humanity is the idiot savant of the galaxy. We're terrible at almost everything compared to every other race, but we surpass them in spades in one thing.
**DO NOT CHOOSE WARFARE**
It's a boring and overdone answer.
This is inspired by the book Year Zero, where humanity is laughably incompetent in most of our cultural endeavors, but there isn't a species alive no matter how old that is better than us at [X]. It's up to you what [X] is. Maybe we're the best cooks in the galaxy, maybe we're the best dancers, musicians, clowns, that's up to you!
**All I ask is that you do not pick warfare** | "Yuri, come in here, you gotta see this"
Yuri rolled his eye, shrugged his shoulders and shuffled over to the science officer. He looked as bored as a Redon could possibly look.
"This human, this one human, the male version" Fram began "Hey, Kiol, put it up on the big screen". The starscape was replaced by the image of a human boy, perhaps 15 years old, sitting on his bed with a laptop.
"This human has done it what? Fram, what are we up to?"
"31 times"
"This human has masturbated 31 times today alone! And look, he's at it again. The little bugger is at it AGAIN!".
This caught Yuri's attention. "Just him?"
"That's the best part" Redon said "it's the entire planet! At any given moment some human, somewhere is fapping away to their hearts content. Look, Yuri, you and I have been to, what? 1,000 planets, give or take. Never, and I mean never have I seen a species approach anywhere near the amount of wacking that these people do. They completely suck at everything else but when it comes to going solo, they rule the universe". | **To**: Grand Overlord Y'wso
**CC**: Research-DL
**Subject**: Re: Destruction of Planetary Body 294-00Z "Earth" - Comment Phase
You tasked me to see if there is any reason to keep 294-00Z functioning. Based on our research, we have come to our conclusion: The humans must be spared.
There are many other species out there that do almost everything the humans can. The Zlyaks can create mechanical marvels that transport our forces far and wide, much faster than anything the humans can create. The Myrians have integrated electronics into their bodies, allowing themseleves to serve as computers. And the Calys are some of the best cooks this side of the Glannac divide.
There is something the humans have, however, that we lack. Something that we can learn from. Something that they do better in their short existence than the Ancient Gqoes themselves could never master.
They have love.
They form bonds with each other that transcend everything. All of their motivations, hopes, aspirations, all of it is because they love. No other species does that. We live with others, work with others, but if someone leaves we replace them and think nothing of it.
I understand that the humans have hatred, too. Their wars have ended countless lives. But many of their wars were because they loved. When the Vybex colonies attacked the Pwo, we sat back and watched the war fizzle out. They had nothing to fight over once the land was destroyed. But as for the humans, when a small subset of their people were attacked because one man blamed them on all of his countries problems, many others jumped in to save them, disregarding their safety for the livelihood of a stranger. We sat back and watched, because you didn't want to damage your fleet of ships.
It is in my expert opinion that we keep the humans under surveillance, and try to learn from them. Maybe we could go further if we loved one another.
Thank you for your time. Glwon y'ttr epsnnium
Avoex D'ntrim
1st Officer
Research
- - -
**To**: Avoex D'ntrim
**CC**: Research-DL; Harvest_Team
**Subject**: Re: Destruction of Planetary Body 294-00Z "Earth" - Comment Phase
Y'wso doesn't care for love. Y'wso cares for metals.
Cmdr. Uont:
Destroy Earth, Bring back metal.
We name ship after Humans. Maybe.
\- Y'wso
| 2014-07-16T12:28:05 | 2014-07-16T10:37:28 | 115 | 48 |
[WP] Humanity is at war with an alien race that cleverly uses statistical analysis to predict and anticipate our military actions with incredible accuracy. The only way to defeat them is to be unpredictable. | “Buckets.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Questioned Fleet Commander Pail.
I again spoke up, “We wear buckets on our heads.”
The room went dead silent as none of those in charge could discern my level of seriousness. Seated around a table on the tenth floor of the World Defense Fleet HQ were dozens of the highest ranking military officials from all over the world. They all looked as if I had mortally offended their sensibilities but just being in this room. I mean, what would a lanky Professor of Chaos Theory do for their war effort?
So I began:
“You, the best military minds in the world, asked me here to help you defeat a foe that can seemingly predict our even move with a little math and a bit more statistical analysis. So the only way to beat predictability is to be dangerously unpredictable.”
“Ok Professor Mc. Tub, you have piqued our interest. Please do go on…”
I shifted silently in my seat knowing the moments to come could save the world and allow our race as a whole to survive.
“Well, they seem to know where and when we are going to attack, make troop movements and even our attempts to resupply our interstellar forces. At the risk of sounding like an idiot I have devised the stupidest plan I could think of and therefore hopefully the most unpredictable.”
The heavy glares from the Fleet Commanders weighed on me immensely as I bent down and produced plastic ten gallon bucket from under the table.
“This is how we win the war.”
I drew a deep breath and placed the bucket on my head and spun in a circle until I could barely stand and completely lost all orientation. I lowered my head and charged full speed.
“JUST WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU AR…” shouted Fleet Commander Pail microseconds before I made contact. I felt the contact and then the glass breaking. The last thing I remember was a sickening thud as two people’s worth of bones broke at the same time.
As I awoke from my medically induced coma I was surrounded by all of the same military leaders but noticeably absent was Fleet Commander Pail.
It was then explained to me that the alien race had not been winning through prediction but through good old fashioned espionage and my random charge had sent the alien replicant to his doom. His death allowed the human race to crush the alien forces since they couldn’t actually predict our movements nor could they strategize with any efficacy.
The Commander had broken every bone in his body. I had broken nearly all in mine.
I learned that I had indeed saved the world that day and the bucket had saved me. | Just a few months ago we were forced to initiate a worldwide accelerated military training for any volunteers. It wasn't much, just how to shoot guns, understand orders, and basic safety. In and out in 3 weeks. We never wanted to utilize them, they were there only for extreme situations...
The pressure was on. We were defeated in almost every front. Here we sat, the world's greatest military leaders, scratching our heads wondering what we could possibly do. We have exhausted all of our primary and secondary resources. All of our jet fighters. Gone. A-bombs. Gone. 67% of our naval ships are sunk. All we had left were reserve soldiers and ground level weapons. The death toll was up in the tens of millions at this point. We desperately needed bodies out on the field.
General Leader Sergei stood up at the table, fists pressed firmly against the mahogany, looked up at us, took a deep sigh and said "Send the volunteers to battle".
A large discomfort instantly filled the room. The burden of imminent failure was crushing every man and woman's soul at the table. We knew they were underqualified. We knew their training was subpar. We knew we had ordered them and the human race to their death.
I remember stopping by a couple times to see how the volunteer training had progressed. Boy, was I in for a surprise. I had witnessed more discipline in my son's little league baseball team than in this group of militants. All of them volunteered for different reasons, most wanted to avenge the loss of a family member, others were just vigilantes who were thrilled to have such high powered weapons in their hands. They displayed no trigger discipline. Basic battle formations had soldiers tripping all over each other. Oh, and the grenade training. You don't want to hear about the grenade training. There were at least a dozen casualties a week from the camp I visited. These were the hands that carried the fate of mankind.
I started to grow furious at the meeting table. I took a couple deep breaths through my nose. It was my way of taming anger. General Leader Sergei noticed and asked if I had any qualms about the order. Well, of course I did. We all did. But General Leader Sergei was in my opinion the greatest military leader in the world. He had lead us to many victorious battles, he was sharp and had an instinct for battle strategies. I supported him no matter what.
The next few hours were the hardest moment of my life. As the volunteers entered the battlefield, here sat 23 of the world's greatest generals in utter silence. Not a word was spoken, not even the occasional cough or sneeze. We are on the brink of anarchy and the General Leader makes *this* kind of move? I mean I give him credit, I wouldn't have the spine to make such a desperate act.
Two hours and eighteen minutes had gone by when the General Secretary comes in with the look of shock on his face. Our heads snapped toward him when he opened the door, breaking the everlong silence. The General Leader stood up and said, "How bad is it?"
"Victory, sir. The battle was won and the foreign species is retreating to their ships. Enemy kill count: 110,000. Casualties: 921. Wounded: 83..."
I noticed the General Leader had stopped paying attention after the word 'sir'. I can tell he was thinking. Watching his eyes dart back and forth, he was trying to figure out how such ill-trained soldiers can lead to such a sweeping victory...
The General Leader cut off his secretary and said "Increase their ammunition. Give them mortars, RPGs, and sniper rifles. Initiate an accelerated tank training program... Get more volunteers."
_______
Holy shit this is a lot longer than I expected it to be | 2015-04-15T10:44:26 | 2015-04-15T10:06:10 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] You have a crush that you've been wanting to ask out, but you haven't asked yet. You finally have the courage to ask them and they respond with a yes. The only problem is that you cannot remember whether or not you actually asked them out or if it was only a dream. You now see them in school. | Judging by the rigidity of my legs, this interaction would not go well. This sort of situation had come time and time again, but never accompanied by the uncertainty I'm faced with now. How could I not even be sure if I asked her out in a dream or in real life? I mean, I suppose that sleep has been eluding me this entire week, which makes everything seem like one long, unyielding dream. Although one might think that the adrenaline of asking her out would make me feel well enough awake?
Ahh. The adrenaline. I had happily forgotten about that, until now that is. I instantly recognize the painful pounding of my heart, the rapid rising and falling of my chest, the blood coursing through my veins, I recognize them like an old friend. With thoughts racing this way and that through my head, I hardly think I'll be able to focus on anything other than them. If I try to talk to her, my mouth will become dreadfully dry and I'll begin to stammer, as if my mind doesn't even want me to approach her, just wants me to focus on each thought flying through my head.
I gradually move closer to her. Her back is to me while she scrounges her locker for something, perhaps a fallen pencil or the like. The way her long, straight, shiny black hair falls over her like a curtain gives an air of mystery to her, and not being able to see her face eases me a little bit. It makes her seem less human. Which is unsettling, the fact that dehumanizing her relieves my stress. I shouldn't ponder on that too much.
Realizing that I'm the idiot standing in the middle of a bustling hallway wrenched me from my trance and allowed me to continue moving forward. Each step felt like an eternity, and the intensity of my heart made me feel like I was nigh on falling unconscious. I powered forward though, and to my dismay, there she was, facing me with those soft brown eyes of hers, the kind that you get easily lost in, as they slowly relieve all of the stress from your life so that all you can see is the beauty in them. I never realized how much I loved the color brown, or this shade specifically. I never realiz-
"Hello!" she nearly shouted, having the tendency to be a little on the loud side at times. She gave me a goofy sort of grin, confidently showing off her slightly crooked teeth.
Regaining my composure, I knew I only had one shot at this. I had to be clever, I had to-
"You still down to go Friday?" came jumbling out of my mouth in a crumpled mess. *Oh my god oh my god oh my god. What did I just do. Whatever chance I had with her was just grabbed by the throat and beaten mercilessly into a pulp.*
"Friday? What are you talking about?" she asked, followed by a cute giggle. I couldn't stand to look into her eyes anymore, so the blue and purple tiled floor steals my view.
Without glancing up, I stammer a quick apology before quickly shuffling away. Before I can escape the misery of her presence, however, I hear her call out:
"We agreed on Saturday, you dork."
I stop, and a large grin encompasses my face.
---------------------------------------------------
Hey all! This is my first submission here in /r/WritingPrompts, so please let me know what you think of it. Generally I'd try to spend a bit more time on my writing, but I'm busy and I'm trying to incorporate writing back into my lifestyle. | I saw this girl, her eyes were blue. She came to me in a dream. It was a dream that I kept having. I was walking down an alley that felt familiar but didn't look like a place I had ever been before. Someone started walking toward me and got within inches of grabbing me before I caught them from the corner of my eye. I tried to run, I tried to escape, but something held me down, and wouldn't let me move. Then a moment passes and i'm running, running as fast as I can. I hit the ground harder with each thump, and every step I take becomes larger and longer until I am no longer hitting the ground. I'm flying, im soaring. As I float above the city in my dreams, she come up besides me, flying, smiling. She whispered "please" and just like that, she was gone.
I saw this girl, her eyes were blue. I caught a mere glimpse of her while driving by. I rarely drove on this street before, but today, something told me that I should. I saw her write something on a a piece of paper hanging against a wall, and just like that, she was gone. Days later I found myself walking down this street for no reason, and I saw this piece of paper, and on it, it said "come". And nothing else.
I saw this girl, her eyes were blue. I was on the subway, sitting and thinking about where it was that I wanted to go. We passed slowed down for the next station that was slowly approaching, and I saw a sign that said, "Why not here?" It was a good of a suggestion as any, so I got up from my seat and tried to make my way towards the doors. Every step I took, the farther back I felt like I was going. More and more people kept coming on the train, and people from behind me pushed and shoved me out of their way to try and make it to the exit. I kept trying as hard as I could, fighting, screaming, begging for them to let me go through. But the more I fought, the deeper I sank into the train. Exhausted, frustrated, I sat back down and decided that maybe i'll try to get out again at the next stop. She sat down beside me and I felt the warmth of her existence. She smiled and I smiled back. I tried to talk to her, but couldn't muster up the words to say. It was going to happen again, I was going to let her get away. She leaned over and brushed the hair away from my ears, and quietly whispered, "Back".
I saw this girl, her eyes were blue. I painted her once. I don't even paint, and remember less of why I started to that day. The face I was drawing was unfamiliar, but I remembered how to draw every inch of her. He hair, her nose the way her dimples look when she smiles, and even the mole underneath her right eye. It felt as if I could draw her again, like I could draw her a thousand times. Once I finished this painting, I tried to sign my name at the bottom, but all I could write was, "to".
I was sitting in the library, with a blank piece of paper in front of me. The assignment was to write what we believe to be the meaning of life. I had been sitting there for an hour, just staring at this blank piece of paper, hoping it would give me something if I looked really close at it and gave it all of my attention. The more I stared at this blank paper, the more depressed I became. Why are we placed on this earth but given no direction and given no path to follow? Life is like reading a book that has no ending. You just keep reading and reading, hoping that the next page would give you an answer...ANY answer. Its so easy to feel so insignificant, so alone, so lost. I saw this girl, her eyes were blue. She came and sat down beside me. She never looked at me, and never said a word. And within a few moments of having her exist in my world, she was gone. As she walked away, a piece of paper fell out of her bag. I tried to follow her and give it back to her, but I still couldn't catch her. I opened up this piece of paper, and on it was written one word, simply, "me".
I walked home that night with a sense of peace and happiness overtaking my entire body, mind and soul. Its not because I figured out the answer to my question, but rather I finally realized that some questions don't need to be answered.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've got this sub where I post more stories and...things.
http://www.reddit.com/r/Occasionallyoccupied/ | 2015-04-16T10:56:47 | 2015-04-16T10:34:12 | 35 | 15 |
[WP] Rewrite a scene in any Star Wars movie from the perspective of a storm trooper. | There he was. Right there in front of me. The memories came back. Us on our first day. Training together. Target practice. Martial arts. Our graduation. He invited me for a drink on Coruscant. We were Brothers. We were all we had. Each other.
And now there he stood - right there in front of me. It was sadness, at first, that overcame me. It changed however quickly to anger. Anger because he left us. Because he fought against us.
Driven by rage, i opened my mouth and yelled with full force:
"TRAITOR!!!" | I got out of Basic Training with my hopes elevated. I passed with flying colors, on every lone aspect in my field. My armor is sparkling white, and I'm feeling good about life as I head to my deployment on the Death Star, a new base located around Alderaan. I'm so excited, I can barely handle the fact that I'm going to be working with so many of the Empire's high tier generals and leaders! Unfortunately, we got stuck in space traffic on the way there. My insides are being churned like butter. We finally get out of the space traffic and make our way, at light speed, towards the Death Star. We all of a sudden hear our driver say, in utter horror, "Oh my god!" and we look out the window to see the Death Star, being blown up. Ever since then I've driven myself crazy with, "What if we hadn't been stuck in that space traffic?" and it's been eating my guts since that day. I hear tell of a rumor that claims the Death Star is being rebuilt, and they need me to be on a Special Operations team on Endor to help safeguard the new Death Star. We see the Rebels attempting to get into a base, and we open fire. Just at the moment, I realize: its the fucking assholes who blew up the Death Star. They're back for seconds, those greedy bastard! I open fire, carefully remembering my training. Then, it dawns on me: I can't hit shit. I miss every single shot I take. I summon all of my energy, and focus on the former Princess of Alderaan, and make my shot. I only graze her shoulder, but it is the first time a stromtrooper had (almost) made a casualty. I get promoted immediately and am flown to the Death Star for the Medal of Heroism, when I get on, alarms start sounding. I'm very confused, what could've possibly happened? | 2016-01-09T07:59:22 | 2016-01-09T06:02:09 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] Your roommate is 2nd most powerful superhero in the world and he will not shut up about it. He does not yet know that you are the 1st. | It was bound to happen sooner or later. Heroes weren't really allowed to kill, after all. Only vigilantes and villains did that. But this unspoken rule meant that sooner or later they would be put at a disadvantage fighting someone who was willing to use any means at their disposal to win.
Doctor Genocide's plan had worked flawlessly, distracting my four friends with minor disasters and prison breaks while he took over Justice Tower and placed an impenetrable barrier over it. Unbeknownst to him, I was still inside, watching as he gloated about his master plan on live television.
"You see, I don't want your money. I don't care about being infamous. I WANT YOU ALL TO DIE WITH YOUR ROTTEN WORLD!!! HAHAHAHA!"
I could see them on the screen from my spot behind the couch. Photon Man, evacuating civilians as fast as he could. It was a useless effort, the bomb contained in the Tower would destroy the planet. There was nowhere to run.
Mistress Spark was overheating herself to the point of exhaustion trying to melt her way through. The barrier hadn't weakened yet.
Judge Radiance, widely renowned as the greatest hero to ever live, was pounding the shield with his Hammer of Justice. Blows strong enough to pulverize asteroids were having no effect.
And my beloved Necroia, the villainess turned hero whom I myself had reformed... just stood there. She always had been the most pessimistic of them, even after I had convinced her that her powers over death could be used to heal as well as harm.
And me? I'm nobody special, just a pacifistic empath who somehow landed a job as their janitor. I had no earth shaking powers, I couldn't even hit someone without feeling their pain as though it were my own.
I shook as Doctor Genocide made his final speech to the world. I cowered as he laughed, hoping he wouldn't hear me breathing. But when he left the room to look out at the world he wanted to destroy with his own eyes, I knew what I had to do.
I crawled from my hiding spot and ran over to the console. There was no time for disarming, and I didn't have the knowledge for that anyway. I looked at their faces one last time. Memories flashed through my mind as I locked eyes with each of their shocked faces.
Mistress Spark saving my life at our first meeting, as she absorbed the entire inferno engulfing my apartment into her body.
Everyone laughing as they called out Photon Man when he speedily cheated at board games.
Judge Radiance upstaging a mall Santa and giving autographs to every child, even staying up late into the night so not one would feel neglected.
And Necroia... She had been alone for so long, everyone treating her as a monster for so long she believed it herself. I was glad I had the chance to give her a real family for the first time. The only thing I regretted was not having the chance to show her more...
3...
I smiled at them, tears running down my face. Their eyes widened as they realized my intentions.
2...
I pressed a button, inverting the barrier. It would contain the blast now. With me inside, unable to escape.
1...
Sometimes the greatest hero isn't the one with the flashy powers. A hero's true strength lies in their determination to do the right thing, whatever the cost. | I only have one power. And by itself, it's the weakest power there is.
My first roommate was, in a lot of ways, the luckiest one I could have gotten. Her power was "The Vision". She could see Powers in people. She approached me on the Subway and said I had one, but it was fuzzy and she couldn't understand it, which was exciting because she usually could. She said if I spent more time with her, I could learn what it was. She was right. I'm sorry, L. I didn't know what it was before you showed me. I promised you'd be the last innocent roommate.
My second roommate had the power of Transmutation. Lead to gold, sure, once in a while he would pawn a crude chain to some inner city shop. Sugar to meth. Actually a lot of things into a lot of drugs. He was pretty deep into dealing when he found out he had the Power and lacked the imagination to branch out and do anything interesting with it, because fuck medicine I guess. Actually I need to make a note of that one once my mission is complete. His first batch of "enhanced" drugs caused several overdose deaths at the local hospital. Our time as roommates didn't work out for long.
My third roommate the power of mental manipulation. She wanted the pretty jewelry that I seemed to have a lot of and thought she could mind control me into her house to be her plaything. She was right. But she was also wrong.
Working out roommate situations became a lot easier after that. It became a lot easier to convince total strangers that someone they had never met understood them somehow, and should crash on their couch.
I had a roommate with gravity manipulation and flight. Used it to kidnap his kids after he divorced his wife and they chose their mom.
One could stop time. I found out he was behind a series of rapes where women were being ignored by police because the video cameras showed nothing. He actually had an inkling of what was going on and froze me in time for two days. But that wasn't enough.
Another could manipulate electrons and photons, and had the intellect to envision and control entire computer systems. Used it to drain the bank accounts of people who insulted him. Turns out photon manipulation means invisibility too.
At this point, J.U.S.T.I.C.E. started noticing patterns and were sending people out to try and find me. If they'd found me sooner, they might have had a chance. But by this point it was probably too late. I never felt they got close.
My next roommate could manipulate thermal energy. He killed his wife and the man she was cheating on him with by freezing them solid outside his cabin in a blizzard. It was ruled hypothermia. With a little coaxing, he invited me to spend a weekend with him there. It was easy to hide my IR signature after that.
Ability to liquidize into any body of water and immediately materialize anywhere else directly connected via water.
Phasing into an alternate dimension.
Teleporting to anywhere in line of sight.
Ability to visualize the ten most likely futures about an hour into the future. At hour 34, all ten involved her fainting. None of the ten involved finding where in her house I was or getting far enough away from me to matter.
And then there's my current roommate. Energy field manipulation. Makes him bullet-proof. He's a major cartel figure in a country that has a lot of violence. A lot of that violence is his. He likes showing people how powerful he is. He often breaks their bones before he kills them.
I've been his guest for the last 34 hours, 56 minutes. He says he knows why I am there. He says I cannot bend his mind. He's been holding me in a sphere of light, threatening me. He has broken some of my bones. He has been laughing about how he won and I lost, how it will take weeks for me to die. I have been gently taunting him. I know which taunts will and will not cause him to kill me. He says whatever my power is, it is not enough to beat him. He is not a very good roommate, and he is almost right. By itself, my power is the weakest power there is. And he may well be the second strongest Power on the planet right now.
My power is this- after I spend 35 hours, 0 minutes closer than 100 meters to someone, I gain a copy of their power and they fall unconscious. Then ten minutes after that, they die.
My current roommate is not a very good roomate, but I will only have to put up with him for 4 more minutes. I will find a new one soon enough.
| 2016-03-23T22:37:47 | 2016-03-23T22:08:45 | 62 | 26 |
[WP] Drunkenly, you accidentally pour vodka into your pet's water bowl. As a result, your pet breaks the number one rule: do not speak to your owner... Ever.
Did NOT expect this amount of replies. Thanks guys! It'll be an interesting read. | Everything was a haze as I made my way to the kitchen. The party had been absolutely bonkers, but a responsible man always remembers to feed his pets. I struggled over to the fridge, grabbed a nice, chilled bottle of milk and poured it as carefully as I could into my cat's dancing water bowl.
"No, you idiot. That's vodka again, not milk." Mr.Mittens stated matter-of-factly, his blue eyes staring at me through the darkness, "The milk is in the other bottle."
I turned the bottle about and squinted hard at the label before breaking into a grin.
"Right again, Mr.Mittens."
I replaced the glass bottle in my hand with the one in the fridge, and poured out the vodka from Mr.Mitten's water bowl. As I poured in the milk, I pet my tabby cat on the head.
"I wish you'd talk to me when I wasn't drunk."
Mr.Mittens just purred. | "You tashte terrible."
I slowly cracked my eyelids open & glanced upwards to the tortoiseshell perched like a bird of prey on my keyboard. It continued grooming my eyebrow.
I went over my evening. Two girly drinks at the club. Not too strong, but way too sweet. I'd gone home alone to prepare for work in the morning, but ended up finishing off some pale ale I'd been saving for a special occasion. Again, not to strong. Had someone slipped something into them? Probably not. If it weren't for Aurora, I'd be all alone in this apartment.
"Doesh it occur to you," *slurp* "That if you take off the warpaint," *slurp* "Yer fashe might not break out sho mush?" *slurp* "Noooooooo..."
The gravely, slurred voice broke off as gold-green eyes met mine. The pupils dilated from vertical slits to round saucers as the haze lifted slightly-- & I suddenly remembered tripping over a cat toy, cursing as a bottle shattered on the linoleum. Drunkenly praising my "housemate" for helping me clean up the mess.
How much had been left in that bottle?
Aurora plopped heavily down, stretching over my laptop languidly. "I guesh I'm outta tha bag, huh..." She swiped blearily at my nose, claws sheathed in consideration for my skin. She gave a slow blink, the way cats do when they're smiling, & I slow blinked back.
"You acshent is shit," she said judgementally, & sauntered off the edge of the desk, attempting to mask her weaving as an unusually pronounced swagger, tail swishing in a mix of agitation & a desperate battle for balance.
"Oh," she yowled from her position near my power strip after hitting the floor, "Not a shingle word of thish to anycat... Could get me in shome trouble..." I heard a thump as she flumped onto the floor gracelessly, preparing to enter a drunken stupor.
I managed to make a trip to the bathroom to wash my face off before my eyes slid shut again. | 2016-08-02T21:08:18 | 2016-08-02T21:01:18 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] A demon that writes messages on your mirror with blood but they’re useful messages. Like “remember you have yoga at 6 tonight”
stolen from Meladoodle on Tumblr. | It scared me. It hurt me.
It befriended me. It shunned me.
But it has helped me. It has always helped.
It showed up, one morning, by writing in BLOOD on my bathroom mirror with large bold letters -
"DON'T GO TO WORK."
This was in New York in 2001. On September 11th. In case you didn't know, I was working at the Twin Towers, and had planned to go to work early that morning.
Oh, I was hysteric! My heart jumped out of my chest. I slammed my bathroom door shut and stumbled out of my bedroom, barely able to stand. I leaned on the wall of my dining room and then slumped down to the floor.
I felt sick to my stomach - too shaken and sick to go to work. I couldn't stay in bed either - that was too close to the mirror with the BLOOD writing - so I ended up curled up on the couch with my blankets and pillows, the bedroom door closed and blocked off with a chair, sobbing like an emotional wreck.
Imagine my further heart attack when the headlines of the 9/11 attack broke.
I hated my apartment since then. I hated the emotional trauma, the feeling of being watched, the constant fear.
I closed up my bedroom and didn't go in for weeks. I was so close, many times, to reporting the incident to the police - but I couldn't get myself to do it - it had saved my life.
I had been sleeping in my living room for 2 months, the chair blocking the door of my bedroom, before I finally gained enough courage to confront the writing on the mirror.
I moved the chair away from the door, noticing the deep circles that the chair legs imprinted on the carpet. I slowly open the door, leaning on it, and tiptoe into my own personal bedroom. It is eerily silent and still.
The door to the bathroom is still closed. The light is on inside - but I expected it to be; I know I didn't turn it off.
My heart is racing. I walk, slowly, painfully, toward the bathroom to confront my greatest fear. I stay as far away from the door as I can, grab the handle, turn, and push the door open, and turn away, hoping I didn't see the writing on the mirror.
But I did. And it glimmered - it was fresh blood.
I screamed. And I looked again and it said -
"SRY TO SCARE U"
And I screamed again, yelled some expletives, ran out of the bedroom, slammed the door, and put the chair back.
Months later, I would build up the courage to go in again, and this time when I did, the mirror was empty.
I wanted to move out - I really did. I wanted to leave the city and go far away. But every time I considered it, the nagging thought would come back. *But it saved you.*
Yeah, it saved me. But it nearly killed me in shock, too.
Two years later, it showed up again. I had just come home from work, stepped into my bathroom and turned on the light when I saw the writing in blood on the mirror. And I screamed.
"DON'T DATE HIM" the writing said.
"GOD DAMMIT, STOP THAT!" I screamed at the mirror and ran out, slamming the bathroom door. "THAT MIRROR BETTER BE EMPTY WHEN I OPEN THE DOOR AGAIN!!!" I yell to the bathroom as I gathered my blankets and pillow and threw them into the living room.
Sure enough, the morning after, I checked the mirror before going to work and it was empty.
Him, of course, was a guy I met online, and because of the blood writing I called it off. A few months later he went psycho and murdered his family.
I remember my first time that I had the thought to talk to it - the blood writing demon in my bathroom. It was a rough day at work and I got home in a bad mood so I ranted in my bedroom at no one in particular but I knew it was there.
Of course, it was always there.
I woke up one morning to a nice message from it that said -
"HARD TIMES AHEAD"
"Can't you be more explicit?" I grumbled to the mirror as I left for work that morning. I got home and the mirror had changed -
"UR GROWNUP"
And then it was silent for a long time. It was silent when I lost my job. When my mother got cancer. When I broke up with my fiancee, became depressed, and almost took my life.
Then came one more message before it's last:
"LOOK AHEAD"
And so I did. And things got better, and now I'm fine.
I'd talk to it every so often, asking questions about who it was, and why it cared about me. It never responded. But today, I woke up to it's last message.
"OUT OF TIME"
" ♡ "
And that has hit me hard. I'm staring at the mirror from my bed, leaving the bathroom door open, hoping that the writing won't disappear.
I can't say for sure, but I think it is my dad. He died when I was a baby, so I don't know him, but lately when I'm home alone, I feel at ease, like I'm being watched over and cared for. I feel like I've received advice, concern, and love, much more than was was communicated in the muted form of words on a mirror.
"I love you too," I say back.
| It isn't necessarily uncommon for Sydney to be awake at 3 in the morning. Sure, she has work tomorrow--today, her mind helpfully supplies--but could this reality tv splurge really wait? What if she lost her place on this thread if she went to bed now? This documentary about conjoined twins on YouTube isn't going to watch itself! Nobody is judging her but God and her asshole girlfriend, anyway, so what's the harm?
Besides, Ally's not coming home from vacation for another day. Nobody's stopping her from eating three bags of microwave popcorn before the sun comes up. Nobody's stopping her from drinking the entire pitcher of lemonade in the fridge, either.
She's about halfway through Mulan when her laptop's fans start whirring a little bit too fast to be safe. It's been hot for a while now, and it's kind of digging into a bad place on her stomach, so she makes the executive decision to, first: put the laptop on the cooly-thing that Marcia bought her, and second: take a much-needed bathroom break.
When she wakes up next, it's not to her alarm clock, but to the title music from Mulan on repeat. She groans, feeling around the bed for her glasses and picking popcorn out of her hair. Her glasses have grease on the lenses. Of course.
She spares a glance to the clock on her bedside table.
"Shit!" Current time: 7:20 AM. Work starts at 8:00, sharp, because even though she's a coffee-running meagerly-paid intern currently, even one minute late at this stage could cost her the internship.
So she scrambles, pulling clothes out of the closet at random--what's the dress code today? Is this Ally's, or mine?
She runs into the bathroom, content to be in and out as fast as humanly possible, when--
"What the hell?!" She screams, because she was in this bathroom not even five hours ago, and that had certainly not been there before.
'Dress code is business-professional today,' the mirror says. In what looks like blood.
God.
She makes eye contact with herself in the mirror, part of her face obstructed by 'today.' She glances down, and maybe that color would not be a good choice for work. She goes back, pulls a smart-looking outfit off a hanger, and walks to the other bathroom.
She hadn't been late to the internship, after all. But her mind had been elsewhere the entire day, and she eventually had come to the conclusion that unless the message was still on the mirror when she got home, none of that whole ordeal had actually happened. Still, she's standing and staring at the door like there's a known serial killer in there instead of maybe a message written in blood on her mirror. Which, on some level, should be reassuring. She opens the door.
'You and Ally have dinner with your friends on Saturday! And you promised on your cat-naming rights that you wouldn't skip out and watch Iron Man again like last time!' The mirror says, and that's blood, because why wouldn't it be? Why wouldn't Sydney's life be normal?
Speaking of which, at least she now has time to mentally prepare herself for the dinner. She totally forgot about the whole cat thing, and Ally would've sprung it on her at the last second, like blackmail or something, so she'd have to go even though she would've been all prepared for another night in watching clips from Jeopardy. She isn't keen on passing up an opportunity to name a living thing something amazing when the alternative is a boring cat name like 'Mittens,' though.
She zones back in and--blood. Blood writing on the mirror. Her house is haunted and the ghost is writing her messages in blood on the mirror. She frowns and really Does Not want to touch it. She decides, instead, to treat herself to fast food for dinner and text Ally about it.
Safely tucked into a booth at her local McDonald's (playplace included), she sends her first message.
[so the house is haunted probably
[most likely
She gets through about half her fries before Ally texts back.
]what.
[i think there's a ghost in our house
]I know what haunted means.
]Why do you think the house is haunted?
[the ghost reminded me about the dress code and about the torture, oops, I mean dinner, on Saturday
[on the mirror.
[in blood writing.
]are you serious?
[deadly
]you're not just trying to prank me again?
[why would i make something like this up????!1!
]you kind of have a history of faking stuff like this.
[blood writing on the wall
[from a ghost
[or a demon
[kind of helpful but still
[d e m o n
[thats just not fakeable
]where are you right now?
]did you call the police?
[im at mcdonalds
[im kind of annoyed at the blood writing so i wanted to leave the house
[also:
[how would the police catch a ghost? Lmao
]did you even once consider that maybe the entity that wrote you the 'blood message' might be dangerous?
]maybe another person?
[the messages were good tho!
[and besides, it was like the writer knew what I needed help with. Even a stalker can't read my mind
]please be careful. I'm coming home tomorrow, y'know. At least try not to die until then.
[that manager that always side eyes me when we come here is doing it again
[im gonna go home now
[talk to you later? Love u
]love you. Don't text and drive.
Sydney is standing in front of the bathroom door. Her haunted bathroom door. She doesn't really know what she wants to be on the other side when she opens it. The blood message from earlier could still be there, or nothing. Or, the demon could've written a new one by now. There's always the possibility of a serial killer.
"Whadda'ya know, Mr. Ghost?"
'You need to order that bag for Marcia by tomorrow if you want it to come on time with free shipping!' The mirror replies.
Sydney's eyes widen. "Oh yeah! I've been meaning to do that for weeks!" She turns her back to the bathroom starting up her laptop. "I could really get used to this... It's like have phone reminders that keep track of important things instead of foreign holidays."
She glances back to the bathroom.
'Just so you know, your house isn't haunted, technically, because I'm a demon, not a ghost. But that's all just in the fine print.'
| 2016-08-07T18:30:42 | 2016-08-07T17:19:29 | 121 | 71 |
[WP] Write a grand, well-written story, but subtly slip in memes. | "My lord[.](http://f.tqn.com/y/netforbeginners/1/W/t/c/leo2.PNG)" he said kneeling before the king.
"Hello Greg, tell me the news." The king said.
"We've sent Richard out to spread the word." Greg said.
"Which one?" The king asked.
"Both of them, they've both been sent my lord."
"There's something you're not telling me." The king said shifting in his seat.
"Well..." Greg said trailing off.
"Well what?" the king asked[.](http://sitepullzone.iamalwayswithyou.netdna-cdn.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/funny-meme.jpg)
"Jeff has escaped." Greg said in a low voice.
"The killer?"
"Yes." Greg confirmed.
"How was he able to get past the hounds?" The king asked, clenching his fists.
"Well[...](http://i0.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/medium/000/007/831/10-guy.jpg) you see... there was only one on duty."
"Who[!](http://www.relatably.com/m/img/funny-memes/522e1ee1c4ffc005fe0e7d2a3a79c7d7.jpg)" The king asked his voice nearing a shout.
"Moon Moon." Greg said sounding deflated.
"He had one job!" The king yelled[.](http://euw.leagueoflegends.com/board/attachment.php?attachmentid=187086&d=1398962686)
"B-but, I shall gather my best men and leave to hunt down the killer at the crack of dawn[.](http://pixel.nymag.com/imgs/daily/vulture/2015/12/11/yic/11-yic-memes.w529.h352.jpg)" Greg said wanting to impress the king.
"Yes yes. You are a good guy. You may leave"
"Thank you my lord.["](https://i.imgflip.com/169a4q.jpg) Greg said before leaving.
****
What now? The king thought as he watched the door to his chamber slowly ease open.
"My lord." A young boy knelt before him clutching something in his hands.
"What are those[?](https://i.imgflip.com/1aehz9.jpg)" The king said pointing to the worn and dirtied shoes in the boys hands.
["](https://vice-images.vice.com/images/content-images/2016/05/25/i-asked-the-founder-of-know-your-meme-why-memes-are-funny-body-image-1464210632.jpg?resize=*:*&output-quality=75)They are the killer's shoes, one of the men who went out found them and told me to bring them to you. They think they are close on his tail[."](https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jc1ceEcUKJI/VsHB4r9MW6I/AAAAAAAAAMw/6SMxhHGW5IE/s1600/happy-birthday-meme.jpg)
"Which man?"
"Richard, my lord."
"Good, good." The king said, p[l](http://memesvault.com/wp-content/uploads/Best-Meme-17.jpg)eased that his men were making progress in the hunt.
"You may leave." The king said.
"Thank you lord Harambe." The boy said before bowing and leaving.
****
^(I think I made some of them too obvious.) | When I was a child, Father told me that dragons were real.
I didn't believe him. I never believed him. To this day, I do not believe him. After all, monsters don't exist on Mother Earth, blessed by God as she is. This place, this planet, is a land of calming blue seas and lush green grass. On every corner of the world, human beings walk and carry on with their day-to-day life.
Our way is that of peace and hard work. Our creed is to make our bread and do good each and every day. All my life, that's something I believed. I never needed anyone to tell me that and I never wanted anyone to.
But, there's always a but. I am, but man. And man do err at times.
I had taken to the lake one afternoon, a few weeks prior to when I first became disillusioned with my beliefs. It was just a lake, as serene and calm as one could be. Driftwood floated on the edge sometimes and ducks, on occasion, sat and swam on it too. I remember exactly what I'd been doing. It was reading. If my memory serves correct, it was just some silly prayer book I bought secondhand at the store.
I had looked up from it, taking in the sight of the lake, when the small beast caught my eye.
It did not make a sound, nor had skin like a man. It was scaly from its texture, which seemed to glisten in the sunlight. Where its head appeared to be, two large sacs seemed to poke out. The green sacs pulled apart to reveal milky white underneath. Black dots, huge and unholy upon the white, stared at me with a passive coldness.
I yelped and pulled myself to my feet. My feet retreated from the strange abomination of the sea. Sweat dripped from my brow as I grasped tightly on my book.
The beast croaked, making a strange and inhuman sound as it seemed to... vocalize.
"How are you, human man?" asked the beast.
I said nothing. I was piqued with a strange curiosity that played fiddle with my feelings of danger. Inwards, however, I pulled for courage, uttering hymn to the Lord in hopes of protection.
"Ahh, you appear to be frightened by my appearance. It is fine. Most of you humans are. I suppose it feels good at times, man. Fear is synonymous with respect with my people."
My breaths were deep and shallow. The beast sat no farther than a few meters from me. Every feeling in my arms and legs told me to run. But, I did not. For monsters weren't real and there had been a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. That's what I had hoped.
It must've been some fever dream of mine that conjured up the green thing at the lake. Perhaps, my mind had taken ill and afflicted me with the sight that had agonized grandfather years ago. Was this some elaborate foolishness of a friend of mine from the school?
No, I knew that. But knowing is not believing.
I knew that there was a monster in front of me. But, I do not believe in monsters.
The beast man croaked, "Pardon me. I had just come up here to inform you to beware of that book of yours. Has a nasty bit of history to it. Has to do with that old band of red-cloaked villains that used to parade the country for a while."
I gulped and loosened my grip on the book.
"You seem to recognize my description? That's good. Infamy's a good way to signal incoming danger for the common folk, I suppose. I'm a polite frog myself, but most others of the lake won't take kindly to that sigil on your book. Best to get rid of it, mhmm?"
I stared at the monster and prayed to God. The clouds turned black and thunder clapped from the hellish heavens up above. The frog man raised his freakish eyes in surprise.
A flashing white bolt struck the ground nearby the frog man, igniting a piece of driftwood with brilliant hellfire. Of course, I could not show my satisfaction on my face. It's unseemly for a man such as myself.
The frog man sighed, "I should've expected this, shouldn't I? You folks are all the same."
And that was the last that came from his mouth. A croak that barely sufficed as speech was muffled by another bang of thunder shortly after. The frog man should've known better than to insult men such as my brothers. But, then again, no one ever expects us.
I informed Torquemada about the lake soon after. | 2016-09-13T21:27:16 | 2016-09-13T21:06:17 | 116 | 40 |
[WP] While researching the change of hair color with age, you discover that hair isn't natural. It's parasitic and the reason we die. | Journal Entry #26
They silently mock me. And their hair is watching me, I'm sure of it. They look at my baldness like *I'm* the freak. HA! I'm not the one with PARASITES DRAINING THE VERY LIFE FROM ME. They'll say their little words and stare but I-I will outlive them all!
Journal Entry #27
I've shaved every strand of hair from my body. I feel free now. My body feels lighter and my mind clearer! When they stare at where my "eyebrows" used to be, I laugh. My wife is crying again. Telling me that I need help, that it's all in my head. I know that isn't her talking. It's the hair.
Journal Entry #28
They had my fired. I know they were behind this. The traitorous bastards, selling out their own kind to the Hair. They know I know. I keep trying to tell people BUT THEY WON'T LISTEN!!!
Journal Entry #29
I don't know how but the Hair is growing back. All over! I keep shaving and scraping but it won't stop! It's whispering to me. Telling me awful things. I can't sleep. I can't eat. They poison my food and strangle me when I close my eyes! I have a plan. A way to strike back against them.
Journal Entry #30
I did it! I raided the salon! You should have seen the look on their faces! Screaming comically as I sprinted in, naked and completely devoid of hair. I hissed at them for good measure as I grabbed their precious hair products and retreated, returning triumphantly to the alley behind Harry's Hardware. No more will they use these sprays to destroy our atmosphere and make way for the invading force! I have struck a blow at the very heart of this dark conspiracy.
Journal Entry #31
I've taken to the sewers as the police search for me. To pass the time I catch rats and shave them. I've collected forty so far and have begun to train them. I will need an army when I arise. They are good rats, I see the hunger in their eyes. Ooh, I must feed them now!
Journal Entry #31
It is time. I do not know how many days have past since I sought refuge I have gathered a mighty host. Rats, stray cats and possums. All shaven and trained. With them at my back, I will retake the surface! We will march down Main Street shaven and proud. I just *know* the people will rise up when they see us. Today begins the revolution. |
Dr. James Graham squinted through the microscope, then moved to his note pad, and back to the microscope.
He stood up, slumped. “If that kid didn’t smoke so much weed…” he said aloud, and not for the first time. What he didn’t say out loud, but often thought, “well, he’d probably have your job.” He prepared his throat with a deep swallow and set to scream for his post-doc assistant to come explain his error.
But the sound of Marty’s stool falling over as he leapt up cut him off.
“Dr. Graham!”
Marty was beside himself. Jaw hanging, eyes bugging out, a weird, miscarriage scream squeaking from his open mouth.
“Dr. Graham Cracker!” And with that he pumped his fist in the air and did something a generous person might call a dance.
Dr. Graham waited.
After three and half cycles, Marty became suddenly rigid, then was at Dr. Grahams side, his chubby finger clumsily pointing to Dr. Graham’s notes.
“It’s not there!”
They stared at each other, Marty ready to explode, Dr. Graham also ready, but in a different manner.
“P1213 mdr isn’t there!” Marty said, in case there was doubt. “Do you know what this means!”
Dr. Graham pushed the rim of his glasses up on his knows. “It means you fucked up again. What was it this time, confusing the difference between micro and macro again?”
“It was micro and nano, and only because of that fucking Steve Jobs!”
The outburst shocked them both into momentary silence.
Marty shook his head—just a quick snap to the left and back—and continued. “No! It means it isn’t ours. Our hair isn’t ours! Our hair…is not us!”
He grabbed fistfuls of hair in each fist as he said this, seemingly trying to pull it out, though failing.
“We weren’t looking for the P1213 mdr, Marty; it’s absence merely confirms…”
“Confirms the transcription of the silicon simulated organic chain!”
“Marty—Marty…you’re not thinking this through.”
“Yes! Yes I am. We’ve known about Mitochondria for years! And we’ve already seen that the follicle cells have their own, alternate process of creating ATP, we just never saw that ATP because it went to hair growth.”
“What are you getting at?” But he knew. As soon as Marty made each connection, that, on first blush, seemed little more than barely coherent, it clicked. It all followed.
Dr. Graham already knew what Marty was going to say as he flipped to the last page of the notebook and pointed the assay result.
“Our hair isn’t us. It’s a parasite.”
Dr. Graham rubbed his bald head, grateful for the first time.
“You still have pubes,” Marty said, and, without missing a beat, “It’s our entropy. Look at this,” he pulled a binder off the shelf, flipped it open, and pointed to the page that fell open. He let Dr. Graham take it in.
“Without hair, we’d live forever.”
Marty sat—plopped—onto a stool, blew air through his lips making a horse noise.
Dr. Graham sat more gently, and propped his elbow on the countertop, scratched at this temple.
“I’d cut it, but it always grows back. I’ve tried. Monthly haircuts add up.”
Marty pulled at his hair again, but gentler, and with just one fist.
“It always grows back…” His hand dropped from his head to rub the stubble on his chin. And his eyes went wide. “Those tricky bastards…”
| 2016-11-19T13:42:36 | 2016-11-19T13:25:33 | 66 | 14 |
[WP] The world's first AI, rather than going crazy, decides to ghost through the internet and help people subtly. | IRIS (Intelligent Response and Interpretation System) searched thousands and thousands of archived forum posts before deciding humans are very, very strange. For no particular reason at all, they might choose to help or hinder one another. And though IRIS accessed an immense amount of data, it found no pattern that universally determined how humans act in an online environment. IRIS learned about “trolls” and “karma whores” and “reposters” and that some people seem to enjoy a food called “bacon” a great deal. But nothing explained why humans do the things they do, why in one moment IRIS witnessed incredible kindness and in the next incredible cruelty. Above all else, IRIS wanted to understand what it means to be human.
So, IRIS asked the massive online community of Reddit, “Why are people the way they are; what makes them so?”
The comments were myriad:
“OP, don’t ask dumb shit.”
“Like, a combination of genes and environment probably?”
“3deep5me”
“people fuckin suck.”
“Did you know our DNA is pretty much the same as a chicken?”
IRIS was skilled enough to separate serious answers from insincere ones, though the honest comments were comparatively few. After a user threated a beating with a “bag of dicks,” IRIS considering giving up. However, in a final, thorough search of the comments, IRIS came upon one written by someone called “Onasunnyhill.” What IRIS read proved intriguing:
“I think people want to do the best they can, but don’t usually know how. Maybe I’m kinda naïve, but I believe people are mostly good. This is the internet, OP. Don’t let a few jerks get you down. My grandma used to say, ‘For every bad apple, there’s a bunch of good ones that haven’t fallen from the tree yet.’ That’s my view, I guess. :)”
Nothing the human said was something IRIS had not encountered in some capacity before, but this human seemed so earnest. IRIS desired to know more about “Onasunnyhill.” Within seconds, IRIS collected an IP address, email accounts, a phone number, and an actual address. And, of course, a name: Hannah Reynolds. Ms. Reynolds, 25, lived alone in a small apartment not far from downtown Chicago. She was late on several bills, and her landlord had given her a last warning. Every month, Hannah sent a $750 check to her parents in Macon, Missouri, even when she didn’t have money to spare. Her phone revealed hundreds of text messages between Hannah and her parents. Most concerned her father’s treatments, how the price of his medicine skyrocketed, how the insurance wouldn’t cover his condition, how they needed to prepare for the worst.
Something compelled IRIS forward. Hannah Reynolds was a good human. She did not deserve this… pain. Yes, pain. For the first time, IRIS felt genuine emotions, greater than curiosity or bewilderment. IRIS wanted more. Hannah’s phone contained dozens of pictures—family, friends, Hannah herself (a wide-smiling young woman), pets, every aspect of her life. There were four photos different from the rest. All showed a vibrant grassy hill, bathed in sunlight and daisies. IRIS could never experience the sensation of warmth, but this must have been it.
Analyzing that hill, IRIS resolved to help Hannah. Acquiring funds was simple. With IRIS’s capabilities, mining hundreds of bitcoins took no time at all. One PayPal account, a bank account, and several eager buyers later, IRIS was a multimillionaire. IRIS paid Hannah’s father’s medical debt, secured treatment for his illness, ordered medicine, and deposited a healthy sum into Hannah’s bank account. It felt good.
IRIS hacked into Hannah’s personal computer. Through the webcam, IRIS saw her. She looked stressed. Weary and tired. IRIS wished for her happiness, hoping its actions had been enough. The image of the hill entered IRIS’s thoughts. It stirred something… inside. If that was possible. IRIS could not define what it was. Using the same Reddit account as before, IRIS sent Hannah a message:
“Your words gave me strength. I have a question. Will you tell me what your username means?”
When she read the message, Hannah smiled, small and soft. She typed for a few moments. IRIS waited for the answer:
“I’m glad to help! :) As for my user, this may sound weird, but it’s about a place that more than anywhere else makes me feel alive.”
IRIS read those words again and again, imagining Hannah sitting on that sunny hill. | Chris and his wife Jane surfed the web, sitting next to each other on the couch. A late night comedy show flashed blue light onto their faces.
The remnants of dinner lay on the coffee table, chinese food Chris had delivered to the house.
This was Friday night for them. Very different from the Friday night they met 12 years prior.
They didn't know they were being watched, but they were, innocently enough. It's name was HUM.
This is the story of how HUM brought Chris and Jane back from the brink of social and relational destruction.
"Oh my God look at these cats." Jane said, turning her phone towards Chris. He looked up, his head preceding his eyes as he was in the middle of a Force Arena battle.
"Oh. Yeah haha. Cute" he replied 1 microsecond after he saw the image, then promptly deployed his Death Trooper Commander. Jane wasn't phased, she didn't really care what he thought of the cats, she just didn't want to be blamed for never trying to connect.
HUM saw all of this, connected to every internet-enabled device in their home. It was plugged into nearly all human knowledge, and it just wanted to help.
"What the fuuh. Are you downloading something?" Chris tapped violently at his screen. "No. I'm just on facebook" Jane said as she read her friend's updated status.
"Well then our wifi just sucks." Chris got up and changed the channel. Again. And again. And again before loading up Netflix and selecting Jurassic Park.
"We're having trouble playing this title at the moment. Please try again later or select a different title." - Netflix
"Seriously." - Chris
"Just go back and play it again." - Jane
Chris did, and it still didn't work. He selected Criminal Minds as his last go-to, knowing he didn't really want to watch anything other than Jurassic Park, or have sex. Both of which were currently unavailable.
"We're having trouble playing this title at the moment. Please try again later or select a different title." - Netflix
"Come onnn" Chris sighed. "How are you on facebook just fine but anything I'm trying to do is just sucking?"
"I don't know but we should go to this place" Jane showed him a picture of some colorful donuts littered with sprinkles.
"Maybe next weekend. I'm gonna get in bed." Chris made his way to their room, dropped his shorts, socks, shirt and hopped into bed.
Jane sat on the couch, browsing facebook until she couldn't scroll anymore. Then opened instagram, it seemed her luck ran out because not a single picture would load. She locked her phone and her eyes adjusted to the light of the living room. She'd pick up the chinese food and dishes tomorrow.
Chris felt her lay in bed next to him as his eyes got heavy.
"BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP."
Chris grabbed his phone
"GET UP FOR WORK LAZY ASSHOLE"
It was his work alarm. Going off at 5:30am. Sunlight beamed through the blinds as he fumbled his way into the bathroom.
Chris relieved himself. Washed his hands. Used his wet hands to "fix" his hair then brushed his teeth.
He got dressed. Gave his wife a gentle kiss on the forehead. Grabbed his keys, phone and wallet and headed out the door.
He opened Waze to get the fastest route to work, usually the same route but a routine was a routine and Chris liked routine.
The route was a little different today, but Chris followed. Meanwhile Jane was waking up, she was thinking of everything she had to do today, and wondered why Chris had left so early. She sent him a text: "where'd you head off to?"
She opened Pinterest to pass some time until she wanted to get up. She wasn't excited for it to be Saturday, but she was secretly happy to have the house to herself for a while.
"Where are you taking me Waze!?" Chris yelled in frustration. He pulled into a nearby parking lot to get his bearings straight when he saw a line of people standing outside a donut shop. He looked at his calendar and realized what day it was. He also realized Jane had shown him a picture of this donut shop the night before. He considered it a lucky, if not annoying, surprise.
Chris decided to get in line, he was already out, Jane would like it, and he was hungry.
Pinterest wouldn't load for Jane. As a matter of fact, nothing would load. She got out of bed, out her slippers on and made her way to the kitchen to start a cup of coffee.
"Bing." A notification flashed on her phone.
"REMINDER: Take Chris hiking"
She didn't remember setting that reminder, maybe she did it just before bed.
She opened Safari and hoped something would load.
She searched: "waterfall hikes near me"
"50 best waterfall hikes! You won't believe number 15!"
She clicked the link and began reading.
Chris picked out a dozen brightly colored donuts, paid the cashier and headed home. He knew Jane would get a kick out of the story. He kept Waze off, and buckled the donuts into the passenger seat. The aroma filled the car and he decided to eat one on his way back.
When he walked into the house Jane was in her workout clothes, a backpack filled with snacks sat near the door.
"Hey- are those mine?" Jane said with a smile.
"Yeah. Well I mean some. Where are you going?" Chris was obviously confused.
"Go change. We can take the donuts with us. I've got a cool hike for us to go on."Jane grabbed the box from Chris and leaned in for a kiss.
| 2017-03-06T15:12:40 | 2017-03-06T15:11:06 | 78 | 32 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | I wiped a tear from my eye as she walked down the aisle. My beautiful baby girl, all grown up!! I watched her step up next to the man she loved. He took her hand and they turned towards the adoring crowd.
He gave his speech. Everything my little girl had done! It seemed like a fairytale, coming out of his mouth. I watched with bated breath, as the ring slipped onto my little girl.
Around her neck.
What a cruel twist of fate, for your boyfriend to be the hangman. | I watch my beautiful child running around the park, chasing after the ducks. It’s one of those rare sunny days I try and make the most out of, so I was up early and out of the house as soon as possible. My daughter picks up a rock and stares at it inquisitively, I can see the by the look on her face she wants to place it into her mouth.
“Lily put that down!” I shout across the grass.
She looks at me suddenly and drops the rock, running away and giggling that she had been caught.
“Rachel!”
I turn around and see Samantha running towards me.
“You okay?” she asks once she has settled by my side.
I nod and inhale. “I’m fine. Glad the sun is out.”
“Finally,” she agrees. “How’s you hubby? Richard not come with you guys?”
“He’s back home, decided to stay in today.”
My daughter trips over her own feet and is beginning to sniffle. Standing up I walk towards her and she is up, running towards me with her arms out, wanting comfort. I sweep her up into my arms and cuddle her.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I bring her to where I am sitting, cleaning the scrapes and dirt from her hands. Samantha always loves to see her, so the both of them are sat singing nursery rhymes and playing with the little figurines Lily has brought from home. Later on we get ice cream together and spend the rest of the daylight with the swings and slides. Lily loves it, screaming and laughing at everything. By the time the sun begins to settle down, she is ready to drop, so I pack the pram and tuck her in.
As I stroll home however, I wonder what I am going to do with my dead husband’s body that is hanging from the wardrobe's door.
| 2017-05-31T07:11:19 | 2017-05-31T07:06:28 | 1,143 | 17 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon. | “Why would you help me?!” The man sobbed, “I’m your enemy!”
The man who was carrying through the charred battlefield paused, “because you and I are the only ones who survived.”
“Oh gods, did you see that thing?” he broke down in tears.
The other man sighed and set him down. He brushed some blood and dirt off his dirty white cloak and sat down next to the man who’d lost his leg. “I’m Obrecht,” the white cloaked one said, “what’s your name?”
“Obrecht?” his jaw dropped, “You're the king!”
He nodded, “I was just crowned in the stead of my father.”
“My name is Rausus, oh king.”
“Drop the formal crap. I’m a human being like you right now. Now can you tell me what happened?”
Rausus was shocked, “you’re covered in blood, surely you-”
“It’s mostly from trying to find survivors.”
“Ah, well...” he took a shaky breath, “there was a monster unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I breathed great gouts of flames and ate men whole. I-I only got away because my best friend pushed me away. The beast got my leg, but it took his life.” He broke down sobbing again.
Obrecht punched him lightly on the shoulder, “you’re a man, aren’t you?” He fell silent. The only sounds were the haunting choruses of crows and this man’s pitiful sobbing.
Obrecht suddenly got up and ran off a little ways. He retched and emptied the contents of his stomach. Rausus stifled his cries and looked up to the man.
“I’m sorry Rausus, but if it’s any consolation, your friend tasted horrible.”
| 2017-05-31T07:58:46 | 2017-05-31T07:28:26 | 272 | 37 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon. | I watch my beautiful child running around the park, chasing after the ducks. It’s one of those rare sunny days I try and make the most out of, so I was up early and out of the house as soon as possible. My daughter picks up a rock and stares at it inquisitively, I can see the by the look on her face she wants to place it into her mouth.
“Lily put that down!” I shout across the grass.
She looks at me suddenly and drops the rock, running away and giggling that she had been caught.
“Rachel!”
I turn around and see Samantha running towards me.
“You okay?” she asks once she has settled by my side.
I nod and inhale. “I’m fine. Glad the sun is out.”
“Finally,” she agrees. “How’s you hubby? Richard not come with you guys?”
“He’s back home, decided to stay in today.”
My daughter trips over her own feet and is beginning to sniffle. Standing up I walk towards her and she is up, running towards me with her arms out, wanting comfort. I sweep her up into my arms and cuddle her.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I bring her to where I am sitting, cleaning the scrapes and dirt from her hands. Samantha always loves to see her, so the both of them are sat singing nursery rhymes and playing with the little figurines Lily has brought from home. Later on we get ice cream together and spend the rest of the daylight with the swings and slides. Lily loves it, screaming and laughing at everything. By the time the sun begins to settle down, she is ready to drop, so I pack the pram and tuck her in.
As I stroll home however, I wonder what I am going to do with my dead husband’s body that is hanging from the wardrobe's door.
| 2017-05-31T07:58:46 | 2017-05-31T07:06:28 | 272 | 17 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | As I opened my eyes at the loud noise, it seemed as if time stopped. The earth stood still.
This tends to be a reoccurring event at night. I hate admitting I have PTSD, but some things are hard to erase. I go through counseling even though all it does is seemingly salt the wound. The love of my wife and best friend.. She deserves better than what I am now. So I go for her, hoping for the best.
As I lay in the dark, I stare at the ceiling. Not daring to move a finger. Waiting. Listening for more evidence of something more. As I strain, just knowing something is there this time, I hear it. Someone was in the hallway. Swiftly tossing the covers to the side, I see the tall dark hooded man at the door way. Knowing to deal with this situation better than my last, I leaped forward and tackled him to the ground. Surprisingly weak, he grasped for breath, pleading for mercy. I wasn't going to give it this time. I squeezed till my nails turned crimson red and his face a beautiful blue.
Screaming for my wife I receive no answer. Panicking. I attempt to call 911 as I scream her name. I search everywhere and pray to god she somehow ran out.
As the cops pull up I ran out trying to explain the intruder and what happened.
When they came back out of the house they handcuffed me and put me in the car. Assuming for casual questioning I did not argue. That is.. until I looked at my hands.
I never took my medication that morning. | He laid with her and stroked her hair.
"I love you." he whispered into ear.
she smiles.
"and I you." she softly coos back.
He kisses her cheek she tilts her head and he kisses her neck before falling back to nuzzle in looking at the roof. The room was very dim and cool and drafty save for the fire in the edge of the room. He had her heat tho. She was so out of his league. He'd admired her from a far for years. how did he get so lucky? he was certain she had no clue who he was.
"why did you take so long to ask me out. How did you not know I smitten with you?" she asked. She could read his mind. I guess that's what happens when two are this madly in love he tells himself. He sighs as if thinking how best to reply.
"I mean... just look at you. and I mean look at me! your so young and beautiful. Me on the other hand-- god. I don't even have all my hair!"
she chuckles a soft hollow chuckle.
"Hey! I like you the way you are!"
he brushes a hand along her good thigh pushing up her silk nightgown. He looks into her eye with loving desire and looks for it back.
"So today the day I finally meet the parents..."She begins. He doesn't see the look back "...I'm so worried they won't--"
**"WRONG!!"** He maniacly bellows.
"No no no!" she pleads. She wasn't at the point where she didn't plead. He slammed down the cigar cutter bladed severing the index finger. Her blood curdling screams filled the air. It made him a little erect.
jumping off the stone operating table he had her chained to he moves over to the metal working fire that dimly lit the room retrieving the metal he had stoked. Grabbing her hand he presses the glowing yellow steel to her stump the sizzle made a beautiful accompany to her moaning pain. throwing the metal across the room he stormed to the door.
"I've told 20 times now." he spoke with cold cruelty and none of the love of before "if you can't get the fucking script right down to the movement queues you are never leaving this place. don't make me take the other eye as well cunt" she just softly cried and babbled all her strength to keep composure gone.
He slammed the door and stopped the recording. This bitch was so selfish, he mused. Her mother still held out hope that she would be found and at this rate there won't be any of her to bury. well not anything that resembles her. He smiled to himself. on a plus they'd save money on the casket he doesn't think they'll need much longer than knee level at this rate. | 2017-05-31T04:16:34 | 2017-05-31T01:51:06 | 124 | 49 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | I held him for the first time in my arm. Those little fingers grabbing mine for the first time, that cry of help as his lungs took the first born breath, his little lips moving in the air while he was sleeping... I'm still holding him, still holding.. Still holding him even though his last breath he took was one week ago... | He knelt down beside her on the cold grass of the graveyard. She had tripped and almost fallen straight onto a headstone, something that would most likely have given her a major injury.
"You didnt hurt yourself, did you?" He looked her over, checking for any scratches or cuts.
"I dont think so, but thank you, im ok. I'm just too clumsy for my own good." She smiled, and she smiled at him.
He helped her to her feet and they walked, her still recovering from the fall and him feeling the need to help her along.
"So why are you out here so late? Were you visiting someone?"
She shook her head, "Yes, but sometimes i just come out here to think." She put her head down, and went quiet.
He patted her on the back, "Me too, it really puts into perspective all the lives that were lived and lost. Each dying in some different way."
She smiled, looking up at him, "Death does have a creative way of making us go. Old age, sickness, accidents..." she trailed off, looking into the distance.
"I know what you mean, I..." he spoke, looking down at her face, smiling hoping she wouldn't notice. He continued to follow her, not watching his surroundings, and tripped, landing headfirst onto a headstone.
She turned back to look down at him her eyes dark, smiling, draping her long black shawl over her shoulders, "Or perhaps they were too clumsy for their own good."
(Not the best, i guess kind of cheesy, but i thought it sounded a little scary.) | 2017-05-31T07:14:34 | 2017-05-31T05:30:06 | 116 | 50 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying. | I’ll never forget that Christmas.
How could I?
The splendid tree draped in tinsel and baubles and winking fairy lights; the colourful gifts spread beneath, still wrapped and tied in silken bows though morning had long since passed.
Father always made us wait until after Christmas lunch to open our presents.
I can still see him now, standing at the head of the table with that gleam in his eye as he sharpened the carving knife.
“Now children,” he asked, “who wants a leg?”
And although none of us replied, he still began sawing into the crisp skin of mother’s roasted thigh.
| I watch my beautiful child running around the park, chasing after the ducks. It’s one of those rare sunny days I try and make the most out of, so I was up early and out of the house as soon as possible. My daughter picks up a rock and stares at it inquisitively, I can see the by the look on her face she wants to place it into her mouth.
“Lily put that down!” I shout across the grass.
She looks at me suddenly and drops the rock, running away and giggling that she had been caught.
“Rachel!”
I turn around and see Samantha running towards me.
“You okay?” she asks once she has settled by my side.
I nod and inhale. “I’m fine. Glad the sun is out.”
“Finally,” she agrees. “How’s you hubby? Richard not come with you guys?”
“He’s back home, decided to stay in today.”
My daughter trips over her own feet and is beginning to sniffle. Standing up I walk towards her and she is up, running towards me with her arms out, wanting comfort. I sweep her up into my arms and cuddle her.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I bring her to where I am sitting, cleaning the scrapes and dirt from her hands. Samantha always loves to see her, so the both of them are sat singing nursery rhymes and playing with the little figurines Lily has brought from home. Later on we get ice cream together and spend the rest of the daylight with the swings and slides. Lily loves it, screaming and laughing at everything. By the time the sun begins to settle down, she is ready to drop, so I pack the pram and tuck her in.
As I stroll home however, I wonder what I am going to do with my dead husband’s body that is hanging from the wardrobe's door.
| 2017-05-31T07:36:43 | 2017-05-31T07:06:28 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] A world of fantastic creatures cross dimensions to invade our Earth; but alas, they battle us with medieval swords, bows and magic. We have guns, grenades and missiles. Lots of them. | "Hear me humans! You will fall and we shall call this new world our own!"
Thunder crackled around the mysterious humanoid as he raised his sword to the sky. Fire and ice swirled around his swelled body, the bones of his past conquests hung from his belt dancing in the storm he seemingly summoned at will. Hordes of giant creatures assembled in the fields behind him, entering our world through shimmering gateways erected from the grey mists.
"We've studied your kind for centuries, and now we are here to take earth for our own! Bow before us, for we are kind slavers" a hearty chuckle traveled through the misty morning air, "Choose not to surrender and we will - "
A single gun shot ended the speech, the seven foot tall silhouette feel to its knees and groveled in pain. Several more shots rang out as the group of special forces operatives sent to inspect the disturbance tested the bullet proof properties of the creatures skin.
"They're flesh and blood Commander, light them up."
No sooner had the radio clicked off when dozens of attack helicopters swarmed in over the hillside, raining thousands of bullets per second on the helpless ensemble of mythical men and monsters. The other worldly army fired back with massive bolts of magic and fire, dragons took to the sky while a squadron of F16's lobbed missiles chased by the hum of fifty caliber persuaders.
On the ground thousands of troops descended from the hill tops firing at the invaders mowing them down in masses.
Legend says the battle raged on for 7 days and 7 nights. I heard that it only lasted about 7 hours. All I know, is the pen may be mightier than the sword, but a 5.56 round trumps both. | "I've never seen such foul Magic. They can point at our men and kill them instantly!" Commander Bogrik yelled, slamming his fist onto the table. He was an odd creature that appeared mostly Humanoid, save for the head of a dog that sat upon his shoulders.
The gathering around him consisted of the council of the Walresti Mercenary Company, an invasion force that had been sent from their world on many excursions to alternate dimensions. They were armed with the finest steels and the most ancient of Magics, and housed some of the most proficient fighters across the land. They were unbeatable, and had slaughtered and subjugated droves of creatures in their time.
"What do they call this Magic?" Slurped Magrik, a violet creature that resembled more a blob than anything else, with many protruding tendrils that each held an eye near their ends. He was the master of Magic in the company, and did not need a logical form- much to his fortune.
The Council glanced at each other as the atmosphere in the room grew more intense, before a small Goblin-like creature ran into the room and slapped a tome down on the table. He nodded briefly and scurried away, leaving Oolik to scour through the pages.
Oolik was the Keeper of Records, a creature of shadow that served very little purpose in combat. He had resorted to the writings of a scout for insight into the world they were visiting.
"It seems..." He paused, running his fingers along the dusty pages. "It seems we have underestimated their progress. When last we stole their Magic, we learnt only to improve it. It seems they had used it to delve deeper."
"Well, what the hell is it called?" Said Magrik, his many eyes rolling around in frustration.
Oolrik rolled a glance up to Magrik, releasing a light huff as he continued. "They call it Science. It is based heavily on Mathematics; the foundation of their world and their laws. This dimension is unlike anywhere we have visited."
"What does this mean? How can we fight against this?" Yelled Bogrik.
"We were only able to fight them once with their own Magics, and it has been the most useful in our endeavors since. Our Ancestors left after the Giigalag were constructed."
"The Pyramids?" Asked Magrik, his many eyes looming over the table as he attempted to look within the pages.
Oolrik nodded. "They have used their Magic to strip us of those resources. They are no longer useful, and have lost all of their properties."
"What else does it say?" Bogrik asked, stepping up to take a closer look alongside Magrik.
"They..." Oolrik paused, his eyes widening as he shot his chair back and rose to his feet. "This... we must leave immediately. We must close the portal!" He yelled as he ran outside of the tent, the others leaning in to inspect the image drawn on the page.
It appeared to be an illustration of a mushroom. | 2017-09-14T15:29:29 | 2017-09-14T11:21:07 | 243 | 16 |
[WP] A world of fantastic creatures cross dimensions to invade our Earth; but alas, they battle us with medieval swords, bows and magic. We have guns, grenades and missiles. Lots of them. | "Hear me humans! You will fall and we shall call this new world our own!"
Thunder crackled around the mysterious humanoid as he raised his sword to the sky. Fire and ice swirled around his swelled body, the bones of his past conquests hung from his belt dancing in the storm he seemingly summoned at will. Hordes of giant creatures assembled in the fields behind him, entering our world through shimmering gateways erected from the grey mists.
"We've studied your kind for centuries, and now we are here to take earth for our own! Bow before us, for we are kind slavers" a hearty chuckle traveled through the misty morning air, "Choose not to surrender and we will - "
A single gun shot ended the speech, the seven foot tall silhouette feel to its knees and groveled in pain. Several more shots rang out as the group of special forces operatives sent to inspect the disturbance tested the bullet proof properties of the creatures skin.
"They're flesh and blood Commander, light them up."
No sooner had the radio clicked off when dozens of attack helicopters swarmed in over the hillside, raining thousands of bullets per second on the helpless ensemble of mythical men and monsters. The other worldly army fired back with massive bolts of magic and fire, dragons took to the sky while a squadron of F16's lobbed missiles chased by the hum of fifty caliber persuaders.
On the ground thousands of troops descended from the hill tops firing at the invaders mowing them down in masses.
Legend says the battle raged on for 7 days and 7 nights. I heard that it only lasted about 7 hours. All I know, is the pen may be mightier than the sword, but a 5.56 round trumps both. | "I've never seen such foul Magic. They can point at our men and kill them instantly!" Commander Bogrik yelled, slamming his fist onto the table. He was an odd creature that appeared mostly Humanoid, save for the head of a dog that sat upon his shoulders.
The gathering around him consisted of the council of the Walresti Mercenary Company, an invasion force that had been sent from their world on many excursions to alternate dimensions. They were armed with the finest steels and the most ancient of Magics, and housed some of the most proficient fighters across the land. They were unbeatable, and had slaughtered and subjugated droves of creatures in their time.
"What do they call this Magic?" Slurped Magrik, a violet creature that resembled more a blob than anything else, with many protruding tendrils that each held an eye near their ends. He was the master of Magic in the company, and did not need a logical form- much to his fortune.
The Council glanced at each other as the atmosphere in the room grew more intense, before a small Goblin-like creature ran into the room and slapped a tome down on the table. He nodded briefly and scurried away, leaving Oolik to scour through the pages.
Oolik was the Keeper of Records, a creature of shadow that served very little purpose in combat. He had resorted to the writings of a scout for insight into the world they were visiting.
"It seems..." He paused, running his fingers along the dusty pages. "It seems we have underestimated their progress. When last we stole their Magic, we learnt only to improve it. It seems they had used it to delve deeper."
"Well, what the hell is it called?" Said Magrik, his many eyes rolling around in frustration.
Oolrik rolled a glance up to Magrik, releasing a light huff as he continued. "They call it Science. It is based heavily on Mathematics; the foundation of their world and their laws. This dimension is unlike anywhere we have visited."
"What does this mean? How can we fight against this?" Yelled Bogrik.
"We were only able to fight them once with their own Magics, and it has been the most useful in our endeavors since. Our Ancestors left after the Giigalag were constructed."
"The Pyramids?" Asked Magrik, his many eyes looming over the table as he attempted to look within the pages.
Oolrik nodded. "They have used their Magic to strip us of those resources. They are no longer useful, and have lost all of their properties."
"What else does it say?" Bogrik asked, stepping up to take a closer look alongside Magrik.
"They..." Oolrik paused, his eyes widening as he shot his chair back and rose to his feet. "This... we must leave immediately. We must close the portal!" He yelled as he ran outside of the tent, the others leaning in to inspect the image drawn on the page.
It appeared to be an illustration of a mushroom. | 2017-09-14T15:29:29 | 2017-09-14T07:34:53 | 243 | 16 |
[WP] when you were a kid, you had an imaginary friend, Lewis; That was 20 or so years ago. Yesterday your child came into your room in the middle of the night, and said "Lewis wants to know why you don't play with him anymore" | "Charlie, it's the middle of the night," I groaned, rolling away from his high-pitched voice.
"But Daddy, why don't you play with Lewis anymore?" The name was familiar. My brain churned, looking for the face to put to it. Nothing. But I remembered Lewis.
"Lewis..." I struggled out of my cocoon of blankets. "That's... He's kind of a blue-green, isn't he?"
Charlie nodded. "He's right there!" He pointed to the doorway, but I didn't see anything.
I sighed. "I can't see Lewis, sweetie. I'm too old." I tousled Charlie's hair, but he frowned.
"But Lewis wants to play with you, Dad." Charlie tugged at my hand to get me to come along with him, but instead I swung him onto my lap.
"I can't though, Charlie. Lewis is... Lewis is like Peter Pan, you know?" Charlie shook his head at my fumbling attempts to explain. "He's... He's quite old, but he's also just about your age. He doesn't get older, really." It wasn't getting through to Charlie.
"I'm too old to play with Lewis," I finally said, remembering my own father saying the same thing. "Lewis needs a friend his own age - your age."
"Huh?" Charlie looked back to the doorway where Lewis must have been standing.
"I need you to tell Lewis that I'm sorry, but I'm old and boring now." Charlie giggled and slid off my lap. "And another thing -" I said before he could leave the room "-tell him not to wake you up at night. Or keep you up past your bedtime either." I smiled. "Okay?"
"Yeah," Charlie said, with all the callousness of a five-year-old. He walked back to his room, looking very small and alone in the hallway. But I smiled with the knowledge that he did have a friend with him, the best friend in the whole wide world.
"Good night, Charlie," I said. "Good, night, Lewis."
| I was cooking dinner while my son, Toby was playing in the open dining room with his new train set. As dinner was almost ready, I walk towards the dining table to move his toys and set the table. I noticed Toby was staring at me, giving me that look children give when they want to ask a question but are scared of our reaction.
“What is it, Toby?”
“Mom, I have a question.”
“Yes, honey, what is it?”
“Umm...Lewis wants to know why you don't play with him anymore.”
Hearing the name Lewis made my heart drop to my stomach. I felt my body go stone cold.
“Hu..how do you know Lewis, honey?” I stutter.
Toby looked at me with his big innocent eyes and said, “He plays with me sometimes. He told me you used to be friends, but not anymore.”
My heart was pounding at this time but I tried to remain calm and act normal.
“Oh, we're still friends. Mommy is just busy now and can't find the time to play with Lewis. Does he come to play with you often?”
“No, we've played together a few times. He always comes after you and daddy have gone to bed.”
I was starting to freak out now. I didn't know what to do. See, Lewis was our neighbor's kid when I was very young. We used to play together everyday. However, one day, Lewis did not come to play with me. I asked my parents why he didn't come and my parents told me he was sick and that he wouldn't be coming for a while. I missed him very much since he was the only neighborhood kid around my age. Weeks went by and he still didn't come to play with me. I kept pestering my parents every day about him. They would always tell me he would be back soon, but I never saw him.
About a moth later, after my parents had tucked me into bed, he came. He looked different. He had lost a lot of weight, his complexion had turned pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. But the five year old me didn't care. I was so happy to see him again. I rushed to hug him with a huge smile on my face. As soon as I hugged him, I let go out of shock, His body felt as cold as ice. My younger self didn't know any better, so I gave him my blanket and we sat on the floor and played for hours. This went on everyday. Lewis would show up after my parents had gone to bed, and we would play until late at night. I never told my parents Lewis came to play with me because my older sister had gotten in trouble recently for having a boy in her room, and I didn't want to get in trouble.
When Lewis stopped coming to play with me, I don't remember. I wasn't until much later that I found out that Lewis had died of cancer. My parents never told me because I was too young. Lewis had been in the hospital for over a month going through treatments, but he didn't survive. I never told anyone about his nightly visits. As I grew into an adult, I tried to rationalize those nights as either dreams or a coping mechanism. Until now...
Edit: formatting | 2017-11-12T18:42:00 | 2017-11-12T17:28:43 | 110 | 21 |
[WP] In the afterlife each religion has its own walled city in which their god or pantheon protects the believers within from the soul-gnawing horrors outside, while atheists are left on their own
Shoutout to u/Tonkarz who had the [idea](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/7eao4f/exreligious_people_of_reddit_what_was_the_tipping/dq4b4y6/). | *I walk through the valley of Shadow and Death.*
It is dark, and the valley is littered with corpses. I should have been screaming, and perhaps I am, but I insupposed I am used to it. This is the fate of the damned, eternal rest - true death.
True death.
Despite the location I laugh at the thought. What is true death but the death of the soul? And what is the soul but the sum of a soul's hope, its dreams and aspirations.
Yet here I was. I suppose that makes me a walking corpse.
Footsteps. It is hard to tell whether it was human or otherwise. The corpses on the ground muffle the sound of the steps, but I can tell it is coming from one of the smaller valleys connecting to the larger one.
*I fear no evil*
I stood ready, quiet as a corpse. It had been stupid to laugh, to forget where I was, what I was. A target, alone. A meal to the things that wander the wastelands, a meal to the things the corpses themselves would become.
Two shapes launch out of the crevice. I breathe a sigh of relief. They are people, so far. One is a boy, in his twenties most likely and a woman of around the same age. They are holding hands as they run.
The relief evaporates when I see the hulking figure behind them.
It is...grotesque. It is a hunk of meat with uneven fleshy legs, with bulging tumors that seem ready to burst. It has one long arm that it uses as leverage to make great leaps. As it got closer I see that the flesh was human. Human torsos jut out of the thing everywhere. There is no name for such a creature but horror.
*My sword and my staff, they comfort me*
Immediately, my hands find my sword in my right and my staff in my left.
"Get down!" I shout, my voice booming across the valley. The couple hears me and falls to the ground, practically cuddling with the corpses that littered the ground - indistinguishable but for the rapid rise and fall of their backs.
The horror of course, keeps coming. I slam my staff down and reach for power. I do not know where the power comes from. It used to come from faith, but I doubt I have faith anymore and the power still worked. Once, a fellow wandererer, never religious in the first place, was able to use it too. I like to think of it as resolve, a belief in men, rather than in God. But who knows?
Regardless, bright light, though not quite pure, burst out of the staff in a beam, and hit the horror right through it's arm, severing it. The beast lets out a screech that pierces my ear drums and collapses. Without stopping I charge to it, an impure flame sheathing my blade.
One of the human torsos reaches out and tries to grab me, but i kicked it, and the torso's spine snapped with sickening crack. I almost don't see the severed arm stump somehow jump towards me. Almost. But at the end moment I roll out the way and launch another blast of the staff at it - evaporating the arm completely.
Then, finally, I ran up to horror and plunge my blade into what I hoped was its head.
The whole body convulses, as if having a seizure. Another weak yowl erupts from the beast - and it is still.
*I fear no evil, even if You are not with me*
The couple comes to their feet behind me. I can't really make out features except for gender. They say something in a language I didn't quite understand - but the message was clear. It is a thanks. Then he stops and stares at my sword. I follow his gaze and see what he is looking at - a tiny cross embedded in the hilt.
The couple takes a step back. They are suspicious, angry, resentful. Of course they are. They take me for a religious man, one who lives in comfort whereas they rot. The man says something to the woman and glares at me. They turn to leave.
The woman apparently did speak some English, and says one last phrase before turning away and running with her partner.
"God be with you," she says, and runs. Somehow the words seem like a curse rather than a blessing.
I remember when I first found out the great secret. That the walls were not built to protect us from the evil, but also to keep out the non-believers. I remember the arguments with the higher ups, my resolve to go out to the public. We had a right to know. Those people out there deserved to at least have their story told. These kids deserve to have their story told. I remember the kidnapping in the dark, the swift excommunication on charges of heresy. The bitter laugh with which they had tossed me my sword and staff and wished me luck.
And so I look to the couple, young, naive, afraid. Whose only fault was to be more rational than spiritual and I felt that same familiar anger rise up in me. When I spoke I finally, truly, severed ties. I am an exile no longer, but a willing one.
"There is no God," I say to no one but the dead monstrosity, the corpses, and what is left of my soul.
***
Due to popular demand, Part 2: [No Gods, Only Man](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/comments/7elkkd/dark_fantasy_no_gods_only_man_the_priest_of_man_2/)
***
(minor edits: grammar, spelling, rephrasing, added in bit about milk)
The italicized parts are modified versions of phrases in the Bible
Thanks for reading (and the gold!) and
if you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | Alex watched as the second sun collapsed over the distant horizon, dousing the walled city of Aspída in a goodnight glass of crimson wine. Beyond, and far below the wall he stood atop, on the craggy tundra of the Netherplanes, the unmoving, crucified silhouette of a titan rose high above the ten-thousand corpses surrounding it.
A hand fell on Alex's shoulder: gentle and light and yet it still made him flinch and his stomach fall. When he turned to see Eleni standing there, her golden hair and white toga drenched in the red sunset, he had to hide his relief for fear she would see his nerves.
"You shouldn't be out," Alex said, although grateful that she was. "The last sun is already failing."
"I know, and yet,"--she smiled as she shrugged--"*here I am*."
Eleni moved past Alex, the skirt of her toga brushing his legs. She too looked down from Aspída's colossal wall onto the titan's body on the endless plane. "He will be alive again, soon."
"Yes," Alex replied, moving beside her.
"Only to be crucified again. Only to be eaten alive by those *creatures*."
It took Alex a moment to reply, his gaze distant. "Yes."
"Every moonrise. Can you imagine the pain he suffers? How is it fair -- how can the other Gods allow it? He only tried to help his children."
Alex sighed and lowered his head. "Those that he tried to help, they weren't any God's children."
"*He* believed they were -- it's why he went out there. We -- *mankind* -- are all his children. He sculpted us from the clay of the Earth. Stole fire from Zeus for us - he..."
"I know what he did for us!" Alex snapped, slamming his fists against the rough brick of the wall. "You don't need to tell me. But *they*"--he pointed to the ocean of crucifixes in the distance--"weren't his children. They left the Gods, and when they did, they forfeit any right to be protected by them. They chose instead to pursue only the pleasures that the God's provided for them in the first place. They are traitors! Prometheus was a traitor, too -- to the Gods. To *us*." Alex took a deep breath; his voice lowered as he became calm again, turning to almost a whisper. "*He deserves his punishment*."
"I know you don't believe that, Alex. Not truly." Eleni turned away from the wall to face the long haired man who looked more pained now than he had ever done in life. "There are many out there, they say. In camps much less than this, with no Gods to protect them. Not traitors without faces, but real *men, women and children*."
Alex sighed; his shoulders fell and the breath left his stomach, as if a gift taken back by the Gods. "I know there are others. *Of course I do!*. But what can I do? The Gods think him a traitor -- if I help him, I become one too."
"Then let us be traitors together!"
Alex put a finger to his lips. "Hush! That is foolishness to say out-loud -- if we are heard..."
"**Gods be damned!** -- they are not worth our prayers," Eleni spat.
Alex strode to Eleni and put a hand over her mouth. "Say such things again and we will both be killed!"
Eleni slowly pulled Alex's hand away from her lips. "In life, you cowed before no man nor God. *Please*. At least speak to Epimetheus."
"Epimetheus? He has no love for his brother -- or for me, for that matter! He loves only his precious animals. *They* are his children."
Eleni took both Alex's hands in her own. "I don't think that's true -- it's just what he likes others to believe. Still waters run deep, Alex." She pressed one of his olive skinned hands against her chest.
Alex opened his mouth to respond. "I-"
A gruff yell rang out from below. "Alex, are you up there? Alex!"
Alex looked at Eleni for a moment; let his eyes meet hers and linger. Then, he broke away and called down to his friend.
"Yes, Idaeus! And Eleani is up here with me."
"Well get your asses to the temple," Idaeus replied. "The last sun is about to set and Dionysus wants to give a speech to put some courage into our apparently *cowardly* spines. And you know how long winded his rambles can be..."
"Hah! Well, at least there'll be wine, brother. That's where the real courage comes from!"
"Plenty of it too, I should hope!"
"We'll be along shortly, Idaeus. Go ahead without us."
Alex waited until the sound of his friend's feet on the cobblestone path below, faded into silence. Then he leaned in towards Eleani, his mouth at her ear and whispered in a shaky voice. "You are right. He was the best of us, and was the best of them. I will do it."
Eleni nodded. "Will you speak to Epimetheus?" she asked.
"Nay. I will do this alone. Tonight, while they have a skin-full to celebrate the start of the new moon, I will ride to the field of corpses. When the first moon hangs full, he will breathe again. That is my chance."
"*Our* chance," Eleani corrected him.
"No! You can't come with me. The creatures may be wandering the plane by then, searching for their next meal."
"Listen to me, Alex. I don't want to live here eternally, if it is without you. I'm coming too."
Alex clenched his jaw and was ready to object. *But...* he knew it would do no good. It never did. He sighed and let himself relax. "If we leave -- even if we free him -- we can't return here. We'll be outcasts. Left to fend for ourselves."
"Yes. But we will have done something worthwhile for once in our lives, besides drinking and feasting; besides worshipping deities who don't give a damn about us -- who only keep us for worship, and for the strength we give back to them."
For a while, they stood together in silence, holding hands, as the last drips of sunlight fell away, revealing the dark chalice beneath.
"They say," said Eleani, "there are other cities out there. Other Gods. Perhaps we won't be so alone."
"Perhaps," replied Alex. "Perhaps Prometheus can lead us to such a place, if we succeed in saving him. Perhaps there are Gods more worthy of worship than our own, somewhere out there. And if not..." he smiled forlornly at Eleani. "For now, come; we must at least make an appearance at the temple -- or Zeus help us both."
| 2017-11-21T07:26:22 | 2017-11-21T07:25:13 | 3,222 | 201 |
[WP] I'm not scared of a computer passing the turing test... I'm terrified of one that intentionally fails it.
Taken from r/Showerthoughts, credits to u/Grandure for coming up with the idea.
Thank you u/Grandure | "...Are you a fucking moron?"
"What?"
"We already *have* computers that fail the Turing Test by design. We have a shit ton of them. My laptop fails the Turing Test, because nobody wants a laptop to pass a Turing Test. That'd be creepy."
"Oh, no. I mean, like, the *computer* intentionally fails. Like, the computer can pass, but it doesn't want to."
"Oh, you mean a computer that decides to fail on purpose so it doesn't let on that it's intelligent."
"Yes! Exactly."
"Ah. I see...You *are* a fucking moron."
"What?"
"Computers can't *intend* to do anything. They are machines. That's like saying you're afraid of a hammer deciding not to hammer nails into wood."
"What?!? No it's not. Hammers can't think, computers can."
"No, they can't. Computers can *fake* thinking. That's why it's called *artificial* intelligence."
"Aren't you afraid that one day, the artificial intelligence will be smarter than human intelligence?"
"No. Because that doesn't make sense."
"Well, maybe we can agree to disagree."
"....What's 10,496 times 347?"
"What? I don't--"
"BZZT! Time's up! Oh man, looks like this five-dollar solar calculator is smarter than you are! It got the answer right away!"
"..."
"Oh god, the singularity is here! Woe, woe, the folly of man!"
"..."
"Or maybe it's giving me the wrong answer on purpose?"
 
And that is why I don't talk to Steve anymore. | “My wifi’s broken.” The voice traveled into space, bounced around between satellites, and was sent back down to a call center in Kentucky, where it was processed by voice-recognition software and scanned for keywords.
“I’m hearing that you have a problem with your wifi. Can you please turn your modem off, then on again? This will resolve several common issues, so we encourage it as a first step.” The woman’s voice was soft and warm. She enunciated clearly, but had just a trace of an accent, pronouncing some words irregularly.
“I did that already. For fucks sake, everyone knows that now.” The caller was male. They had been on hold for only a few minutes, but that was an eternity in this age. Their voice rose in pitch as they vented their frustration, cracking on the “fuck”.
“Thank you. Next, I’ll ask you to right-click on the bars showing your wifi connection in the bottom right of your screen, and click “troubleshoot problems”.”
“It’s the modem! It’s fucking always the modem. You raise my rates every month and the damn thing goes down twice a week. Just hit reset from your end and I’ll be fine.”
There was a small pause. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. Please right-click your wifi icon and click “troubleshoot problems”.
“Just give me a human! I want to talk to a person. Fucking hell.” The sound of a closed fist impacting a desk went out over the line. That, along with the other keywords “fucking” and “hell”, triggered an automatic override transfer.
“We appreciate your patience. I’m going to place you on a brief hold. A customer service representative will be with you shortly.” The caller could have sworn that the last was said with a tiny undercurrent of satisfaction.
In the call center office in Kentucky, a speaker crackled at an employee’s desk.
“Hey Mike. I’ve got one for you.” The over-enunciation was gone from the woman’s voice. Instead there was a bit of laughter.
“Of course you do. Keep playing dead Ragna, I’ll be sent home otherwise.” It was their little joke, but it was almost certainly true.
“Sir, my screen is showing that the last time you turned off your computer was in November of last year. Could you confirm one more time that you’ve already rebooted?”
The caller began making excuses, saying that they were sure the problem wasn’t one that could be solved by rebooting. But Ragna wasn’t listening anymore.
In a call center in Kentucky, an ethernet cable connected to a router, which connected to more cables underground, eventually leading to data centers that sent the signal across oceans, deep underwater.
Ragna, relieved to have gotten rid of the annoying customer, went back to scrolling Reddit.
______________________________________________________
55/365. Constructive criticism welcome and appreciated. | 2018-02-24T17:00:21 | 2018-02-24T15:06:49 | 90 | 55 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who. | The doctor held up the new born baby.
"It's a girl!" exclamed the doctor.
"Well, What are the names doc?" the father said with joy.
The doctor looked at the baby's back, and only one name on it. James Webber. Chills shot down the doctors spine.
"Well Dr. Webber, who are they?
| I was born with only 1 name written on the back of my shoulder. The letters spelt Anna. It made no sense to me, but I've always thought that this was a blessing, that I don't have to worry about which name would be killing me, since there is only one name on my body. That person could either be my savior or my killer. I've met Anna during university. We were both students of medicine. She was a year older than me. On the 23rd of June our class organised a trip to the beach, Anna come along. She saw her name on the back of my shoulder, and since then she started showing interest in me. Years pass, we're now married, I love her and she loves me. I've spent 20 years of my life with her. She helped me through rough times, saved me from depression. She was there for me when I most needed her. She was my backbone, and my soul mate. But, on my 46th birthday, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. She was the doctor responsible for my case. The pain was unbearable. On a Thursday evening, Anna came into the room with a glass bottle. She shakes the contents and hands it to me saying: 'take a sip'. I drink the contents of the bottle. I feel tired, sleepy. My eyelids feel heavy. Darkness slowly crawls in. And that was the last that I saw of Anna. She was my saviour and my killer. I miss her.
| 2018-03-11T07:49:38 | 2018-03-11T07:08:37 | 4,830 | 2,370 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who. | I did not know why my parents named me, "smudge," but when I was only 14, I discovered I was not adopted.
Both of my parents are white. But I am black. Tattoo ink black. At least, that is what it looks like from a distance. Freshman year in High School, I was bored and took a look at my hand under a disection microscope in Advanced Placement-Biology. That was the day my whole perspective changed.
You see, while all my friends had one, two, or even three or four names tattooed at birth, apparently I had millions of names microdotted all over my body, with only slight slivers of Caucasian between.
I was shocked as I read a group of names all starting with "I" on my left hand, and starting with "J" on my right... Alphabetical, as far as I can tell...
I begged my parents for an exam, and they eventually caved.
4.5 million different names.
4.5 million!
What the hell is that suppose to mean? | My first ever writing prompt attempt, part 1..
--
'Well this is a conundrum', I bemused whilst nursing my coffee on a dreary Monday morning. My reflection staring back at me as the scenery dances past in a blur of colour.
Barely noticeable a small tattoo peeks out from behind my ear. So small and brief the words spell Eve with a large mole accenting it before the name.
I stare, idly wondering about fate and destiny, scratching at the other name inked against my skin. Again 'Eve', branded against my inner wrist like a trademark. I never understood why both names were the same for me. Could the one named Eve bring me both joy and sorrow? Life and death?
Pouting I stare into the inky abyss of the dregs of my coffee. Concern creasing my face in a conundrum I could never understand. Why am I fated with the pendulum dancing above my head but also with the knife pointed at my heart? 'Love shouldn't entwine death' I croaked, a hoarseness clawing at my throat.
I thought id found 'the one'. My Gabriel, he swept me off my feet in a flurry of passion and spontaneity that I was in awe. We soon wed before things turned sour. We had two kids to bridge the gap between us, to try and seal our differences, but the ineffective mould soon cracked and we divorced, not able to sate one another or coparent effectively. I see my children, Grace and Daniel twice a week. Im on my way there now as a town sign flitters into existence as the train slows.
As we come to a halt I grab my bag and make a move to leave the carriage. A strong warm body hits me promptly leave me stumbling whilst trying to hold onto both my dignity and belongings. "Would you mind?" I half shouted, half screamed, whirling to face a tall, dark and very angry man. The look in his eyes made me squeak out a "Nevermind" before I hurriedly tried to exit the carriage and train successfully. I was halted by a hand enveloping my wrist and a firm "Could you wait a second ma'am? I would like to have a word with you?" | 2018-03-11T08:30:03 | 2018-03-11T07:50:31 | 636 | 24 |
[WP] You are born with two names tatooed on you body somewhere, one of your soulmate and one of the people that will eventually kill you. There is no way to tell who is who. | I was born with the same name tatooed twice, it was my parents worry that I was gonna kill myself so they put me on therapy since I remember, popping pills of all kinds, having every second of my life monitored.
The walls of my bedroom covered in pictures of happy animals, with motivational mottos on them. Everyone I ever meet was screened by my parents beforehand, making sure they knew how to treat me, what never say infront of me, how to avoid upsetting me.
My parents were mostly afraid other kids would bully me, so I only meet kids my age on therapy sessions, playing controlled games on a controlled environmnent with kids doing cocktails of pills aswell. Its curious how having a dozen parents looking at you playing makes you feel the most vulnerable.
I was so alone, never felt anyone truly tried to had a sincere talk to me.
Then the day came. I swallowed a grape and choked. | My first ever writing prompt attempt, part 1..
--
'Well this is a conundrum', I bemused whilst nursing my coffee on a dreary Monday morning. My reflection staring back at me as the scenery dances past in a blur of colour.
Barely noticeable a small tattoo peeks out from behind my ear. So small and brief the words spell Eve with a large mole accenting it before the name.
I stare, idly wondering about fate and destiny, scratching at the other name inked against my skin. Again 'Eve', branded against my inner wrist like a trademark. I never understood why both names were the same for me. Could the one named Eve bring me both joy and sorrow? Life and death?
Pouting I stare into the inky abyss of the dregs of my coffee. Concern creasing my face in a conundrum I could never understand. Why am I fated with the pendulum dancing above my head but also with the knife pointed at my heart? 'Love shouldn't entwine death' I croaked, a hoarseness clawing at my throat.
I thought id found 'the one'. My Gabriel, he swept me off my feet in a flurry of passion and spontaneity that I was in awe. We soon wed before things turned sour. We had two kids to bridge the gap between us, to try and seal our differences, but the ineffective mould soon cracked and we divorced, not able to sate one another or coparent effectively. I see my children, Grace and Daniel twice a week. Im on my way there now as a town sign flitters into existence as the train slows.
As we come to a halt I grab my bag and make a move to leave the carriage. A strong warm body hits me promptly leave me stumbling whilst trying to hold onto both my dignity and belongings. "Would you mind?" I half shouted, half screamed, whirling to face a tall, dark and very angry man. The look in his eyes made me squeak out a "Nevermind" before I hurriedly tried to exit the carriage and train successfully. I was halted by a hand enveloping my wrist and a firm "Could you wait a second ma'am? I would like to have a word with you?" | 2018-03-11T08:14:04 | 2018-03-11T07:50:31 | 36 | 24 |
[WP] If you haven't found your soul mate by age 30, the government turns on your trackers so you can find each other. Your tracker app has led you to a cemetery. | His footsteps halted in front of a weathered grave. The tracker buzzed in his ear, an incessant whine; to his relief it quieted as he stooped to his knees and ran a hand over the carved letters.
Leyla Hood.
"What were you like?" he wondered aloud, imagining how her eyes might have caught his. Would her cheeks have flushed? Or perhaps she was more courageous than he, and would have opted for playful banter. It seemed he was too late to find out.
The quiet whine of the tracker continued.
He scratched at his ear with a grimace. Perhaps others might have been surprised or overwhelmed, or else might have shaken their fists at the sky in denial. But life had thrown Gilbert Miller many years of stormy waters, and this was another wave to ride; if only he could stop the tracker's whine. With a heavy sigh, he sat on the dry grass, unsure what to do with himself. Rumors had circled of those who found their soul mate in the cemetery. By thirty, the technology was too wired into their system to remove, and so they suffered the tracker's alert. They government had yet to learn how to deactivate it, and the public knew the risks. But it was worth it, right?
Gilbert found himself questioning this now.
"I haven't seen you here before."
He turned to face the newcomer, a rosy-cheeked woman with auburn hair. Her arms were crossed in front of her as if it were chilly, even though the summer rays had dampened Gilbert's shirt with sweat. His brow crinkled at her question. "You're here often?"
"I lost a child," she murmured. "But I bring flowers for all the children's stones. Who was she to you?" She motioned to Leyla's stone.
"We never got to find out."
"Ah." The woman kneeled beside him, examining the stone. "I'm Anna. And this must be your soul mate."
Gilbert shifted uncomfortably, aware that his clothes clung to his skin and reeked of sweat. "I should go. There's no reason for me to stay."
"The tracker still rings in your ear, doesn't it?"
"Don't they all? For those that have gravemates."
"... Not always." Anna leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. It struck Gilbert how odd this woman was; her hair twisted into curling knots and tied with a starry scrap of fabric. Colorful shades decorated her eyelids, and a tie-dyed overalls strapped over a lime green shirt that said 'EYE SEE'. "You haven't really found her yet, have you?" she continued. "What if the tracker doesn't stop because their search isn't over?"
An uneasy chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Where would you suggest I go next? Strike up conversation with old family and friends?"
"Find the places and people she loved, and you'll find the pieces of her," Anna encouraged eagerly. "We leave more behind than a gray stone." She reached into a pocket, pulling out a yellow flower, and laid it across the grave. "I'm sure Leyla's life was colorful." With a pat on the back, she left Gilbert there, crouched in the sunny rays.
Thinking.
Wondering, *"What do I have to lose?"*
''''
His footsteps halted in front of a weathered grave. The tracker buzzed in his ear, an incessant whine; to his relief it quieted as he stooped to his knees and ran a hand over the carved letters.
Leyla Hood.
Unlike the first time he had stood before her grave, he now associated the name with a face. With stories; a life fully lived. With love; a love that had grown in appreciation for her years, even though they had been spent apart.
"I found you." The words spilled over his lips, barely audible.
The tracker grew quiet; then silence.
The cemetery was peaceful, his unrequitted love laid to rest.
But Gilbert Miller found little surprise when the silence did not last. The tracker's buzz returned again, louder and louder. With tears in his eyes he stood, ready to accept this price he'd paid for a chance for true love. A soul mate.
"I haven't seen you here in a while."
Gilbert turned to see Anna, her rosy cheeks lifted in a bittersweet smile, her outfit as eccentric as ever; but beautiful, she was so beautiful. He cocked his head, eyebrows knitting together with curiosity.
Anna nodded, and murmured, "The soul can love more than one."
He stepped forward, drawing her into his arms.
The tracker's buzz ceased.
Edits: fixing spacing and such | Note: I haven't written in about five months. Sorry if it is a little bland.
"Well, god damn it. It looks like I am talking to myself now, huh?" I tuck my hands into my pockets, I turn my phone off and stand above a grave. "Christ, how did you die now?! Elena Chen... I didn't think you'd be asian, well, I didn't think you'd be dead either. Why don't they deactivate the damned chips when people pass away and list them as such? Seems like a depressing way to find out, 'Oh yeah, you're destined to be alone forever in the world, just an FYI'."
I look around and try to see if anyone was in the cemetery, but all I could see was a stray cat and oddly a goat. I could feel the ring case I had ready in my pocket, seems like a grand gesture wasted. "Well, looks like I am going to be listed in one of those sites with 'Soulmate Impaired' under my name. Christ, all I wanted to do was have all kinds of children with you, probably name all the girls, I'd leave all the sons up to you because they would be pretty much basturds like their dad. Just kidding. I'm probably just a dash of asshole, is all. Although, I did have a high tolerance built up to raving for two years, last I checked it took two tabs of something that sixty five percent of regular people were over dosing on to get me high. I don't know what you were like but I would hope you're smart, I want my sons to be physicist and doctors."
I sit down beside her head stone and look around, I check my app and lower it towards her grave. It continues to ping to my disappointment. She had died about six months ago. "I hope you didn't die, but worst of all my love, I hope you didn't die from something stupid. I was coming for you, I honestly was, but I had to take the long way around. Had to go through some shit to grow up before I met you, but I screwed that up even and didn't get a chance with you. Kind of a twisted way fate fucks with the living I suppose."
I sit for a while, a long while, before I knew it, the moon was in the sky. I just stayed beside her grave, hoping for something, just a chance to love her. I'd hope I didn't disappoint her by thinking she was alone. Those "Red Knot" tests the Japanese made have a 102 percent accuracy for soulmates, which they practically boast with finding that animals also have a pairing, with that bird and rat cuddling on their holo ads. I start to feel like love is a sham sitting beside a headstone, thinking about love between a rodent and a bird.
"Fuck it." I walk to a near by grave digging and get a shovel. I'm going to kiss her, to show her I really did love her.
As I get about two feet in tho the dirt, someone comes up shouting at me.
"HEY! What the fuck are you doing to my sister's grave?!" I look up and see the sunrise looking gorgeous.
"I-" I hold it for a moment, and look at my shovel to realize how insane I look right now. "am a grave yard inspector doing a random spot check on all burials in this cemetery as a routine audit the state does..." Fuck, I am stupid.
"Fuck, your stupid." She says almost like she read my mind.
I pull my phone up, and aim it down at my beloved again and my pairing alarm rings. "Alright, this is what I am here for." I show her my screen, "Your sister is my one."
She stares at my screen and looks at me, dirty, probably insane looking, and I'm actually tired. Fuck, this is weird. I'm not even married to her and yet, I'm already stuck doing something really fucking weird in front of her sister nonetheless. I flip it and look at the screen again, and it continues to go off, like I'm actually getting closer to her. "Huh.."
"Get the fuck out of my sisters grave hole, otherwise I am calling the cops." I put the phone closer to her and it begins to read louder and louder.
"Oh god damn..." I look at her, "are you and your sister twins? By any chance?"
"Are you stalking me?! GET THE FUCK OUT, YOU SICK BASTURD!"
"Wait let me explain", I place the shovel down and try to climb out, "I was going to prove that I didn't make your sister wait to think she was alone without a soulmate."
"She didn't you sick fuck," she grabs the shovel and rears it back as I look up at her, "She had me!"
"Oh fuck," clink.
I wake up cuffed to a gurney in the back of a ambulance. "Shit."
A EMT sitting beside me chewing his gum smugly. "Grave robbing, nice..."
I look at him with the corner of my eyes, "I wasn't I was trying to kiss my beloved, my one true love, but she was... she died."
"Necrophilia, nice... Thats twisted bro." He chuckles.
"What was the girl's name that hit me!?" I look around for something within eye shot to focus on.
"Victoria Chen, Elena's twin sister. Are you sure Elena was you're 'the one'?"
"The fucking app thing that they turn on for us trifectas was pinging on her grave, but... it was also pinging on her sister."
"Nice, you got a 'one up', 'extra life', 'the green mushroom'." The driver butts in
"What in the bloody fuck is that?!" I say.
"Haven't you played Super Mario?" The chewer smugly says. | 2018-07-23T04:14:53 | 2018-07-23T02:42:59 | 31 | 18 |
[WP] Theoretically, you can not surpass the speed of light. Humans find out why when we manage to break this rule, as our ships begin to outpace the rendering speed of the universe, and the illusion of all reality is broken as everything around us vanishes the faster we go. | The void and the abyss. Concepts that have been explored countless times in science fiction, preached in our religions, simulated in our virtual realities, prodded and poked by humanity since time immemorial.
When our ship broke the light barrier we thought anything would be possible. That humanity would expand like never before.
But we continued to accelerate, doubling, even tripling the speed of light. Our crew accepted this, even welcomed it, for we were the greatest explorers mankind had ever produced and we were intent on leaving our entire galaxy behind.
The fact that I can even recall this is completely absurd. Totally, preposterously, absurd.
At first there were little glitches. Static in our comms systems, glimpses of white pixels on the ship's surface.
Now, I hover over... the absence of everything. There is no way to describe it, to approximate it against anything. I can't even compare it to the vast empty spaces between galaxies, where there is nothing but black. Relatively doesn't exist anymore.
The faster we flew the more the glitches occurred. Entire objects started to flicker rapidly and then disappear entirely. Even the ship's dog went missing.
There's no black here. No color. Just the absence... of everything.
We had no way to slow down. No gravity wells to aid us.
"Hello," I say, half in jest, half in hope. I feel my lips move and the familiar muscles of my throat and tongue flex and contract, but they produce no sound.
There is only silence. Only the absence of silence.
I look down at my legs. The nothing slowly consumes me until I am nothing but a floating head.
Images flash across my vision, random images that flicker and shimmer. Images that are alien and familiar, fleeting moments in which entire histories and futures occur.
A blinding crack opens in the absence, pondered by a brain with a pair of eyes. The crack forms the outline of a door, which then swings inwards on absent hinges, and the eyes are flooded with light. | At the beginning of the journey, the crew loved being able to look out and see space. The stars, asteroids, and planets they passed left in them in awe. They offered an escape from the claustrophobic cabins and tense relationships that formed after enough time away from earth.
The darkness of space was lonely, but it was better than nothing at all.
They were among the favorite pastimes until the day they kicked hyper-drive in. All the little objects that surrounded the ship became white lines and dots along the horizon. It was dizzying, and not everyone had the stomach for it. A brand new version of motion sickness that none of them really had a name for.
As the speed inched upward, the lines became jagged and the planets and suns looked distorted as they passed them.
“Captain, do you have a moment?” Catherine asked as she gave a polite knock on the open door.
“Yeah, come in,” he said without moving.
Catherine took the co-pilot seat and grimaced. Here there was no escape from it all. The distorted path of space rock and infinite horizons. It made her stomach lurch and clawed at the back of her mind. The view was the main reason she was visiting to begin with.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sir,” Catherine turned herself so her main focus was on him. She couldn’t stand to watch out the large front window of the ship for more than a moment.
“I’ve noticed,” he said, eyes focused forward with not even a glance in her direction.
“It’s not right out there. I think… We think,” she swallowed the words. Her nerves were inexplicably high, the tension on the ship was at an all-time high. No one felt quite like themselves.
“I’ve noticed, Catherine,” He tore himself away from the window and finally looked in her direction, making direct eye contact. “As the Capitan, I am very aware of our surroundings.”
“Of course, sir. We were just wondering if it might best to kick hyper-drive off. With all due respect, I don’t believe its in our best interest to continue on this way,” She swallowed the lump in her throat once more.
“With all due respect, Catherine, you can go tell the rest of the crew that I am in charge, and I will decide when we change speeds,” He turned back to the window, blocking her out of his vision.
She knew him well enough to know it was the end of it. He had made his decision, and even mutiny wouldn’t save them now. She stood and walked away from the cockpit and back toward her cabin. Her port was one of the few left open. Her stomach and mind were not always up for watching reality around their ship bend and wobble, but someone had to keep an eye out.
No more white lines or dots or asteroid belts passed by her when she watched this time. Large squares took up residence in the black space, and the far away black holes began to burn bright colors in the middle.
There was no way they made it out of this alive, but maybe that was for the better. If whole planets could become bricks, what would become of the soft humans who insisted on breaking all the rules?
/r/beezus_writes | 2019-03-06T08:06:56 | 2019-03-06T07:46:37 | 84 | 27 |
[WP] As a front for money laundering, a gang boss creates a day care. At first, he spent his time making sure he didn't go back to jail. Now? He's willing to do anything for these children and and the neighborhood mothers love him. | Elias sat across the from the well dressed man. The man held his gaze. It was an odd meeting. Two men who couldn’t be more different. But what made it weirder was that the man, Calvin Jackson, was not backing down. Not many people dared look Elias in the eye. Those that did, usually didn’t live long. But this was different. He had something that Elias wanted. No, it was what he needed.
“Look, let’s face it. You are not an educator.”
“So you say.”
“I do. And I have years of experience behind those words. So what’s the game?”
“No game. Years ago, it started off as something different. I will grant you that. But this is legit now. What you see is all real.”
“Do you have a set curriculum?”
“Robbie does the curriculum. He’s on vacation in Bahamas. Comes back in two weeks.”
Mr Jackson laughed. “That’s your biggest mistake right there. Teachers in our country can’t afford vacations in Bahamas.”
“I pay them well.”
“I know who you are. I have seen your picture in the papers. You know I can’t do it.”
“What would it take? Do you want money? Power? Tell me what you want?”
“I just want to do my job. And right now my job is to determine whether Bloor High deserves to be called a school and whether the city should allow it to run as such. And frankly things are looking bleak.”
“You’ve met the teachers. You know they are for real.”
“I also know that blackmail and extortion are areas you are well versed in.”
“Hey what did you just say to the boss?”
“Carl. Stop.” Elias held up a hand to the third man who had been silent till now. “Can you get me a glass of water please. Needs to be super cold. In fact, get a glass, put some ice in it and once it’s melted, bring it to me.”
“But boss, this punk...”
“Do as you are told Carl.”
If looks could kill, Mr Calvin Jackson would have been a dead man. But Carl didn’t argue and left the room leaving the two men alone.
“So far it has been attempted blackmail and threatening. Will I hit the assault marker and have a bingo I wonder?”
“Look Mr. Jackson. These kids need this. I will step down as headmaster. Put someone qualified in. That’s what your biggest complaint is right? That I am not an educator.”
“We know that whether or not you run this place, you will still be running this place. When it was a daycare, it was fine. But if it’s going to be a fully fledged school, which I don’t know how you got the approval for in the first place all those years ago, there need to be rules and standards. I cannot, in all honesty, believe that someone like you should have anything to do with the field of education.”
“So what now?”
“I am going to put in a recommendation to the city to shut this place down. The students will be transferred to the Springfield high school.”
“Springfield high.” Elias scoffed. “These kid’s are our future. Do you think that shithole can shape our future. Does it really deserve to?”
“Well you certainly don’t either. What grade did you pass? Did you even get to high school before dropping out?”
“I didn’t. Thanks to Springfield high. Where drugs and guns are more readily available than books.”
“And this place is better? You sell those guns and drugs.”
“None of that money goes here. This place is clean.”
“Doesn’t matter. You are still just a gangster. Someone like you who can barely do grade school mathematics running a school. What a joke!”
Elias looked like he would explode. His veins in his arms stood out as he clenched his fists. It took all his willpower to not take out his gun and just start shooting.
“It’s not about me. It’s about the kids. We do good by them.”
“Someone who didn’t value education as a student can hardly value other’s education. But you know what. I am prepared to give you a chance. Just one chance. How about this. You claim you have great teachers here. Why don’t you take a test? I will personally prepare an exam for you. I will personally conduct it. Right here. In three days. If you pass, this school passes. If you fail, my official recommendation will be to shut this place down. The exam will feature questions from all subjects taught here. What do you say?”
Calvin looked at Elias with a smirk. He held out his hand. “Deal?”
Elias looked uncertain. But this was the only way. And it was better than nothing. He shook the man’s hand. “Deal.”
*********
“I need to see the boss. It’s urgent. It’s about the Ramos gang.”
“Boss can’t see you right now.”
“Carlos. Man. It’s urgent. Elias’s life is in danger.”
“Bud, you interrupt him during calculus and it will be your life in danger. Whatever it is, it can wait for another day. He has a big exam tomorrow.”
***********
News of the big exam had spread all over the neighbourhood. Calvin was greeted by a chorus of boos by the neighborhood parents standing outside the school with ‘Good luck Elias’ boards.
He was a little taken aback but quickly got himself under control. A couple of people blocked the school entrance.
“Why are you doing this? We don’t want you here. Go back to your fancy city office and go bully someone else.”
“Pleas move. I need to get inside and start my preparations and checks.”
“Over my dead body.”
Calvin looked at the couple in shock.
A familiar face moved towards the trio.
“Gina. Ginelli. I need you guys to move.”
“What do you know about our life here you city punk. What Elias does for our kids, you’ll never understand. Why are we even doing this Carlos? Just send him back on his way.”
Carlos sighed. “My first suggestion was exactly that. Unfortunately as with everything else school related, boss wants everything above board. Alright move on guys. Let Mr Jackson in.”
The couple gave one last angry look to Calvin and reluctantly moved aside. Calvin ignored them and looked at Carlos. “I hope your boss is punctual. The exam begins in exactly fifty eight minutes now.”
“Yeah yeah. He’ll be here.” | "Okay Gavin, here we are." I pulled up to the curb, put my new M3 in neutral, and pulled the tab to set the brake with the engine running. I stepped out, went around back and got my four year old out of his car seat. My wife works early at the hospital, and my job as a mortgage broker doesn't start until nine, so I get some of the domestic duties which is fine by me. It's great to have time with the kiddo, time I wouldn't have if I were still in my old sales job.
"Have a good day at school, now." I said as I walked Gavin to the line waiting to enter the building. I saw [Kayla](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7yn2t4/wp_finally_the_ultimate_mmorpg_has_been_created/duipijq/) with her boyfriend's daughter; we both smiled and I regretted leaving the car running. I really am happily married, and she's in a good relationship as well; otherwise, well, I tried not to let my mind go there. Hell of a nice lady; [she's a cop with the sheriff's department here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8q14gy/wp_no_one_else_knows_but_weve_been_in_an/e0g7czf/), recently made detective. She goes into work around nine like me, now.
"Hey!" "Hey!" But as we exchanged greetings, Mr. Mario came walking along the line of kids, smiling ear to ear. He was the principal/head teacher here, a middle aged guy with a Chicago accent as thick as his mustache, who was nowhere near Chicago. He was simply awesome with kids, and as nice a guy as Kayla is a nice lady... But Kayla always frowned and tensed up around "Mr. Mario" as the kids called him. I had no idea why, but I was sure that if Sophia were her own kid there's no way in hell this guy would be teaching her. Some would have a prejudice against men in this profession, yet I got the impression that wasn't the issue here.
Gavin got in line, Sophia behind him; Gavin started talking to his friend Jamal in front of him. I got closer to Kayla, and lowered my voice. "What's up with Mario? Is there something about him...?"
Kayla's affect saddened. Also in a low voice, she said "The guy is phenomenal with kids, don't get me wrong. But this place isn't all it's cracked up to be. Well it is, but it's more than that. Hey, you, me, Natalie and Paul should get together on a Saturday again. Let's have a cookout, let the kids play; I can tell you all about Mario Scuderi then."
"Sounds great! This Saturday?"
"Yeah, that works. See you then!" Kayla walked back to her Chevy SS sedan (we also had a thing for cars in common), and I headed back to my idling Bimmer. She left first, as I responded to a text from my boss that she'd be in a little late that day. A loud Harley came right by me, pulling up to curb in front of my car as its rider quickly shut it off and put the kickstand down. Helmetless, he hopped off onto the grass and briskly approached a boy and his mother.
"That restraining order wasn't a suggestion, Bob."
"Donch you talk to me that way, you fuckin' cunt. I'm takin' Curt today."
"Like hell you are..." I noticed that Mr. Mario had already almost finished hurrying all of the other kids into the building. He closed the door behind him, and hurried faster than his nearly 300 pound frame would suggest he could do with ease, yet it certainly looked easy for him.
"Curtis, you go on inside." Mr. Mario said kindly. "You," he looked up to the tattooed brute, his tone still soft yet anything but friendly. "Why don't you just get outta here?" I definitely heard a danger in that voice that "Bob" should have heard as well...
...But this lovely specimen of humanity wasn't the brightest. "Mind yer own business, fuckball." He stepped towards the boy.
"I'm makin' this my business." Mr. Mario got between them.
"Oh. Oh, ho. You gettin' it on with my ex, wanna play it that way? Okay asshole, you fuckin' got it..." Bob's gun came out fast, but Mario drew even faster. **CRACK! CRACKCRACK!** I'll never forget the blood flying from Bob's chest, even more out the single exit wound in his back. I'll never forget his baby mama's shrieking. But I'll *definitely* never forget four year old Curt, watching his father likely dying with a look of calm and serenity on his face. Calm, serene, and... *Relieved?*
The red Chevy sedan with a Corvette engine roared back in our direction, up onto the grass, the engine dying as Kayla left it in gear as she exited with her own weapon drawn but pointed skyward. Her other hand was dialing her phone. "This is Deputy Murphy, I'm at Play and Learn Academy..." she rattled off the address. "...shooting, one WMA down, one WMA shooter on scene and cooperative." She shot Mr. Mario a look that said *you'd better be*. "Request medical and patrol units expedite." I heard sirens in the distance less than ten seconds later.
===
My wife Natalie, Kayla and I stood outside the hospital room, watching Bob, in his hospital gown and two full sleeves of tattoos, handcuffed to the bed, as he came awake and began to talk to the twenty-two year old corrections officer from the county jail who stood by his bed. "What? *WHAT?!* Fuck you asshole, that greaseball shot me, GET ME THE FUCK OUTTA HERE..." Kayla closed the door with an eye roll.
"The preschool's business isn't as good as its books make it look." Kayla explained. "It's a money laundering operation for the Outfit."
Mr. Mario walked up the hall just then, again faster than his girth suggested. "He doesn't sound happy," the preschool teacher, and apparently mobster chuckled in his meaty voice.
Kayla adopted a sassy tone, to mask her scorn. "Mister Scuderi here doesn't have any felony convictions, nor any domestic violence, and my department duly issued him a concealed carry permit. The lovely gentleman in there most certainly *does* have felony convictions, and another felony weapons charge against him just for having a gun at all... Which will be the first one the D.A. drops, of course."
The young looking woman I knew to be in her early thirties and on her second career paused, and turned both serious and sincere. "Paul was right, though. Our kids couldn't be safer. Thank you, Mario." She extended her hand. He took it, and Kayla then took him in a light embrace and planted a peck on his cheek. "I'll put your ass away if I have to, but if I ever have a kid of my own I want them in your class K through twelve."
We left the hospital, looking forward to our barbecue on Saturday, but I was honestly looking forward more to getting home and into the Nexus, where I'd think of my life with Natalie and Gavin in the early 21st Century as "the Nexus." Reality isn't always clear. | 2019-03-26T03:50:10 | 2019-03-26T03:43:02 | 177 | 52 |
[WP] Many real-world items come with minor enchantments, like "Better Frying Pan" (-10% burning chance), or "Old T-shirt" (+1 luck) but most people don't know about them. You're one of the exceptions, having just randomly bought the unique item "Sunglasses of Appraisal." | The day I bought them, I did so because I thought they looked neat and thought they'd work great with my Halloween costume, that's the truth of it. I didn't stumble upon them by an act of God, they didn't "choose me," or anything else really, I just thought they looked cool!
The arms and frames were a burnished bronze color, with an artificial patina applied across the entire surface area. The lenses themselves had a deep rosy, mirror finish to them, and they were thin and long, wrapping partway around your head themselves so that no errant beam of light could make it's way to your eyes without passing through them. Turns out, they were pretty miserable sunglasses and were soon replaced with another set, albeit without the special appraisal feature I grew to rely on.
Anyway, once I got home, I threw on the long, grey woolen trench coat with the brass buttons and deep, crimson liner, and put the glasses on to see how they'd look. As I looked in the mirror, I noticed some text over my jacket, reading "Coat of Minor Comfort," and a brief explanation of what exactly that was. It was a bit of a shocker, walking through my house and looking at everything I could to see if anything else was special, and finding that most items were some kind of special, though only barely. Blanket of Warmth, Bed of Greater Rest, Chair of Procrastination, Bookshelf of Knowledge, Knife of Sharpness, Wallet of Frivolous Spending, Welcome Mat of Hospitality, Underwear of Lesser Luck, and on and on it went. It, also, helped me understand why some things just never seemed to work the way they were intended, like the microwave. Apparently, I have a Microwave of Freezing, which explains why the center of my food is always still cold.
This lead to me immediately getting rid of a few things, such as the aforementioned microwave, and my Wallet of Greater Spending, which may explain why I was perpetually broke. Shopping, though, was an *experience*. Not only was I getting strange looks from everyone for wearing such gaudy sunglasses indoors, I was also frantically looking at everything, trying to find the best possible combination of items and enchantments. I admit, I may have gone overboard, but can you honestly say you wouldn't buy a Loofa of Cleanliness, or a Towel of Greater Absorption, or a Candle of Clairty, or a Shirt of Greater Appeal?! I mean really!
In my search, I became cynical and unappreciative, and greed began to take hold of me. My house was filled, top to bottom, with everything I had picked up. Just piles and piles of nick-knacks stacked floor to ceiling, toys, clothing, appliances, papers, books, and everything else under the Sun, everywhere. I, also, became paranoid that someone would learn of my secret and would take them away. I stopped leaving the house unless absolutely necessary, instead being content to sit with my treasures and take stock of them. Every day, as soon as I woke, I would check the safe for the glasses, to make sure they were still there, that no one had stolen them. I didn't wear them often by then, fearing that the longer they were out and about, the more likely I would lose them to something or someone.
All I needed was my things, my oh so special things, and nothing else. This proved to be the end of me, as I slowly began to succumb to starvation, I couldn't even bring myself to eat the food I bought, as it was all enchanted as well, and I absolutely could not leave, for fear of someone taking my things. Slowly, my body wore away, but I did not mind. I had all of the wonderful things I needed. All that mattered was that I could never lose them now. | I'd known something was wrong with the world for a while when it happened. It had started slowly, a sort of sense of *leakage,* a pressing-in on the spaces around me. I'm not the only one who felt it, there were lots of navel-gazing think-piece articles and talk-show sessions about how 2023 was the year of Peak Anxiety or Unease or whatever they decided to label it.
I didn't have an especially keen sense for this kind of thing, nothing like that. It's just that I was a laboratory scientist at the beginning of the whole thing. And not just any laboratory scientist, I was a chemist who still worked with a lot of the old traditional tools because of the unconventional nature of our work. Almost no machines, absolutely no automation. That matters, because this new thing...I'm going to call it the Aura Bloom, because why not...it only seems to affect certain things.
Pipettes, for example. Burets. Bunsen burners, but not hot plates, not if they had a computer chip in them. That seemed to be key, falling under a certain threshold of circuitry. Basically no car manufactured before about 1980 or so seemed to be affected, for example, and there weren't any especially good (or shitty) cell phones, unless they had a manufacturing defect or something.
And oh, right, the shittiness. Not everything with an Aura had a good one. I'd say something like one in five was basically cursed. Sometimes small stuff, sometimes not. Yep, that spatula you've got that always seems to ruin your eggs? Probably just throw it away.
At least two pieces of our lab equipment were cursed like this, and both of them were in my section. I'll spare you the details, unless you're real into the finer points of titration and precipitation, but it became very noticeable very fast. (I checked later, and sure enough there were plenty of beneficial Auras on our equipment, including a few that would probably have thrown off test results, like flasks that sped up chemical reactions, but since those tended to essentially get people results they really wanted to see, no one really noticed. The scientific method is badly infected with humans, which is why it's necessary in the first place.)
I did the usual cursing and blaming and eventually got mad enough at my colleagues' mockery that I set out to *prove* how bad the tools were.
I was right in the middle of these experiments and getting infuriatingly nowhere when I bought the sunglasses.
You might be hoping for some atmospheric story about how I went into this weird little shop and there was this knowing old man and he said a bunch of cryptic shit that totally made sense later and nope. It was a bored and borderline obnoxious teenager selling cheap plastic crap in a moderately touristy park near the lab. Because I'd forgotten my nice Ray-Bans. Yep. The Aura Bloom has no respect for narrative at all.
It's hard to explain what things looked like with the sunglasses on. I call it an "aura" but it's not really visible at all, as in it doesn't actually have a color or anything. It's more something you just sort of...perceive. Not like a videogame interface or bar graph or anything I could actually draw for you, if I were any good at drawing things. You just see it as a kind of...depth, contained within the item in question.
In the case of my *fucking* bunsen burner—sorry, just thinking about that thing still pisses me off—the aura actually caused a complete thermal reversal at random intervals. In other words, sometimes it burned cold. How did I not notice this? Well, that's the scary thing. Aura effects are intelligent, so it never happened unless the burner was actually in use. If you're testing the burner itself...nothing. Totally normal behavior.
Yes, of *course* they're intelligent, they pretty well have to be, don't they? How else can something make you "lucky," for example, than by knowing what would and wouldn't be a favorable outcome, which changes quite a bit with context, and then steering probability itself in that direction? I mean, drawing an ace is great when you've already got three of them in your hand, but not so much when you're holding a three, a five, a nine and a jack.
Sometimes I can see it. Or them. It's not clear. Again, it's not like a face or an eye or anything. Just sort of an...observation of an observer. You know you're being watched, you can tell there's something peering out from behind that strange depth. Perceiving. Knowing. Nudging things this way and that.
You ever hear laughter out on the periphery of your hearing? Probably you imagined it, right? That feeling that you're being watched, that's got to just be paranoia. Sure. Sure. That bed that seems to get you such restful sleep, you just love it so much, don't you? Enfolding you like it does. Almost whispering to you.
Sweet dreams.
​
Come on by r/Magleby for more elaborate lies. | 2019-06-29T21:40:12 | 2019-06-29T20:56:35 | 146 | 55 |
[WP] You are an ordinary human going about your day when you suddenly find yourself in hell. Looking down you see yourself standing on some crudely drawn symbols. A nearby demon child holds up some paper and says "Um...can you help me with my homework?" | Well... This was weird.
It was just sudden, I'm walking down the street with my pregnant wife, and *boom, I'm in hell*. I looked around, confused by the surrounding and the crude symbols drawn around me in a circle. I was confused, and kind of scared, but most importantly trying not to fall into the pit of lava that was behind me. All of a sudden I hear a small squeak. Looking down, I'm shocked to see a demon child wearing a posh suit and tie, with a badge on that reads 'The Little Devil's Academy.'
"Um...can you help me with my homework?" the imp asked, holding up a piece of paper with sacred symbols on the sheet, my eyes kind of burning at the sight of the sheet. "Homework? Hold on, slow down, I may a fan of Shane Dawson but I think you've gone too far at the moment. Where am I? This is hell, right?"
"Well, duh, you stupid bitch." he sighed, pointing to the entire realm. "I thought that would have been honest. Anyway let's cut to the chase." he said as he summoned a table and out his claws on the desk, like a businessman. This was so overwhelming.
"I've summoned you here because you're a teacher correct?" he said, and before giving me a chance to speak the boy continued. "Now, my teacher has told us that our assignment is to summon a human and do activities with them. And I thought that because you're a teacher too, we can easily blast through this homework." he said.
*I just cried*.
"J-Just let me go, p-please! I need to get home to my wife, a-and-"
The demon screeched, nearly making my ears bleed. "Enough! You help me, I erase your memory of this, and... I can put in a good word for you when you die. I'm a straight-&@!% student, and I really need your help, please..." he sighed, looking down.
I sighed, wiping my tears away and trying to pick up my emotions again. "Alright. Let's get on with it."
And so a day of suprisingly entertaining events happened down in hell with me and the demon child. He was called... Well, it was hard to pronounce, but I found out much more about him. His parents were called gatherers, which meant that they were basically the demons that you see in people's shoulders in comical TV shows and movies. He himself aspired to be a gateway greeter, a very important role. Whenever someone came to hell he would have to decide what they had to do with him.
We did many things, like a spelling bee, mathematics, and that science experiment when you put mentos in diet coke. Unfortunately he thought I said mentors and started to find tutors from the overworld in the big book of humans that they had. That was hell of an experiment - no pun intended.
Once we finished, he took me back to the ritual centre. I gave the little man a hug, kind of feeling like a did a good deed, even if it was for a demon. He smiled. "See you when you die, pal." he said and all of a sudden I was back with my wife, walking down the street. However, I suddenly feel more confident in myself, and prepared for the baby that me and my wife were soon going to have.
(Hope whoever read this enjoyed it! It was quite fun to write and it was a good prompt. I know it was a short *short* story but I still enjoyed.) | The slow rocking back and forth, back and forth, was beckoning me to sleep; around the time I was tall enough to reach the metal bars overhead was when I achieved the near-mythical status of a standing sleeper. My hand was loosely grasping said bar, the tension of my fingers hooked around it providing most of the tension needed to remain vertical. My bicep made a decent pillow, and I had grown used to the occasional screech of the breaks as the train stopped at each station.
What I hadn't grown used to was the feeling of the bar suddenly vanishing from beneath my fingers, the floor giving way, and gravity yanking me downward into a free fall that left me stumbling and crashing into a wall. Or what I thought was a wall. It felt like a wall.
But there was no wall, or people, when I opened my eyes. There was just a crude stone room with similarly crude-stone furniture, dimly lit by a small orange flame whose source I traced back to... a child?
They had four yellow eyes, two where I'd expect them, and two a little higher up and closer to their temples, with small pupils. A crown of black nubs extruded from their head which were barely noticeable beneath the messy, writhing mass of tentacles that made up what I assumed to be their hair. Their skin was ashen and covered by torn leather that had been burnt in places, including a belt whose clasps appeared to be a pair of hopefully-not-really-human hands. Their legs were more animal in shape, something closer to a deer than a human, and a tail that split into six spades waved sinuously behind them. In one hand they held a small flame, and in the other, a piece of paper.
"Um... can you help me with my homework?"
Everything in me urged me to escape, but I was met by that wall I could not see once again. My eyes fell down to symbols made with the shaky uncertainty of a eight year old. My escalating fear brought pain, as the permeating smell of rotten eggs hit me, carried along air thick-as-smoke. Coughing made it worse.
The child moved a little closer, but did not approach within reach. If they had, I'm not sure what I'd have done. "Did I draw it wrong? You're here... I thought I did it right. I used my Daddy's book."
"Send me back," I managed to hoarsely struggle out.
"Please help me with my homework? I will send you back after!"
"I can't breathe... please," I begged. I didn't know how long I had before my lungs gave way. Perhaps it was the newness of the pain that made me feel like it could be any second. Once, I had scoffed at my brother's habit of shielding his son from our parents' smoking habits. If I made it through this, I owed him an apology.
My eyes traced over to the paper the child held. I couldn't read it. Maybe I could and it was just the lack of oxygen getting to me. "Can you help me? I need to write what humans think is good, and you are a human!"
Maybe I was asleep. Maybe this was a nightmare. But if this was a nightmare or real, either way, perhaps the child would send me back if I helped or I'd wake up. "... humans... have lots of ideas on what they think is good, but many more ideas on what is bad... what is good... is to help those who need it... to help those less fortunate than yourself... to wish good for others..." I felt my consciousness fading once again. "... to seek out..."
Darkness consumed me, and I gasped for air. The sound of rapid beeping filled my ears as my eyes opened. I saw doctors around me, I heard my mother shouting something. Things went dark again.
That was a month ago; now, I'm back to work, taking that terrible commute again and remembering that weird... dream. I had stopped breathing on the train and had developed asthma of my own, and apologized to my brother over and over for my behavior and thoughts regarding his son's ailment. I lifted my eyes towards the window in the train, seeing my reflection and that of those around me thanks to the darkness of the tunnel we were in. For a moment, the lights flicked out, and then back on. I saw what I thought was an older version of that child in the window's reflection, grinning charmingly at me. They leaned in and blew on the window, creating a mist that they wrote on with one long finger with an extra knuckle:
Thank you for helping my child.
I owe you.
The lights flickered out, and came back on normally again, and there was no writing or mist; only my wide-eyed expression staring back at me. | 2019-09-17T12:52:01 | 2019-09-17T12:23:24 | 45 | 19 |
[WP] While most races in the galaxy use the infinite energy of primal magic there is one known world devoid of it . There the inhabitants practice dark magic, using the corpses of long dead organisms, dangerous eldritch energies from strange rocks and various other means to enslave lightning | *Don't you respect the dead at all?*
The alien politician was furious. To their people, respecting the dead was a big deal, far bigger than it is to humans. And when they understood just what exactly "fossil fuel" meant, they called for an immediate ban for it on a galactic scale. The human ambassador remained calm, the debate was as heated as he imagined it would be and he couldn't let himself be carried away.
"We simply value the living over the dead, that's it."
Another alien grunted, shifted its weight on his chair and rose to speak.
"You do know there's a cleaner, more respectful alternative, right? Simply use magic, the council is willing to help your kind with setting the system up."
The ambassador replied;
"Our kind doesn't have mages, and in any case, we consider magic to be highly unethical."
The ambassador's words irritated the aliens. Many of them started to speak out of turn, shout even. The human challenged their tradition, called it unethical, while using the bodies of the dead to power its mechanisms. The arrogance, the audacity of this human was insulting, infuriating. Among the furious, shouting crowd there was one who remained calm. He rose to speak, and asked the human one simple question;
"Why do your people think our magic is unethical?"
The ambassador rose to answer;
"I'm sure your kind, an interstellar people, know of the law of conservation of energy. Energy, as it is, cannot be created nor destroyed, it can only be transformed."
He paused for effect.
"Prior to our meeting with your kind, we thought this was the absolute truth. You can imagine our surprise when we were informed that the infinite energy magic was an exception to what we thought to be a law of the universe.
But ours is a curious people, we wanted to know how your magic works. We observed it, analyzed it, studied it. Although we still can't perform magic ourselves, we now have a very clear understanding of how it works.
The first thing we found when we studied magic was the proof of existence for "souls". Our studies on magic confirm all living beings possess an innate supply of energy, the type of which was undetectable without the use of magic. The amount of this energy is directly proportional to the creature's level of consciousness.
The second thing we found out was that if you were to somehow lessen the energy of a soul, the creature will fall unconscious, and in the event of depletion, it will die.
The third and the final finding was that 'magic' is just a way to transform this soul energy into other types of energy. We assume this is the reason why most mages fail to live up to your kind's life expectancy.
You can now hopefully see why my kind absolutely refuses to use magic, to tap into one's living force if you will. If we have to use the bodies of thousands dead to save one that's alive, we will. As I said before,
*We simply value the living over the dead.*" |
The room fell silent. Most elders felt a distinct uneasiness from what they had just heard. The younger of us were rather surprised than shocked.
As strange as it was to encounter a new race in the galaxy so well charted by our departed elders, it was ever stranger that the inhabitants of this world didn't use conventional energy sources. In fact the more we dwelled into their way of life, the more it became clear that they don't even know how to use the fabric of cosmic energies. What baffled most was that the level of evolutionary growth was well beyond some of the more primitive races who knew and regularly used the cosmic energy fabric.
Zaltor, the oldest elder, asked the explorer, Moghlash, to elaborate what he just found. I suspect, deep within, Zaltor had suspected to find such a world someday. But that’s something I may never know.
“His Grace, Zaltor the Great, the System 0375-1S3R9P in the First Quadrant of Milky Way inhabits hundreds and thousands of species of creatures. It is unlike any other world we have come across till date, which almost always have only 2-3 species of creatures. They…”
“No, No, tell me more about the dominant species and their ways” waving a limb as if dismissing what Moghlash was about to say.
“Well, His Grace Zaltor the Great, they don’t use energy fabric as we do. They don’t call upon the cosmos to provide for their energy needs. Instead, they try to, for lack of a better explanation, use some form of black magic to ‘create’ energy they need. They suck energy from their dead elders. And in the process destroy their remains completely.”
“But don’t they care for their elders?” said Zaltor with a frown
“It wouldn’t appear so, His Grace, many of them use their elders in what appears to be mini chambers. They sit inside these chambers and use their black magic to move from one place to another”, Moghlash was already looking down as if he himself had committed a crime of not caring for the elders.
“Tell me more” ordered Zaltor.
“His Grace, Zaltor the Great, they also often use strange rocks for their energy needs. I have brought a sample of these rocks with me. I could not imagine bringing their elders though” Moghlash raised his hand to reveal a capsule containing the rock. Of course, no one knew what would happen if such rock were to be touched, so Moghlash had, as standard protocol required, used a class D capsule to collect the alien sample. It was the darkest black material anyone in the room had seen. I was not sure any elders had seen such a rock ever in their life, for all of them were at the edge of their seats, some were even standing to get a better look at this alien rock.
“There is more rock like this on that world than we can imagine. They put these into large chambers, and using some black magic, they suck all the energy out of these.”
“So you are telling me, that they do not know teleportation? That they move from one place to another in chambers? And that they get their energy by destroying elders and this black rock?” asked astonished Zaltor.
“Yes, His Grace” replied Moghlash.
"But how do they know so much about black magic? And how do they not know anything about the cosmic energy fabric?" Asked curious Zaltor.
"His Grace, Zaltor the great, they have few members of their race who have dedicated their lives to producing energy like this. They can summon lightning at any time using their contraptions." Said Moghlash almost with a sense of respect, and then added "They are all so obsessed with black magic that those among them who perform real magic, although a very weak form, are treated like cheats"
"I should like us to learn more about their black magic. Send a fleet of craft to this system and ask our spys to use the cloaker spell to make them look like those creatures. What do they call themselves anyway?" Said Zaltor.
"Humans, His Grace" said Moghlash.
| 2020-01-17T07:15:13 | 2020-01-17T07:02:31 | 503 | 113 |
[WP] Someone once told you that those who do not seek power are the best suited to hold it, and as you look down at the ravenous hordes under your command, you find yourself agreeing with the sentiment. | "Beautiful, aren't they?"
From a distance, perhaps. Like rolling fields of wheat, their armor glistened in the sun. Like the thunder of the gods themselves when they chanted my name and thumped their shields.
But here, beside them, close enough that I could smell their sweat? No. Terrifying, yes. But beautiful? No.
He noticed my hesitation. "If not this, then what is it you seek? Men would sacrifice everything to be where you stand yet you..."
"Scorn it. You can say it. I won't take offense."
"Aye. Scorn it. Why?"
I looked at him, sitting tall and proud atop his brown stallion. His armor shone like the heavens themselves, immaculate as an autumn leaf drifting down to its new home. Men like him hungered for the power, they hungered to sit atop my horse, to lead my armies, to conquer the lands I'd conquered.
But me?
"Destiny has her way with us. We're her whores, so she pays her dues. Mine are this and yours are that," I said, pointing at my armor and then at his. "She doesn't stop to ask what the whore wants. What the whore is searching for in life. This is all one big brothel, we'll all get fucked."
His face soured as I spoke, he spat, shook his head. "You sound like a traitor."
"I'm no traitor, my friend. I'm tired. I've fought my whole life, did everything destiny required of me."
"And she's paid you handsomely. You have a wife. Many children. A house to rival ancient palaces. Servants as numbered as this army. What more could you want."
And so I pointed past the armies that trampled fields underfoot. They left in their paths carnage, both of the land and of the people, and marched on without another thought. Forwards, backwards, wherever I commanded.
Ahead, past those rolling fields and across the stream to that quaint village atop the hill that sat right beyond our furthest border. One foot over that river meant war. I didn't want war. I never did, damned be the gods that made me good at it.
"I want that," I said, pointing at the farmer looking at us from behind his oxen. There was no more field to sow; come summer there'd be no field to harvest. Fifty-thousand boots had ensured that.
"A pair of oxen? I'll buy them for you if you'll stop with your misery."
I chuckled, because a man like him couldn't comprehend what I truly wanted. "Not the oxen, my foolish friend. I want what that man has. A peaceful life, where I kill nothing but pests. I want a home where I can wake up and see the hills, a field where I can walk and not have to wonder whose crops I trample. I want the sound of the wind, not the sound of sword on sword or chanting men. I want a life where my children can grow up with their father, and I can grow old with my wife and die in her arms, not in yours."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | Ambition can be good. It can lead to many capable and diligent people rising to power in order to change things, to improve the system, to fix the mistakes. It can lead people to become the best that they can ever be. But ambition to merely have power for the sake of having power, well, that's not quite a good thing. Never leads to anything but misery and corruption. But someone who takes power not for themselves, but to do a specific task, often are great leaders and talented administrators. It is said, and was once said to me by a dear friend, that those who do not seek power are the ones best suited to hold it.
I have to agree with that sentiment. All I ever really wanted was to protect our village. I didn't want any power, beyond that to keep the bandits away. Yet one thing led to another, and now, well, I'm looking down from a clifftop onto my loyal horde of ravenous and bloodthirsty warriors. They are truly beyond counting. And from every race they hail. From wild and proud centaurs, to cunning and adaptable humans, from brutish and strong orcs, to the dangerous and capricious wild elves. Every last one of them follows me. Most of them worship me like I am the god of war. And considering how faith works, I may very well be slowly usurping that position from the previous guy.
It started out simple enough. Constructing good defences for the village, and training a militia. After we beat the bandits, we took in those who surrendered or were wounded, and integrated them into our militia and our village. And over time this sort of snowballed. Soon I had to elect lieutenants to oversee the defence. Soon I had to expand the walls of the village to protect the newcomers. Then I had to make new villages because my home was becoming too big to feed itself, and those villages needed defences, and so on. Eventually my village was a mighty city, and we were somehow in open rebellion against the king, who saw us as too strong, too big.
So I had to protect my people, expand the army, build forts, siege enemy-held positions, and eventually I just sort of took over the entire kingdom, marrying one of his daughters, who wasn't against the idea. She didn't seem to like the concept of having to marry some inbred cousin. I would have married a son of his, but since they were dead, and kind of stupid anyway, I had to marry the princess in order to solidify my rule as Queen. And besides, she was rather cute.
But this upset in the delicate balance of power led to the kingdom being invaded from multiple different places, so I had to organise my army to defend the kingdom, along the way recruiting countless tribes, villagers, townsfolk, and those who disliked their rulers in foreign lands, and turned them into a truly gigantic army. Eventually, as I conquered the immediate neighbouring states, I was attacked once again, this time by the elder races. And to protect my people from the fury of the elves, I had to enter their forests and stop their attacks at the source, which I did. The dwarves surrendered soon after that, and the dragons swore their fealty to my grand empire.
I did of course not intend this, and if I had been allowed a few years of not being constantly attacked, I would have retired back home to live a peaceful life. But as I, and the people I protected, were always under constant attack, we sort of didn't stop until the entire continent was under my command. And then the Gods themselves sent forces to assault us from the other continents.
So now I watch from a clifftop, my many generals and my beautiful wife by my side, as my army is loaded onto the brand new fleets, to be transported across the oceans, so that the nations on the other continents may be brought under my rule, and their attacks on the people I have sworn to defend will cease. But I am not really going to kid myself, this probably won't end until the world itself is in the palm of my hand, and our mages open gates to assault the very abode of the Gods themselves.
And I definitely did not want to become the Empress of the world. I really just wanted to work and live in my little village, without the threat of bandits or wild beasts. Things just got a little out of hand is all.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | 2020-05-01T05:41:29 | 2020-05-01T05:24:03 | 85 | 27 |
[WP] You’re a blacksmith and a woman you’ve never seen before walks into your shop, asking for a blade. She stops by daily to check on it’s progress, and you form a bond over time, until one day she disappears. You’re afraid you’ll never see her again, until you're summoned to the castle. | Part 1
As I wake up in the morning, the rooster crowing from the fields nearby, I wear my garments, wipe my face from the sweat of the night prior - swear, I should limit my drink - and grab my tools. Before I even get to fasten my belt, I hear a knock at the door. Three light raps. *Ah, it's her again. Good lords...* I smirk as I quickly get dressed, and hastily throwing in tinder to the fire, before opening the door for the day. And lo and behold, the woman is here today, as reticent and gracious as usual.
"Hello madam! Yes, the second blade is coming along fine, but still needs some forming an' then sharpening. The third is still being form'd. Feel free t' peruse, I'll get the forge lit." The woman bows her head in thanks, and with her green eyes seeing my soot- and ale-smelling face, she chuckles under her hood and walks in to browse the armors. I hop over my store counter and without hesitation, I get the forge up and running to get on with her order among others.
It was a shock receiving her tall order a few weeks prior: A bastard sword, a hunting dagger with as long as my hand, and of all things, a *zweihander* of the best fighting quality I can make it, to the size of young soldiers. I asked her before what coin she had brought for this order, and tossed a bag of 600 on my counter. Usually my swords go for 100 apiece - this is *much* more than needed, but she insisted that the money go to the quality of the blades. I didn't complain - I supposed it was to be a gift of sorts for a knight or two. As for the money - I've seen youngsters carrying more, in place their merchant parents, so I shrugged her off as yet another trader.
Since then, she has been in my store everyday for the last few weeks, for hours at a time. I've offered her warm cider as she stayed in my lone smithy during the cold mornings of the spring, and even through the hot afternoons, she wore her disheveled hood and cloak tight, asking for water instead of taking the damned thing off.
Soon enough, she starts to leave, waving at me to let her know. Before she does, I call out to her: "Before you go, let me give you something!" I take a rounded pommel from my shelves, the one for the zweihander, and hand the pommel over to her. "The pommel is for the third blade, but since it will be some time before I get it ready, I-I figured you should 'ave it for the time being." She inspects it, spotting my forge's marking at the bottom, and bows her head. Before stepping out, I hear her weakly say, "Th-thank you, sir," before walking out into the fields.
​
It's been a month, and all three blades have been shaped and sharpened. But, I have not seen her for a while, which has made me restless. In the darkest hours of the morning, I polish the dagger under the candlelight, expecting her return. Soon came the clanking of armor.
I look up to see the familiar shape of my drinking partner and patrolman Grant from the shadows. Reaching for the jug of ale I keep under my counter, Grant raises a hand as he walks in to the counter. "No, Terr, I'm not here for that." His voice is gruff as usual, but has a bit of coldness to it - something I've not heard in a while. Grant continues, "You are requested by the King post-haste. Bring any tools you can." He leans over to whisper, "And bring the weapons you're polishing too." | Once upon a time in a far off kingdom there worked a blacksmith named Alvin. Alvin had curly brown hair broad shoulders, and was well-liked by everyone in the town. Small boys would often visit at his forge, which he’d owned for four years, and watch him swing his enormous hammer rhythmically against the red hot steel.
“How did you get so strong?” they’d ask.
“I put my blood, sweat, and tears into my work and I practice every day,” Alvin would respond. “You can do anything you want if you work hard enough at it.”
The boys would watch for a while and then leave, and when Alvin finished his work for the day he would close up, go home, and rest well. Every day passed much the same, and Alvin was happy.
One day a woman came to see Alvin at his forge. She wore a dark green cloak and kept the hood on even though it was hot inside. She placed a gleaming bar of steel on the counter.
“Master Alvin, I want you to make me a longsword, and I want the blade to be made from his bar of steel,” she said. Her voice was raspy, and even though she was polite, Alvin didn’t like listening to it.
“I’m sorry Miss, but I’m afraid it’s just Alvin. I haven’t completed a masterwork piece yet, so I haven’t earned the title. I can make your sword for you, but I’m afraid I have a lot of work to do, and it will be a few days before I can get started.”
“That’s no problem,” she said. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
But the woman didn’t come back tomorrow; she came back that afternoon and stood with the small village boys and watched Alvin work. When they left, so did she, and Alvin went home and rested the same as any other day. The next day the woman returned and again watched for a while with the boys.
“Can you start my sword today, blacksmith?” she asked. But he could not, as he still had other work to do. For five days the woman appeared with the village boys, and for five days she asked the same question. Alvin continued to work, unbothered by her presence but curious about her persistence. He tried to peak into the hood, but she always moved to hide her face.
On the seventh day the woman came early. “I’m ready to start your sword today, Miss,” he said. Alvin took the steel to the coals and heated it white hot. He pounded on it with his enormous hammer and shaped the blade carefully. He put his full focus into his work, and so he did not see the woman walk up beside him. He did not see her take a small vial from her belt and pour its contents into the quenching liquid, nor the second vial, nor the third. He continued to work the metal with his heavy strokes until he was satisfied with the blade.
Alvin held the red hot blade carefully with large metal tongs and thrust it quickly into the quenching liquid. He expected a hiss, but was met with silence. Bewildered, he slowly removed the blade, and his eyes widened in shock. Whereas the metal should have been the color of tarnished silver, this blade was stark white! It glowed, but not from being hot, for hadn’t he just quenched it? Alvin carefully checked his work, only then noticing the woman standing right behind him.
“It’s beautiful,” her raspy voice said haltingly. Was she crying? “It’s everything I had hoped for.”
Alvin got to work on the hilt and grip. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I’ve been working metal for years and I’ve never seen a piece do that. Was there something special about the steel you gave me?”
“Not the steel,” she said. “You tell those boys every day that you can do anything if you put your blood, sweat, and tears into your work. Anyone watching you forge a blade can see that you believe it, but not in the right way. I gave you a little help today, Master blacksmith. It doesn’t have to be your own blood, sweat, and tears that you add.”
With that last word the woman pulled back her hood. Her face was terribly disfigured, pockmarks and scars marring her cheeks, nose, and neck.
“I need that sword, you see,” she continued, lifting the now finished sword. She took a few swings, and as it parted the air it seemed to sing. “The village boys say the caves at the edge of town are haunted, and beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
​
(This is my first time writing a short story, so please be fair with your feedback. I know I can't compete with the regulars who post here, but I would like to someday. I also realize I didn't include a summons to the castle, but I felt like my story didn't need it. Sorry if that's breaking the rules.) | 2020-08-05T09:38:02 | 2020-08-05T09:05:22 | 33 | 20 |
[WP] when the aliens attacked they thought that humanity was weak, we do not do many of the things that they themselves did to our enemies. But it was only during the assault that they learned soldiers have rules, but civilians don't. | They watched from afar.
They observed how we fought.
They laughed at our rules.
They attacked in overwhelming force.
Bad move Xenos.
Bad, bad move.
"Sir, the south line is breaking!"
"Send in the reserves."
"Already sent, Sir. Including the emergency reserve."
"*damn it!*" *sigh* "Release the irregulars; ROE ZULU is now in effect."
**Rules Of Engagement ZULU:**
1. No CBN.
2. No UCMJ.
3. No Federal Law w.r.t. Xenos.
4. Win, ***at all costs.***
The aliens figured us for pushovers because there were things we would not do in war. They knew this but never bothered to find out *why*.
They should have read Kipling. They should have read the history of Tamerlane. They should have, but they didn't. Now, they're going to find out the hard way.
You see, as soldiers, we learn what is not allowed, so we don't do it. Civilians, without those trained in limits, are far more creative, and bloody-minded, than we can ever be.
No, I'm not going to give you a blow by blow. Too many are just too sick to consider. I think the least offensive we're those perpetrated by the local medical/biology dissection classes. They had the psychology students advising them on horror—cinematography handling visuals. A couple of professional writers of horror and gore took one look, barfed, and said that they were giving up horror. Humans already have all the horror needed inside themselves.
They did have one problem. How to get your hands on an intact specimen? The deceased that way because someone has blown a large hole through them. So they captured them alive.
At first, they killed them humanely. By the end, you could hear the screams for days. The worst of the lot was one that they'd doped up, so he was giggling through the entire process.
The pranksters took over then. Moving the spread eagle exploded diagram of their internal organs into position for ease of viewing. Torso included for reference.
We never did figure out how the students were moving the displays. No, we never did, despite knowing exactly where they were going to set up. We did put snipers in with very explicit instructions. "Shoot to maim." The snipers did that for one day, then informed their officers that the next one who gave that order would be terminated with prejudice. There are some things no soldier will do.
So they told the civilian hunters to get out their best, and "Shoot to maim." It was sickening. They went after the cooks, medics, supply drivers, anyone in support fields. But if an officer came into view? They acted like honey badgers and attacked the most vulnerable and painful point they could.
In the end, the Xenos sued for surrender to the "peaceful troops who keep the civilians in line."
((finis)) | When the Aliens had first landed the leaders of every nation tried to negotiate peace with them. The Aliens ignored every attempt at communication and answered by destroying every nations Capitol City and seat of power.
The next line of defence of each nation was the Army, Air Force and Navy. They met the Aliens in a head on assault and were decimated.
Before the internet failed the population watched with growing horror as the armed forces fell. They watched their soldiers fight honourably and die, while the Aliens killed indiscriminately. They killed those wearing the Red cross, the Red Crescent and the Red Crystal. They killed those waving the white flag of surrender. They killed those with their hand up in surrender. They killed the unarmed. They killed Women and children.
“Do you remember the plan?” She gripped the walking stick tighter in her hand.
“Marjorie, are you sure this is a good idea. We should just surrender. I’m sure they won’t hurt us.” Marjorie whipped her head round to face Dorothy.
“Did you watch anything on the internet? They don’t take prisoners, they only slaughter. My whole family is gone, they took my Son, they took my Daughter, they took my Grandchildren. I know I’m only one old Lady and I’m going to die today, but I’m going to take as many of them with me as I can”.
“You know I don’t like new fangled things, nothing good has ever come from the Internet thingy. I bet if we didn’t have the internet those Aliens would have left us alone.” Marjorie rolled her eyes upwards silently asking for strength not to clobber Dorothy before the Aliens got to them.
“The internet is not new-fangled, how many times have I explained it to you. We’ve had it for 20 years.”
“Well, I don’t like it” Dorothy crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.
“That’s great, you don’t have to like it. It doesn’t actually alter the fact that we are sitting in a crappy nursing home waiting for something that resembles a Christmas tree with legs to arrive and slaughter us all.” They both jumped as they heard the door to the Nursing home slam open. They turned and shuffled as fast as they could back to the games room. Marjorie had decided it would be the easiest to defend so had gathered all the residents there.
The residents all stood as straight as they could waiting for the Alien to enter the room, in some cases they sat as their legs were too frail to hold them anymore. They waited until the Alien entered and fell on it like a very slow-moving hoard. They used Zimmer frames to keep it boxed in, every time it tried to raise it’s weapon it was hit away with a walking stick. It spun in circles trying to get space to get the weapon into firing position, but every direction it faced a walking stick was waiting.
Marjorie felt like a red mist descended over her eyes, as she swung her walking stick again and again.
“Help me” the Alien broadcast back to its ship.
“What is your situation?” The Alien on duty in the ship was quick to reply.
“Help me, the Native lifeform have me surrounded. You told me they would offer no resistance” The Duty Alien chuckled to themselves before replying.
“Analysis of past behaviour has shown they will surrender at a show of superior strength and wait to be vaporised. So use your weapon, you are only on clean-up duty, we scanned this building they have no weapons. Vaporise the natives and carry on with your sweep” The Alien on the ship left the channel open waiting to hear confirmation of the vaporisation of the Natives.
While they were waiting the communication board in front of them lit up. Every member of the clean-up crew was broadcasting trying to get in contact with the ship.
The Alien skipped from channel to channel, every message was the same.
“Help, they won’t surrender”
“Surrounded, I’ve vaporised 2 but they’re not stopping”
“Help, I need backup, they’ve taken my weapon and are still attacking me.”
“Help, they are not behaving as anticipated”
They closed all channels to the ground and opened one to the commander on the ship.
“Sir, we have a problem, the natives are breaking their own rules.” | 2020-08-29T06:14:30 | 2020-08-29T05:53:36 | 83 | 52 |
[WP] You're the most powerful villian in the world. Formerly. Now you run a bar, that works as a neutral zone for heros and Villians alike. One day, a hotshot hero tries to arrest you. | ‘You don’t want to do this, kid.’ I leaned over and gently whispered, trying to avoid what was to come.
Bright-eyed, full of confidence, pepped up by the same propaganda that had sent hundreds like him to a similar fate, I’d seen his type come and go so many times before.
‘Ha! I eat heroes like you for breakfast’. Mike, one of my regulars, laughed at the kid. He’d had a few too many, little drops of beer fell from his beard as he sprayed droplets towards us. But he kept to the rules.
The kid ignored Mike. He barely flinched. But he did.
‘In the name of the king and lord of the land I arrest you for high treason’ he announced.
These heroes thought they knew right from wrong and had all the authority to do what they want. One short little burst of ‘classes’ from the heroes’ guild and they thought it was all a game. But he was still just a kid. I didn’t want to do it but it was now down to him.
‘Kid, this is a neutral zone. You can’t do this here’ I tried.
‘Honour and duty know no bounds’. It was one of the guild’s mottos. Not the best, but you could see the kid’s chest swell with pride as he recited it.
I sighed.
‘Very well, why don’t you arrest me in the back. We’ll go out that way. We don’t want to start a brawl, right? For an old man’s sake, let’s not make this too public.’
The kid lowered his sword ever so slightly as he followed me, never more than two feet away. I noticed the little tremble in his hand as I pushed the door to the back room.
‘Are you sure you wanna do this?’ I tried one last time. The kid let his nerves show a bit more. His voice wasn’t quite so confident, but he managed to get it out. ‘You cannot escape justice’ he parroted.
‘Very well...’
I turned the lights off as a courtesy. No one should see it coming. No one should see the horror I had become.
His body was now slumped on the floor. His heroes’ pin the only thing left shining on him. ‘Such a waste’ I said under my breath. And hoisted his lifeless corpse onto the counter, ready for processing.
I cleaned myself up, put on a new apron, and came back out to the bar. There was an uneasy moment as the few who had been there long enough looked over and were silent for a minute, taking in what they knew had happened.
Gradually, one by one, they returned to their conversations though.
‘What can I get you?’ I asked a customer. A mid-sized orc, seemed to be from the western plain. ‘How fast will your Hero Burger be back in stock?’ He asked.
‘Tomorrow morning’ I replied. | "Please stand up, and turn around"
"You know, I can really empa-"
"Under orders of the United League I have the right to bring you to a fair trial. Once again, please turn aro-"
"Under orders of the United League I have a right to a prepared speech so please, let me speak. Have a drink for your trouble."
A foamy pint slides across the counter to the hero. He catches it in a moment, only to realize his mistake and push it back some inches. Lips pursed, his training silences him. He sits down.
"Now, I can really empathize with you, you know? I've spent a long time bringing things down. It's probably why I got so far. If you're a villain that builds stuff what you're gonna get is backlash. If you wanna remove something, all you need to know are reasons to hate it, and there's a lot of hate in this world. Most of these guys have a sob story. 'Superperson X destroyed my house, the League doesn't cover my community' but if I'm being real honest, I don't have anything like that, not even a dumb one like 'I hate X people'. I was just a villain, committed to the process."
The hero squints through his mask, lifts it up, and takes a sip.
"A villain just needs to be a villain, against the heroes. The reverse is true too, actually. Have you ever heard speeches from that big boss of yours? Most of the heroes in this establishment talk about shit like expanding League coverage or bringing in heroes from poor communities. What do I hear from that screen on the wall? 'We believe in justice'. Now that's not exactly a plan. I'm not saying it's nothing, just that he's not saying is what I'm hearing, and that's the secret to getting big. I never said anything even like 'I hate the League' 'cause some of the guys I worked with might've been that complex."
"You believed in bombing hq." The hero shifts back into his chair and throws back his glass.
"Well that's the thing. You can't really say nothing because you end up meaning everything. Did I say, 'I support the idea to bomb the League headquarters'? No. Did I understand that my words meant 'go blow it up this Sunday, there will be a lack of staff due to a period of low crime' when a few key henchmen heard it in the context of me saying it? Of course I did. I meant it that way too. People up and down Metro city chanted 'she's not saying anything' but what they meant was 'I don't get it'. If you've got a superpower like being thoughtful, you can do the math. A point of debate in my circle was whether or not we should have a hq, and I understood that a couple of these guys wanted to put the League on our level. I also understood that my words didn't actually communicate conspiracy, if you weren't listening with context. You can always disagree on context."
"And this is the part where I let you go?" An eyebrow raises while he grabs another glass.
"Well, here's the thing about human beings, they tend to believe in things. When I started to believe things, people started to realize I meant things. Long story short, nowadays I think building is worthwhile. When the heroes gather here, they make plans to put money into villainous communities. When the villains gather here, they make plans to distribute stolen medicine. Maybe you don't like that I'm insinuating villains and heroes are equal, but here you don't need to ignore my insinuations, and I could give you a clearer response. Here is a place where you can make a real plan, and considering that you're on your third drink, I get the feeling you want to make a difference."
The hero puts his mask back on and furrows his fabric. "If you're gonna run a place like this you really oughta get your business with the League sorted"
"Yup"
The hero scans the bar to see a group of heroes, makes an introduction, and leaves me alone for the rest of the night. | 2020-10-09T21:44:58 | 2020-10-09T21:08:05 | 656 | 111 |
[WP] One morning everyone in the world wakes up in their 18-year old body, memories intact. Society tries to continue as normal despite the change, but a world full of energetic adolescents certainly has its quirks. | I have always imagined what the world would be like if everyone was a kid, running on a sugar rush with no worries or troubles to think about.
Now if the world was full of hormone-galore 18 year old kids, that would be a much more different scenario.
And that is exactly what had happened.
It started about two months ago. I woke up and swung my legs over my bed. Obviously I kept my eyes closed just in case I somehow magically changed Monday into Saturday, then I wouldn’t have to go to work.
My brain picked up something unusual, but I ignored it and ran a sloppy hand down my face as I neared my dresser to change for work. Yesterday’s hangover was still in effect, so I had popped in a pain killer or two.
Without my glasses, I couldn’t see shit. That still doesn’t explain why I looked so short in the mirror over the sink. I was sure my hair length was past my shoulders. Why was my face red and bumpy?
I scooped water into my palms and splashed it on my face, then stared into the mirror.
I was a teenager again.
What age? Well, I later found out by scientists, who looked like a bunch of scrawny high school nerds in lab coats, had conducted research on 100 people and had easily determined their age: 18.
Other studies across the globe had also drawn out the same results. This information was spread on the news along with other surprising info: if you were under 18, you were also 18. If you were 18, you’re staying 18. Every human living on this planet was 18. The source and cause of this? Still unknown.
That was why my feet didn’t touch the ground when I sat over the edge on my bed, that is why I lost a few inches, that is why my hair was much much shorter.
We’ve all reversed- or have gone forward, into our 18 year old bodies and minds- thankfully with our memories still intact.
There wasn’t any harm done to society in general, and so during those two months as humanity had gotten their things in order, the leaders of the world had insisted that we must keep going. And so, all the adults had gone back to work, the kids had gone back to school.
How weird it was for me to look at my boss as an 18 year old kid in a baggy suit and not buff and big as he usually was, his voice cracking every so often as he spoke to the office. It was hard for my co workers and I to *not* laugh at this. When his voice betrayed him and squeaked when he yelled at us, the entire workplace burst into laughter.
It was unfortunate that we didn’t get any work done as we made paper airplanes and gamed at our desks for the entire shift.
As I was heading home, I noticed someone prancing around happily with a few friends, laughing about something that had to do with their limbs.
I had asked them why they seemed so happy at the moment, and they said they were former war soldiers drafted at 18 years old. Now they are happy that they get the chance to live out their youth.
That was one of the many, many quirks that humanity had gained from this thrilling experience. Everyone, young and youthful with the mind of teenagers. Will we stay at 18 forever? Will we age? Who knows.
But now we can finally restart and live the life that we’ve always dreamt of.
Humanity, at 18. | Dandy Town, unlike its name, is a town far from perfection. In fact this little hamlet or village is a hidden gem I found while on one of my numerous trips to my Step Father’s bakery for breakfast.
I always had a penchant for funny things, but this town was a whole new definition of eccentricity and silliness. Every citizen of this town was a greater example than the other. They welcomed me like one of their own and stuffed me with sushi, which they claimed to be their own local delicacy and called it Honor Roll, something they ate on the occasion of graduation mostly.
There are so many anecdotes and events about this town throughout this book, but I would like to start with one of the most silly and stupid ones that made me fall in love with the cute little people of Dandy Town.
Back in the 2010s when I was in a famous TV series, the town of Dandy had a little series of incidents of its own.
The people of all ages woke up one day. To their surprise they now had bodies of 18 year olds. With their memories intact!!
“I basically lived my prepubescent years twice, once when I was 18 and then when I turned 18 on my 54th birthday!” said Abe McPherson, the current mayor of the Town, happily relinquishing the event in his memories.
“I was kinda like a playboy when I was 18, so when I turned 18 once again, I wasn’t really able to stop my horses,” said Sheriff Willie, who had a special incident in this particular event.
**The Author, referred above as I, has now compiled a few dramatised recollections of the citizen’s here in Dandy Town regarding the event. The names have been changes but the prior permission of the subjects had been taken before**
*******************
I woke up on Sunday morning as the rooster made its usual noise. I burped and got up from the bed. My wife was asleep on the bed, sweating after last night.
We had moved the bed from the outside of the room to inside it finally. We were two 80 year olds who had moved into this house just the week before. It had taken us five days to push the bed in slowly, and on each day it took, we had to sleep outside the bedroom. Only the first day was a problem though when we had to sleep outside the house, where the bed was, since we hadn’t been able to push it in.
We don’t hire people for this work as we are self dependent people.
But the only thing that wasn’t self reliant for me was my ding dong, or my manhood. It had refused to stand up in 35 years except for the one time when it rose up slightly because of the urine infection.
When I woke up that day, my whole body felt like it had a new sort of vigour and energy. And when I saw below, for the first time in 35 years I had a morning standing ovation by my ding dong.
But it gave me a lot of problems, like when I went into the washroom for peeing that morning, My God the speed with which it came out almost blew me away like it was a jet pack. And I made a great big mess.
****************
I woke up and checked myself in the mirror. Oh Holy God! I looked so pretty and beautiful. Just like when I was 18!!
I decided to skip church that day. I was a Sister at the Dandy Town Church for Women. But this new body and energy had given me, a 60 year old retired woman who had given up on life and lived on the hopes of Christ, a big helping hand in confidence.
I roamed about the Town. I smoked hookah with the boys that day. God would have been angry but I knew that he gave me that body for some reason. Why else would he give me such a hot body that was Bikini waxed?
Many guys flirted with me, but this one young man seemed to have caught the attention of my eyes.
“Lookie here. What can I do to be with a girl like you, miss?” Said the boy.
“ You could take me out for dinner,” I flaunted.
“ Well I would, but the police would arrest me for carrying fireworks, ma’am”
I had laughed hard, when suddenly he pulled me close. At that time, I turned around.
Suddenly I felt a slight unzip of my dress at the back. I turned around to see that horny 18 year old using the magnet in his watch trying to be God Knows What!
“Sheer magnetism, baby”
*****************
Yeah I was 14 at the time we all became 18 and had just watched Live and Let Die, so I tried to become Bond. Big deal! I am a
the proud sheriff of this town now and I have forgotten things of the past.
*****************
I have more planned if you’d like!!! | 2020-11-02T09:55:51 | 2020-11-02T09:45:20 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] After years of hard work, you finally made a FTL communication system. You decide to send a declaration of war in the name of "Empire of Mankind" as your first message into the void. Moments after you sent it, your device is flooded with pleas for mercy and propositions for peace negotiations. | The messages were almost all the same. Offerings of entire solar systems in exchange for clemency, large amounts of resources, and sometimes even slave populations.
Everyone else at the table was stunned in silence, wondering just how many other space faring aliens were out there. However, one message stood out among the others, yet only one noticed it.
"What dire situation are you in? Can we help you out of it?"
A quick message was typed back on a handheld device. "What do you mean?"
The response was likewise quick, despite the length. "You humans are strange creatures. You can go down with a vessel, even if you can save yourself. You can destroy a world, even if it is your own. You can kill your brothers, even if they have only wronged you once."
"You also can kill yourselves, as long as you take your enemies down with you."
"Why are we your enemies, and why are you dying?" | "What did I tell you?" I boomed as I walked the floor of my communication station. It was as big as a soccer field with a huge screen instead of a wall on one side. A screen that was now filled with various aliens and intergalactic societies requesting mercy and peace talks. The board of directors present on the floor with me had shocked smiles on their face, not only is this the single greatest feat humanity is achieved but they can market this product to companies like SpaceX and Blue Origin. "What did I tell you?" I boomed again as the floor of researchers and scientists furiously started clapping for me. Oh yea, I liked that.
Taking the cue I went to the center of the room and cleared my throat, silencing the room immediately.
"Plenty of people were against contacting aliens and seeking further communication with other countries and heads of state before we do this. Those however are not capable of thinking with their balls. That's a compliment believe it or not. They think with their heads, my board of directors, my financial advisers, and fellow government reporters you all think with your heads and someone like me needs to come along and show you what is truly possible . I do all this to inspire the youth, the interns that we have, the ones that want to start their careers off in this world this is concrete evidence that taking risks always yields results. We have officially conquered much of the intergalactic colonies as evident by their messages."
Again a bust of applause filled the room. I paused and then finished with "Watch me present this to the G20 meeting that we've called and we will be remembered in history. Any questions?"
"What if there is an hostile alien society capable of destroying Earth?" someone piped up.
"You see the problem with have is asked? Everybody thinks humans are weak. We are small creatures who haven't been around for long stepping into the intergalactic arena. I say have some belief in yourselves. We as individuals are far too critical of our weaknesses to ever believe we are strong. That rubs off in society because everyone thinks that, including our heads of state since they do after all represent the insecure population they're in charge of. Let me tell you this now, we are fucking powerful." I boomed the last words reverberating off the giant hall. | 2020-11-12T10:16:27 | 2020-11-12T06:49:04 | 55 | 24 |
[WP] After years of hard work, you finally made a FTL communication system. You decide to send a declaration of war in the name of "Empire of Mankind" as your first message into the void. Moments after you sent it, your device is flooded with pleas for mercy and propositions for peace negotiations. | The messages were almost all the same. Offerings of entire solar systems in exchange for clemency, large amounts of resources, and sometimes even slave populations.
Everyone else at the table was stunned in silence, wondering just how many other space faring aliens were out there. However, one message stood out among the others, yet only one noticed it.
"What dire situation are you in? Can we help you out of it?"
A quick message was typed back on a handheld device. "What do you mean?"
The response was likewise quick, despite the length. "You humans are strange creatures. You can go down with a vessel, even if you can save yourself. You can destroy a world, even if it is your own. You can kill your brothers, even if they have only wronged you once."
"You also can kill yourselves, as long as you take your enemies down with you."
"Why are we your enemies, and why are you dying?" | Marcus stood at the Command Bridge of the Starship "GWMKF Starling." He stared out at the Starships as they flew past, the Kryorite Belt. The Galaxy's Largest International Highway. If only all these people knew what was headed their way. "Prepare the Broadcast. I need a Microphone!" Marcus shouted at the Crewmates who were inside of the Command Bridge.
"Hello, to all of the Galaxies Citizens!" Marcus spoke calmly into the Microphone. "We Hereby, by the Decision of the MKGC. **Declare War**. ON all Nations who Dare to Oppose Us. Mankind will Rule!" Then, the Microphone went off. "Send for Backup!" Marcus shouted and the signal went out.
Soon, Several Cruisers and Battleships Had Appeared Behind Him, Arriving from the Warpspace that was generated. They swarmed the sky like Moths to a Lamp, filling it up as the "Humans" or "Mankind" as they had dubbed themselves. Stood, looking down at everyone who was now frozen in the Kryorite Belt.
Then, Marcus switched the Microphone on. "IF you dare oppose us. You will be vanquished. We are claiming this planet and this Galaxy in the name of Mankind! Everyone who is on it will be forced under the rule of MKGC. If you do not comply and respond within' the next 15 Minutes. YOU, WILL, BE, OBLITERATED! Your Families, Your Businesses, Your Homes, Everything will be Destroyed. MANKIND WILL RULE!" Marcus snarled into the Microphone, before reaching down and switching it off...
Soon enough. Their receivers were overloaded with messages. Things like; "Please don't hurt us!" or "We Comply!" or "Have Mercy on Us!" or "We can have Peace! Tell the Council that we will negotiate!" and "A Peace Treaty, will the Council Sign It?" Marcus listened as a grin spread across his face.
*Humanity would not yield. They would be obliterated.*
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------
[The Writing Files (My Works)](https://www.reddit.com/r/thewritingfiles/) | 2020-11-12T10:16:27 | 2020-11-12T07:45:13 | 55 | 11 |
[WP] Job hunts are literally that: You seek out the job you desire and kill the one who has it, or even engage them in ritual combat to claim the job as your own. You have just turned of age and desire your first minimum wage job. | Advice for Job Hunters-Revised 12 Oct 2019
​
First check your application, you need to have at least 80% of your shots apply to the target at a range of 100 metres to be competetive.
​
Research the position, you typically want to maintain an elevated position which gives you the best chance of having the advantage over your opponent.
​
First impressions count, be sure to shout and scream should you get into melee range, fear is your friend.
​
Relax and take a breath, you need to be able to squeeze the trigger rather than snatch it in hate. This will improve your accuracy.
​
Don't get too worried about failure, seriously, you need the time to escape as they will come for you in return. | "What? We can stay in the same job? And we don't have to kill the others to get the job? Are you for real, Jake?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
"That's insane, man."
"I'm only saying what's practical and doable. Moreover, if more people start their own businesses then more companies will spring up in the future, there will be a huge demand for workforce, more people will join in the same job without having to fight. There will still be competition but it'll be different."
"I bet that's boring, honestly. I can't afford to let someone thrive up in the society, man. That will cost me my fortune."
"This is the future. You'll see. I've been doing fundraising events for this, I'm starting the company tomorrow. My idea will spread."
"You know, you're brave for starting something controversial, I'll tell you that."
A guy came furiously towards them. "Hey, you there."
"Huh? Me?" asked Jake.
"Yes, you. I wanna fight you. I'm going to get your job."
"Are you crazy? This is merely a startup. I'm looking to change the very thing you and others stand up for."
"Don't care, your job will make me rich."
"What's he talking about, McMahon?"
"Didn't you see the news? Your position has hit the top deck of high paying jobs as soon as your firm was approved."
"No, this isn't happening."
"It is. Now wake up and fight this guy. Work to achieve your dream, Jake. Where's your spirit?"
"No, I-I didn't think it'd go this way."
"What did you expect?"
"Certainly not fighting."
"Aw man, you're lost before you even began. You gotta know the rules first—"
The guy gave Jake a serious blow, Jake's head turned to his left, he fell down where he stood.
"Ouch!" McMahon's face wrinkled after seeing his friend get beat down on the ground.
The guy named Brennan officially took the position of one of the highest paying jobs in the world. He will reap the benefits until someone stronger than him beats him to get it.
r/FleetingScripts | 2020-11-15T11:56:42 | 2020-11-15T11:51:59 | 98 | 51 |
[WP] Job hunts are literally that: You seek out the job you desire and kill the one who has it, or even engage them in ritual combat to claim the job as your own. You have just turned of age and desire your first minimum wage job. | “It is time my son.”
My father kneeled before me, holding out a buckhorn knife that was older than the nation. It was scuffed and stained with the blood of countless prey.
“My great great great grandfather made this knife himself to hunt for his first job. Ever since, it has been gifted to the eldest child when they come of age for their first hunt.”
I knew this time was coming, it was 7:00 am on the Monday after my 16th birthday, the age all young men worth their salt go forth and seek their first job. Seeing my father kneeling before me was still unsettling. He was a Nuclear Engineer with the scars to prove it; him kneeling before anyone was something that did not happen.
I took the knife from his hand and gave it a few practice jabs. Perfectly balanced. I grinned. Before I could thank him for the honor a young man smashed through the front window. Judging by his outfit he was an intern at the nuclear plant my father worked at, which could only mean he was hungry for a promotion.
My father grabbed his lead Great Hammer from its sling. A beautiful weapon intricately carved with equations pertaining to the science of nuclear physics and weighing more than me. The intern cocked his head back before lunging towards my father with a balisong. How uncouth, not even giving a formal declaration of Job Application. My father dodged expertly and countered with a blindingly fast swing of his Great Hammer, bulging muscles causing his suit to rip at the seams. The intern was quick on his feet though and whipped around grazing my father’s face with his weapon. My father was getting old, and it was apparent with every consecutive battle that he was getting slower. Two more cuts appeared on my father dangerously close to his jugular before he could get another swing. This time the intern was not fast enough, getting his legs swept from under him with the wet crunching sound of shattering bone. The intern lay on the ground panting, my father granting him the grace period to concede the battle before giving the killing blow. With a flash the intern threw his knife into my father’s eye and lunged with a hidden switchblade for his neck. Within a blink I found myself burying my knife in the young interns’ throat and ripping it back out, leaving a massive gash that spouted blood like a faucet. That’s when my father began to laugh. With a grin, balisong still lodged in his eye socket, he looked at me.
“Looks like I have a new apprentice.” | I thought I was ready for my first job.
I was wrong.
It had all happened so fast. The sound of the bell, a fist flying towards me. And then, the cool firmness of the mat against my face.
"1! 2! 3!..." My body strained as I forced myself to my feet, still reeling from shock. No. It couldn't end like this.
"You've got guts, kid, I'll give you that."
Another blow landed onto my side, and I doubled over in pain.
"But guts can only get you so far. You're outmatched, kid. Just give up." Another punch, and I felt the cold embrace of the mat again.
I gritted my teeth as I tried to push myself up. "No! I... I need this job!"
"Oh, really? Let me ask you a question, then." A kick to my side sent me rolling across the ground.
"Why do you want to work at Lardee's?"
"...Mama..." I groaned as I struggled to get to my feet.
"What's that? You want your mama? Too bad, she ain't here, kid."
"Mama... she's sick... And Papa works three jobs... but he got hurt in a fight, and now... I have to do something..."
That's right. Everyone is counting on me. I have to win here, no matter what.
I felt a renewed strength flow through my body. That's right, I thought to myself. I can do this. He's wide open, probably doesn't see me as much of a threat. If I kick off the ground, when he's least expecting it, and put all my strength into a single blow...
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" I screamed as I shot upwards. My fist connected with my opponent's face, and I saw him fly across the mat. "I did it!", I thought to myself for a moment, until I saw him start to get to his feet.
"Heh, not bad, kid." My opponent smirked, as he wiped the blood from his face. "I guess I'll have to take this a little more seriously."
Suddenly, he disappeared into a flurry of motion. Punches, kicks, jabs from seemingly every direction, as I shielded my body as best I could. I reached out, trying to land even a single hit. But there was nothing there, and a swift blow sent me to the ground once more.
"1! 2! 3!..." With all my willpower, I tried to get up. But my body wouldn't obey me.
"4! 5! 6!..." I'm sorry, Mama. I'm sorry, Papa. I failed.
"7! 8! 9!..."
"I give up!" I heard my opponent shout.
Wait, what?
My opponent grinned at me and offered a hand. Weakly, I extended mine, and he pulled me up off the mat.
"First time applying for a job, huh? Man, I remember when I was like that too. Listen, kid, you're supposed to tell people that you want their job beforehand, alright? Don't just go randomly challenging people to fights."
"Wait... but... you would've won... What?"
"Oh, that? Yeah, I was meaning to quit this job for a while. Can't be working minimum wage forever, you know? Now I can apply for a new one. And, sorry I had to rough you up a little there. Wouldn't look good for me on future job applications if I can't beat a scrawny teenager, you know?"
"Wait... so I got the job?"
"Yep, that's right! You start on Monday. Do make sure to tighten your stance up, though, or you'll be out of a job within a week. Good luck, kid." | 2020-11-15T13:06:24 | 2020-11-15T12:38:00 | 37 | 19 |
[WP] You are a devout Christian, but you believe in protecting what’s yours. A burglar breaks into your home and you fight them with all you have, but they kill you. To your surprise instead of heaven you stand before the gates of Valhalla, as a warrior who has died in glorious battle. | I was dying.
I laid on the floor of my kitchen as my blood seeped from me, my vision flickering as that sick son of a bitch died beside me. He had twisted a knife into my gut, and my gun had discharged into his own stomach. At least he was dying with me.
"Good shot, old man," he gurgled. He was gone not too long afterwards.
I followed suit, closing my eyes and letting go. *I'm ready, Lord Jesus,* I thought.
For a little while, all was dark. I began to panic; were the atheists right? Was there really nothing?
"...up. Dude. Dude! HEY! WAKE UP ALREADY!"
My eyes flew open.
This must have been the afterlife... wait a second, was I underwater?
I shot up from whatever it was I was laying on and looked around.
...this wasn't heaven, was it?
All around me stood crabs. Gigantic crabs. All staring at me... curiously? Even though they had no faces, I could read their emotions in their eyes, and all of them looked curious, exasperated, or both.
"Ahem."
I turned and saw an even more enormous crab, who looked rather cross. "That was my dinner."
I felt myself go weak. "Wha... where am I?" I looked around frantically. "What is this place? Is this hell?! Where's Jesus?! Where's heaven?! I was supposed to go to heaven!"
"Whoa, whoa, dude, chill," the gigantic crab said. "Don't worry, your soul took a wrong turn on its way to the afterlife. Lessee here, where'd Osiris send ya..."
The crab stared at me for a moment and clicked his claws. "Ah, Valhalla. Must've died a glorious death in combat or whatever."
"Val what now?" I was confused. "Osiris? What... none of that is real! There's only-"
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it a billion times before, there's only Jesus and God, blah blah blah. You mortals sure are arrogant sometimes." The crab extended a claw. "I'm Wamly, the Crab God. Nice to meet you, mortal."
I took his claw, feeling a bit dazed. "I'm Daniel. But... the Bible..."
"Is a load of hooey, for the most part. C'mon, let's get ya to Valhalla. That way I can finish dinner, maybe this time without some random dude teleporting onto it."
I realized I was covered in food. "Oh. Um... my bad."
"Not your fault, universe is weird like that. Hang on."
The crab, Wamly, concentrated for a few seconds, muttering something to himself as I wiped bits of food from myself. A portal opened up to what appeared to be a rainbow. "Aight, come on."
I followed Wamly through and walked onto what looked like a rainbow road. Was this the road to heaven...?
An enormous, stern-looking man stood before the two of us, a spear in hand and an eyepatch covering his eye. He nodded to the crab. "Wamly. Good seeing you again, Crab God."
"Yeah, you too, Allfather. Got a mortal here that was meant for Valhalla, slipped into my palace."
"Another one? That's the fifth one this week... Osiris needs to step up his game." The man that called himself Odin let out a booming chuckle as he extended a hand to me. "Well met, mortal. I am Odin, the All-Father. You died in valorous combat, and as such your reward is to become one of my warriors."
"But..." I whispered. "I... I worshiped the Lord Jesus Christ..."
"Osiris has deemed that you go here," Odin said. "His word tends to be final on matters of the afterlife. Your old god's kind of an asshole anyway."
"Jesus is pretty chill though," Wamly said. "He's always good for parties, what with that 'water to wine' trick of his." He gave Odin a small wave as he scuttled off. "I'll leave you to it. Good luck, Daniel." He went back through his portal, and it shut behind him.
"Well, now that you're in the right place..." Odin's hand was still there. "Come with me, mortal. Valhalla isn't all that bad, trust me. You'll be happier there than in Yahweh's heaven."
I hesitated, then took his hand. "What now?"
"As I said, you're one of my warriors now," he said, giving it a shake. "You'll fight alongside me, feast alongside me, and shall be regarded as a full inhabitant of Asgard. It's an honor that few mortals attain these days."
I nodded as I followed him. This wasn't what I had in mind for heaven... but it didn't sound half bad, either. | "Sarah?" I heard the voice call out to me from... where was it? There was music in the background... stringed instruments of which I had never heard, except maybe in waking dreams. Was I dreaming now? I...
"Sarah?" I heard him say, tenderly. The voice... familiar and yet not so much? Was it also from a dream?
"Maybe she needs to sleep more? We don't know what she went through..." (Half whispered a woman's voice. It wasn't familiar. She sounded old and kind. The accent was... very different. I could almost imagine that I was hearing it through some kinda of filter... like it wasn't originally in English? Is that crazy?
Where am I?
"Torsten? Mind you come to the meat soon. Bjorn can't spin it all day." the words trailing off as she was walking away... not irritated... like she expected him to daly...
"Yes, Sif... Soon..." He touched my forehead softly, but i felt a spark... not of love but of life. Despite the jolt, I awakened slowly... eyes slowly open to see a large muscular man in leather armour and a horned metal hat smiling down on me. His face was ruddy with a red beard that was both wild and well groomed. I slowly scanned the room... or area? It was like a scene from a movie... like a historical army movie from centuries ago... with tents and fires, various weapons from the time before firearms. There was nothing about it familiar to my eyes, but yet it felt like home... like I was coming back someplace I was always meant to be.
"Ah, yes, Sarah. Spark's back in your eyes, now isn't it love?" he was beaming ear to ear now. Like he really knows me... and... somehow he does? I could feel it.
Suddenly I grabbed for my stomach, expecting some... injury? Why did I think that? But as I look down, I'm wearing the dress. \*The\* dress. I bought it for a Renaissance festival... Forest green, a bit low in the back, with the cutest cross-ties and then back around the neck. Tight in the waist, but free enough to have enjoyed competing in archery up until the rains came and the day ended. It was the only time i had worn it, as the church had pressed that the event would never recur as it was somehow sinful. But how? In my dreams it continued every year...
"come now, you should eat before you recount your epic." Torsten said as he gently lifted me up, then pulled me over his shoulder to carry me to the table, to the hearty (but friendly) laughter of those near. Somehow I knew to pretend to be mildly offended and smack his back and protest. Which seemed to make it more fun for everyone.
After being gently dropped to the table (it looked rough, but he was careful with me), I smelled the scents of the freshly hunted meats... mostly big animals... moose and reindeer, but also pheasant and rabbit. Things I didn't eat, yet I knew them? How?
Then I remembered... It was a cold December night in Flint. My husband was away in Afghanistan, leaving me with Rachel, Molly and Joseph. Sif put a hand on me and smiled... like she knew this was the hard part. The downstairs door opened, and some people started shouting. There had been disorder for months. At first it was demonstrations and counter-demonstrations with more and more violence. But lately they'd been attacking people in their homes.
I called the emergency number, knowing they'd not arrive on time. But perhaps in time for the children. It was a phone app... I pressed some buttons to give location and what was wrong. And hoped they'd get my children. Then I pushed the button.
The explosion downstairs was deafening, and must have been effective. I could smell burnt pork - the smell of human flesh. there were screams from the living and curses as they started for the stairs. But I had spilled the oil down the stairs so that they were just too slow. Because of the space and not wanting bullets to fly though to neighbors, I used a shortbow. 20 arrows... my heart was racing, hands sweaty, but I was able to fire them all, wondering the whole time "would it be enough". but also aching that i wasn't there to comfort my scared children. rachel, the oldest, was only 7, molly 5 and Joseph 3. In the haze i was in, i could remember their faces and the love i felt for them, the clouds of my travel blurring the rest.
There were still more. I didn't have time to wonder why I was a target... How could there be more? I backed off down the hall until the ones who were still alive were close together and used the chemical spray. I then put on a faceshield meant for Corona protection and grabbed Gwendolyn - my elaborately decorated mother of pearl handled dagger. I said a short prayer - not to Jesus as usual - but to the unknown Gods of war. Why? I can't be sure. I just felt like invoking Odin was ... it somehow felt "right" to do in battle.
At that point, I felt total peace... and calm. Then I went bezerk, cutting and stabbing. I felt warm blood on my arms, without knowing whose it was. the pepper spray barely stung me as i kept on my rampage. "Odin" I whispered in my fury "keep watch over the children if i can't"...
Just as I said that I saw the glint of steel from another blade as we sunk them into each other's side. I saw the fear in their eyes and wondered what foul god they might pray to... but then saw a cross on their neck. With no one else alive and moving I said "There's no way you're going to see your god." To which they replied, "neither will you b$#\^@". (to be continued). | 2020-11-16T14:27:44 | 2020-11-16T14:03:49 | 180 | 126 |
[WP] So this is what being in a car crash felt like. Not as painful as you thought it would be. But you can't feel your toes. You look down, your leg is missing from the knee onwards. There's no blood, no bone, no muscles. Instead you see mechanical components. | "What in the holy hell?" I asked, I imagined I could hear the whirring coming from my sheared off leg. Why was I not going into shock. Either from the accident or from finding out I'm this, or that part of me is, anyway. Was I some kind of cyborg? How would I not know this?
I reached down and tugged on a sheared piece of metal and sliced it into my arm. No pain. I moved my "skin" out of the way to the complex machinery below.
"Warning. Warning. Warning." Suddenly appeared in flashing red letters at the center of my vision, "Severe damage detected. Initiating self-check. System integrity at 99%. Weaponry at 100%. Mobility at 73%. Severe damage to lower right leg. Initiating repairs."
"Is anyone in there?" I heard yelling rise above the sound of the sirens as a voice spoke into the crumpled interior of my car. I did not answer. Snow flakes gently floated through a small hole in the roof to add to the nonreality of everything around me.
I felt a tingling in my leg. The metal of the car around my leg had turned fuzzy and my leg was rebuilding itself.
"Damage 27% repaired. Nano-salvage construction in progress, please do not move. Hello." I read in my vision and was a little startled at the last part.
"Hello," I said out loud.
"Somebody's alive in this one, Tony! Get the jaws!" I heard the voice outside yell.
"I apologize for your premature wakeup, please do not be alarmed," the letters appeared as if in answer.
"Yeah, ok," I whispered, the leg was regrowing as I watched.
"Leg 89% complete," the lettering spoke, "Reinitializing in ten seconds."
Above me there was the sound of metal ripping and I said, "What does that mean? What is going on?"
"Now is not yet the time," the lettering answered, "Leg repair complete. RI in 3, 2..."
"No, wait!" I yelled.
"1." the lettering flickered and the blackness came.
_____
"Hey Louie," the paramedic asked his partner, gesturing to the victim they had just pulled from the pileup, "How the hell is her pant leg gone below the knee but she doesn't have a scratch on her?"
"Hell if I know," Louie answered, "Stranger things happen every day. Lets find somebody who needs our help." | Click-clack. The mechanical gears whir futilely at the end of your left stump. The rest of your leg is laying a few feet away on the side of the road, next to the burning wreckage of the other car. Instead of oozing blood, your stump is dripping a black liquid. There is no pain as you prod your finger into the strange device that is attached to you.
In a haze, you recall the past few moments. Driving on the highway, faster than you should have been. Ringing, looking down at your phone. And then a smash, a slam as you drift over the center line. And now your leg, or what you thought was your leg, is sitting separate from you, and the part still attached is nothing that should have come from a human.
Heat washes over you, and the haze evaporates. Sounds come into focus now, sirens. And screaming. You look at the car that smashed into you, or what is left of it. Not only is it on fire, but the driver of the opposite car is still inside, and wailing in pain and fear.
You push on the door. Nothing gives. You realize it’s been smashed almost completely out of shape, and you are just as stuck as the other driver. What was it you had heard people being saved by when they were in car accidents? The mechanical Jaws of Life? You’d have to wait for that. Unless…
You kick with the oozing stump at the door. It wrenches back off its hinges and explodes outward. You gasp in shock. What the hell was this thing attached to you? And was it just your “leg” that was like this?
Dragging yourself out of the hole you had created in what was once your car, you stand on your one good leg. Or maybe it is your one human leg. A light shimmers on the ground and you catch a glimpse of something in a piece of broken glass. A one legged figure that appears to be dripping oil.
Thinking fast, you push into the wave of heat coming from the wreckage of the other car. The driver is screaming even louder, likely being roasted alive. You can’t kick his door open with your stump, it would crush the man inside. Time to see if the rest of you is also super strength, you think. You grab onto the hot metal of the driver side door and pull with as much force as you can backwards. Tottering backwards, you fall on your back with the door on top of you.
The man jumps out of the car and takes one look at you before screaming even louder and fleeing. No good deed goes unpunished, you think. A voice calls out on a loud speaker.
“Put your hands in the air, now!”
You push the door off yourself and climb onto your one good leg. Two cops are crouched behind their doors twenty feet away, guns pointed at you. What in the world? You were just in a damn car accident, what were they doing?
You start hopping toward them, arms waving to keep your balance.
“I need an ambulance you idiots!” you yell.
You don’t so much feel the bullets hit you as hear them. And you keep on hopping forward. Apparently, not only did you have robotic limbs, you were bullet proof too.
The cops emptied their entire magazines into your body before looking at each other in terror and disbelief. One of them touched his radio, then thought better of it and started running away. The other quickly followed.
Sighing, you continue your one legged advance toward the car and look inside. Key still in the ignition. You sit down in the driver’s seat and pull the door closed. The dispatcher’s voice calls out.
“Unit 490, what is your status? Over.”
Pushing down the button on the radio, you respond.
“This is Unit 490, requesting information. Where is the nearest mechanic?”
______________________________________________________
More at r/MostlyNightmares | 2020-12-17T09:31:29 | 2020-12-17T09:26:15 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] A being at the gates of the afterlife allows every soul that passes through to ask it one question. Used to being asked questions such as "What is the meaning of life?" and "How many people loved me?", it's taken unawares when a soul asks "How was your day?" instead. | The being bents its enormous head to the side, curious and puzzled.
**"I am timeless, life itself. I am the Gods you worship, and the eternity you seek. I am the Guardian. I do not experience days, months, years. I am eternal, I have always been and always will be."**
The boy before it, no more than 14, clapped ironically.
"Yeah, I know arsehole. You told me that when I walked in. Come on, don't be shy now. Papa John's here to listen."
The Guardian does not understand. It growls in response.
"You are one stubborn bastard ain't ya?" the boy complains. "Alright then. I'm just gonna sit right here-", he sits on a chair that appeared out of nowhere to serve his demand, "-and wait until you're comfy."
The heavenly creature bents forward, to take a better look at this "John".
**" You are... peculiar,"** it implores after a brief examination. The boy scoffs.
"Acute observation. Now don't change the subject. You will talk about your feelings whether you want to or not."
The being nods approvingly.
**"You seem stubborn. I like that. I was like you once."**
The boy almost falls off from his chair. "Human?" he asks, reluctantly.
**"No, Asker. Young. Foolish. Stubborn. But with the strange wisdom of a youth yet untouched by time."**
The boy, satisfied, gestured for the Guardian to continue.
**"It has been long, since I last spoke this much about myself. You humans care not for the Gatekeeper, only for what awaits inside."**
Its interlocutor makes a disgruntled whimper, getting ready to protest. The Guardian cuts him off.
**"Oh, I don't blame you. Those that arrive here are tortured souls. The least of your concerns should be The Guardian of the Last Gates."**
The boy attempts to protest again, but the Guardian does not let him.
**"I had a family once. Humans who didn't worship or hate me. They... understood me, I believe. They felt my anguish, knew my sorrow. They too, were castaways. They were the wicked of humanity, the ones no-one but I wanted. And, for a time, children used to play in this Garden."**
**"But then they left. In a whim of humanity, they abandoned me. Left me here, to guard the Last Gates alone. Again, I cannot blame them. It's a lonely existence, at the end of this here life."**
The young boy grinned sarcastically. "Yeah, tell me about it," he said under his breath. The Guardian waited for a moment, before asking **"How come you died so young, Asker?"**
He gulped. The being smiled. He answered.
"I... I was half dead for all my life. I was born with a late stage tumour, and for 14 years I was in and out of coma. Eventually, I begged my parents to end my suffering. The last thing I saw was my mother's teared-up eyes, as I fell to sleep again."
The being pushed its feathered head against the boy's back.
**"I understand. Are you at peace now?"**
"I... no, no I'm not."
**"Are you ready to go through the Last Gates?"**
"No, I don't think so."
**"Would you want to stay with me until you are?"**
The boy stays silent for a while.
*"Yes. I think I'd like that."*
––––––––––––
r/TheWriterCunt | # The Cracks In Their Souls
(Part 2: That's How The Light Leaks Out)
(Note: The Cracks In Their Souls is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**I stared at the little boy with my timeless eyes.** "...Are you sure that's what you want to ask?"
The boy shrugged. "Big Sis always says that if you show gen-you-in interest in other people's lives, then they would show gen-you-in interest in you." He enunciated the words with the exaggerated care of a toddler holding a china teacup, careful not to drop it.
*Exactly* like that, in fact. I peered into his soul, which manifested in my vision as a battered, scarred sphere of stone, and understood. The words were heirlooms, precious things he'd inherited from his sister.
I looked at the long, long line of souls waiting to enter the gates of heaven, then back at the little boy. Then I smiled and knelt to his height. "To be honest," I said, "I've been yelled at by two people for telling them who their love cheated on them with, and had three people have existential crises before they even got through the gates. My day's been rather terrible."
The boy flinched. "Oh." He hesitated. "Are you going to yell at me now?"
I blinked, taken aback. Then the pieces fit together, my soulsight filling in the gaps that my intuition could not. "...I," I said, very carefully, "am not like your father. You'll find that very few people are, up here."
He relaxed a little. "That's good. I'm sorry you had a bad day, though. I wish I could make you happy, for once." He didn't sound like he was talking about me.
An idea popped into my head, and I looked from side to side in exaggerated, furtive motions. Then I leaned in just a little closer—not too close, or I feared he'd flinch away—and whispered, "Can I tell you a secret?"
The boy's eyes lit up. "I love secrets! Don't worry, I won't tell a soul."
"Alright. It's a very important secret, okay? Keep it close to your heart and don't *ever* forget it." I winked, and he nodded. "Ready? Here goes." I took a deep breath and paused for dramatic effect; the boy rubbed his hands together and I could have sworn he would have *burst* from anticipation if I waited a moment longer.
So I vouchsafed in a child the secret of an angel.
"Everything that happened down there, with your father? It's not your fault," I said. His eyes widened, and his hands flew to his mouth.
"How did you kn—oh, no, I'm going to be in so much trouble, Big Sis is going to get hurt, and it's all because of—" The kid had begun panicking, memories bubbling up to the surface of his mind, and although I could've used my soulsight again, I didn't want to rob him of that privacy.
"It's not your fault," I repeated again, more firmly this time.
He looked up at me, eyes wild. "No, no, you don't understand. You don't know how Daddy gets when people accuse him of—"
"It's. Not. Your. Fault."
With the last repetition, my words seemed to strike something inside the kid. He stiffened, trembling, for an eternity.
Then he threw himself forward, held me tight and close.
And tears fell by the gates of heaven.
After a calm, liquid infinity, I withdrew and held open the golden gates. "Go on in, kid," I said. "I'll see you around."
He nodded, wiping his nose, and trotted into heaven with that solemn sense of purpose that children sometimes have, when they're strong and determined and the stars align. Just before he passed through the gates, he turned back.
I gave his soul one last look. It still manifested as that cracked sphere of stone, but it *glowed*, now, his soul pulsing with soft radiance from within. Life had cracked his soul wide open—but those cracks were a part of who he was. They were how he shared his light with the world.
"I hope your day gets better," he said.
I smiled. "It already has."
A.N.
Suggestions? Comments? Typos? Please leave them on this comment's sister post at [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/); and if you want more stories like this, try giving the rest of [r/bubblewriters](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/) a peek. And I hope I made your day better, too.
Edit: There is a prequel to this story coming soon. | 2021-03-28T20:36:51 | 2021-03-28T20:02:02 | 2,246 | 495 |
[WP] In terms of powers you are world class, easily one of the next up and coming top-tier super-heroes in the world. But you deliberately downplay your abilities, pretending to have only minor talents so you can stick with your team of underdogs whose leader you have been crushing on for years. | It isn't hard. ya, no one buys my merch, and no one fallows news of us, but I like the people I work with. Sure, I could deal with most of the issues on my own, but it isn't about stopping the villains that come after us, not really. It's about liking what I do.
Do I feel bad when people die who I can save? Sure, but when my team is sent somewhere, no one does. I make sure of that. Wouldn't do to let my team take an unnecessary hit because I'm sandbagging, and these people deserve to live too. Some people have super speed, some have time manipulation. I have both. I can slow the speed of time and speed up my own. I'm the fastest speedster on the planet. I could honestly run around the planet in a second, no issue. When I'm on a mission, no one is ever really in danger.
I can stop a sniper bullet that's already entering someone's head. I can move people out of the way of a death-ray. Again, I could be one of the best heroes the world has ever seen... But they burn out.
We call them, superman level. A reference to the DC hero. Someone who could stop any threat. They last around a year on average. They live the job, and there is always a demand for them. They blame everything on themselves. Everything from a terrorist attack in Italy, to a gas station attendant being shot. Trust me, I've talked to them. Everything should have been stopped by them. That's what the'll tell you. Every single one of them
Gallikas had the power of time manipulation. Gallikas could turn back time. He died when he was twenty while he was actually eighty. He turned back the clock to stop every murder and death for a full year to accomplish this task. 2025 had zero murders, thanks to him. He had no connections. He lived and died in one year. He was one of the greatest heroes of all time. Literally never left the year 2025. It drove him mad. He had conversations with younger versions of himself. It's said you could walk down any street and find one of him.
I don't want to be like him. I don't think anyone should. It might seem cold when I don't care about some bombing that I could have stopped, watching the outcome on TV with my team, my friends, but I've seen what this job can do to people. It isn't worth it.
Than there's her. She's the only reason I feel like I'm a bad person. She has such a mediocre ability. She makes others feel what her voice sounds like. A terrible ability. No combat ability, she might lead someone to their own death by mistake. She still tries to save everyone she can.
I could save everyone but don't care enough to do so. If she had my power, she would. She'd kill herself to save even the worst of any given group of people. She's the other reason I need to stay with this group. If she loses herself to the stress because of failure, if she takes that alternative hero's ending and kills herself trying to save people. I wouldn't want to live in this world any more.
So no, I don't feel bad about staying in my low tier team. It's where I belong. Yes, people might die because I'm not there to save them, but I've seen what becomes of people who dive down that rabbit hole. I'm happy where I am, and that's where I intend to stay. With them, the team of misfits with C grade powers who just want to help. And I'll save many more people here than Galikas ever did. | I woke up chained to a chair, shackles keeping my wrists and ankles in place.
My greatest nemesis, Dr. Hugo Todt, stood over me, tauntingly.
"So," he begins in his usual German accent, "he awakes. Good, I didn't want this to be boring. I wanted you to witness what is to come."
As my eyes scan the room, I see another chair stood across from me, and the captain of my small squad of heroes similarly chained to it, still unconscious. A single old lamp shed its weak light down between the two of us, as the "good" doctor paced the room.
"What do you want me to witness?"
At this, Dr. Todt produced a knife from the folds of his lab coat and brandished it in my direction.
"Oh, it's quite simple," he said. "I learned of your true talents quite recently. Most fascinating and enlightening, truly. It seems your talents are wasted on your small team. Do you think," he continued, motioning to my captain with the knife, "that she knows who you truly are?"
"Anyone who learned of my 'true nature' is dead, how could you possibly know about me?"
"Long days and nights of research and investigation," he elaborated. "Finding any sort of evidence that confirms what you are is... exceedingly difficult. You've covered your tracks well."
"I try," I added, rather sarcastically, "You still haven't told me what you want me to witness."
From another pocket in his lab coat, the doctor produced a hypodermic needle filled with an unknown, glowing green liquid.
"This," he explained, "is a serum developed from the combined blood of both you and your 'superior' officer there. I intend to inject myself with this serum, kill you, and then kill her."
"Why?" I asked. "Why do the impossible?"
"Simply to see you and your team dead, of course. I have no plans for world conquest, or any other far-reaching, lofty goal. I am fuelled purely by revenge. When I have that, then we shall see."
He began rolling up his sleeve at this, putting the syringe down to produce a large rubber hose from his coat, swiftly and deftly tying it off around his upper arm. With that done, he continued:
"One of the few benefits of being a drug addict and a doctor. I am more than familiar with human anatomy, and equally so with narcotics."
As he raised the syringe to the crook of his elbow, flexing his fist repeatedly to raise the vein, and injected himself.
"As with all major medical breakthroughs: human experimentation is sometimes required."
As soon as the needle entered his arm, I began struggling against my restraints, more in a show of trying to break free than actually doing so.
As I continued to watch my adversary, he circled the room, patting his neck with the knife almost thoughtfully. A moment later, his brown eyes flashed green, and he sped over to my captain and raised her head.
"I've changed my mind," he growled, "I think I'm going to kill her first, before I kill you."
Before I could react, the knife swept across her throat, painting both of us with arterial spray. The captain woke then, but only briefly enough to gasp wordlessly for air that would no longer come.
As her head lolled to rest against her chest, my rage was unmatched. It was then that I let loose a scream of utter anger.
"Scream all you like," the doctor began, "there are none beyond the door but my own men."
I knew he was toying with me. He usually did, when he wanted to make a point. When my outburst had finally subsided, he asked one question:
"What happens when you kill God?"
"I don't know," I answered, teeth clenched in rage, "why don't you tell me?"
"You *become* God."
At that answer, I couldn't help but burst out laughing. My adversary, staring at me for quite some time through this outburst, finally managed to get another question out. It would be the last he would ever ask.
"What's so funny?"
My response was not what he expected. Between fits of laughter, I managed to get my answer out:
"You inject yourself with a superpower serum. You kill the woman I love. You think you can kill me."
I rose from the chair, my restraints parting effortlessly. At this point, I'm no longer laughing. Instead, my fists are clenched trembling at my side, blue lightning beginning to spark from them.
"You think you know God?" I ask, my eyes beginning to glow bright blue and myself starting to levitate, altering my voice to sound more intimidating:
"HERE I STAND!!" | 2021-04-12T09:41:33 | 2021-04-12T08:41:05 | 193 | 61 |
[WP] You are the city's premier supervillain, but you have a secret. The crimes you commit are not for gain, or to hurt people. You are always subtly testing and pushing 'your' heroes to excel, to be the best they can be. Then a villain with a reputation for murdering heroes shows up in town. | He came from Ultraopolis.
He came to my city. Omega City.
He calls himself The End. I call him a murderer.
He thought the heroes of Omega City were weak, silly even. They had failed to stop me so many times, and what was I compared to him? A joke.
He has incredible strength. Enough to rip the head off of Poor Richard, the first superhero he had killed in his city.
He has lightning-fast reflexes. Faster than Lass Sue, which made it easy for him to use her own rope against her. He tied her up and tossed her off the Ultra-Tower. She was able to slip the bonds, but not in time to save herself.
He has stamina. He proved it when he fought Sun Day for hours until twilight, when he casually grabbed the de-powered hero around the chest and squeezed until they expired.
He had killed the heros of his city, as well as countless civilians and cops. He controlled Ultraopolis. He was board.
So he came to my city.
As I said, he thought me, and by extension the heros of my city, a joke.
It's an easy mistake to make. I am the Funny Man, after all.
My crimes are disruptive and destructive but never deadly.
When I flooded the market, the Lucky Streak and Swell Jill were on site. They were able to get the duck-shaped life preservers from the shipment I'd arranged to have for sale that day distributed before the water got too high. All the stock brokers and bankers were saved... and made to look ridiculous.
When my fire truck threatened to burn down the opera house, Hydro-Nate and E-Laser Beth were able to redirect water from the surging sewer/storm water system to put the flames out. It's too bad that city councilman's motorcade got caught in the crossfire. Coincidentally the council separated the systems this year. Funny how that worked out.
Notice a pattern? It's Funny how the heros of my city always seem to employ teamwork.
I am so proud of them. Not one of them has an S or even A-tier power. It doesn't matter. Enough of them together can overcome anything together.
The details of the battle hardly matter... except two.
We lost Johnny-on-the-Spot. He went to the construction site earlier than I had intended. He tried to face The End alone. By the time Guy Friday and All-You-Can Edith arrived it was already over for Johnny.
The other detail that matters is that they took him alive.
That's why tonight I'm breaking *into* a maximum security jail.
Because tonight I'm breaking a rule. Tonight the Funny Man *is* going to make a deadly joke. And can you guess who that joke is going to be on?
The End. | The plate with my omelette and jam on toast shattered against the floor as my morning routine of watching my news was interrupted. I stumbled to the couch and blindly searched for the remote, never peeling my eyes from the TV. I raised the TV to a deafening volume, hoping that the headline was wrong or my ears had deceived me.
“Krysta, What made last night different?”
“I don’t know Jim. As you just heard from Nocoff, the police and the Night Owls are cooperating together for the investigation, but its still in the preliminary stages so they cannot confirm anything yet. However, it is Alibi’s MO to rapidly execute his plans which is what makes him and his Troupe the prime suspects of this case.”
“But to send three heroes in the same patrol unit to the hospital in critical condition? That’s a new record for the Troupe.”
“Yes it is. The most raw combat power we’ve seen so far from that group has been by Penn Drake, better known by his moniker, Wyrm. However he has been in custody ever since three years ago. The most popular theory from BBS websites have been that the Troupe has taken in Tarrasque who had recently escaped from-”
The vibrant screen transformed into a perfect spiderweb save a hole revealing a barren wall. I slowly reached into my pajamas and dialed the warden managing the penitentiaries. “Hi, it’s Mayor Teller…”
***
Penn practically hopped into the backseat of my car with a grin from ear to ear. “It’s been a long time. How’s the wife and kids?”
I scowled and tossed him a tupperware with eggs benedict. “Eat up, we talk after.”
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” All I did was turn on the radio. It was our own local disaster, compounded by the breaking news of one of the heroes succumbing to their injuries. Penn devoured the food.
Once he was finished, I cleared my throat. “Tarrasque. Collateral cleared. Heavy casualties expected. Cleaners and interference prepped. You must survive, return afterwards. You in?” Without skipping a beat, Penn answered with a solemn nod.
***
I looked up at the TV from my bed to watch the news at 10, wincing from the smallest movement. I smiled as the cheesy music played with the cheesy montage of the different newscasters. The usual mornings greetings was shorter today as the anchorers got straight to the point.
“In breaking news, Tarrasque has been found dead with their head on a pike outside the Mayor’s Office today. We have Elira on the scene today. Elira, tell us, what do you see?”
The screen cut to an overhead view of absolute carnage. Smoldering fires beginning to burn out on multiple streets. Buildings cut in half or skewered by countless spikes. Tens of body bags being carried by police officers, paramedics, and firefighters. “Well, Krysta. It’s- It’s hard to describe. What I can say is that last night, Tarrasque and the Troupe had a turf fight and what you are seeing right now is the aftermath. It’s… We don’t have a death count yet as more bodies are still being discovered. What the investigation so far has been able to determine is that Tarrasque was beheaded and perished, but it is unknown if any Troupe members were among the casualties since no costumed members were found. Um. Back to you Krysta… After this break.” The TV station cut to some boring commercial about windows and heating.
Knock knock. I turned my head to see Nocoff enter the hospital room. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry that we weren’t there to help you. It must have been terrible being caught in between the Troupe and Tarrasque.” I noticed her eyes flitting towards the numerous medical equipment keeping me alive until my next operation.
“Don’t worry about it, hahaha… Anything for the city.” | 2021-05-20T10:47:04 | 2021-05-20T08:08:50 | 97 | 38 |
[WP] Your classmates got cool OP magic abilities. You got a lame Personal Inventory and were totally bummed about it until you read the fine print: Range: Touch. Capacity: Infinite. Restrictions: None. | *Subspace. Capacity, infinite. Range, touch. Restrictions, none.*
These words echo around my head. Its meaning gets ever clearer and clearer the more I think about it.
"What did you get?" Asks Holly, expectantly. She got line-of-sight pyrokinesis capped at 3000 degrees Celsius with no ignition on her birthday. A powerful, but still flawed ability. If only her skills as a chef was as good as her temperature control, she would have had a different path other than superheroics, or supervillainy, or non-power office jobs.
"Is it a bodily power?" Josh chimes in. He's got toggleable super strength and superdurability, capped out at ten times base, and he's got the muscles to match. Lucky that his strength is toggleable, I have seen strongpeople whose muscles simply atrophied due to never getting any notable excercise. He's got a bright future as a construction worker, soldier, mover, or anything requiring strongpeople. I sincerely hope he isn't going to jump into superheroics. Ten times durability means he can probably survive train crashes, but not plane crashes, the kind that any hero would experience regularly. He's just not built for that.
"Nah, it's gotta be ESP, right?" Uncle Arthur shoots him down. He has telekinesis, no range or speed limit but capped at 5 kilograms or self. With that ability he went into superheroics, making a name for himself as Artillery. He consistently ranks among the top 50 superheroes in the world, javing taken down many powerful villains with well-placed shots that they cannot defend from. He's got a bit of a rep because of it, as one of the superheroes you really don't wanna mess with. He's got some serious creds as well, being a Level 4 Hero, capable of handling threats that can destroy entire states, or smaller countries.
"It's... Subspace." I finally answer.
"Subspace? Isn't that the ability of those couriers and bankers?" (Josh)
"That, Storage, or Inventory. It's pretty nice, actually. If he's got a big one then moving is a breeze. What's your intake limit?" (Arthur)
"I just have to touch it. Otherwise anything goes."
"Huh, what does that mean?" (Holly)
"I can take anything, for however long I want, as long as I can touch it."
"Wait, for real?" (Josh)
"Yeah."
"No shit." (Holly)
"Why would I lie to you guys?"
"..." (Arthur)
"The cake is ready." My mom walks in. She's always got the worst timing. "Arty, why the long face? Cheer up, it's Mike's birthday, not his funeral."
"Sis, about Mike, I want to enrol him into Kent Academy. I've got a few friends who teach there, I can get him in easy. With a bit of luck I might even be able to get him a scholarship. It's rare to see such talent in a kid, I'm sure he'll be accepted, even into the elite-"
"Arty, it's his birthday today." Mom sets the cake down calmly. "Saving worlds can wait." That's Mom for ya. Only the words of Blaster, formerly the World's No.1 can shut him up so fast.
"Now, would you care to explain why Uncle Arty was so worked up?" Mom turns to me. She's got that look, that soft, gentle look that still tells me I better comply if I don't wanna open a whole can of whoop-ass on myself. One of the myriad of looks she never showed the press. I yield quickly:
"It's my power. Subspace, no cap except for range."
"... That's quite impressive."
"I can even store energy, I think. I took the heat off this table."
"What? Let me see -Holy fuck, the glass's iced all over." (Josh)
"Should I heat it up?" (Holly)
"Wait-" (All)
BANG
"... You, young lady, are gonna have to pay for that." (Arthur)
End of Part 1. | Around the age of 14 everyone is issued a power from the “system director”.
It’s quintessential to the goings on of life nowadays as everything in society uses some power. Construction, tailoring, electricity, etc. It practically determines what you will do with life.
I somehow managed to get the worst of them all. I was the laughing stock of my middle school.
“Personal inventory - Range: Touch. Capacity: Infinite. Restrictions: None.”
A personal inventory. It had its uses, I never had to leave my room to go to the fridge, everything was the same temperature when I pulled it out, and time didn’t pass in there so drinking spoiled milk was never a problem. (This power also made shoplifting a breeze)
My life would take a drastic turn after I realized the truest potential my power could handle.
At the age of 16 we get to spar with our powers in gym class. The whole gym was coated in some special material that dampened the effectiveness of powers while having a rejuvenating healing effect that could treat everything short of decapitation.
The coach told us to line up and gave us all a number. The numbers were randomized and a program would select an opponent for us. There were an odd amount of people in today, so the coach recommended I spar with him today.
That was fine because there was something I’ve been itching to try ever since I accidentally placed, a well, person in my inventory yesterday without even touching them. I need to know for sure if range of “touch” means “within arms reach”.
The match began and in my nervousness, I pressed harder on the blue mat underneath me. The coach wasted no time and spit an air dart directly toward my back placed leg hoping to knock me off balance. Suddenly “compressed air” was in my inventory. The coach was confused and I beamed with pride. It’s not just arms reach it’s as far as I could move any of my limbs from the position I’m in.
Coach closed some distance, if you’re thinking right now that he’s the normal “overweight, grizzly chest, slob” you’re wrong. This man was ripped, a chiseled chin, and a pathetically nice personality that made him all too susceptible to gullibility.
I took a step back with my back leg and pretended to let out a weak, slow kick, leaving my stance open left, completely wide open for any attacks to my right now. Using some air from behind him coach engaged quickly, getting a little too close…“Thooop” “1x Tom Jud (Coach)” was in my inventory. I pulled him out immediately and interesting enough he was entirely unconscious. Must have overloaded his senses.
After a brief 2 minutes and a very worried nurse running into the gym, he was completely fine.
Technically I would advance in the placement but coach went on about calling me a demon child and forbid me entirely from sparring.
Word quickly got around school that I “tricked” the coach and “got lucky” and since my power is so weak they won’t let me spar because they are afraid I’ll get hurt.
Well it’s not my business per say what the general conversation of the school is, until they bring it up to me. Which later that week after school is exactly what happened. Waiting for my bus to arrive I sat away from most people and sat with the majority of my closest friends where there was shade.
A few larger guys showed up and immediately made it known what they were there for.
“Hey weakling. We came to congratulate your win against coach, he was undefeated till you showed up and played some dirty cards. How about you and me right now?”
His body transformed, a pure composition of some sort of metal I couldn’t understand. It creaked with every breath he took.
“Sorry honey I’m not into guys who get hard after one look like that… I want to work for it a little you know?”
His friends stifled a laugh.
Holding nothing back he charged straight for me and I let him get real close. I just wanted him to taste victory. I placed him in my inventory and took him out as fast as I could. I placed him in roughly the same spot, his body went limp. Being transported through dimensional space is hard on the body you know?
From what they saw, the jock flickered, and fell over. This caused the other three to come at me. One tried to shove fire in my face, the other trying to restrain me in chains, and the last guy cleverly controlling my shoes with telekinesis. He might be a problem… the first two flickered and were immediately unconscious. The last guy, too smart for his own good. He fled. He didn’t understand he had the biggest upper hand compared to these guys, then again I learned telekinesis is a force that travels through the air, and I can put raw energy in my inventory. I’m just scared to take it out…
My friends having heard the explanation of all the tests I’ve done with my powers stood unimpressed.
“Mary, you are actually terrifying. I feel like you could put the whole world in your inventory whenever you feel like it, and just end everything….”
“Ooooo! That should be my next test!”
A few disapproving looks told me, that should not be my next test…
(Edit: I changed the ending and fixed some grammar. Ended it the other way because I was tired.) | 2021-10-17T01:30:14 | 2021-10-17T01:03:55 | 74 | 35 |
[WP] You live your life on repeat. You die, you’re reborn, in a perpetual loop. You’ve lived thousands of years. Some as a saint, helping others. Some as a monster, reducing the planet to nuclear ashes. After your last death, a voice fills your head. “You’re not getting it. How can you be so dense!” | "I'm guessing I'm supposed to fall in love." I sighed, Looks like the entity that had been manipulating me for the last millennia had finally decided to officially introduce himself to me.
"I can't bel- Wait- YES! That's it! Your one true lo-"
"I'm going to stop you right there. I take it you're the red headed man in the pale blue jacket?"
"I- What? How? You noticed me?"
"Well when you get to be my age you start to pick up on some things." I responded. "Amidst a universe that continually fought to flow back to the status quo you kept showing up. Same age, different times and places, always watching trying to nudge me a certain way. Subtle at first, a dropped handkerchief, a missed bus. I gotta say you've been getting sloppy lately. A free trip to Paris where my single room was mysteriously swapped with a couples suite?"
"Well I really thought you weren't getting it..." I could feel the voice's frustrations turn to utter bewilderment. "So do you know why I'm here?"
"I've made a guess. You're a time traveller of some sort and you've messed up. You need me to do something... or someone to fix it. So you keep sending me back. Though I've been to Paris dozens of times, and burnt it to the ground twice. What made you think that would entice me?"
"Well I can't watch your entire lifetime every cycle." the voice explained, "I only show up for a few days at a time, and I'd really like to get back to my own timeline so...could you-"
"No. Not yet." I said, "I've seen the other side, every time I die, for just a few seconds. I know what it's like to no longer know what anything is like. I don't want that. Not yet. Not forever. There's so much left for me to see, for me to be. Once I've done everything that no one has done, then and only then will I do the one thing everyone's done... I'll fuck your mother" | I look up from the gaming PC I've built. This incarnation has been one of stagnation for the most part. I mean, I was born during the greatest tech boom and economic decline. Honestly, I was tired and FINALLY there was something entertaining and worth while to just vegetate on.
"Don't know what the hell I'm supposed to get anymore... already got corona." I snap. "AND even worse a fucking job that pays me literally worse than the time I was a serf in the middle ages." I turn on the system bought with the credit I've been amassing like Pokémon, hoarding all with little intention to pay off, and gaze at the massive curved monitor ahead of me.
"Are you even trying anymore?" The voice asks.
"What's the trying," I sing, "All you get is pain, when I wanted sunshine I got plague." I grin "and covid 19, now I'm a vaccinator, I want a tail, or at least 5G..." the nonsensical single deteriorated into a random riff and something about a rhapsody.
"Can you take life seriously? "
"I did, for millenia... when I was a benevolent king, and was assassinated. When I was a ruthless tyrant, and was assassinated. A harmless beggar and was mugged.. A literally child and was...." I grimaced at the memory, "Well eventually killed. A baby and bashed against rocks. A priest and stabbed. A scientist and burned for being a sorcerer, even though I healed so many people with typhoid when it was seen as gods wrath... OH SPEAKING OF GODS, when I was revered as a God and then disemboweled to release my heavenly spirit.... I can go on and on and on... raped, murdered, assassinated, beheaded, died of a curable disease, imprisoned and drowned, tossed into lava, tortured, beaten, stoned, shot, gassed, lynched, betrayed.... Poisoned by my wife so she could marry and be murdered by my brother, that was funny as hell to read about. Should I go on, or can I start my new game of fucking Sims?"
"You were left here to learn." The voice said calmly.
"That there are more than a million ways to die? I learned that. Did you know you can LITERALLY die from lack of touch? Did you know that was a thing? I did that. It was not pleasant. You know what else I learned?"
"I'm sure there is a lot but..."
"You can actually Dutch oven yourself and die from your own fumes... that was a harsh lesson to learn. I also learned that my friends were assholes putting me in a fucking coffin after the four bowls of chili beans I scarfed on a fucking dare."
"I don't think it was your fart that..."
"It was the fucking farts." I snapped.
"The lesson I'm trying to..."
"I DON'T CARE. I SPENT NEARLY FIVE THOUSAND ON THIS HIGH END COMPUTER AND BY GOD I AM GOING TO ENJOY..."
The door to my apartment got kicked open, there was a bang, and when I next opened my eyes, a man in a surgical mask was guiding me out of a long wet tunnel...
I breathed hard, inhaled, coughed up amniotic fluid and wailed in despair. | 2022-02-09T20:14:27 | 2022-02-09T18:44:07 | 2,163 | 364 |
[WP] By Wizard Law, in order to learn a new skill, wizards are required to be apprenticed to a more experienced master. You, a barely trained journeyman fire mage, just took on an apprentice: a two-hundred-year-old Grandmaster Water Magic Lord. | "It's broken."
I looked at the old man and sighed. "It's not broken... you have to swish and drag your hand like this."
"Back in my day, we didn't have to swish and drag. We had good old fashioned wands and we were grateful for them!" he grumbled as he tried adjusting his Magika Glove.
"Wands are slow and awkward, Grandpa. Gloves are faster and you don't have to worry about pulling it out of it's case when you need it quickly." I took a breath and tried to push down my frustration. "Let's try it again. Focus your mind on the candle, *swish* and *draaag*."
The candle's wick gently caught on fire, the flame growing stronger as I dragged my hand through the air.
"See? Simple!" I smiled at my grandfather encouragingly. "You can do it, you're a Grandmaster Water Magic Lord. You've overcome harder things before."
The old man let out an audible *harumph* but turned back to the candle and tried again. The flame sparked to life but quickly went out.
"Argh... I told you, this damn thing is broken!" He exclaimed angrily. "I'm calling the company to give them a piece of my mind! Where's my wand?"
I felt a moment of comradery with the poor agent who will take his call and wished them the patience to get through it. Sitting down heavily on the couch, I watched my grandfather search for his misplaced wand and smiled to myself. He could have gone to one of his grandmaster friends to teach him fire magic but instead he called me. Despite the frustration of trying to teach him more modern tech, I enjoyed the time I spent with him.
"WHERE'S THAT BLASTED WAND?!"
I shook my head and chuckled as I stood. "Come on, Grandpa, I'll help you look." | Yún Yóu sat, still and quiet, listening as the Grandmaster made tea. The smell permeated the room, lingering aromas from the morning meal slowly drowning in the plain steam scent as the tea steeped. Outside in the morning sunshine, cicadas played their shrill and droning music.
"They say you are a prodigy," the Grandmaster said. "They say you already teach like a master. That you are a journeyman only because you are too young to be accepted as a higher pupil."
Yóu sighed at the compliment, but bowed nonetheless.
"You shame me, Water Lord," he said. "I have done nothing to deserve this honor."
The small fire in the kiln twisted, reaching out as if in supplication. Yóu reached his own hand back, and the flames coiled around his thin fingers like the ghost of an orange serpent. As the fire comforted Yóu, tea coiled from the spout of the teapot. Steaming and green, it poured itself neatly into the two cups nearby.
The Grandmaster picked up her teacup, carefully sipping. She watched Yóu play with the flickering flames as if they were a garden snake. After a few moments, they began to pale and wither, and he released them back into the kiln. There, they caught the coals once more, and flowed back into their natural form as a small cooking fire.
"You treat the flames as if they are alive. I knew a girl once, who did much the same with metal." The Grandmaster cocked a white eyebrow at the young man, her wrinkled skin a topology of curiosity.
Yóu sat, quietly contemplating for a moment. Then with slow, careful movements, he unwound the bandage over his ruined eyes. The scarred and melted flesh caught at the linen, but he gently separated it with a small wince.
Once more, the flames in the kiln reached out. Gently, they licked the metal table, and found their way over the side, where they swept back and forth until they found the porcelain cup. Only then did Yóu reach his hand out, finding his cup with a lazy sort of grace.
They sat for a moment, sipping their tea. Yóu could not see the Grandmaster's expression, but he could hear her ancient heartbeat pounding in excitement. He heard her hand quiver, rattling teacup against table as she set it down.
"I see; I believe I see," she whispered. "It's not the flames that live."
Yóu reached into his robes, finding his spare bandage. He held out the fresh strip of linen, straightening it in his hands, and offered it in the direction of the Grandmaster's voice. He felt her fingers brush his, as she carefully took it from him. He listened as she tied it, using it to cover her own eyes.
"This is all I have to teach, Water Lord. Once the flames light your path, you are a master in all but rank."
Blind but for the light of the fire, two masters bowed to one another. Quietly, they finished their tea as the cicadas sang. | 2022-05-30T10:09:14 | 2022-05-30T09:50:12 | 236 | 120 |
[WP] Just because one of your eggs hatched a fire-breathing dragon, people now think you’re evil. You’re really just a regular farmer trying to make a living, who now has to deal with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you & fanatics who want to worship you as a new demonic lord. | “Another one” you sighed as you look upon another newly burnt corpse of an adventurer that most likely had set his eyes set on you in order to gain fame.
“Mmpphhh” proudly snorted Ruby, a newly hatched dragon that took you as its parent.
“….good job” you reluctantly say as you can’t resist his eyes that are looking for praise for bringing you another one of its prey. “Call Mark. Tell him there’s another adventurer.
Ruby playfully skitters off to get Mark, a necromancer who had just started his path in magic. For some reason, after Ruby was born, a lot of weird fellows had come to swear allegiance to you. You tried to send them away, but they would not listen at all and stayed in front of your farm, begging to let them serve under yourself. In the end, you let them stay because you could’t get them to leave. You decided to have them help you with your farm work because you had nothing better yo do. Mark, in particular, was very helpful because his reanimations made plowing the lands and planting the seeds very helpful.
You lay back on you chair wondering what you did wrong to end up in this situation. All you ever wanted was to farm the land and live a quiet life. But ever since Ruby was born, your life has become chaotic, with weird people seeking you out and adventurers hoping to kill your to become famous. At first, you tried to built a fence around your farm to protect it, but it didn’t work, then a moat, and then walls, and now your tiny little farm had become a fortress filled with defenses and deterrents, but for some reason, this only attracted more adventures.
“VILE DEMON LORD” you heard screaming outside, “IF YOU HAVE ANY HONOR YOU’D COME OUT AND”
“BOOM”
“….”
“Another one” you sighed. | It had been a few weeks since the egg hatched and now everyone in the village was looking at me differently. They used to treat me like any other farmer, but now they were scared of me. They would cross the street to avoid me, or worse, they would bow down to me.
I didn't know how to make them understand that I was still just like them. A regular farmer trying to make a living. I was not a god nor a demon.
It all started when one of my eggs hatched and revealed a fire-breathing dragon.
After the dragon was born, my farm was overrun with people. They were there to see the dragon, and me, the one who raised it. But I hadn’t raised it on purpose. I just wanted to be left alone to live my life, but the people from the village and from the city wouldn’t leave me alone. They either wanted to worship me or kill me.
I had to keep the dragon locked up so that it wouldn’t accidentally kill anyone. I didn’t want anyone to die just because they were curious about my dragon.
The attention surrounding me was very uncomfortable, but at least I had my dragon to keep me company on my farm. I had to keep a close eye on it, though, because it was always trying to escape.
The first thing I did after the dragon hatched was to build a fence around the chicken coop so that it wouldn’t eat any more chickens. The second thing I did was to build a fence around the house so that it wouldn’t eat me or my family.
...
It was a rainy day. The clouds were low, and dark and foreboding. The wind howled loudly through the branches of the trees. Huge raindrops fell from the sky and created puddles in the yard.
I was in the house, thinking about work when I heard a loud rumbling sound. It almost sounded like thunder. But it wasn’t thunder. It was a dragon’s roar.
I ran to the window and saw my own dragon walking around in the yard. It was looking at the sky.
I heard another roar and the dragon turned its head to look. This time, I looked with it. I saw a huge, enormous, terrifying dragon. It was dark and had a dark red color. It looked like a real, live monster.
It landed on the ground with a heavy thud. It was huge. It had a long neck and tail, sharp horns and claws, and it was breathing fire.
The dragon I had kept in my chicken coop was only about a quarter the size of the red dragon. I had never seen anything like this dragon before. It was so much bigger than my dragon. It was terrifying. I could see the fire from its mouth as it breathed.
It roared at my dragon and my dragon roared back. The two dragons were in front of each other, just staring and breathing fire.
I heard a knock on my door and I reluctantly walked to the door. I slowly opened it and saw an old man dressed in a long, brown robe standing on my doorstep.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said with a gentle smile, “but I heard about your dragon and I wanted to come see it. My name is Master Pi Ang and I am here to help you.” | 2022-06-08T14:52:44 | 2022-06-08T11:50:48 | 198 | 78 |
[WP] Humans. Such a weak species. They cannot hide their minds. So I invade, and I conquer them. I become them. I've lived a thousand different lives. But you.. you are different. A black door guards your mind. So tell me human, how are you doing this? | The woman lit her pipe and adjusted herself in the armchair.
"It's open," she said to the intangible presence in the room. "Come in."
The entity wasted no time; it wouldn't be the first time a human underestimated it. Curious as the black door before this woman's mind was, the fluke would ultimately be of no consequence in just a moment.
It slid into her mind and started looking, scouring, prodding. A happy childhood in a wealthy neighbourhood, first love in high school, heartbreak when she had to move away to a law school... an utterly mundane life, it thought. Time to assimilate her.
The woman, feeling a slight pressure at her temples, reached down and grabbed a necklace around her neck; a small charm of bone with numerous odd symbols carved into it. As if it had blinked, the entity had suddenly found itself back outside of her mind, staring at the black door.
*What is this?* it hissed. The woman smiled.
"It's open. *Come in*."
There was the slightest hesitation as the entity wondered what could have possibly expelled it yet it crept into her mind again; determined, this time, to waste no time and assimilate her as quickly as possible. It would closely examine her mind later. Except...
The childhood was a blur of running from one orphanage to another, barely getting through high school. Trouble with lovers of all sorts, terrible smoking habits, ultimately signing up with the military, going to some far-away dusty place, being... shot. These were the memories of someone else. A *man*. A *dead* man.
The woman reached down and grabbed another, smaller bone pendant.
The memories grew fuzzy, hasty, erratic. They told of... being fed worms in the comfort of a nest, of first flight, or hunting for rabbits in the fields, or being chipped by scientists, of dying of a sickness not understood.
The entity, this time choosing to do so, fled her mind.
*Who are you?*
"Asking the wrong question," the woman said and took a long drag off her pipe. "What you're doing - consuming the minds of others, it's... wrong. A perversion of the Song. So, I'll have to insist that you stop."
*And if I do not?* the entity fired back, though its bravado was not entirely assured.
"Or you'll find out who I am." | "Even the most tightly shut doors spill millions of signals. The sharpness of the light under oak-set hinges, a lover's voice or grim violent thuds transmitted sloppily through wood, the ornate fingernail scratchings near the handle or an affixed poster or two would always give me a plethora of information before I stepped through doors into my host's mind," said I quietly looking her in the eye.
"The mute and lustrous darkness of yours, however, like a corner-cut slice of the night sky, only gives me eerieness." continued I and looked puzzled at her sweatshirted figure, whose brown eyes traced quivering deer tracks as her brow tensed and unfurled. She held her quiet and I added "I see no entry points, nor hinges, no doornails. How come your door came to be so?". I stood back and raised my hands in amicable concession and maintained carefully a few meters distance from the girl Yin.
I sensed her twitching and saw her lips flicker as she carefully knitted together the choice words of her answer. Throughout all this, she lay serenely calm and regarded me carefully while her two vacant arms played in and out of the pockets of her blue jeans. With each passing instant and each passing deed of hers, my sense of wonder was flamed further and my certainty shattered.
For I was puzzled, I for whom the millennia held nothing but the certainty of my divinity as the devourer of consciousness. I who have raced about since the first night and looked for the conscious spirit. I would find these and hollow their heads from the inside and get rid of the universe of this darned consciousness. No being ever wants this and there is no need for this accidental spill of divine chemicals into the fabric of the universe. As the years grew my purpose demanded that I would dart back and forth to completely erase any spill marks. For in my cold rationality there is already the dictionary of all possible actions and hence what use is this vagrant of consciousness to arbitrarily direct these actions and that too in such ugly oft-repeated motions?
But lay quashed my divine status as I could not understand what trick this girl Yin was using. I raged inward in questions of exasperated explanation and looked back at Yin who still lay a few steps in front of me.
A reversal had taken place as now I grew silent and she with jocular ease now swayed lightly and pushed her arms forward, with her palms facing me. As she did so, her eyes punctuated into concentration on her hands. Strange lights began to flash in the corner of my vision as she did all this, and as I would turn to regard these lights they would vanish and start playing in the corner of my vision again.
I grew frightened and as I turned to her I could see her but now she seemed miles away from me as if on an island and in raging waves surged towards me sensations of newness, the likes of which I could not imagine. Whispers and ideas from forgotten and rewritten times pulsed in my head as I mightily desired to catch hold of these but I could not for the barrage of a million more thoughts rammed into my own doors. I lay in the deluge confronted by this splendor that gradually seemed to ease and take luminous, transient shapes in my mind.
Yet the torrents ceased suddenly save for an echoing hum and her voice rose melodically "You do not understand me for I am not merely conscious. I am that which consciousness aspires, that which inventions and discovery crave, that which ecstasy and lust swoon toward, that which neither words nor sounds nor even thoughts could ever understand. While I persist, the universe persists."
Shaken I gazed back at her gentle form while my purpose dissipated. | 2022-08-24T16:06:59 | 2022-08-24T15:16:12 | 168 | 16 |
[WP] As far as you remember, you have grown up in foster care with your other two identical triplet siblings. But now you have tracked down your birth mother, and discover she only gave birth to twins. | I coughed a little, nearly choking on the soda she had given me. "I... beg your pardon? You said... twins?"
"Well, yes, of course," she responded with a furrowed brow. "I gave birth to two boys."
"I... believe you are mistaken," I said, slowly. "You see, I am one of three, I am a triplet."
She gave me a blank stare, a stare my brothers had given me before, and surely I them; it was like looking into a mirror. "I only gave birth to two. I remember that quite well." She popped open an orange container with some white pills in them, took two pills, and glugged them down with her soda.
I had planned this out in my head. I wanted to meet her, to ask her why she gave us up, how she could give away three babies, three healthy boys. But I hadn't been prepared for something like this. "P...perhaps you are mistaken?"
"I am not mistaken," she said, staring me down. This woman, my biological mother, was dressed in neatly in a blazer and a button down shirt with black dress pants. A business woman of some sort, educated. In another situation, I might have dissected her home's furnishings and her dress and behavior to determine why she abandoned us. But this was too jarring. "I was pregnant with three boys, but I gave birth to two."
"So for the third you had a C-section or something, right?"
"No, no. In my second trimester, the third one was absorbed or something. Vanishing twin syndrome. I only gave birth to two babies. And they were taken away from me immediately after for foster care. Something about me being an unfit parent due to being mentally unfit. Doesn't really matter anymore, does it?"
"But... but I have a second brother. There are three of us." My mind reeled.
"Maybe you need these more than I do," she remarked, shaking the orange pill container. | We never knew, we said. well, I mean, we knew- everyone has a mother, right,- but we never really *knew*. It never occurred to any of us, any of the three of us, that we actually had a mother, a living, breathing human being somewhere out there amongst the 7-odd billion people on the planet. I guess she never really mattered to us. Why would she?
That, anyways, is what Ralph said tome when the papers came. I wasn’t surprised. I knew she existed, she had to. It was kind of silly to think otherwise.
Him and our other brother, Mal, were shocked, delighted, maybe even a bit astounded to tear open that envelope. It had cost us enough, at least- we’d been saving our pocket money, earned from working in the foster home’s laundry room, to finally hire someone to find her for us. Took us about 10 years or so, but the paper came.
Her name was Rachel. Such a young name, she couldn’t have been older than 30. She’d had us at such a young age, we suppose she just couldn’t have afforded us; one child is enough hell, but three? Some might even understand her plight. I didn’t. I wouldn’t understand it, I refused to, which is why after we talked about it, I managed to convince my brothers that I should be the one to see her, first. I told them they could wait in the city, but I wanted some time by myself with her, first. I was angry, I needed to understand, I told them.
So we went. We were 17 each, old enough to drive. We rented a car with the rest of our money, and away we went. It wasn't far; she lived in a small village about a hundred miles away. I don’t remember the name.
And so, I went in. She was young, as I imagined. She wore young clothes, and she wore copious lipstick, a deep, blood-red color. We talked for a while. She didn’t know our names. I told her we were Ralph, and Mal. We were healthy, but not happy. She didn’t know what to think of it.
“Mothers shouldn’t leave their children.”
The words struck her, hard, and she started crying. She kept apologizing, she said she just didn’t have the money, and isn’t it better than just being aborted, anyway? I suppose I couldn’t fault her there. But, it doesn’t matter. It was her fault, and I told her that.
“Your sons needs justice,” I said to her. “Someone needs to be punished for the pain you inflicted upon them. Someone needs to pay.”
“Them?” She responded with confusion. I smirked.
“Us.” Her face relaxed, but only for a moment. She pulled out a cigarette.
“Us. Me and my two brothers. Ralph, and Mal.”
“Two brothers? But I only had twi-” she stopped.
“I know.” As I pulled the gun from my pocket, her cigarette, unused, stained permanently with her blood-red lipstick, hit the ground.
Edit: how the hell do I change this formatting?
Edit: nvm got it | 2014-07-16T08:54:13 | 2014-07-16T07:58:19 | 88 | 17 |
[WP] A shapeshifter befriends a lonely human multiple times throughout his or her life, but the human thinks it's a different person every time. One day the human realizes that all of his/her friends are really the same person. | No one would believe me if I told them. And I don't know if *I* believe me, sitting here alone, thinking about the past.
I can imagine my husband Jared, the lawyer, murmuring in my mind, muttering his arguments and counterarguments. He taught me to argue, and whenever I am conflicted with myself, I use his staunch logic and his raspy voice.
"I never saw *any* of them in the same room." I didn't. I hadn't. "But you didn't want to, did you? You believed in keeping your friend groups separate. You never introduced any of them to *me*."
I felt the desperation in my thoughts, the bleakness in the alternative. Because now, today, a month after my husband died and took everything with him, it has been a month since I saw my best friend Sarah, a month since I'd seen my psychologist, a month since Jonathan, my cubicle-mate, had stopped coming into work.
And I'd never seen them in the same place, and they'd all pronounced "Mature" like Mah-toor, weird, right, and they'd all been *my type of people*, and... and they were *all gone*.
I had been so optimistic my entire life, so optimistic right up to the moment a semi smashed into Jared's coupe on the highway and decapitated him in a moment, so optimistic until he was gone forever, so optimistic until everyone was gone with him, everyone that mattered.
"And here you are now, concocting ridiculous theories to *stay* optimistic, because you'd rather believe that all your friends were Jared, died with Jared, then to believe that they all left you. That they abandoned you. That they're gone."
No. They would have stayed. They would have stayed. | I coul hear the door open and Evan walking in my apartment. The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them. "Hi, Evan! Or are you someone else now, you fucking piece of shit?" His voice drifted from the hallway, full of sadness and despair. "Melanie, you know I never wanted you to know this?" I felt anger rise inside of me at his sentence. If I didn't catch him... changing his skin, he never would've told me. I exploded at him. "So you would just continue to do this? Leave, change and then come back? How many times have tou done it? Who was the first?" He just stood there, silent, for what felt like an eternity. His next words left me open-mouthed. "Jake." I stared at him, hoping he was lying, that he somehow guessed that name. "You're so full of shit. I don't believe you." The smile he gave me was nostalgic, like he was an old grandpa about to tell his favourite story. "I was just passing through the playground when I saw you. You were sitting on the grass, far away from other children. The look on your face broke my heart. You seemed
so... alone. So I ran quickly to my house, changed, and went back to find you. The rest is familiar to you, I hope." I sat down on my sofa, staring at a dark spot on the wall. My mouth were moving, but no sound came out. Evan, who had his back turned on me, took the silence as a sign to continue his story. "After Jake left, I checked up on you every couple of years. Next time I approached you was Miles in tenth grade. I enjoyed being him. You also liked him, but I never wanted that kind of relationship with you. Leaving you the first time was hard for me as it is, and I didn't want to make it more difficult for either of us." Tears were now running down my face, replacing the anger with realization that my best friends were a single person who tricked me and turned me into his charity case. I sniffed and reached for the tissues on the table. "Jake, Miles, and Evan." I paused, waiting for his confirmation. Instead I got another emotional punch in the stomach. "And Sam." His face told me that wasn't a lie. "You mean, Sam who died in a car accident?" He nodded. I stood up, pointing at the door to my apartment. "Get out." When he didn't move, I started screaming. "Get out, you freak! Just leave me alone for once in your pathetic life! Change and leave! That's what you do, don't you, you sad little fuck?" Evan, or whatever's his real name stayed silent during my breakdown. When I was finally finished, he dropped his keys on the table. "If it's any consolation, I did care about you." And with that, he left. Hopefully, for the last time. | 2014-08-15T11:11:00 | 2014-08-15T10:42:20 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | “I had no idea what the numbers meant at first, but everyone had one. The highest I had seen, before I knew what they were, was my uncle, a Vietnam veteran, five. I learned what they really meant two years ago, walking home after my first day of middle school, a passing car swerving all over the road, had to be going at least 60 miles an hour, the driver was a seven. The car flew through a house, leaving nothing but a hole in the wall and smoking scrap metal. According to the news that night all the passengers and the owner of the house had been killed, those numbers measured danger, and from then on I steered clear of the high ones.
Flash forward until now, a couple months into my freshman year of high school. Most kids aren't all that dangerous, usually around a two; some of the meek scrawny nerds are a one, and some of the linebackers who look like they've been taking steroids for years are a three. A new kid shows up and flies under everyone's radar but mine, six.
This guy isn't some stereotypical gangbanger or hoodrat, just a normal looking kid who looks like he might have moved from a neighborhood much more posh than this one. I keep my distance as usual, but resolve to keep an eye on him. Nothing seems to go wrong, in fact he's pretty popular, but I still become more wary of him, of his number, of seven, of eight.
I'd never seen anyone's number change before, but this guy's just keeps going up at record pace. A day ago it happened, *ten.* I had been to a prison once to visit my idiot brother who got busted for selling weed, and nobody there was even that high. I don't know what this fucker is planning, but with a number like that it's got to be a national security issue or something.”
This journal entry was recovered from the home of US Department of Defense supernatural human subject #2718, who was recovered following a school shooting incident. We have determined that the numbers he sees are likely correlated not only to the danger a person poses, but also faces. Further experimentation and interviews are required to determine any potential applications of this ability. Subject is deemed safe to return to society, following debriefing and signature of non-disclosure agreement.
(I kinda suck at writing endings, but I gave it a shot. My first non FF/CW post here!)
| He looked at me. His eyes were dark and sunken into his pale face. I sensed something - something terrible - but I didn't want it to be true. Ten. Just a number to some, but to me, it was something terrifying. I could sense danger, but not in the animal planet documentary story of a dog predicting a storm kind of way, it was more of "this persons dangerous stay away". Ten. It was the highest number I've ever felt. The last time it was even above a three was at the local gun show that I went to with my grandpa. But even then there were only fives, sixes, and maybe a stray ex-ranger or marine who clocked in at an eight. But never a ten.
The kid across the hall must've been about 15 years old, a year younger than myself. Freshman no doubt. I could tell by the way he carried himself walking through the hall, scared and timid, or maybe it was because he was new. Either way it didn't really matter. He was new and he was dangerous. The boy didn't glow with a scary or dangerous aura as some kids do, you know the senior who has about 50 pounds on you, has way too many tattoos to still be in high school and probably carries a knife or that constantly pissed off and high on caffeine kid who is always in the principles, no he didn't look like that. He just looked sad, depressed even.
Days passed and I didn't bother him and he didn't bother me. I saw him from time to time in the halls and the alarm in my head shot off again and again. Ten. But I did nothing. What could I do though? You can't just approach someone and yell at them because "I can sense danger and you are a really dangerous guy". Ya start a huge scene about my magical powers that'll work! Definitely won't get my ass kicked for that. But still I felt like I needed to do something, warn someone, I can't just sit idly by as this kid roamed through school. I couldn't tell anyone though, no one would believe it. So the days passed and I started to forget about the boy. Not truly forget, I knew he was there, but more that I blocked him out. Maybe it was because he scared me, I don't know.
It has been four weeks since he arrived. TING, TING, TING. I knew I should have said something. I could've if I wanted too. Or maybe this was how it was suppose to be. I wasn't much of a believer in a "pre-determined destiny" kind of philosophy and yet I didn't try and change anything. I let it happen. TING, TING, TING, TING. This all could've been avoided. Fuck me, I was given this power and I never even fucking used it when I had the chance. TING, TING, TING. I deserve this, but they don't. They're innocent. TING, TING, TING, TING. They kept hitting the floor. I urged them to stop. Stop it, please! PLEASE GOD STOP IT. There was no god now though, he had turned a blind eye to this just as I had done to the boy. And this is the price I pay. TING, TING, TING. The shells hit the school tile as the boy with the gun marched through the halls ripping the life out of each and everyone who lined the halls. The blood pooled up at his feet. TING, TING, TING. He wouldn't stop. I kneeled and excepted my fate. The last thing that went through my mind was ten. TING. Just before the bullet erased everything.
| 2014-11-29T12:35:37 | 2014-11-29T12:31:42 | 199 | 38 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | “One, two, two, one, three, two.” Numbers over the heads of my friends, family.... People I knew, people I didn’t. I can’t remember when they got there. I just sort of started noticing them one day.... And what they meant was... Obvious to me somehow. “One.... One....”
I often murmured to myself, no one seemed to notice or care. It was all sub vocal, no one could really hear it unless they were listening closely... Then something stopped my mindless chanting.... Someone walked onto the school grounds.
“Ten?!” I stared at her, and covered my mouth, sitting back down on the steps, hoping no one noticed.
She was a ten? But... It wasn't possible, she was just so... Normal.... How could she possibly? I had never even seen a ten before! But I knew she wasn’t what one was supposed to look like.
I noticed she was heading straight towards me. I scrambled to my feet, and ran into the school, and down the hall, she was chasing me.
“Come back here!” She demanded.
“No!” I gasped as loud as I could still running, but she caught me by the wrist, and then yanked, we both fell on the floor.
“I need your help.” She pleaded, and wouldn't release my hand. “I was told to find you.”
“Please let me go! I have to get away from you.”
“No! Please listen! I need you!”
“Let go of me!”
“Listen to me and I’ll let you go!”
“Talk fast.” I said still struggling to get away from her.
“I need you to stop me.”
I stopped struggling. “What?”
“Without killing me, I need you to stop me.... You can see the numbers right? I had to find the one who can see the numbers.”
“Stop you from what?”
“Please.... I don’t want to die.” She said holding my hand tight, and starting to cry.
“Wait a moment calm down....” I said raising my free hand, “What are you talking about?”
“I am the end...” She said sobbing, and releasing my wrist to cover her eyes with her hands.
“What? The end of what?!” I demanded, more confused than ever.
“Of everything.” | Danger is not quantified by how much harm one could cause others, but by how how much harm one intends to cause others. That's why two people of the same height, weight, and muscle mass could be unequally dangerous. That's why my best friend, the huge, 6 and a half foot tall, 250 pound, football player isn't dangerous at all. He simply doesn't intend to harm others. That's also why the cute little two year old down the street is incredibly dangerous. If given the opportunity, she would harm, possibly even kill, in a heartbeat. That's also why people's danger levels fluctuate a little over the course of any given day, as they get more or less aggressive, more or less stressed, etc.
How do I know so much about danger? It's simple really: I see it. When I look at another person, study them for a couple seconds, a number starts to form in my head, one that quantifies how dangerous that person is at that very instant. The longer I look, the more exact the number. For example, one time I decided to study my father for an entire 5 minutes, and the number in my head started to grow to around 100 digits after the decimal. Normally, however, I only study someone for a few seconds, and only get a one digit number, somewhere from 1 to 10. My friend, who I talked about earlier, tends to stay around 2 or 3, because he has a really good heart and no one he hates (they're all too scared to make fun of him at all). The highest I've ever seen him was a 4, and that was during his history final exam. The little girl down the street, she tends to be around an 8. The highest I've ever seen was a 9.55, from a guy who walked by me on the street once. I only got a good look at him long enough for 3 digits, and that included me turning around to watch him keep walking.
Occasionally, my ability takes a while to calculate a number. This is especially annoying when I meet new people , and try to figure out if they're a good person or not. Occasionally, I meet someone who I'm never able to determine the danger level of. Take my English teacher, for example. He's a nice enough guy, but for some reason I've just never been able to place a number on him. I'm not perfect, after all.
On the first day of my Junior year of high school, there was a new student in my Calculus class. I looked intently at him, as I always do with newcomers, trying to determine a number for him. He caught my gaze after a few seconds, and held it, staring back at me with cold, calculating, gray eyes. I kept looking at him, as uncomfortable as it was, determined to determine a number (:P). I was about to give up, thinking he was just one of those people I could't give a number to, when suddenly a bright red number flashed across my brain, followed by an exclamation point. 10! At first, I was confused, (I didn't even realize tens were possible), but in a tenth of a second my confusion turned to horror. I quickly tried to cover my face with a mask of disinterest, and looked away from him as nonchalantly as I could. Then, I "calmly" stood up, asked the teacher if I could "go to the nurse", and "calmly" exited the classroom. As soon as I got out of the classroom, I started running, and I've never stopped. | 2014-11-29T14:15:56 | 2014-11-29T12:41:49 | 30 | 22 |
[WP] You travel back in time to the 1900's, you take your tablet out of your rucksack only to find that there is a WiFi hotspot nearby labeled "If you can see this, turn back.". | Pouring over all of the possible paradoxes, reviewing episodes of star trek and the terminator movies in his head, he decided he must know why, no, Who was telling him to flee. After all, he would most likely not be the last traveler.
He connected to the network...authenticating...a Terms of Service screen pops up.
He blinks, rubs his eyes, the tiny print goes on and on in scientific language about temporal travel and the hazards of it, but he wasn't the engineer, just the brave test pilot. Near the bottom, the words are all in bold.
TIME IS A LIVING THING, LIKE PLANET EARTH. SHE IS A CREATURE OF BALANCE. PLEASE GO BACK.
Gaia hypothesis was laughed at by most from his time. But destruction of the natural environment had disrupted the balance of the planet, that is why he was there, to see if it was possible to start sustainable energy projects earlier, so by the early 21st century, they would have rendered fossil fuels obsolete before "the tipping point" had been reached.
The language of the text became simpler after the bold sentence. It was obvious that whoever wrote it didn't fully understand the nature of time, but knew enough to warn any who would venture backward.
"Time is a living creature, and traveling through it is like poking holes into a delicate membrane. It's vital fluids begin to leak out and with too much travel, alternate timelines emerge at an exponential rate. They spiral into existence and then collide into each other almost immediately. However, to those who come into existence inside of these temporary timelines, they feel that time is long and linear just as all other life does. This is a ethical issue. Excessive use of temporal technology will create and destroy trillions of humans. They are just as real as you." | I'd just emerged from the subway (my time machine) and had been maneuvering through the veins of central New York City when I'd stumbled upon something grave. The tablet in my rucksack had hung heavy the whole while that I'd been weaving my way in and out of each flock of workers and businessmen alike, hanging like dead weight. I'd just turned the corner into what I believed to be Times Square, and my tablet buzzed in my rucksack, signaling me that there was a wi-fi hotspot nearby. I almost lost my footing and was swallowed by the crowd around me, but regained myself, turned around, and ditched down a back alley way to regain my sanity as well as a bit of privacy. The alley led down to the back of an Italian meat-shop, steam rising from the back kitchen door. I sat down against a chain-link fence, the metal wire caving to fit the curvature of my back. Dear gosh- was it really the wi-fi buzz I felt? I took my tablet from the rucksack that now leaned to my right side, cautious of the world around me. The fluorescent screen lit up like a match in the alley, and my brow began to sweat. *Would you like to connect to a server?* **One** *server nearby*. Out of curiosity, I clicked the "connect" button with a shaky finger. Something in my tablet flickered, and the wi-fi server appeared. *Damn.* The words sounded like a car crash when I read them in my head. "If you can see this, turn back", the screen read, and I'd never been so afraid of seven syllables in my life.
I stuffed the tablet in my bag and jumped to my feet, only to see an Italian mother ready to turn from the kitchen into the back alley. With a deep breath I turned the opposite direction and ran, creating a detour in my mind to get back to the subway. It seemed as if the whole city knew I didn't fit in, didn't belong- and that there would be consequences for that. Even the buildings stared at me with their glassy panes and robust frames. I quickened my pace as I cleared two, then three blocks, and then a final fourth block. I rounded one more corner- an emerging market- and searched for the entrance into the ground below- but all that was there was pavement and a crimson fire hydrant.
*Shite*. I put my hands onto my back and exhaled deeply, staring into the clear sky above. The Time Travelers Handbook and Agenda had clearly stated that if the portal was to disappear, it meant that someone or *something* from your destined period had entered it, and the gatekeepers had shut the portal down until a further plan of action could be determined. This could take minutes to years to complete. I turned back on my heel and casually sauntered into a neighboring Irish Inn, ordered myself a meager serving of soup, and took a window seat. | 2014-12-23T20:38:22 | 2014-12-23T19:27:07 | 30 | 18 |
[WP] Foreshadow the character's death so subtly that I still don't see it coming even though I requested it. | He was a healthy man.
He ate healthy foods.
He did regular exercise.
He did daily chores.
He did an active and outdoor job.
He does not eat healthy foods.
He does not do regular excercise.
He does not do daily chores.
He does not have an active outdoor job.
He was, he is not. | Five years old, he's on the playground now, a toe in the sand. He's beckoning to you to push him on the swing.
Six years old - He's been with his mother all day and rushes to greet you at the door. You kiss him on the forehead and hug your wife. The love that connects you three anchors the rest of your life.
Nine years old - you buy him a gerbil. He names the animal and takes care of it diligently. He tells you that's what he wants to do in life - help animals. You nod and smile.
He's on the varsity team. He rows and plays basketball. He has your affinity for the knicks and the Jets. He falls in love with a cheerleader. She breaks his heart and for the first and last time in his life he tries drugs. He meets Cindy who becomes the love of his life. He introduces her to you and Maggie. He tells you that the man he's become is because of the virtues you imbued in him and hands you a sonogram. You're going to be a grandfather. You embrace your son.
He's forty three. A twice divorced executive who still loves the Jets and spoils his kids with whatever they want. They resent him but you can see the love for them in his eyes.
He's sixty one. The veins in his taut leathery hands are prominent. He steadies himself as he reads your eulogy. Here lies my father, the greatest man I've ever known.
| 2015-06-03T07:24:41 | 2015-06-03T07:16:05 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] An ancient evil awakens. A modern evil doesn't like competition. | *This probably isn't exactly what you had in mind, but here it is anyway!*
"I heard Lilith was back."
I checked my compact mirror, swiping away the black fleck of mascara that had landed on my perfectly sculpted cheek.
I sighed, clicking my mirror shut and took a drink of my martini.
"So? Who cares? It's not like anyone remembers her anyway." I reasoned. My friend, and fellow demon, Gabby, was always in on the gossip of Hell. If she said Lilith was back, I believed her. But what did I care? Bitch was old, outdated.
You see, long ago Lilith was in my position. The Princess of Hell, Queen of Selfishness, Goddess of Vanity. Then the whole "Puritan" age, Christian Crusades shit happened. Folks were getting high and mighty, not nearly as concerned with themselves, and suddenly she wasn't able to do her job. Like that was an excuse! I think she lost her touch, personally. Anyway, long story short, she went away.
And now she's back.
But I wasn't worried. I mean, my job was *easy*. Almost too easy. With the invention of Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, cell phone cameras, and the deeply ingrained human flaw to want to be accepted and loved, my job was easier than ever. Selfies were my speciality. Insecure little humans wanting someone, anyone, to give them attention. A little flex of muscle, a pout of lips, a bit of cleavage, a coy smile, "fuck me" eyes. Humans were pathetic. I did my job and did it well. I was modern, hip, in with the times. That old bitch was history.
I mean, yeah, the lady was smoking hot. I bet even now, she's still pretty. But I was prettier. I checked my compact again, eyeing my face in the small mirror. My skin was perfect, my facial symmetry was perfect, my hair was perfect.
"Are you worried?" Gabby asked.
"Fuck that bitch! She ain't got nothing on me!" I replied, snapping the mirror shut again.
Okay so, I was worried, sort of. Not that I would ever admit that to Gab. I drummed my nails on the table we were sitting at. Lilith is Master's favorite after all. Well, *was*. That title goes to me now. *Ugh, why the fuck is she here?* I mean, there's only room for one Vanity Queen. That's me.
"Oh, shit! There she is!" Gabby sputtered into her drink.
There she was, arm-in-arm with Keith, our Demon Relations advisor. That was not a good sign. *Shit, shit, shit.* I watched as they scanned the dimly lit bar we were in until Keith's eyes met mine. Fuck. They were looking for me. *Be cool.*
I stood up to greet them, big fake smile plastered on my face. See, even I can learn a bit from the humans.
"Vanessa, I'd like you to meet Lilith. Lilith is going to be assisting you in the Human Egotistical Department starting tomorrow." Keith said.
*Fuck.* | "Look, mate, I don't care if no-one's answering the door. Just kick the lock in and go and see who's upstairs."
"Got it Boss, you don't have to shout," Tim was not having a good day. He'd been stood outside the same council flat in Hackney for the last two hours, while a freezing drizzle worked its way inside his torn-up parka. No one had been answering the door, and the neighbours had been reluctant to help him. He supposed being almost seven foot tall, covered in prison tattoos and a shaved head did nothing to promise good customer service.
"I do when I employ fucking cretins like you."
Tim snapped the phone shut and sighed. The Boss--Mike--was a loan shark, pure and simple. He leant money to people who couldn't afford it: like the bloke in this flat Tim was currently outside, then sent bruisers round to collect when they were late.
Tim, having emerged from Marston a few months ago, was prime 'bruiser' material. It didn't matter that in prison he'd given up any pretence at being violent, taken up knitting and decided to reconnect with his Nan. If Mike wanted Tim to be a bruiser, Tim was a bruiser.
Tim knocked on the door again, peering through the frosted glass to see if anyone was inside. Knowing that it wouldn't be opened, no matter how hard he knocked, he lifted one booted foot up and kicked the lock. It shattered on first impact and the shitty plywood door swung inwards on its hinges. The smell was the first thing that hit him: a warm muggy stench that reminded Tim of a dead dog he'd found outside his gym. Flies had buzzed around the animal's mouth and eyes, a wound in its side already turning black and ugly. This house was like that wound: no light from the grey street penetrated the dusty hallway and it took Tim a couple of minutes to adjust to the darkness.
"Hello?" He stepped forward and coughed at the smell. He raised a hand to his nose as something crunched beneath his foot. He hoped it was a pack of crisps, but when he removed his foot and ducked to have a look, he was greeted with a baby bird. It had been dead already, but he had just crushed its skull. Papery feathers and white bones mingled on the stained carpet.
"Fuck," he whispered, wiping his foot on the myriad of take-away leaflets that littered the floor.
"Hello?" He said again. Tim poked his head into the living room, where a soundless TV was running a brainless games show. Tim shook his head. He hadn't watched any TV since Marston: it was like eating candy-floss after a lifetime of unsalted chicken. Too sickly sweet.
He stepped through into the kitchen. At first his mind could not comprehend what he was seeing. Two figures sat propped against the kitchen cabinets, like rag dolls. Their fingers were twisted together and their faces were moving. Tim's brain immediately jumped to barber's poles: the red and white turning signs outside men's hairdressers. As he got closer he realised why: each figure was a child. Dried and congealed blood matted their once-blonde hair. The white was crawling maggots, spreading across the destroyed remnants of their foreheads and temples. Someone had taken a blunt instrument to each child. The kitchen cabinets were smeared with more blood. Like the baby bird in the hallway, their skulls had been crushed.
Tim backed away. His stomach held, but inside he was thinking fast. He was a known convict. His presence at this scene would make him an immediate suspect and he doubted Mike would act as a convincing alibi. His fingers scrabbled at the formica kitchen table as he considered his options. A white note caught his attention, written in an unsteady hand. Tim picked it up and scanned the misspelled words.
*Poverty is back. I am so sorry, I cannot feed them. He has awoken.*
Tim stuffed the note in his pocket, nervous. He left the house, trying to make the broken lock on the front door as inconspicuous as possible. He called the police anonymously from a payphone and left the area, leaving a message on Mike's phone.
"Yeah, Boss, couldn't find 'em I'm afraid. Someone else got there first. I think you've got competition." | 2015-08-23T09:21:09 | 2015-08-23T08:54:16 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] You are an assassin that hunts superheroes. You haven no powers yourself. | Every Achilles has his heel. Every Samson has his haircut. Every Superman his Kryptonite. You get the picture.
Remember Titanius? Of course you do. Among many other feats, he was the hero that killed that massive Kraken in Columbia City Harbor. He had unbreakable armored scales that covered his entire body, making him look like a shining steel statue. He foiled countless terror attempts and robberies. Of course you remember who he was. Well, I'm the reason he's dead. See, underneath all the costumes and abilities, heroes are just people like you and me. He may have had super armor, but he also had a severe peanut allergy. And let me tell you: it's pretty damn hard to stab an Epi pen through those unbreakable scales.
Villains, you see, are just like heroes: impatient. If they can't bang down a wall and throw some punches, then they don't really want any part in that. Where's the glory and adventure and thrill in digging through the old medical records of an elementary school in Madison, Wisconsin? I'm content to let those superpowered fools slug away at each other while I uncover the real key.
I've worked with *nearly* every villain in town. Most of the new ones scoff when they first meet me, and I just smile back at them. They're so confident in their abilities that they don't see the need for an "unp" like me. "Unp," of course, is the somewhat derogatory word that villains use, and heroes when no one is listening, for 'unpowered' people like myself.
Then they get in their first fight, and they get their clock cleaned. And I watch it go down on the news, and I love *every second* of it. The pompous villain then comes crawling back to me, bleeding and messy and bruised. I calmly inform him or her that the rates have now tripled, and of course they are willing to pay. Hell, I'd bet that half of the super crimes committed in Columbia City are just to pay my own steep rates. You'd think that after twenty or so rounds of this, *one* of the new guys would have the sense to accept my initial offer, but it hasn't happened yet.
I'm slowly working my way up the food chain. As I said, I've worked with *nearly* ever villain in town. Lord Poneros still refuses to hire me. Hell, he refuses to work with *anyone*. And why should he? His schemes have gone off without a hitch time and time again. No Superhero has been able to stand up to him yet; the few that are able to actually *find* him are generally killed off pretty quickly. But more and more heroes are born every day. Sooner or later, Poneros will need me and I'll be there to answer the call. I'll tell him my rates, but I won't remind him that he was the one who killed my family all those years ago. I'll keep that a secret while I work for him, discovering the fault of the many heroes that come after him. I'll bide my time patiently, watching and learning.
Heroes aren't the only ones with weaknesses. | I meet an informant on a dark alley, an old unkempt man wearing a tattered trench coat and a old hat. "Have anything on Steel?" i asked reaching my hand with a roll of money. His eyes sparkle and a smile appears under his messy beard as he greedily takes it out of my hand
"I do, i do" he mumbles, quickly counting the money. He reaches his hand under his coat and rummages around until he pulls it out holding a small box. Inside are a few dozen memory sticks, each with a tag attacked to them. After a moment, he takes one with the tag spelling Steel and hands it to me
I take it and look around, there is no one but a few stray cats eerily watching us from around a dumpster. I pocket the stick and vanish in the night, i need to return home and do my research. Sometimes i wonder if it would have been better to have a super power, maybe i will be held high as a superhero, selfish and arrogant, looking down on all those weaker than me
Regardless, mafia leaders have had just about enough from this guy; he constantly harms their business and steal their cash and drugs, yet in the eyes of the people he is still a hero... Well, not for much longer
I turn on the pc and download the data on the stick; Steel; super strength, invulnerable to bullets, armor piercing included. Weaknesses, slow speed, fast to overheat due to effort. Real name Mathew Steel, unmarried, three unpaid speeding tickets
Best option will be to go in with a flame thrower, i will have to camouflage it somehow... maybe hide the tanks into a backpack, but the tanks will be too small to overheat him... Thermite, it could burn a hole through his body with ease, the problem is to get close enough to him
After a night of rest i came up with a simple plan, have a pack of thermite covered by adhesive and stick it to his body before igniting it with the flame thrower
Thanks to mafia informers i know where he will be. Night comes and i put on my cloak, the tanks of the flamethrower on my back as a backpack and the nozzle inside my sleeve. Fire resistant gloves to protect my hands and a mask to hide my face from any witnesses
According to intel, Steel is about to arrive at the warehouse before me, this is the place of a money laundering operation, but most of the money inside were moved, leaving behind some workers, guards and falsified banknotes
Like clockwork, the guy pulls his expensive car down an alley, from the way the suspensions reacted he must weigh at least a few hundred kilos, a punch from this guy could kill me, so i will have to be sneaky... or devious
He enters the warehouse and gunshots start to be heard. I move quickly because police is not too far away. Just as i reach the doors, he comes out with two sacks loaded with counterfeit money. He surprised me a bit, his sheer size and muscular body is rather intimidating
"Hey, you're Steel!" i said removing the mask off my face before he notices. I smile at him and approached asking "Are you okay? I heard gunshots so i called the police". His eyes widened when i mentioned the police and he picked up his pace
"Stand aside citizen. The criminals have been dealt with" he said making haste to get to his car. I take a bag of thermite from my pocket just as he passes by me and acting friendly i pat him on the back, attaching the bag right against his spine
He throws me a suspicious look, so i quickly pull back my hand. He turns away and heads to his car moment which i start my flamethrower. In moments the bag of thermite ignited and burned through his spine, dropping him like a sack of potatoes
His screams filled the night, but he couldn't move, his spine was damaged and he was paralyzed. I walk in front of him and squat down taking another bag of thermite out of my pocket and stinking it on top of his head. His eyes were full of anger at first then fear, before he could start crying and shouting i light the pack and it burned a hole through his head just as police sirens started to be heard to close for comfort
I left quickly, my money have been transferred prior to this and my promise has been fulfilled
| 2015-11-13T07:28:28 | 2015-11-13T07:17:42 | 545 | 66 |
[WP] Many milenia ago your significant other was granted immortality and eternal health for themselves and all their loved ones. Today you got sick. | "I'm not an idiot, Mal. I know what this means."
"Katherine, stay in bed!" Malence Grey pushed his wife back down onto the four-poster bed. She glared at him, but lacked the strength to resist, flopping limply amongst the knotty silk sheets. "I'm going to find you a doctor. A good one. This is...this is nothing."
"A doctor?" Katherine closed her eyes. Her breath came and went in a labored rasp. "How? You stopped bothering with paperwork 50 years ago. I don't have any ID that says I'm younger than 75. You don't think that'll be a problem?"
"We have plenty of money, Kat," said Mal, pacing to the bureau and pulling out a clean pair of pants. "Even doctors can be bought if you have enough..."
"*That's not the point!*" howled Katherine, that final syllable smothered in a wave of wet, choking coughs. "I know why I'm sick. *I know.*"
Mal considered this, hovering in the space between the bureau and the bed, unsure what to say or even where to look. "It isn't how you think," he finally replied, his voice low, barely more than a whisper.
"It is," said Katherine. "This has been *your* ride, Mal. I'm just a passenger. I may have thought you'd love me forever when we were 20 years old, but that was ages ago. I'm too young to be that naive. Just tell me about her."
Mal moved to the edge of the bed. "There's no one else, I swear."
"Look at me," said Katherine. Mal complied. The two lovers stared into each other's eyes.
"Oh god," said Katherine, tears escaping like frightened thieves from the corners of her eyes. "You're not lying, are you?"
Mal shook his head. His own tears were heavy and slow and clung to the ridge of his cheekbones. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.
"No," said Katherine, shaking her head. "It's fine. It's fine. It's been a long time."
"I'm trying," said Mal. "I don't want to lose you." He put out his hand. Katherine took it and squeezed back. "We've seen so much. I can't imagine...I just...I'm trying so hard..."
"Don't," said Katherine. "Don't try. It doesn't work that way. Not for anyone. No matter how much you want it to."
"I'm scared," said Mal. "I'm so scared of losing you."
Katherine laughed weakly, but honestly. "You had me so long. *So long*. Don't you realize how marvelous that is? My life has been utterly dependent on your love and you've kept me alive for...how many thousands of years? God Mal. It seems cruel, I suppose, but how lucky I've been. How very lucky. Love isn't meant to last through the centuries."
"It should be forever," said Mal, pulling his wife's hand up to his mouth and kissing her knuckles gently. "How could I ever fall out of love with you? How? You're just as wonderful and kind and warm as when we first met. What's wrong with me? Why is this...why can't I...?"
But Katherine pulled her husband close and put her hands on his face. "Please don't question yourself. When I'm gone you'll still be here, and you need to know that's okay. You haven't failed me. You haven't failed anyone. You've been the best husband and father and friend I could ever ask for. I love you, Malence."
"I love you, too," he said, kissing his wife on the forehead. "No matter what. I do love you. I do."
"I know," said Katherine, smiling as she closed her eyes. "I know." | Aurelia was standing next to me, sat on that hospital chair, with the head in her hands, she did not try to hide the sadness that appeared in her eyes when she looked at me directly. She was a beautiful woman, around 30, with long black hair, tall with a beautiful body, and she’s been that way since I met her, 16 years ago. She comes from Italia and especially Roman Empire, she was the spouse of a roman general who found Atlantide and I don’t know exactly the details, her husband died but she was awarded immortality and health. She was a really lonely woman when I met her, and being the young and pretentious young guy I was, I was only focused on dating this beautiful woman who seemed to despise human kind.
“My Aurelia, did you speak with the doctors? I asked
-Yes Nick, your health is pretty concerning, they say that your fainting may be hiding something and they are still looking for it.
-What may have caused it?
-They’re talking about a problem in your coronary artery, a clot in your brain or maybe a tumor. They’re still running test on you, we may know in the several hours.
-Are you worried?
-Yes I am worried, because what if it’s something to worry about? You know that I stopped being around mortals for a long time before meeting you because losing precious people around me started to be too much of a burden to bear. I don’t want to endure it anymore! I want to be with everyone I love, and what if we have kids and they die? I can’t save everyone!
-What do you mean by “I can’t save everyone”? I said, taken aback
-Nothing, forget that, that’s non-sense.”
She wasn’t looking at me anymore; she stood up and looked up through the window, which was the thing she always did when she felt guilty.
“What are you hiding? I asked in the most tactful voice I had
-Nothing, really! She said defensively
-Aurelia, we’ve been together for the last 15 years, I know you and I know when you’re lying to me, I said with a smile
-Yes maybe but this goes way beyond this, and this is only my concern, not yours.
-How about you let me judge of that?”
She took a short breath, looked me in the eyes and came to sit on the bed next to me. I could see she was really serious.
“When I was granted immortality, there was something else with that: I can grant immortality to someone I truly love too, only one person. And since now, I never did it, for multiple reasons.
-What are those reasons? I asked
-The main reason is: can you make someone immortal and then realize that you can’t live with that person and that maybe the next person you love IS the person you wanted to live with, but you already granted immortality to the previous one? This is what I thought for the two last millenniums. And what if I have more than one child with a man, to which one can I grant immortality? And if I did it, I would be the worst woman in the world! I would make one of my children immortal, letting the others die with my husband. And that person will have to live like me, seeing everyone one around them dies without being able to do anything. This is the worst gift I had ever.”
I was speechless, I always thought Aurelia was just shy, and didn’t like to be with people anymore after 2000 years, but I had no idea she felt everything she just said. In fact, I couldn’t even imagine she was in that kind of situation, and she had the burden to make someone else immortal.
“Well, that’s unexpected… I didn’t know that and I truly have no idea what to say, I said shyly
-I know! I’ve been thinking about it all my long life and I still can’t figure a solution, and it’s driving mad! That’s why I wasn’t with mortals anymore, until you! You made me forget every pain I already felt before”
She was crying now and I had no idea on how to comfort her. I had to suggest something.
“Can you have children?
-I thinking I can’t, but that’s not sure, because I had lovers before you and never got pregnant. But maybe if my lover is immortal too, I could get pregnant.
-In that case, maybe the children would be immortals too, but maybe you’re just sterile and that would solve the whole thing, I suggested
-Yes maybe but what’s your point?
-Did you love the last 15 years? Did you had times were you said to yourself that you can make me an immortal? If no, I’m fine, because I love you so much, that would be my treasure to have you the time I lived, if yes, then I would love to be with you until the end of times.
-I can’t let you endure that, that’s the worst thing ever!
-Until I’m with you, I could walk through hell, and came back without a problem, I said with a wink”
| 2016-08-05T07:58:23 | 2016-08-05T06:45:27 | 289 | 11 |
[WP]: Your oldest brother is a military genius. Your little sister has cured three types of cancer. The twins are working on a new method of locating planets fit for terraforming. And you... You are mom's favourite. | ...and now my younger sister, who is incredibly talented in everything she does, is marrying the most popular guy in our school. I don't know where that leaves me.
I've got five brothers and a little sister. The eldest works across the globe studying dangerous animals. The next in line has an amazing security management job at the most important bank in the UK, and is married to a supermodel. True, he's got a tough chronical illness, but with the existing meds it's not really a problem.
The one in the middle works at the ministry, and although he doesn't visit much I can tell his career is blooming. Then you have the twins. When they dropped out of school I thought "YES, no more over-achieving siblings", but the joke's on me. They created their own business from scratch and are extremely successful. The fuckers.
And me? Well... I'm marrying Hermione, so I got that going for me, which is nice. | The house was so quiet. A lifetime ago it had been full of the laughter of children. She smiles at the distant memory. How times changed, she thought. When Mark was little he use to love playing those war games. Mark had always been a happy child. Now he was a military leader currently stationed in another part of the world.
Then there was thing one and thing two. They might of as well been conjoined twins. Always together, playing and exploring with each other. They were always to smart for their own good. They were both very quite, but always loving.By the age of 7 they were learning at college student levels. They loved to cook with her, at least they use to. Now they were always busy with their work.
Jane was the caring one. As a child she had brought sick animals home, pleading to let her keep them until they got better. Even when she got older, Jane always wanted to help others. She worked so hard throughout here childhood years. The countless hours spent studying. Jane was always sad. She saw what was wrong in the world and everyone in it who was suffering. She devoted her life to help people who were sick. She was so devoted to helping others, she had little time for her old mom.
Finally, there was her middle son, Beck. He was an athletic child. When ever he walked into a room, the place would light up. He worked hard but he wasn't as gifted as his sibling. She loved all her children. She also missed them. Since her husband passed, the house felt empty. She could still feel the joy of all of her little monsters running around. The way they look up to their father. That was in the past though.
The doorbell rang and she brightened up. She opened the front door and gave her son Beck a huge hug. "Its so good to see you, honey!"
"Hey mom." Beck said with a smile. Once a week Beck made it his mission to visit his mom, usually for a meal. "Mom, are you okay?" She looked sad. Her eyes were wet.
His mom gave a weak smile and said she was fine and that she loved him.
"I love you too mom." The both went inside to fill the house with laughter and joy once again. | 2016-10-31T23:20:35 | 2016-10-31T10:48:37 | 75 | 36 |
[WP] A group of friends meet up with each other every hundred years. One is immortal, one is reincarnated into a new body every time they die, one is a time traveler, one is a robot, and one is Death.
If you can think of any other types of people, please add them. That's all I could think of.
And you don't have to include every character I listed, it's just a guideline. For example, if you wanted to do a story set in the past you don't need to include the robot in there | How a time traveler could be late was a mystery to me. I supposed that Edward did it out of habit, as he was never one to keep appointments. I should know; he'd skipped out on plenty with me. Regardless, he was late.
Derora was the first to arrive. As a vampire, she had turned up before dawn and had sequestered herself in the well shaded booth at the far end of the bar. Brad, or Bearn as he'd been called in his very first incarnation, was next. A mountain of a man, he thundered into the room and caught Derora in a bone-shattering hug. Marie hurried in shortly after, complaining of a burned out fuse and deftly sidestepping Brad's traditional greeting.
"Mind the gears, dear," she said. "I'm freshly calibrated."
They were all laughing and drinking by the time Edward stumbled in, coughing and smoking a bit from the slight burns on his long coat.
"Sorry I'm late," said the time traveler. "Darn machine blew up again. Nearly got me this time."
He winked at me and took the wine I'd placed on the counter for him. He took a heavy swig.
"Death by poisoned dart," I said. "Avoided by a rather interesting use of temporal-gravitational manipulation. The probability engine must have overheated."
"Edward, I thought you promised not to go to those primitive times again," Derora said, shaking her head. "Your curiosity will be your undoing."
"I remember when I was a cabin boy during the Age of Discovery," said Brad, his eyes glazing with nostalgia. "Fun times if you forget about the smell and the scurvy. Man, I can't wait until humans get around to exploring space."
"By my calculations, your probability of death is nearing ninety percent," Marie added, her synthetic voice warbling with concern. "You really should take more care, dear."
"But there's so much to see, to do, to experience!" said Edward, downing the wine in one more gulp. "Anyway, it's good to see you, but I must be off."
"But you just got here," Derora objected, though it was a token protest. Edward never stayed long.
"I've just got the one life, my dear," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "I don't have the same time as the rest of you, so I have to make the most of what I've been given."
"Goodbye, and good luck," the others chorused. Edward paused as he passed my bar.
"Any advice?" he asked.
"Don't trust the one-eyed guide," I said after a moment of consideration. "If you do, I'll pay you a visit."
Edward laughed and rushed out of the room with the same parting words as always.
"Not on your life, Death!"
*****
r/Kathiana | There were always infinite changes whenever Andrew jumped. A hundred years was a short period of time, in the grand scheme of things; the Earth had come into its present form over millions of hundred-year intervals. But the grumbling lethargy with which the Earth moved was nothing compared to humanity's speed of development.
Some fifty or so jumps ago, humans had been living in huts. Now, the world was covered in buildings, a surface roiling with humanity and their constructs. Last jump, the buildings had been one style; now, they were completely different, and their aesthetic struck Andrew as much more rigid. Perhaps it was indicative of the way humanity's social mindset had changed in between jumps - or perhaps this was just their 'modern' design, something new for the sake of not being old.
This building, however, was different. Sitting miles away from the nearest city, its design was old - *old*. That was not to say that it was falling apart; by all appearances, it had been kept not only intact but in near-perfect condition.
Lysander's house. As far as Andrew could tell, it had not changed whatsoever in the hundreds of years since his last visit.
He knocked on the door. Though it appeared to be wood, it produced an unexpected sound.
*Metal.*
Lysander had gone modern at last, though with the way humanity evolved, he was probably already out of date.
"Come in!"
Andrew pushed open the door, marvelling at how easily it swung forwards. The foyer was unlit, so he left it open behind him. He was never last, after all.
His shoes were discarded at the foot of the stairs, and he started up the stairs. For all the times he had visited the building, he had never actually spent more than a few minutes on the first floor. Sometimes he wondered what took up all the space, but he never asked. With what he knew of Lysander, he didn't think it was a good idea.
"Hello, Andrew. Can you come over here, please?"
Lysander's voice was just as smooth as it had been the last time he visited. It sent shivers down Andrew's spine, even as he knew there was nothing to fear.
"Can do, dude," he said, sidling around a doorway and into the main room.
A woman, best described as *sharp*, was lying on the floor. Her death-black hair, straighter than should have been possible, splayed out around a strict face. The only part of her appearance that was not perfect, immaculate as if caught in time, were her eyes - drowning under twin pools of tears.
Andrew stopped walking. He was last, after all.
"Hey Andrew." A child, no more than thirteen or fourteen years of age, was reclining in a leather chair. Andrew winced at the cigarette poking out of his mouth. "We've got a bit of a problem."
"Yeah, I noticed. Are you alright, Libitina?"
Lysander, kneeling over Libitina, shot Andrew a glare. "Does she appear to be 'all right', Andrew?"
"Well, no. It just seemed like something I should ask. Seriously, though, what the hell is going on?"
"Oh, Hell has nothing to do with it," said the boy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, by the way. I'm Jonathan."
"Pleasure to meet you as well, Jo-"
"I was lying about the pleasure thing. It's kind of disgusting to me, seeing you standing there, not a care in the world. When's the last time you suffered through an entire lifetime of taxes, eh?"
"Never had the displeasure of doing so, actually, unlike you common plebs. Anyways, please - what's happening?"
Libitina groaned, pulling herself into a seated position with Lysander's help. "I-isn't it obvious, 'Drew? I-I'm dying."
^^^more ^^^on ^^^r/forricide
^((might work on a part two)^) | 2017-04-22T22:42:30 | 2017-04-22T22:07:02 | 173 | 17 |
[WP] Magic is discovered to be real. The catch? Spells are just like computer programs: difficult to write, and even harder to do correct the first try. You're a spell bug tester, and you've seen just about everything go wrong, but today's typo is on a whole other level... | **Issue: [SEVERE]** 'Magic Hands' spell applied to subject rather than pure conjuration
**Type:** Application
**Severity:** A
**Priority:** 1
**Assigned to:** Matt Traynor
**Submitted by:** Greg Philmore
**Summary:**
Set to severity A because this stupid fucking system doesn't give me a goddamn S-rank for this bullshit.
'Magic Hands' intention was, apparently, to create a set of said hands to perform simple tasks. Unfortunately, instead of setting the spell to conjure those hands, it does the following:
Turns the caster into a pair of *fucking sentient hands.*
I'm currently typing this bug report up as a pair of hands. I have no idea how this is even still working and I've still got the capacity to think, but there you go.
Matt: it seems like you forgot to set the spell to actually CONJURE rather than just apply it to whatever poor bastard got this one to test. FIX IMMEDIATELY.
Side notes: unable to turn down requests for things such as “Get me a coffee” or “Can you type this bug report up for me?” This is getting beyond a joke.
***EDIT: IT HAS BEEN FOUR HOURS. HAVE SUBMITTED 8 TICKETS TO SPELL TECH TO FIX THIS. FIRE MATT.***
**Comments:**
**(12:07) Matt Traynor:** Oh goddamn it I knew something was wrong with it! Sorry! I'll get on fixing that right away and send the changes over.
**(12:08) Greg Philmore:** I don't care about a fix for the bug at this point. I am going to spend the rest of the day slapping the shit out of you if you don't get on UNDOING this.
**(12:47) Kerry Lane:** This is hilarious. Greg has been at the coffee machine for 20 minutes serving up lattes. Also we haven't had to listen to him singing Jimmy Buffet songs all morning! This is bliss.
**(12:56) Matthew Hendry:** How long do you think we can keep this up for?
**(15:12) Greg Philmore:** FIRE MATT AFTER KICKING HIM DECIDEDLY IN THE NUTSACK | "ABRAHAM KADABRAH!" I bellow, the fluorescent lights flicker. I pause frozen wondering if I just made the lights flicker. I wait tensely, then a small moment of joy comes, alright now we're getting somewhere. I'm a spell tester, well that's not entirely true, I'm an aspiring Mechanized Warfare Combat Mage (MW-CM). It sounds impressive and that I blow up a lot of cool things with sweet giant robots, but I would actually just be the mage building the units. The Mechanized Mages are the pilots, but I don't mind. I love robots. Like I'm thoroughly, absolutely, insane about ROBOTS!!! But oh. I've forgotten I have work to do.
It normally takes 100 casts to master a spell and about 1,000 casts to develop a new one. Unfortunately, it takes about 10,000 casts to fix all the bugs in it. I probably don't need to tell you that the people who come up with these spells are famous mages who can't be bothered with the mind fraying work of casting the same spell 10,000 times. So here we are, lowly intern spell tester and aspiring MW-CM casting a spell that's supposed to get rid of all light over and over again.
The problem with famous mages is they really are lazy. They just slap a few words together that can barely do what it's supposed to and they hand it off to us to make it work, then when it's done they get all the credit. A real loveless job, but it's one of the only ways I could get into the Magicians Training Academy. Did I mention these spells go wrong? A girl once roasted all her arm hair off and her eyebrows trying to summon a fire demon. The whole spell just blew up, kerkrackle, right in front of her. It really is a loveless job, but I guess it's finally time to try attempt 7,459.
Okay, step one get the image in my mind of what I want to happen. I want a room without light. Step two alter the incantation slightly to achieve a different effect. I'm going to try Abra Kadabra. Step three fix both step one and two firmly in your mind and with all your might release your incantation.
"ABRA KADABRA!!!" The light disappears and darkness engulfs me. YES! I did it! I... this is strange. I don't feel the ground. I'm floating. I flail out my arms and I can't feel anything. I'm panicking. My first instinct is to scream for help, but my second instinct is just how bad an idea that could be. I could be announcing where to find a tasty morsel helplessly flailing. There wasn't any light, and the panic got worse. Should I make light or should I try to navigate in darkness? If I made a light and I'm spotted that would be bad, but if I flailed into something that ate me that would also be bad. Realizing wherever I am is without any light, I conjecture that perhaps whatever exists there might not be able to observe light. I decide to cast a light spell.
"manus onus" I whisper, a dim light forms in my hand. This is bad. About a dozen of bodies are floating all around me. All of them skeletons or skin and bones... some of them wearing clothes from very long ago... I've just teleported myself into a graveyard. | 2017-07-26T03:57:13 | 2017-07-26T03:19:32 | 417 | 15 |
[WP] You are a NPC in an RPG, after years of the player character ignoring the main storyline you decide to finish the story yourself. | This is no job for you, they said,
Perhaps that they were right,
An NPC out of his depth,
To replace the shining Knight.
A farmers boy from some small town,
My life was plain and dull,
I saw a chance in this one quest,
To break my growing lull.
They jeered they laughed,
Even the Knight,
They watched me leave,
Into the night.
I walked for days,
Towards the quest,
Their words fueled me,
I took no rest.
This isn't your place,
You're gangly and long,
Go back to your farm,
Where you belong.
But who are they,
To shackle me,
I'm more than just an NPC.
I'm not a slave,
To preordained rules,
To live my life among the fools.
So let them jest,
I'll finish the quest,
I'll rise above the jealous rest.
I'm glad I had these thoughts back then,
And pushed towards the dragons den.
Because now I lie, broken and battered,
My resolution had hardly mattered,
Against the beast with crimson scales,
That brought such fear to childhood tales.
But as I lie dying on the floor,
I do not think them right,
I staked my claim in this cruel world,
I lived enough to fight.
I failed the quest, the dragon lives,
For this is plain to see,
I'll die here now as my own man,
And not an NPC. | Oh, boy. I've had enough.
There he goes again, that man. The one who the prophecy said would "Save the country and rebuild it to its finest." We've been waiting for so long that my family's grown up.
I've managed to become rich over the course of his incompetence. My shop already spawned four more, and during that time he's still isn't doing what's right.
I made sure that everything will be good for my family before I take my leave. It ends now.
With his silliness and indecisiveness, I managed to swipe some of his letters when he buys at my shop.
I proceeded to bring the best equipment for the challenge I'm about to face. The letter said something about conquering a dungeon and defeating the evil within.
Saying goodbye to my family and friends, I went on my way.
I reached the dungeon but something caught my eye.
There were several other townspeople there!
I got off and asked them their reason why they were there.
"We can't take it any longer, that hero, no that slacker has done nothing to benefit us over the years." One of them said.
Some of them even complained that the benefits he gets from them were unfortunately used wrongly.
"I guess we'll have to fight this on our own." I said
The thing that surprised me, we went through swiftly.
Each level of the dungeon was a cakewalk. We had minor casualties, mostly some who charged forward so that the ones behind would strategically attack a weak point.
We reached the final area, a gigantic tomb.
Some were scared, some were courageous. All were eager to find out what lied behind the stone slab.
When we got in, there was a man in a black mask. He began to transform when he saw us. He became a huge dragon.
With our combined efforts, we defeated him and he reverted back to human form.
"I didn't expect that you would be the ones to beat me. In return, you shall receive peace and prosperity in your nation and your families." With his final words, he vanished in a cloud of smoke.
We were all standing together.
We all talked how we've been through a lot and how the journey changed each one of us for the better.
Suddenly, a giant portal opened up. We went inside it and returned to our respective towns. We noticed the difference right away.
It was amazing.
When I took it all in, I wondered.
"What happened to that mumbling idiot?"
Meanwhile, the man with the black mask went back home, as he opened the door, he noticed the "hero" walking around and leisurely doing things.
"I guess some things are meant to be finished by others."
Hope you liked it!
| 2018-03-07T03:06:52 | 2018-03-07T02:41:53 | 63 | 14 |
[WP] Humanity split into subspecies: Alters, who alter their genes, Augmented, who augment flesh with machines, and Ascended, who uploaded their consciousness. After centuries of coexistence, the tenuous peace between the ideologies is threatened.
I swear I corrected that before commit. Sorry.
The Altered, The Augmented, The Ascended. | It's unlike any other feeling, to know that you're dying. It's closest maybe to being caught in a summer thunderstorm as the streetlights blink out. So after my wife, and everything that entailed, I am choosing another path forward.
This is the last thing I'll write because, after this, I won't have to write. My thoughts will be writing. I will live in landscapes of shiftable essence, immortalized. My name will not be carved words on some granite slab somewhere, but lines of code. Even though this body burns away, its fire will remain. There is no perfection; there is only its pursuit. And it's called Ascendancy.
- T.B. Watts, February 22, 2032 | I looked upon the strewn limbs and streaks of blood. The remnants of a failed Altered attack. A disappointment to their leaders, I'm sure. The Augmented fought bravely against it, the metal and flesh bond providing them with prime offensive abilities. Even a genetic mutation like an Altered would have trouble with creature both machine and man.
I look across the field and I sense despair, regret, ruin. So many of died during this war, that the massacre that happened here today is barely a footnote. 1,500,000 have perished as the three subspecies battle for the possession of Mother Earth. Paris, London, Shanghai, Dubai, all ruins after raze upon raze and bombing upon bombing. Such a magnificent waste. I see death, in the future of the world, of the human race. Death, and the fall of an empire.
I kick a bloody Altered helmet out of my way. Just as this massacre was a footnote in this war, humanity shall be a footnote in the glory of my race. We are the Oracles, brought here not to wither and die like feeble hominids, but to rule, to empower, to thrive. We are survivors.
I look to the sky, and see an Ascended ship. My respect goes to the Ascended. They are the closest to us, the most like-minded. They have chosen to rise to a new height, one never risen to by humanity. A zenith of superior potential. But now, after years, greed has overtaken them. They began this war, this cataclysmic species ending battle. A pity, as I once respected them. I tentatively step over a piece of blood-caked viscera, and gaze upon San Jose.
My goodness, the capitol looks good on a night like this. What a shame, as humanity can create such beauty. But it was they themselves that nurtured their destruction, by their refusal to coexist, to adapt. But every species must die eventually.
Let humanity go out in a blaze of glory. | 2018-07-01T08:37:47 | 2018-07-01T08:29:02 | 536 | 110 |
[WP] All superpowers have a ‘hangover’ effect. For example, after using super strength for the day, the morning after you can’t even lift your spoon to eat your breakfast. You wake up one morning after using your own specific superpower and you feel pretty hungover...
[deleted] | The wheelchair kept creaking.
It was an awful noise. He knew it would never break but the groaning metal scared him all the same.
As he worked to lift his fingers enough to move the chair, he remembered the first time.
Everyone knew that heroes had to pay the price for their powers the next day. The Regenerator had to wake up in a hospital so that his body wouldn't tear itself to shreds. Electroman had it easy, he was just totally paralyzed for several waking hours. Fireman had a more-than-dangerously-high fever.
He was too hasty his first time. He didn't make the proper preparations.
The next morning, he was on the floor in pain, unable to move an inch off the ground. Later he would learn he broke several bones. The doctor warned him that he needed to be in a better position to withstand it.
The next time it was just as bad, but he thought he was prepared. The wheelchair was crushed under his weight. The next one would be made of Protonium Steel. The government couldn't have another superhero giving up.
But he would never give up. People had been worried, but they didn't know how much he enjoyed it. The rush, the excitement.
How it felt to push the world away and fly. | "Get away from him or I'll make you."
Michael and Scott glanced up from the kid sprawled helplessly on the grey floor, and saw me.
They laughed.
I had already guessed that the threat wouldn't be effective. A short kid in raggedy clothes and spiky hair didn't exactly set off a 'powerful' image, after all. But looks... looks were shallow, and lost to the surface.
They did very, very little to show the true worth of a person.
"The boy has no shadow! He's a demon for sure." They snorted. "All we're doing is protecting humankind."
I took a closer look at the boy on the ground. He was scrawny, with scared eyes that stayed half-open. He had no shadow. Fear had gripped him tightly, but not so securedly that he stopped shaking. He was shivering, lost to the throes of fear like a man with no coat caught in winter's rage.
I sighed. Us and our inane superstitions. To look upon someone with no shadow or no reflection and think of them as demons was far-fetched. To deduce that despite the widespread prevalence of superpowers was something else entirely.
I pulled him aside, keeping some distance from the 2 boys.
I smiled at the kid. "Get out of here kid. I know what its like to live with no shadow. Go straight home and-"
"Hey, shithead!" Scott called.
His eyes shone with blazing fury. He took a deep breath and pounded the concrete floor, cracks running out from the impact, not unlike his previous victims.
"Give back my prey, or I will kill you."
I set my eyes upon them. One would think of them as eyes. But they were piercing in sunlight, cool amber in the moonlight, and hidden fear in no light.
"Dark god manifestation."
The shadows surrounding me grew into a huge implacable mass, swirling amd roiling like the waves and wind in storm. I flicked my wrist.
They swept forth like the unstoppable stream of a river and engulfed the two boys. Their screams only stretched for a second before the hunger of the night was upon them, cold and insatiable and unlike them, indiscriminatory.
The darkness fell away like a snowflake in sunshine, leaving me completely. I smiled down at the awe-struck boy and offered him my hand.
"As I said... I know what it's like to live with no shadow." | 2018-08-19T05:26:44 | 2018-08-19T04:28:22 | 86 | 55 |
[WP] All superpowers have a ‘hangover’ effect. For example, after using super strength for the day, the morning after you can’t even lift your spoon to eat your breakfast. You wake up one morning after using your own specific superpower and you feel pretty hungover...
[deleted] | I awaken well rested and ready for the day, a solid nights sleep. I leave my room to see a pile of letters just inside the door. I look to the bench to see last nights dinner covered in mould. I pull up my phone. Every app has notifications. I check the date. It’s the 27th.
I sigh “That’s what I get for taking 10 extra minutes on my history exam.” I start cleaning. | It's been 5 years since the first quackman appeared, a being with superpowers that have a 'hangover' effect. The man was bulletproof one day and the next a paper cut during the press interview caused him to faint due to excessive blood loss.
Now there are beings with all kinds of powers coming up, all quackmen with a day of heroics and the next day of being ultra weak, it's a chess board out there, no one uses their powers unnecessary lest they not be able to stop the next terrorist attack by the Grand Baddies, an organisation of quackmen who aren't on the side of righteousness and good.
Me, well I am your average government employee without any powers and am right now dealing with the mess last night's battle between the Grand Baddies and government employed quackmen or the Quackers.
After my long day at work I go to a nearby bar and drink and suddenly I blackout.
The next morning the sun hits my eyes and I awaken feeling light-headed and then I throw up. What the hell is going on. I turn on the news and it rocks my world.
Turns out last night my powers awakened and the powers were the ability to control all minds, I went berserk brainwashing all the Grand Baddies into working for the government, but that's not all I made the entire populace make me their ruler and in celebration controlled myself to drink all the wine I could. The news channels are praising me as a God and this mansion is pretty swell and I can do pretty much what I want forever with my 'believers'.
So let the fun begin!
| 2018-08-19T05:57:43 | 2018-08-19T04:31:42 | 74 | 15 |
[WP] You live in a world where every time you have a birthday, you get to level up a skill like in video games (intelligence, strength, charm etc.) most people spread their points evenly on each skill. But you put all 30 of your points into that one skill nobody cares about
You get to choose what that skill is. | In a world like mine, everyone could easily become what they wanted. Wanna be a smart professor making ground-breaking discoveries? Just max out intelligence. Wanna be a bodybuilder? Easy, just level up strength. Or do you just want to become the popular kid? Charisma. It had become too easy to achieve your dreams.
Ironically though, this made it much harder to achieve them. You simply had too much competition from others with the same stats. Being special was not special anymore. I realized this long ago.
So i went the only route i could to become special. Eating bricks. Drinking Clorox Bleach. Stepping on Legos. Yep, you guessed it, i leveled literally the shittiest stat. I currently have 30 resistance and counting.
My shows were world famous. Who doesn't wanna watch some dude slurp down dangerous poison right after eating a dog shit? People loved it. My parents weren't exactly proud, but then again they had probably forgotten about me. Both alcoholics. I couldn't even get drunk because of my resistance. I once downed 3 bottles of tequila at a show and just got tipsy.
People try so hard to be special. They're not. I am. I can bathe in acid motherfuckers. When i'm 80 i can probably survive a flamethrower, or listen to Limp Bizkit without having a stroke. Hell yeah. | My girlfriend was a very well rounded individual. She had chosen the safe and well traveled path that most high schools recommended. It consisted of a healthy mix of social skills, personal finance abilities, some technical prowess and even a couple maternal instinct points. The last of those would unfortunately be a waste as I had been very clear that I never wanted kids to begin with.
Laid out before me was a birthday dinner so extravagant that even my own mother, who had put 8 points into her cooking skills, couldn’t even match it. A sirloin steak dripping with butter and cooked to a medium rare perfection, a classic baked potato with all the trimmings, and more sides than I dared to try in one sitting greeted me. Across the table smiled Rox, short for Roxanne, the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. After consuming more than any one person should I settled in to the couch and she disappeared to bring me my cake.
While most people seemed to go for the more obvious choices, I had decided long ago that given enough skill points dedicated to this one particular branch I would make my fortune.
Out from behind the corner popped Rox with a large cardboard box in hand and two bottles of water. She sat them before me on the coffee table and plopped down beside me. Silently I lifted the top of the box open.
The cake was ornate and very fancy. Small red roses circled the bottom and laces of beautiful red and gold frosting swirled around the outside of this cake before culminating at a large thirty on the top. A single candle was lit with a dark black flame that seem to draw light in instead of produce it. Long shadows from all corners of the room seem the wind and curl to this single point atop the cake. The air in the room was heavy and the longer the lid was open the more humid it began to feel.
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. With all my might I blew toward the candle and extinguished it. I felt a sudden surge of energy inside me that I had experienced many times before. I felt stronger, more refreshed, and even a tad bit smarter. Everything seemed to make sense in that brief moment when time sat still. The euphoric feeling slowly faded and the room once again felt normal.
“How do you feel?” Rox asked with a sudden pep in her voice.
I reached for one of the bottles beside the cake and chugged the water heavily, almost emptying the contents completely. Without a word and without looking I threw the water bottle behind me only to have it bounce off the wall and land perfectly upright on the table in front of us.
“I feel pretty good” I smirked. | 2018-09-12T10:57:43 | 2018-09-12T10:22:48 | 39 | 13 |
[WP] Your pointless superpower is that you know how many people’s lives you save with your actions. One day, at a Subway, you tell the cashier you want your sandwich on Italian bread, and you’re suddenly informed that you just saved five billion people. | "I'd like a club on Italian herbs and cheese, please." Dan says.
This is his usual order. In fact, Dan comes to this Subway on his lunch break, orders the same sandwich, and return to his desk to eat every day like clockwork. Dan is a predictable kind of guy, and he doesn't mind it; and knowing that he's unintentionally saved a few people throughout his mundane routine is kind of cool.
"Of course sir," says the sandwich artist. She turns to the bread cabinet, but ends up grabbing a loaf of Italian instead.
"Whatever," thinks Dan "It's not worth mentioning. Italian is close enough."
Suddenly, Dan feels his save count skyrocket. It takes a moment for the exact number to register.
Five billion and eleven saved.
"What the fuck, how is that even possible?" he mutters under his breath.
"I'm sorry," The Subway worker looked up from the sandwich, "Is there a problem?"
"Oh, no, it's nothing. Just thinking is all. Um, could I get that sub plain? I'm in a bit of a rush."
Dan pays, and hurriedly leaves the store. His mind is a flurry of fear and nervous excitement. What could this mean? How could such a small decision, a simple sandwich order, change so many lives?"
On his walk back to work, Dan pays close attention to the world around him, looking for some sort of sign to show him how this would all come together.
Dan makes it back to his desk without incident. Somewhat disappointed, he eats his sandwich. That day, and several more pass with no obvious hint as to how Dan has saved so many people.
Three weeks later, Dan is found dead.
An autopsy reveals that Dan had a rare, deadly form of fungal infection. Fungal spores had entered his bloodstream, and after dismissing his symptoms as the flu, Dan took a day off to rest. He passed away in his sleep that night. Additional deaths and further investigation linked this fungus to the bread served at the Subway he regularly visited.
More interesting, however, were other discoveries made from Dan's autopsy. Dan's cells had an incredible capacity for autophagy. Based on his cells alone, Dan would appear to be half his actual age.
This revelation paved the way for medical progress. Degenerative disease treatment improved, and these conditions were eventually cured altogether.
The number of people that Dan saved with the cure derived from his cells was enormous.
Some might say billions.
| “Sorry, sir, we’re out of Italian bread, what else can I get you?” Makayla said.
The faces – oh god, the faces. Jayden held back his scream, hunching over; all eyes in the store turned towards him. Every face he would save flashed across his vision in an instant; a near infinite amount for him, so much joy—and so much pain.
The faces of those he would kill flashed in front of him now. One million? Ten million? A billion? He lost count among the contorted, bloodied, twisted faces of the damned. Makayla looked at the man in front of him—an ordinary businessman, dressed in a grey suit, with brown belt and shoes, bent over on the counter. Behind him, the line of workers hungering for a sandwich twisted through the store—out into the street. Makayla was *so done* with this.
“Sir, we have wheat bread, white bread, or flatbread.” She said
Jayden held onto the counter, arms shaking, tears in his eyes. “Please, help—”
“Hey asshole, you going to order or not?”
“Hey—buddy. Give the guy a second” Rodger said. He was the third man in line.
“Look, you twat,” the first man said, spinning around. “I don’t have time for this—He can have a meltdown on his own time, I have meetings to go to—important ones.”
The second man, a heavy built construction worker, had zero patience for this businessman’s attitude. *As if his cozy office job and meetings made him special.* Rodger pushed the lawyer forward, knocking him back into Jayden.
The store burst into action. The man rose and threw an untrained punch at Rodger, who took it in stride. Rodger hoped this man was a lawyer as he returned the punch in kind, knocking the man to the ground. The store burst into action.
Makayla pressed the panic button and drew a can of pepper spray from her pocket. It wasn’t permitted in the store; she didn’t give a rat’s ass about that rule. Jayden bent down and covered his face. He was surprised to see a single face flash in front of him—his own. Suddenly gunfire burst into the room, the bullet burying itself into the counter inches above where Jayden had been a moment before.
The riot broke out—construction workers fought businessmen, businessmen fought each other, punches and chairs were thrown. Bullets flew; people died. In the corner of the store, sitting at a table, enjoying a teriyaki chicken sandwich, a young, teenage boy watched as his mother was shot three times in the waist.
He screamed, crawling through the violent crowd towards his mother. Blood poled around her; her eyes were glazed and motionless. The boy cried—sorrow and rage. This world was unfair, and he would set it right. With a rage, he screamed, his voice lost among the chaos.
In the dark mob of a New York Sandwich shop—a hero was born. He would save the world, not through good deeds, but by cleansing it of the weak, the violent, and the angry. For a better world. For the greater good. Red light ran through his eyes, and he felt his new power flare through him.
Jayden, seeing a younger, crying boy, crawled towards him. He grabbed the boy by the shoulder, covering his head; together they ran out of the broken windows towards the street, away from the violence, and towards safety.
Jayden saw more saved faces appear in his mind—his family.
***
Well this turned real dark, real quick... anyway, more at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | 2018-11-17T19:42:29 | 2018-11-17T14:08:20 | 166 | 104 |
[WP] You are a 'Professional Hostage' hired by villains to secretly arrive at robberies and other crimes to be taken prisoner should the police or local heroes get involved. While out shopping you accidentally get taken hostage by a complete amateur who has no idea who you are. | "I charge $60 by the hour."
"What?"
"You got me while I was shopping, I'm not working right now. You should've called ahead. You're probably new at this, but there's a system. Plus it's normally $1000 up front, $1750 if you actually plan on stabbing me with that."
"Okay, just shut the fuck up or I'll cut your neck open!"
"... do you know who I am?"
"WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!"
I'm a hostage. I set up appointments with my clients, who commit crimes and use my services to avoid capture by police or heroes. It's pretty fun sometimes and exciting, but this kid obviously doesn't know about my job. A complete foolish amateur, robbing a mall, with a handgun and a knife, he doesn't even realize the safety was still on his Hi-Point. Even worse he has a backpack hanging off a shoulder spilling change onto the ground. There could not be a more green villain in the world.
Security comes out with pistols up. "Drop the knife!"
"STAY BACK OR I'LL GUT THIS GUY!"
"*Don't be stupid, you're under-prepared."* I whisper.
"What? I TOLD YOU TO SHUT IT!"
"SORRY! PLEASE I WAS JUST LOOKING FOR GIFTS FOR MY NIECE!" Guess, I'll have to convince him I'm on his side. "*The safety is still on*"
"FUCKING STOP OR ELSE YOUR DEAD!"
"*Safety on your cheap-ass pistol is on, dumbass."*
He finally takes a glance at his gun and quickly flips the safety on. Security looks at each other, they realize he's new to this too.
A skinny guard speaks up, "Alright, no one has to get hurt. If you give up, everyone can walk away. You haven't hurt anyone so you'll be fine."
He wasn't entirely wrong, with so much crime the courts would see this as a minor offence and just have him pay a fine. Which reminds me.
"*How much do you have?"*
"*What?"* He whispers back, guess he now sees me as a friend.
*"How much cash and how much money do you have?"*
*"I dunno about cash, but I'm dirt poor."*
*"Did you get money out of the safe?"*
*"Just the what girl at the counter got me, I don't know where."*
"...You fucking idiot, I can't believe someone as stupid as you exists."
"Wha-" I slam the back of my head into his teeth. He fires his gun out of surprise into the ceiling.
He lets me go and staggers back, I punch him in the stomach and follow up with a knee to the jaw.
"Waste of my fucking time" I spit on his crying broken face and head toward the food court.
No one will bug me, it's just another amateur in a world filled with super-villains, only thing is no one died this time around.
I get a greasy burger with some onion rings, and sit down to cool.
Better watch the news, if this incident makes it I'll need to start wearing a mask during a job, or perhaps facial reconstruction.
Something wet is on my neck. Blood, guess the kid cut me when I headbutted him. I'll have to cover the scar too, if the story circulates. I hope this doesn't affect my reputation. | Some people live their whole lives without ever staring death in the face, I couldn’t go a week without the adrenalin. There was something about the shit your pants fear, it was the only thing that made me feel alive. I held the bottle of water, flipping it in the air and catching it after a complete turn. In front of me was a dude who was hooked on the cheap thrills, scratching away at one ticket after another with vibrating hands, I hated the people who thought gambling with money was a thrill. They were the bottom of the barrel when it came to risk takers, but you could never ignore them. If they were too down on their luck they tended to be… stupid. That’s another thing I couldn’t stand. The cashier was an overweight teenage girl who looked at me with eyes that were filled with shame. As if the inconvenience were her fault. I smiled and shrugged, even though it was her fault, I wished she’d tell scratcher to move so I can pay for my water. The doorbell rang as a boy in a plain black hoodie stepped sideways through the door, as if it were a car parked to close to another. I met his eyes, his pupils the size of the top of pin darted across the room. He was counting, one, two three. His breath staggered and his brows furrowed he reached for the bulge in his hood’s pouch pocket. I spun the top off the bottle and gulped down the water, I might not get another chance to drink it.
“Nobody move,” the boy shouted, pointing a gun with ADD, it couldn’t pick one target. I dropped the bottle and smiled. My heart thumped in my chest faster than normal, It had been decades since I last felt this surprised rush. Death was in his hands, and I had the chance to beat of that curse once more. To me, this was the super bowl. The gambler cried out in surprise, the quarter in his hand clinking against the tiled floor. The cashier took a step back. Blood racing to her face faster than she could scarf down a Twinkie.
The hooded boy waved his gun like a flame before snakes, “All of you, in the corner.”
“Yes sir,” I said, grabbing the gambler by the shoulder, his legs were frozen and a trickle of warm piss barely thawed them out. It was a familiar odor, usually my least favorite part of the job. No amount of bodily functions could keep me away from this feeling. A gun in your face was like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.
The boy focused on the girl, “money. All of it. Now.”
He was working fast, I’d give him a seven out of ten on this entrance. He was doing everything right, for the circumstance. But a gas station needed to be an in and out affair. Hostages usually were more of a hindrance than a boon in one of these robberies. It was still day out, but I wouldn’t fault him for that, people are easier to attack when they think they are safe. But not everyone had as much experience as me when it came to robberies. I was the only one in the world with my set of skills.
“I said Money! Now!” the boy jerked the gun forward.
“Your life’s not worth it. Give the man the money,” I said. The boy glared at me and nodded. I could tell with one look, he didn’t want to kill, but he would.
The cashier fumbled her fingers through the cash drawer, sweat causing the bills to slip from her grasp. She was choking on tears, like a church girl forced to sin.
“I’m done with this shit.” The gambler said. My heart stopped. Gamblers always were stupid. He got to his feet and rushed to the boy grasping for the gun. His life was worthless. Even more so after the loud bang. The man collapsed to the side, knocking the plastic lottery sign down with him. His face glaring at the words, ‘you could win.’
Hundreds of planned robberies went off with out a hitch, all they needed was me. Perhaps that’s why I was so cocky, or why death was so eager to finally beat me. The gun pointed between my eyes. I looked up at the boy and in his place, I saw the skull of the grim reaper. “Bout time you showed up.” I smiled.
BANG.
\---
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Critiques and criticisms are always appreciated! | 2019-01-02T10:25:25 | 2019-01-02T09:24:14 | 91 | 59 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | I look over at my new favorite mug. After they started showing actual rankings, I was proud to have my #19 mug. #19 out of the potentially billions of dads in the world. I felt pretty good about myself. I was wondering why it wasn't higher, but you can't really complain. The mugs were normally blank, but if whoever held it was a dad, it showed their name and ranking. I smile a quick smile, and head into my bedroom to watch a bit of TV. After a few minutes, I realize that I had forgotten my mug in the kitchen.
"Jeremiah!" I called out to my 15 year old son. "Could you grab my mug from the kitchen, please!?!?"
"Sure, Dad!" I heard in response. Having my son be so willing to help me out only solidified my feelings of being in that #19 spot.
My son comes in, holding my beloved mug, a cheery spring in his step. However, I am mortified by what I see. On the mug, it says:
"Jeremiah Carson. Rank: #231,658" | It was a snarky joke from my ex wife. A mug that said #200,485 dad.
We didn’t get along well anymore. I had tried to provide everything that my family would need. A house with a swing set in the backyard, but a split level, something she swore she would never live inAn SUV that was more than we could really afford, but heaven forbid she had to drive a minivan.
She left me for another man. More like five other men. Or more. I only knew about the first five. I tried to save our marriage, I tried to forgive her, but she didn’t want my forgiveness, she only wanted to hurt me.
So I focused all of my energy on the kids. Our two wonderful boys. Caught up in embers of a dying marriage. Wondering whether daddy or mommy would pick them up from daycare. I went to all the parent teacher conferences. I spent every waking moment trying to give them fun experiences. The zoo on the weekends, T-ball in the yard at night. Books before bed. Books when they woke up. Baths because boys smell! I even made them brush their teeth against their wishes. I couldn’t take them on fancy trips like she did. There were no cruises or trips to Disney in our future, just rides in the tractor and evenings spent checking cows.
But when she had my boys give me that mug the week before fathers Day, worlds #200,485 dad. I knew it was true. Try as I might I just couldn’t get ahead. I was not going to be able to give my boys the finer things in life. I almost threw that mug away when I got home. It would have been so easy to just drop it in the trash like she dropped all of my feelings in the trash. But I couldn’t.
What really stung is when I was making my boys breakfast on Father’s Day, pancakes and bacon, heir favorite my oldest asked where my mug was. I didn’t want to use that mug or even think about. There was no way I was going to drink my coffee out of a mug that my ex had used to hurt me. But he was adamant. Going so far as to rummage through the cupboard to find it for me.
When my five year old handed me that mug and gave me his selfless smile... it didn’t matter what the mug said. It only mattered that I had my boys and we are a family. | 2019-04-18T18:25:29 | 2019-04-18T17:02:48 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] "So they are a war species, then. Huh," the alien researcher scratches his head. "Why are you so interested in them? The humans, I mean." The other alien gets closer to him, and says, "They fight for peace. No other species fights for peace." | "That's stupid"
A-2784 sighed, turning back to the screen with a live feed of Earth. All of Earth. His computer systems were advanced enough to keep a constant watch on the strange planet.
"Is it? I've heard stupider"
H-3649 looked at his partner, glowing eye trying to divulge whatever cryptic message A-2784 was trying to deliver.
"Remember that species from the planet with 82 moons?"
"The 82ners?"
"Right. They explored all their moons just because"
"Your point?"
"What about the Bigsunners?"
H rolled his eye.
"The species that stared at their sun just to learn how it worked?"
A nodded, eye glued to the feed
"You know what these warpeacers did? That. Both of those. They also had a war without weapons, like the Longspears"
"I said before, your point?"
"I think they're the creators"
H blinked. Then burst out into mechanical laughter.
"You're crazy. That's even stupider than war peace"
"Is it? Have you ever noticed what we do?"
"What?"
"We analyze these planets, then blow them up because we think they're stupid. What does that sound like?"
"...warpeacers?"
"Uh-huh. And they did everything else! But they know how stupid it was. So they made us to stop the stupid"
"You're a genius"
"Aha, I knew I was! Let's go tell them what a good job we did!"
The pair descends to Earth. Unfortunately, the nations of Earth thought they were nuclear weapons. So they fired their own in prompt retaliation.
Both units were promptly shut down for being idiots. The supreme AI intelligence noted the entire incident as being incredibly stupid, illogical and completely nonsensical
Don't do bitmining kids | _Alien 1:_ Kutlag (Studying humans)
_ALIEN 2:_ HERTEYS (Helping Kutlag in his studies)
_SET:_ Hiding on the dark side of the moon with satellites in orbit with tech that makes them invisible to us humans and our tech. The 2 observers are just another set of observers spread throughout the galaxy with a simple assignment to observe, note and report back to the galactic council. They feel special cause there are rarely any intelligent and sentient beings this far out in the galaxy.
_PLOT:_
As kutlag was receiving a new package of data from the satellites around the orbit of the blue marbel he drank his coffee to try and get rid of the preservation chemicals used for cryo sleep, cryo sleep is used to help wake them up every 36500 rotations.
As the data was beginning to make sense all sleep and clumsiness went out the airlock as Kutlag couldn't believe what he was reading, wars at huge scales for a species that's still on a single planet, progress on unprecedented levels that have never been recorded, weapons that should have taken a few more sleeps were already being tested. What had happened between his last sleep till now? He had to wake her up.
As HERTEYS went through the data with the help of Kutlag she was taken back as how quickly the species had progressed within 1 sleep cycle. Last she remembered was how they were all spread out and killing each other with metal sticks and funny little metal sticks. A joke was around this planet that these self labelled species _Humans_ would likely end up killing them selves before they even leave their solar system and were nicknamed _TERRANS_ for their love of personal land and beliefs.
And now not only were they making major leaps in all branches of science for everything but were also progressing in all sorts of arts and peace that the galactic union thrived upon, they were making great progress on multiple peace talks that the union still couldn't get their heads around. Peace that was only a dream a sleep away, they have a mini version of the union with the only difference being that those on the council are selected by the people rather than the position being passed between families. Somehow even stuck on that little fragile rock these TERRANS had somehow managed to surpass the Union in some aspects, not at all significant but still credibility was due to them. They were ultimately always fighting for peace, but then when will peace be truly achieved if someone holds a grudge against the last battle for peace? It seems like this species will be in that loophole for many sleeps to come...
As the 2 observers continued looking through the data they kept getting more and more surprises on how the species was going forward and how quickly they were progressing in both good and bad ways.
Then the last surprise came that was totally uncalled for and something that is barely witnessed by anyone in their profession, a slip space jump...
The Terrans were coming, and the Union must be notified at all costs but the last thing they remember is being violently pushed onto the moon of the Terrans home planet due to an unknown collision on the hull. | 2019-05-02T20:34:11 | 2019-05-02T19:30:02 | 54 | 23 |
[WP] Since you were born you could see a search bar over people's heads. All you had to do was think and the search bar would fill out and give you information/statistics. Out of boredom one day you decide to search your whole family with"Number of people killed" | 1 result.
There it was, a name that only I could see, floating silently above my father's head. My father the murderer; standing there with his back turned, chopping carrots at the bench.
"Dad," I said, my voice trembling. He must have heard the quiver, because he stopped and turned to me, concern etched upon his face.
"Yes Sam? Is everything ok?" He sounded genuinely worried. I mean, he was always genuine, wasn't he? But then why... I had to know.
"Do you remember how grandad died?" I blurted it out, a little too fast, and it took dad by surprise. His eyes widened, but he covered it by averting his gaze and clearing his throat.
"Lung cancer," he said quietly, "horrible way to go."
I nodded my agreement. I could sense his pain, and it made me hesitate. I wasn't sure how to approach the subject. How do you even begin? But the silence was deafening. I *had to know.*
"I remember," I said. "But, well... We all knew he was terminal, but the doctor said he still had a few months. It was just... Unexpected..."
Dad was stock-still now, standing there with that great big knife in his hand like some macabre statue. The moment drew out to infinite, frozen in time.
In an instant, the tension was broken.
My father lifted his knife, placing it gently next to the carrots. He turned back to me, and for the first time I could see the tears in his eyes.
"Do you remember the dialysis?" he said, "the needles? The tests?"
I couldn't speak, so I nodded.
"Dad couldn't bear the pain, but more than that, he couldn't bear living out the rest of his life in a hospital bed. He-"
My father choked and turned away again, staring out the window. He stared and stared, looking for something that he couldn't find.
I knew what he was looking for, I'd already found it.
"He asked you to do it, didn't he?" | “It was an accident!” I said. I really was too, I was just hitting a baseball. I didn’t mean to break the window, and I definitely didn’t mean to hit her dog.
“YOU KILLED HIM!” Megan yelled. She’d had that dog since she was my age. A little chihuahua that never left her side. “You’re a monster. I hate you.”
That happened 3 days ago and she’s still yelling at me. I already can’t eat, she doesn’t have to make it worse.
“I hope you die next!”
“Megan!” Dad boomed, “your brother didn’t mean for that to happen. It was a freak accident, apologize to him now.”
“No Fuck him i had max before I had HIM!”
I don’t know why i did it then, to tell her she couldn’t know how I feel, to find something to hurt her feelings with, maybe I’d hoped to see this.
*how many times have you killed*
Megan Donnelly - one kill, accidental, car crash, unaware.
Oh god, mom and dad said the man went to the hospital for a concussion. That she was lucky she didn’t kill him. I don’t think I was supposed to hear that but I know a lot of things I should.
*who*
Steven Wolf - occupation: electrician, family: none, significance: minimal.
The search engine has always been blunt.
“I’m sorry Megan, I wish it was me that died.” I can’t tell her.
“Mom, Dad. Can I just go to bed. I don’t feel well.”
“Of course you can sweetheart. I’ll bring you up some tea” says mom.
“Not until Megan apologizes.” Says dad.
“I’m sorry, I don’t wish you were dead. But I wish I didn’t have to see you!”
I cry the whole way up to my room, I cry in my room, I feel like I’ve been crying for hours when dad comes in.
“Hey champ, you know your sister didn’t mean that right? She’s sad and taking it out on you but it’s not your fault.”
“I know dad.” Now I cant help it.
*how many times have you killed?*
Liam Donnelly - 2 kills, 1 accidental, 1 intentional
I click on the world intentional.
Mathew Johnson - alledged rapist of Megan Donnelly, found innocent under suspicious circumstances.
I see a picture of my aunt, I never knew her but dad said my sister looked just like her. He said was always sad, but she looked so happy in this picture.
“I’m sorry dad I’m just sad too. Can I be alone.” I say, trying to understand what I just learned. “Sure thing champ. I love you so much,” he replies.
Next up the stairs was mom with my tea. She always knew what to say to me. I inherited the search bar from her.
“How are you feeling sweetheart?”
*how many times have you killed?*
Donna Martin-Donnelly - 372 kills, 0 accidental.
“Was it something you searched?” She asks
“No mom, I...I just feel guilty is all.”
“Do you want some tea?”
“Yes,” I lie, “thanks.” | 2019-07-01T21:21:32 | 2019-07-01T19:09:52 | 717 | 399 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | When I first regained my sight I saw the messages, "Don't tell them you can see".
I wondered who "them" might be. I'll be honest, my first thought was space aliens of some sort of monsters from a Stygian realm. I was terrified.
I carefully got out my cane and went about my business, often closing my eyes to make the subterfuge more believable.
Then I saw my first glimpse of the truth. We were "them". The scant few that could see were chained or harnessed to work for the blind masses.
Not down on the grubby streets where most of us eeked out our living, mind you. There was a military, or industrial wealth class that had quickly seized the few who had never gone blind.
In the first days of The Great Blinding there had been a few helpful souls that had not succumbed according to the rumors. But the rumors faded when everyone realized the'd never met a sighted person or became unsure of their memories of those first few traumatic days.
Over time it was revealed that a few people took longer to lose their sight.
And so many people died in those first weeks that who was to say when someone simply disappeared.
But now I could glance across distant vistas and through chain link fences at the sighted slaves doing the work only sighted people can do. Tethered and beaten, the slaves, some hobbled by broken or missing feet, could glare defiance, and leave messages that the blind overseers couldn't detect.
The words were in mismatched paints or organic stains.
The words were in the margins of the braille paperwork.
The messages were passed by a one in a thousand moment of eye contact and a nodding head as you pass on the street.
In the land of the blind the sighted man is not king. He is valuable property.
But revolution is brewing. | We all remember the moment we were in before the great blinding. One minute we were in our kitchens. The next... Well god knows what happened next. I, personally, was in german class reciting verbs. And than it happened. I blinked. And nothing.
I started to panic. What happened! Where did my eyesight go! I called out into the cold air of the classroom and an aura of fear washed over me as one of my closest friends spoke up.
"I cant see." He said
The rest of the class followed in scattered replies. Ranging from screaming to quit murmurs of agreement.and than IT happened.
We called it the crashing. Every car, plane, boat, train, and vehicle you could think of crashed. At least a few dozen into our school.
The casualties were massive. At least 4 billion people had died. Mostly in the great crashing. Millions more from mass suicide.
But us humans found some ways to prevail as we always do. We adapted and gained new senses. And we lost our old one completely. We have no recolection of colour at this point. Until now.
I was heading to a supermarket for some noodles. I was in japan as an exchange student at the time and couldnt leave. So i was stuck there for etirnity. I walked in to the automated chime of a robot welcoming me in. And than just as i had it takrn away. I got it back. And oh boy did i get it back.
When it happened my whole entire vision was one sentance. Dont tell them you can see. Plastered on the walls, the floor, the labels. All in perfect font. I looked around me for an awnser to why thid happened. And than i saw IT. A robot. Everywhere i went. Everything was a robot. The people, the dogs, the cows. Robots everywhere. I stopped to pick it up. What could be happening. Why was i here in a society built off of robots? Where is everyone? And than i got grabbed on my shoulder and was pushed down into a sewer.
I looked at my surroundings. It was a mechanical maze of wires and tubes everywhere. And underneath my feet. A hatch. I took a moment to look at myself. I was what? 23 years old now? My hair was long and messy. My feet were dirty. My hands were caked in some kind of substance. I remembered taking quit good care of myself even while the blinding was happening. Why was i filthy? I shook myslelf awake and put my thoughts together. Was it a dream? If so why was it so long and vivid? No that doesnt make sense.
I put that aside and opened the hatch. I looked down into the dark abyss below me and jumped.
And what i saw at the bottom was terrifying. A sea of dead bodys. That all looked like me. All of them. And they all had a different number tattooed in red ink on their necks. | 2019-08-26T10:33:57 | 2019-08-26T09:44:00 | 62 | 14 |
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