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 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. | As everything came into focus, red block letters greeted me
DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
For a moment I sat, looking at the shapes. Like the others, I had been blinded December before last. My MX-Sarah assistant had guided me back home while the world was in chaos. The robot became my eyes.
I needed an upgrade but Patriot Pay was stalled. We were the lucky ones. The ones with skill sets that didn't need our eyes. United States Occupational Relief picked us up.
There was an uprising, if you can call it that. Blind masses screamed in the street for something to be done. Screamed for answers. For a cure. But the doctors had been blinded too.
The e-security cleaned everything up very quickly. It was rumored they retrained you in the camps for an occupation you could do without your sight. I liked to believe it. The more plausible rumors aren't vey nice.
Official broadcasting never made mention of the camps. They were something not to be acknowledged. Like the blocks of empty houses. Something to be forgotten.
DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
After two years, letters become shapes before words. When the message finally hit, I closed my eyes reflexively. My heart started racing. I had a new secret to keep.
*Marcus, is everything all right?*
MX-Sarah's grating, chipper tone stabbed the air. I rubbed my eyes and replied "I think it must be a bit dusty, that's all". I opened my eyes and willed them out of focus.
*You would like me to dust. Is that correct?*
A sickening wave self-consciousness hit.
"Yes. Sarah. Schedule dusting today. 1500."
*Dusting scheduled today at 3pm. To cancel, say CANCEL*
Then there was silence. I was trying to remember what I did with my body. My eyes.
Be normal. Be normal.
DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
Note: Have to go now. If someone is interested in finishing this, I'm thinking over-population for post global warming scarce resources caused a global oligarchy to take dramatic action. Artificial intelligence has made human workers all but unnecessary. Mass blinding was a way to exterminate a large portion of the population. Mass disinformation campaigns / desire to keep people in their place. Hence, DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE
Thinking there is are "The Visionaries" that paint the letters, subverting the rulers. I'm imagining secret transport network + a final boss scene, ambushing the ruling class. The blindness is caused by an issued chemical. Just need to avoid exposure. Some accidentally are "cured" because they have accidentally avoided the blindness dose for long enough.
Thanks for the great prompt OP! | I walk along the street. It's a normal night like any other. Nothing special until I see the sun rise. Something was different the light was too bright. Far too bright. I close my eyes and they still burn from the light. I try covering my eyes as they're closed yet they're still burning. Until I can no longer see the light.
I open my eyes to find darkness. I open my phone and say. Hey Google call 911. I hear cars crashing in the darkness. I get up and run away from the noise. I stumble and fall but I manage to follow the sidewalk home thank the gods I was taking my normal route.
"911 what is your emergency?" The lady says. She sounds just as scared as I am. "I can't see something blinded me this morning as the sun rose." She pauses for a second. "Are you safe? She says." I find her question strange. "Yes I managed to find my way back home." She sighed a bit. "I'm blind as well and so are all of our emergency service workers. Just try and turn a radio or TV to a news station and await further instructions. We're all working in the dark right now. I don't even know how to tell people where to go!" She begins crying and then regains her composure. "Stay safe." she says as she hangs up.
After years we manage to adjust and somewhat keep surviving cars aren't really a thing anymore. Everyone walks everywhere and cities are mainly abandoned but there's a lot of goods to raid from them to trade for food if you can manage it. Everyone's hearing has increased significantly. It's what we use along with scent to hide from predators mainly packs of wild dogs and occasionally escaped zoo animals.
Just as it seems we'll adjust to our blindness. I am hiding from something I've never heard before in a shop. It doesn't sound like anything I've ever heard. All of a sudden I'm blinded again. It's like the blinding light from before. I see inside of the walls of the shop. Don't let them know you can see. Who were they talking about.
Then as I step outside I see exactly who they're refrencing. Floating orbs with what seems like endless tendrils. They are carrying different people away. I go back into the shop and find a pair of thick black shades. I put them on my face and I pick up my walking staff. What in the world happened that day.
Then I hear the "drones" that drop food to us. I see a few people come out of hiding. Turns out what we thought were drones were nothing of the sort. They latch there tendrils onto the faces of those nearby. Pumping something into us. Come to think of it the closer I look at them they don't look human at all....
I try to walk normally back to the store. It's pretty easy to find a mirror since nobody would be raiding those since we're all blind. I look into it and my skin is moist with tendrils forming around my mouth. I was too distracted earlier at the return of my site to notice the webbing inbetween my fingers. The scales that were growing on my hand.
I begin to have a headache. My blood feeling as though it's boiling. That's right I always went to the "drones" before this. I go back to them. They latch onto my face and begin pumping sustenance into my body. Then I feel it. They know is all I can think. I rip it from my face and I run to the store where I awakened my site. I don't know why. Call it instinct. I break the mirror and write. Stay away from the drones in my black blood. Soon it finds me soon it drags me from the store.
It takes me into its mouth. I feel myself disappear this isn't death. It's rebirth. I awaken my eyes are working. I am hiding from something. On the walls of the store I'm hiding in there are two messages. Don't let them know you can see and beware the drones. What does this mean? | 2022-10-22T00:27:31 | 2019-08-26T10:34:32 | 37 | 17 |
[WP] You work for an agency that uses time travel to prevent global disasters; your latest assignment has you working undercover in New York City in the 1911. One day, your blood runs cold as you pass a violinist - he's playing "Killer Queen". Your eyes meet his and he stops. He knows you know... | He looked at me,coldly,sharply,it felt like he was staring right into my soul.He was blonde,looked about 33,he seemed to be quite rich,with his purple suit,and i also noticed something poking out of his coat,but i darent question it.I backed off,and he stood up and called out to me.
"Hey,sir." He said simply,with a face that looked like a mix between a gentle smile and a frown.
"Yes?" I asked,kind of scared.He seemed quite intimidating.
"Can I help you?" He asked warmly
"N-no." I whimpered.My eyes dawned on his now opened pocket,and i saw...
A severed hand.He realised what had just happened,and hastily closed his pocket,but inside we both knew the damage had been done.
"Oh dear,it seems you've seen it." He said grimly,his face darkened.
"Wha-what the fuck are you doing with a hand?" I tried to yell,but i couldnt muster the strength
"My name is Yoshikage Kira. I'm 33 years old. My house is in the northeast section of Morioh, where all the villas are, and I am not married. I work as an employee for the Kame Yu department stores, and I get home every day by 8 PM at the latest. I don't smoke, but I ocassionaly drink. I'm in bed by 11 PM, and make sure I get eight hours of sleep, no matter what. After having a glass of warm milk and doing about twenty minutes of stretches before going to bed, I usually have no problems sleeping until morning. Just like a baby, I wake up without any fatigue or stress in the morning. I was told there were no issues at my last check-up. I'm trying to explain that I'm a person who wishes to live a very quiet life. I take care not to trouble myself with any enemies, like winning and losing, that would cause me to lose sleep at night. That is how I deal with society, and I know that is what brings me happiness. Althought, if I were to fight I wouldn't lose to anyone."
At that point,i knew my life was in danger,but how would he kill me,since he had a suitcase and his violin in his hands?
He walked away from me,into the crowd of unassuming people.I was in an empty space,in front of everyones eyes.I felt a touch on my back,and i turned,and saw...
Nobody.No one who couldve been near me,no one who couldve ran without so much as a step.I felt a sharp pain gradually spread through my body.I looked down at my hands and saw that it was beginning to crumble
Then,I began to *explode*.It was so sudden,but i knew that somehow,he put a bomb in me.
(*As seen from a victim of Bites The Dust*) | Either that truck bombs the entire city or I divert that truck somewhere else.
That was the conclusion for the disaster prevention plan, it feels off but why do we even need to prevent this? I don't get it at all. We prevent global disasters from evil scientists or madmen in the past like creating artificial weather or forcefully breaking apart an entire continent.
This doesn't qualify at all for an assignment, unless there's something else bigger that I don't know about. I will accomplish this assignment to find out more why this mission even existed.
I walk towards a place where I can get a taxi, with this military permission for high ranked entry I can vouch for myself and get the military to stop that truck. My peers and superiors would call it going overboard but that's kind of my thing.
But what the hell is this feeling, isn't that killer queen? The year is 1911, yet i'm hearing a song from 1974.
The moment I saw the violinist, he grinned at me as he finishes the song. As if I fell into his trap
"Who are you"
"Aren't you a careless traveler, known for your extravagant conclusions yet the mission this time around confuses you too"
"What, how do you-
"I don't know the details but I think I got a gist if you traveled to this early point in time"
Tucking away is violin as he offers me a drink, I accept since I have spare time for this mission. I won't let this drag on though
"If you think you can stop the coming fire, what makes you think they'll stop after this mess?"
"Will you prevent this incident? Or cut it from the root?"
"What are you implying?" I slowly reach for my gun, but I know he's pointing one at me too. He's too fast and well acquainted with a lot of conversations like this. He might've encountered my allies sometime anywhere and assisted them or stopped them. I need to be careful, this man might be the unacknowledged backbone of our agency or the one that can break it. Piece by piece
"I'll get straight to the point. If you stop this one, they'll come back 90 years later with a bigger plan. You seem to be ready for casualties but not as big as the next one"
Bigger plan? Does he mean that if I stop them here, I will consequently create a bigger bomber than this? But that would contradict our agency. We prevent big disasters like this. I'm sure we'd find out what he means by this in time.
"By the way, how do you know my profession. You seem like a man who's seen a lot?"
"I am already a dead man, questioning it would be senseless. Besides, you don't have time to drag this conversation on huh?"
He got me! I want to know more he knows but dead man? That got me curious. He knows, i'll come back. I'll find him later once I completed this mission.
"Then what's your name? Atleast your name would be enough for me to find you"
"Finding a ghost of the future would be hard enough. But i'm sure you'll come back a few moments later. My name is Kira Yoshikage, an assassin from 88 years later."
I left, knowing his name. I'll come back and know more. He might even know more than I expect.
...
I finished my mission and I realized something.
Stopping that bomb truck was the disaster? it caused the new york bombing in 2001 and I didn't know why? The consequence was that?!
That year is a lost cause, even our superiors declared no more will be dispatched to that year due to the major loss of agents.
Got permission to travel back to 1911 for a review. I went to the same place I left Yoshikage Kira.
"That was fast, you realized slowly than I expected but atleast you came back.
Now, will you prevent this incident or find the root of it?"
______________________________________________________
If you recognize the name, i'm sorry. I just had to do it | 2020-05-08T02:24:00 | 2020-05-08T01:29:10 | 32 | 18 |
[WP] A priest returns home after a successful exorcism. His demon daughter is waiting for him there, angry that he removed her from someone’s body again. | The woman lifts off the floor, rising slowly and spinning counterclockwise. "Widdeeshins", Father OBrady says aloud. He finishes the salt circle, and blesses the bottle of fiji water he bought at the corner store on his way.
"It's not fair!" The demonic voice rips from her throat. "You never let me have any fun!"
He quietly sprinkles the water over the rest of the family, and begins the incantation.
The demon screams, but he knows demons. They always scream. They pretend it hurts so that maybe you'll take pity on the poor soul they've occupied, and stop. He knows better.
He finishes the reading, and takes a swig of the water before pouring it into the woman's mouth.
A darkness blacker than night pours from her ears and eyes, and the wailing continues. Just as quickly, it is done. She falls to the floor, sobbing, and reaches for her family.
"Is it safe?" The husband asks.
OBrady nods. "aye." He says, "the demon is gone from her now." He refuses their money. He didn't become a priest for money.
He because a priest to protect his child.
He walks home, and he can hear her upstairs, his daughter. Breaking things. Screaming. He climbs the stairs to her room, weary.
"You never let me do ANYTHING!" She shrieks as he opens her door, flinging a picture frame at him. "Mom would have let me! She'd let me go to concerts! And hang out with my friends! I hate you! You're the worst dad in the world!"
"Oh aye, your mum! Shining beacon of motherhood she is!" He shouts back, losing his temper, accent growing thicker as his did. "Left ye on me porch when you was just a wee thing, unable to manifest a shape. You were weak and helpless and she didnae think even to warn me ye were there! She didnae care for ye! Didnae wipe your nose and bottom when ye was sick! She'd have eaten yet soon as kissed ye!"
He sits, heavily, on the bed. "I know ye want to explore," he says, as the darkness shrinks into a familiar form. "But it's too dangerous. What if you lose your shape drinking? What if you hurt somebody, or they hurt you?"
He knows the answer. It's only a matter of time before they bring in a different priest already. If she's revealed, they'll bring one sooner.
He won't be able to protect her then.
"You don't know what hell is, love. I've seen it in your mother's eyes. I've felt the fire of it burning in my soul." He shook his head. "They could trap you their for eternity. I cannae let them do it. Please," he rubs his brow, "please, no more possessions of people. Dogs and cats and dolls only, please."
"Dad." She sinks onto the bed beside him. "I didn't mean it. I don't hate you." She wraps her arms around him.
"I know that, love." He pets her hair. "Now finish your homework. School tomorrow, you know."
She rolls her eyes, and forgets to color the scelera white. "Dad. It's online! The teacher lets us grade our own. It doesn't matter." Her hair was back to mousey brown, and her skin was right too. The shadows had stopped flickering around her like flames. "Danielle is doing a watch party tonight. If I promise not to leave the house, can I have some of your -"
"Absolutely not." he stands. "What kind of a father let's his daughter drink at your age!" He winks, and whispers, "I'll leave it at the stairs but I'm warding the house, you hear?" | Father Atkinson returned home a tired man. His once sturdy frame stood hollow, a tree devoured inside out. His face had grown wrinkled as bark; his calloused hands could barely grip the cross as he pounded the pulpit before his congregation.
They didn't know him. Not the true him--the man who scrambled to correct his daughter's misdeeds, who kept a flask right beside his bedroom Bible so that he'd not still be crying when the sun rose.
All they knew was the fire of his words as he preached a life he couldn't live, the bags beneath his eyes because his devotion knew no bounds.
Those late-night exorcisms had worn him down. Like a stump, once tall and proud, now a broken bit of what'd he'd been.
Each was harder than the last. His hands struggled to clutch the crucifix; his eyes blurred as he tried to read the incantations. Night after night. Possession after possession.
His hand trembled as he put the key to the lock. He winced as the door creaked open. Like walking on eggshells, he entered the dark foyer. Hung his coat. Ran a tired hand through his thinned hair. She slept this time so he could, too.
"Hello, daddy," a voice said from up the hallway.
"My goodness," he said, jumping when he saw the short, dark figure standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Lucy, what did I tell you about startling me like that? Gonna give me a heart attack."
She giggled her high-pitched cackle that ended in those little snorts he'd once found so cute. "Might be best," Lucy said, and then she began to cackle again.
Father Atkinson bit his tongue and refrained from retorting. Kids said the damnedest things. He flipped on the light, revealing Lucy in her white nightgown and disheveled hair that fell over her face. Her nails were broken and jagged from scratching at the same place time and time again.
Father Atkinson caught his breath. Everybody was beautiful in their own way, his daughter most of all. He mustered an apologetic smile.
"I didn't mean to wake you," he said. "It's well past midnight. What are you still doing up?"
"Waiting for you, daddy," Lucy said. "What were you doing?" She cocked her head, smiled with too much teeth.
"I see that," Father Atkinson said. He didn't answer her question.
"You were punishing me again, daddy," Lucy said. "I thought I asked you not to do that."
Father Atkinson frowned. He clutched his coat as if it would protect him. "It's my job, Lucy. I do what I have to do."
He peered to the left into the living room, around Lucy into the kitchen. The babysitter was nowhere to be found. Maybe she'd fallen asleep in the family room. Maybe...
"She's alive," Lucy said.
Father Atkinson let out the breath he'd been holding. "Thank goodness."
"I'm not a murderer, daddy," Lucy said.
She smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes--wide and sinister, forced and deceptive.
Father Atkinson gulped. "I know you aren't, sweetie."
"But you thought I might be, right? You're looking for Amanda."
Father Atkinson nodded. "Yes, dear. I'm looking for Amanda. Could you tell me where Amanda is and then head back to bed? It's her bedtime, too, and she has to drive home still."
"Oh, daddy," Lucy said.
A chill ran up Father Atkinson's spine. "Yes, dear?"
"I don't think Amanda wants to leave just yet."
"She doesn't?"
"Why don't I just show you her?" Lucy said.
Father Atkinson didn't move from beside the front door. With one hand, he reached into his coat and clutched the crucifix with trembling hands. He eyed the Bible on the coffee table in the living room, wondered if he could make it there before Lucy did.
"O... Okay, dear. Show me Amanda, please."
*Sleeping. She's just sleeping, and Lucy will show me where she fell asleep. Maybe they watched a movie. Played with dolls--wait, no. Not the dolls.*
"Come, Amanda," Lucy sang. Sickly sweet, that voice of hers.
Footsteps lurched through the family room. Into the kitchen. Amanda appeared in the doorway, eyes blank and white as the foyer walls. She teetered unsteadily, her back twisted at a gruesome angle. Her face was plastered with the same wide smile as Lucy's, and when Lucy lifted her arm towards Father Atkinson, Amanda's lifted, too.
"Here she is, daddy," Lucy said. "Since you don't like having to come home from work so late, I thought I could surprise you by bringing your work right here to our home."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-10-20T09:37:27 | 2020-10-20T08:05:28 | 393 | 123 |
[WP] You have just been abducted by a UFO. While you are figuring out what just happened to to you, a frantic alien bursts into the room. "You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking, but my Human Studies final is tomorrow and I need help." | He was crawling on the ceiling, again.
"Oh *crtraledra.* Oh f*ctreck.* This was... Oh *greck* I... I'm going to go to prison I..."
A notebook flapping into his head very nearly dislodged his grip. He looked around, as if trying to find some *other* person in the room who it might have been. I jumped up, standing on the desk and grabbing the alien by the...chest...carapace.
"Wrail, listen to me. Are you listening? Wrail, you need to look...I..."
I slapped the alien. He stared at me, in shock.
"You are not going to go to prison, okay? Look at me, say after me...I am not going to go to prison."
"I..." he looked around, still looking for that other, mystery person.
"Say. **It.**"
"I...am not going to go to prison." He mumbled, not really looking at me.
"Good." I dropped him.
I had absolutely no idea what I was talking about, but for some reason this seemed to go some small way to reassuring him.
"Alright..." I pointed the alien back at amorphous, continuously shifting metal that was apparently their equivalent of a piece of paper. "Now repeat the things we just went through."
The alien started reciting in that strange, clicky way of his. "Humans are a class zero species. You consume both non-sentient and sentient life forms in order to combat the natural accumulation of entropy."
"Name the parts of us composed of dead skin cells."
"Hair, nails."
"What's our general stance on diplomacy?"
"You don't have one."
"And how many arms do we have?"
"You have-"
"Without looking."
He turned his eyes away from me back to the screen. "Fouuu..." he froze mid syllable. "...rrrrtwo."
"Two." He repeated.
I grinned, patting him on the back. He flinched, the first time.
We'd been doing this for a couple hours, now. He’d attempt to get something done, manage about ten minutes before flipping out and spending the next ten desperately panicking and making the cockpit feel even smaller than it already was.
I suppose, I probably should've been kind of freaked out. If this were anyone but an alien, I probably would have. It *was* a kind of suspect situation. A mysterious, twitchy loner abducting a young girl in his clapped out vehicle and driving her to some out of the way place in the middle of nowhere?
Wow, it really does sound bad when you put it that way.
Wait. Was it that bad?
Anyway. Clapped out vehicle.
See, when you think alien spaceship what's the first thing that comes to your mind?
Exactly. A dingy looking two meter wide hunk of metal with bits and pieces sticking out like some kind of orthodontic equipment. The interior wasn't much better; a tattered mess of worn down carpets, creaky cockpit seats, and a windscreen which made you *highly* aware of the lack of air the beyond of the confines of the cabin.
Wrail was tapping away at the controls now, and seemed a bit calmer for it.
"We're entering your asteroid belt, now." He explained. "I need to focus on this."
"We are?"
He pointed. "You can see one, over there."
"Hmm. What's the capitol of the world?"
"Trick question." He parried, not missing a beat. "A capitol implies unionization, whereas humans are incapable of cooperation"
I made a confirmatory noise, while squinting in the direction pointed at.
"How much longer?"
"My test is in seventeen hours."
I leveled a glare at him. "The gateway, *Wrail*."
"Oh. Well, now that we're here I had to slow down a lot. Considering where we landed maybe about...half an hour? And then...we'll have to not get spotted by the sentries...and...then I'll be...in another solar system...with a human pass-"
He was starting to hyperventilate. Again.
"-enger. And my exam is in 16 hours and 47 minutes. And I ju-"
"Wrail."
"-st day going to earth and I haven't slept and-"
"Wrail!" I yelped, urgently.
"I'm sorry, I just-"
"Wrail..."
He finally stopped soaking in self pity long enough to look up. I really wish there were words that could fully express the look on his face, when it finally clicked what he was looking at. It hadn't been an asteroid.
"Space police?" I questioned.
He was quiet, for a moment.
"Space police." The alien confirmed.
​
\----
I'm tired now, but this is pretty fun so I'm probably going to attempt to complete it at some point. | After that slightly odd announcement, I just stared slack jawed at the being in front of me. The first coherent thought to enter my mind wasn\`t particularly profound or deep but I had no control over this most obvious course for my mind to take. It was really the only thing I think most other humans would be thinking about too.
*Tentacles! So many tentacles!*
This was the genius first thought I had, thrown into this unbelievable situation. Well, that and the whole probing thing but I forcefully pushed that thought down, that was just too horrifying to contemplate given the sheer volume of appendages.
*Nope! Stop thinking about it!*
Collecting myself, I finally manage to muster up a response to his question, "S-so, you need my help with your homework? That\`s really all? Then you\`ll let me go?"
The alien replied, while I searched in vain for its mouth or whatever way he was communicating with me, " Yes! Of course I\`ll return you once you help me pass! I\`m not one of those savages from the Turai Nebula." He finished with a soft harrumph, seemingly scandalized by the very thought.
Trying to keep the conversation moving, I ask, "So, what exactly do you need help with?"
"Well, I have most of it down but the first one is: what is the significance of this "Tik-Tok" application? I have seen the multitude of social forums your species uses, as that was one of our main focuses of study, but this one seems just like many others but its popularity is so high! I simply cannot understand it."
Trying not to burst out laughing, I reply , "Well, it certainly is similar to other forms of social media but I guess the reason its so popular is just because it became a trend that caught on. People used it to post different dance routines and other short activities and adventures. Some of these people even became increasingly popular from it which, I guess, drives even more people to utilize the app to either watch or try and build up influence, sometimes known as clout, for themselves."
"Hmmmm, I see. Although I can\`t quite see the point, I mostly understand. Ok, second, why do so many of you keep these "dogs" as pets? They are known as savage predators throughout the known universe but your species seems to have domesticated them, what is the purpose of keeping such dangerous creatures so near to you and your offspring?! It seems so illogical."
This question throws me for a second after the ease and brevity of the first one but I muster up my best response, in honor of our loyal furred friends, "Well, I don\`t know anything about the rest of the universe but here, dogs are man\`s best friend! They are our companions and beloved pets and when need be, our protectors as well. We keep them close to our families for these ofttimes intangible but certainly immeasurably positive benefits!"
The alien in front of me seems deep in thought for a moment for replying, " I see, I see. So they are combination of friend, pet and battle brother! That makes a certain amount of sense. Alright, on to the next then, who is this Leeroy Jenkins? And why do so many of those in your virtual gaming communities use his name as a battle cry? Was he a valiant warrior in your culture?"
I just about burst a blood vessel from containing my amusement at this new query! But I persevere and reply, "Well, from what little I know, it originated from a video that went viral when a player used his character\`s name, Leeroy Jenkins, as a battle cry when he attacked a raid location while his team was still formulating a battle plan. After that, it became widespread for those that decided to recklessly charge into dangerous situations with there characters. They sometimes even use it to bolster their courage if they are risking in-game valuables."
" Oh, I see, so I suppose it is based on a valiant warrior then! If one with an obviously low IQ."
I was starting to get impatient at this point but I kept my composure for the next several dozen questions posed by this ineffable being before suddenly we were interrupted.
A doorway opened into the room we were in and in came a much larger but also obviously upset alien. This one\`s tentacles seemed to vibrate with its irritation which I only noticed the occasional sign of in my abductor, particularly when he was frustrated by one of my answers. This being\`s were vibrating much faster and more constantly. I instantly jump behind my abductor to avoid being the target of the new arrival\`s anger. It broke into a loud warbling noise, seemingly giving a heated dressing down to my abductor, who seemed to wilt a bit under this onslaught. He replied in a subdued tone in the same warbling noise, I guess explaining his actions. They continued back and forth for a few more exchanges before my acquaintance moved away from me so the big one could look at me. He stares intently into my eyes for a moment before suddenly a bright flash of light explodes behind my eyes and I instantly collapse, unconscious!
I awake sometime later with a pounding headache and little clue about what had happened. I blearily look at my surroundings and see I am in a grassy field a few minutes walk from my house.
*Hmmph, guess I must have had too much at the bar last night. I must have stumbled my way this close to home before deciding to just sleep it off!*
Conclusion reached, I make my way back home and my decidedly unextraordinary life, never knowing the amazing event that I had just undergone.
<Meanwhile, in a sleek spacecraft silently orbiting Earth....
Two aliens, one big and one small, discuss the massive advancement in knowledge the little one had received from merely a few hours of scientific inquiry with a member of the local species. The big one, the Teacher, had successfully mind wiped the individual and returned him near where he was picked up, but was currently mulling over the merits of kidnapping a few more. For science, of course.
Although, he thought, probing may be required.
**Beware!** | 2021-01-22T11:53:45 | 2021-01-22T10:31:15 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] A technician pulls a headset off of you and asks you if you liked the VR. You panic, and he calmly says that your whole life was a 2 minute VR experience to show you what being an average person would be like. You, stunned and afraid, ask, "Who am I, then?" He stares in complete disbelief.
(The title implies that the protagonist is someone important/famous/rich/powerful/etc, but feel free to do whatever you want with it) | It was too dark. I blinked rapidly against my surroundings, confused, disoriented, and then I started to panic. “Hello?” I asked. My voice rasped against my throat.
“Angela. So, how was it?”
My surroundings started to come into focus, and I realized that my vision had been more blurry than dark. I blinked again, my eyes landing on a man standing a few feet in front of me, a tangled headset of wires in his hand. The expression on his face was smug, victorious, and expectant. There was another man in a chair a few feet away, his ankles crossed, leaning back in his seat as if he were watching a show.
“Well?” the first man prompted.
“What’s happening?”
He sighed. “Come on.” He snapped his fingers in front of my face, making me flinch. “I’m Rafael, that’s Dave, you’re Angela. And you’re coming out of a two-minute sim. You had a life of an average person. How *was* it?” he asked tersely.
Narrowing my eyes, I tried to shift in my seat only to realize my hands and ankles were bound to it with duct tape, my shoulders similarly pinned to the back of the chair I was in with long strips pulled around several times. My heart leapt into my throat and I jerked against my bindings. “Where am I? What’s going on?” I whimpered.
“Angela,” Rafael said tightly, grasping my wrists and leaning in toward my face. I froze in terror, meeting his gaze. “Take a breath. It’s a *sim*. It’ll come back. Your name is Angela…”
“Messina,” I muttered.
“There you go.” At that, he carefully laid the headset down on a table to my right, taking the seat next to Dave. “You work at…?”
“Morpheus Tech. I *run* Morpheus Tech,” I corrected him, my tone severe.
Rafael’s expression soured. “And she’s back.” He jerked his chin at me. “But that’s not all you are anymore. You were Tracey, mother of three, wife to your loving husband, struggling through life. How was it?”
Swallowing hard, I averted my gaze. My memories continued to flood back, but they were adjacent to the life I’d just lived. *Jesus, this tech is going to make me a fortune once they find me*, I thought. And then another part of my mind recoiled at that.
“That good, huh?” Rafael asked. “That wasn’t an invented, fictional life, of course. It was the life of my friend Tracey. Donated to the cause here, among others.”
“You can’t manufacture empathy in me for her,” I suddenly spat, meeting his gaze. “I just… I need a minute to…to think…” My eyes drifted down to my lap.
Rafael leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Think, huh? About what?” His tone was curious, taunting.
He knew. He could tell what it had done to me. Only two minutes it had taken, and this whole life was in my head. He had no right to do this to me, to subject me to the life of someone who just did the best she could only to fail to gain a foothold to-
I shook my head against the thought. No, that wasn’t right. She was just a worker bee, like all the others. My company was one of the best out there, provided excellent benefits, a competitive salary. It wasn’t my job to tackle income inequality and privatized healthcare, for Christ’s sake. And I worked hard for my life, I’d earned every cent I had.
*Tracey worked hard too. She worked just as hard. And she still couldn’t afford the medical bills for her son.*
Setting my jaw, I looked up to meet Rafael’s gaze. “You know they’ll find me,” I told him calmly. “They’ll be here any minute. Is it worth it, getting arrested for kidnapping someone like me?”
“Yep,” Rafael replied cheerfully. I glared back at him. “So…did you learn anything? Moral at the end of the story? Lessons from your experiences?”
“I learned the world isn’t fair. But I already knew that, so I suppose it isn’t really a learned lesson so much as a review of facts,” I said, slowly blinking at him.
“Right.” At that, he pushed himself to his feet, picking up the helmet. “You know how long it took Chris to die?” Rafael asked quietly, absently sorting the wires around each other like Christmas tree lights, carefully organizing them until they were neatly and properly laid out. “How long he fought, knowing his mother was desperate to save him? How many long nights he spent suffering because they couldn’t afford the pills?”
“It’s a tragedy, I agree,” I sighed, “but what do you expect me to do about it?”
Rafael met my gaze. “You know the power you have. I’m convinced you do. It’s just a matter of motivation.” At that, he reached forward and strapped the helmet back on my head.
“What are you doing?” I snapped, unable to move my head away far enough to resist.
“Another two minutes.”
“I still remember Tracey’s life,” I told him. “Living it again won’t change my mind any more than it did this time.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” he said, sitting down at the rolling chair in front of the machinery I was hooked up to. “We’re not sending you back in as Tracey. Next up is life as Chris.”
My face went slack, and horror bloomed in my eyes. “No, wait! Please-”
The world went white.
&#x200B;
/r/storiesbykaren |
With a sudden feeling of falling from a great height, I was washed in a bright light as though I had just stepped out from a dark room and into the sun. I blinked as my vision adjusted to take in the sight of the face of a man I did not recognize.
“Well, how was it? Pretty realistic with the latest updates, I bet. Took me two late nights to figure out how to implement reflecting what happens during your days in your dreams without causing a memory issue.” He ended his sentence with a pause, one that tried to invite praise. But I had no idea of what he was speaking about.
I gripped the armrests of the seat I found myself in and pushed myself deeper into it and away from this stranger, seeking comfort in the physical touch of the seat against my back. The room was alien to me, a monument to machinery filled with metal boxes that blinked and beeped even as I took them in. Wires hung from every angle, attaching to each other, the helmet in the man’s hands, and, of most concern, to me.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what this is,” I said, trying to detach myself from the tangle of wires all around me, “and I would like to leave. Does my wife know I am here?” The excited look drained from the other man’s face and a confusion that seemed to match my own replaced it.
“Your wife?” he asked with an odd inflection. “What are you… Are you talking about the simulation?” The man knelt to look at me at eye level from my seated position. His blue eyes and something about his face reminded me of Marcus, or maybe his father. Was that what this was, another of their family’s problems spilling over into my own? But the white coat he had on implied a professional career I couldn’t imagine Marcus having anything to do with. Was the man a doctor, was I sick? “Hey, man, are you feeling alright? Do you understand where you are right now?” His voice was soft, as though he didn’t want to scare me, but it only made my heart quicken. Was there something wrong with me after all?
“I don’t know where this is or even know how I got here. I was having dinner with Elena and her mother and then…” My mind scrambled, searching for a solution, something to fill in the gap. “And then I don’t know. Then I was here with you.” Before I could react, the man had his hand on my face, pushing my right eye further open, and he looked into it seriously even as I struggled to pull my face away.
“This is Paolo,” he said, pulling a walkie-talkie up from where it had been clipped to his waist. “I think we need some help in the sim room.” He stood up and paced away for a second before turning back around. His hands were in his hair and his eyebrows furrowed precipitously. “Do you remember getting into a reality simulator?” He waved his hand around to point at the room, at the white, wired helmet.
“Like… like virtual reality, you mean?”
“Exactly!” Paolo said, his face flush with relief. “So you do remember.”
“No! No, I don’t. I don’t have a single idea what you are saying,” I said, my voice more shrill than I would have liked. I felt hysteric. We were interrupted, and I was given a moment to compose myself as the wall to the left opened to let in a woman. Apparently it had been a door.
She wore a white coat, just like the man who reminded me of Marcus. I searched her face for any sort of familiarity. Did I know her? Her eyes were black, not blue, and she had long black hair to match. But the only thing familiar about her was that she wore the same worried face as Paolo, and likely, I was sure, as me.
“What’s the issue, did something go wrong? Did the sim crash?” she said, her focus on some screens on the wall opposite the side she entered from. “Nothing I see here and no errors popped up on my side of things.”
“It’s not the sim, Cara,” Paolo said, shaking his head, “or maybe it is, I guess. I don’t know. Just ask him, just look at him.” He gestured in my direction and her eyes followed to meet mine.
“I don’t know where I am. He’s been telling me, I think anyway, that I used this virtual reality device, but I don’t remember doing that at all. When did I get here? I had dinner with my wife on the 3rd and that’s the last thing I remember. What day is it now?” Her face looked stricken, and she opened her mouth as though to say something but then closed it. She looked to Paolo, and he just gave her a helpless shrug.
“Sir… You don’t have a wife. That was part of the simulation.” A chill went down my spine and through my bones, freezing my thoughts for a moment. I felt detached from my body, my mind threatening to float away.
“What do you mean? Of course I have a wife,” I asked, my voice sounding desperate even to myself. Neither of their eyes wavered from my declaration. They were sure of it. “I met her ten years ago. We’re not talking about a day’s romance. You’re saying none of that was real? You can’t expect me to accept that.” My voice was barely a whisper.
“Really, ten years? That’s even better than we had hoped. Maybe we can finally mark the time dilation as complete. Is that as far back as you remember, or did the sim go for even longer?” Cara stopped her questioning when she noticed a glare from Paolo. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You weren’t meant to have experienced it so fully. It’s supposed to be immersive, sure, but not so much as to replace your actual life. Something must have gone wrong. Your memories are off. Maybe you just need some time to shake off the sim. Should be fine soon enough,” he said, his words sounding more hopeful than the tone he said them in.
“Is there someone who can help? You’re the ones running this machine, aren’t you? You should be able to fix this! I don’t even know who I am. You ask me if it went on longer than ten years? I remember nothing other than the life you say was just a lie, and I spent over thirty years in it. What have you people done to me?” I turned my eyes back and forth, looking at blue and black eyes that both seemed to wilt under my demands. Paolo closed his eyes and lowered his head into his hands, muttering quiet curses to himself. Cara sighed.
“The answer to both your concerns would be the director of the project. You’re the one who designed this thing, sir. All we do is make minor adjustments and monitor the best we can. Apparently not well enough.”
&#x200B;
Subscribe to r/Inder if you liked this story, and leave a comment letting me know what you think! | 2021-03-27T19:49:18 | 2021-03-27T18:26:57 | 3,134 | 200 |
[WP] The Dragon "kidnapped" the princess to get her out of a clearly abusive environment. When the kingdom sent a "hero" who was more a child soilder than legendary warrior he ended with two adopted children. | On a clear night the shadow of a dragon was seen crossing full moon at same time a Princess was cursing her fate on a balcony and suddenly lifted her head at the moon, the two pair of eyes meet.
Even though separated by great distance the two bonded strongly allowing the Dragon to feel the distress and anguish the Princess was in, he couldn't remain indifferent so asked if she's interested in joining him and abandon her family.
The Princess immediately accepted as if her prayers had been answered and waited for opportune moment to jump onto the Dragon's back, there was no time to grab anything since she could hear footsteps just outside the door.
As soon as the Princess landed she could hear her parents shouting for her but she never looked back.
After being settled in the Dragon's lair for few months the Princess received a telepathic message, "We have a visitor, please meet me at entrance."
When the Princess got there she couldn't help but be surprised to see John, the housekeepers son and her only true friend in that madhouse.
"John what are you doing here?" Asked the Princess.
"Tell told everyone you where kidnapped by a ferocious dragon and asked for volunteers to get you back, so here I am." he smiled awkwardly sightly embarrassed nonetheless certain of his words.
The Dragon's who was a spectator of this happy reunion said from the side, "You probably realised by now that there's no need for a 'rescue', since your feelings appear to be sincere I'll allow you to stay with us if that is your wish however we still have rules here that will need to be followed if you're willing to stay."
"Please name your terms." Said John.
"Be cautious of your words for they carry great power. Never bully the weak and always help the needed. Be respectful but not submissive." Replied the Dragon, "also there will be other things along the way of your growth young ones" this was to both. | The dragon slept amongst the trees in a small Forest. A small infant came up to his face.
Dragon:" what is a human child doing here?"
The dragon begin to scan the area with his eyes seeing through the trees. Next to a cliff, a maid was having a steamy rendezvous with a knight. The dragon felt uneasy having to see that.
Dragon: " I suppose humans are as foolish as ever. Given that you have a maid you must be an upper-class human. Since you already disturb my sleep. I'll entertain myself by reading your future."
The Dragon's eyes began to shine as they met the infants. A few moments later the dragon backed off with the disturbed looked on his face.
Dragon: " Your life is the most miserable thing I've seen from a human. You will live and die in misery and sorrow as the illegitimate child to the king. Well, I hope this miserable life will end soon for you dear princess."
The Dragon began to fly away however the uneasiness in his heart started to grow. He soon looked back at the crying infant reaching out to him.
Princess: "daddy...ahhh.daddy!"
The dragon instantly teleported in front of the princess
Dragon: "Dragons must always be Noble. So I must save you from your fate."
He then placed her in between his wings and flew off.
6 months later
Hero: " evil. Red Dragon I'm here to... I'm here to save the princess!"
The hero entered the abandoned ruins the dragon has turned into his home. Luckily the dragon has just put his daughter to sleep. The dragon teleports to the entrance where the disturbance is happening.
Dragon: " why have you entered my home child of man?"
Hero: " you kidnap the princess I've come to return her to her family!"
Dragon: " you know not of what you say if you wish to interfere you must see all the sorrow you will inflict upon my child."
The Dragon's eyes glowed the hero was lifted off the ground he float in midair for a few moments before dropping to his feet. he began to gasp for air while grabbing his chest as he cried. Perhaps showing him all that was too much I will do a spell to calm his mind.
Dragon: " now that you know the sorrow and pain you will be condemning my child to what will you do?"
Hero: " I didn't even want to come here... I was kicked out of the orphanage when they didn't have enough space. I ended up begging on the streets until people found out I had magic, and then they sent me to become a soldier but even before I learned to swing a sword they sent me here."
The dragon began to feel a large amount of guilt he changed his form to that of a human. He walked up and patted the hero's head.
Dragon: "do you...do you wish to live with me?"
Hero: "what you would let me stay with you?"
Dragon: "Dragons must always be Noble. So I must save you from your fate. Why does it feel like I said that before?"
Hero: "father!"
The hero wrapped his arms around the Dragon and cried in his chest.
Dragon: " that was unexpected but I suppose you can call me that son." | 2022-03-18T04:45:42 | 2022-03-18T01:53:56 | 32 | 22 |
[WP] A married woman saves an uninteresting Japanese high schooler from a truck crash, but dies in the process. She wakes up in a world of adventure and harems, clearly made for the boy. | I open my eyes in an enormous room, lavishly decorated with pillows, rugs, lounging areas, and trickling fountains. I don't notice the room at first, I notice the women. One is curled up on me, her head on my shoulder and her hand delicately on my chest. Two more slumber peacefully nearby on this enormous bed.
I cautiously extricate myself from my apparent snuggle buddy, and her eyes flutter open.
"Where are you going, my love?" She murmurs, a hand reaching for me. I lean away from this overly touchy stranger, my skin crawling. This is creepy. As I stand and take in the room I see I am in some sort of Harem, beautiful women are everywhere. At first I fear I have been kidnapped and added to this harem, but they all seem to be doting on... Me? Offering me delicacies, drinks, a backrub, or a chance to join them in whatever they're doing. Nope nope nope. This is NOT right. I'm not sure where I am but I hope my husband's filed a missing person report... I near the door, hoping to slip away. As I open it a man comes running toward me.
"My lady! Urgent news from the emperor, he requests your assistance in a kidnapping!" He thrusts a scroll at me, which I take on instinct. He trots away, declaring he shall ready my fastest horse. My world is spinning, my chest is tight, and my breathing is coming hard and heavy. I dart down the hallway, trying to fight off a panic attack. Opening a random door, I find myself in some sort of office. I lean over the desk, breathing hard. What is it they always say to ground yourself if you're having a panic attack? Count things with your 5 senses?
Okay, okay. Smell. I smell... Way too much perfume. Not helping. I feel... The hard wood of the desk! The intricate scrollwork on my fingers. This is good. What do I hear... I hear music from the harem. I shouldn't dwell on that. Ok, I hear... male voices! And... my name?
I immediately focus on the voices.
"You brought her here!? Did you even open her file!? She's a hero and she'll be miserable!" The first voice is angry, authoritative.
"You don't understand!" The second voice was whiney.
"Then explain it." Angry man snaps
"I have been working on making this world perfect for TWO YEARS! I did all my research on that boy and, trust me, this world is perfect for him! I can't just throw all that away! So much work!" Whiney voice begs
"When someone dies, they get an afterlife suited to them. They aren't forced to enjoy someone else's afterlife just because they selflessly took someone's place. You get that woman a good afterlife, or you will be fired from design." Angry man is not playing.
"How about we give her a chance! It may not have been intended for her, but who doesn't love being a hero and being doted on? I'm sure she'll take to it! She'll be loving it in no time" ugh, what an annoying voice.
Then I hear it again. My name. angry's calling me a hero. He's talking about how I saved a teenager from a crash. OMG, I remember that! They're talking about me! I'm dead, and I'm in that boys afterlife.
I don't think a missing persons report will fix this... Luckily I get a break because my eyes roll up and I collapse in a dead faint | Gisela was a wife, was. Her ex-husband decided that he would like to pursue his love and settle comfortably with Miss Something Blond, some 20 years young than Gisela. Tired of the sadness and meaningless Germany, she took a position in Japan, taking a handkerchief passed down from her grandfather and Noah, her 12-year-old son who reacted not so different to this sudden movement.
Gisela already became something different within the company's Osaka office. Firstly was her outlook: a white European suddenly appeared at the office and was sent by HQ no less would undoubtedly invite gossips from around all the corners. Second and maybe this was Gisela's biggest standout: she was divorced. Not only that, she took her son all the way from Frankfurt to Osaka. A woman with such a background naturally became a hot topic for the younger employees. Despite all the whispers, Gisela remained focused only on her work. Even when her title was only division associate, the works that came out clothed her with an indistinguishable aura of a seasoned employee. Soon afterward, her Japanese colleagues started to consider her real Gisela-san and the questions given to her quickly turn to those that seek advises from a senior.
She was undoubtedly not a bad employee even back in Germany. But not even a division manager in Frankfurt HQ should produce such high-quality work that many while knowing yet so little about the culture and local practice in this new location. The whispers also changed as well: why would a talented woman like Gisela-san end up in a land that was so far from her home? Of course, gossips need spices, and the Osaka office quickly turned into a conspiracy theory factory. The most acceptable theory was that she had overpassed her power within the company and got caught by the wife of the boss (how ironic for Gisela to be thought like that). Nonetheless, no theory is right, because even Gisela didn't know the exact reason as well: why did she accept that offer from Frankfurt to come all the way here to buy yogurt from the orange vending machine at the entrance of this 57-floor building? She probably knew that she would choose to be anywhere not Germany, but why she had to arrange herself with so many meetings like that, she didn't know why. Walking down the streets on Umekita, she tried to drown her confusion with the sweetness and sourness of the yogurt when suddenly a scream interrupted her thoughts. Looking back, she saw a lightly-yellow hair boy and a truck that came very close into contact with him. Perhaps she was so occupied in her thoughts, that she could mutter only the word "Noah" and then, everything went dark for some time.
Gisela eventually woke up, inside a place that definitely look not like an Osakan hospital. For starters, she doubted that Japan would have a hospital to be built with only wood in the middle of this megapolis, and secondly, she saw no modern medical equipment, albeit a drawer with a bowl of water and a jar next to it. A mature lady and a career manager, she calmed her mind quickly and reassured herself to not fall into a vortex of negative thoughts. Gisela was trying to recount her memory as the door was open and 3 women walked in. A quick gaze and she realized that she definitely was in a stranger place: those girls wore some sort of comfortable white t-shirts that were buttoned properly and a yellow jacket that somehow only came to pass their breasts. They wore some sort of white tight pants and leather boots that had ropes attached to their legs. The whole outfit honored the fit and full of energy bodies of these young girls. But of all of the strange things, two things particularly caught her eyes: one girl had a strange metallic machine that was strapped to her waist, and they all had a unified symbol of sort on their jackets. The symbol resembled of two bird wings that were intertwined with each other, one blue and one white. The symbol looked powerful, but yet so hopeful at the same time. She was focusing on the wings when one girl started to speak: "I am glad that we could find you right on time. You are safe in here. Allow me to represent 3 of us to welcome you to the Watch Out, our secret palace, and stake-out spot. My name is Lalina, and you are more than welcome to join us in this wonderful and cozy place!"
Well, what the hell, Gisela thought. Tagging along with this group was not that bad of an idea now. She had chosen to move far away from her hometown to be a salary woman in a far place; chosen to push a no related Japanese boy out of harm's way because she thought that the boy was her son. Thus, staying in a wood hut with 3 girls that could be her daughters seemed not too far of a fetch to Gisela, at least for now. She assured herself that, clenching the handkerchief that somehow still stayed by her side. | 2022-06-07T23:02:47 | 2022-06-07T22:56:16 | 103 | 32 |
[WP] A married woman saves an uninteresting Japanese high schooler from a truck crash, but dies in the process. She wakes up in a world of adventure and harems, clearly made for the boy. | I barely remember anything of the incident that brought me here.
There I was, just walking home from the market, saying my usual prayers, when I saw it out the corner of my eye; a truck careening towards that sweet young boy. He was completely oblivious top the danger, head straight down in his phone.
I remember running towards him and pulling him close but after that... nothing.
When I awoke, I found myself on soft, lush grass, the suns painting the sky a mellow orange.
*Suns?* I thought.
Suddenly, I was straight up, head on a swivel. Around me were the trees marking the edge of Hangman's Forest. Down the hill was the town of Cow's Meadow, the stalls looked alive with business and several caravans were leaving through the town gate, no doubt carrying their cargo.
*How did I get here?*
"I brought you here", a voice said. Suddenly, a woman wearing a revealing white dress appeared out of thin air, hovering down to the ground from nothing, her feet looking as though they were barely touching the ground. "I am Isador, Goddess of Fantasy."
"Goddess of Fantasy?" *Is she a cosplayer? It would explain the outfit.*
"I am NOT a cosplayer, I really am a Goddess!!" The woman had pouted. "I made this world for that boy and you RUINED IT!"
"What are you talking about?"
"That was boy clinically depressed! He was endlessly bullied, abused at home, and treated as an ATM by his school club! The only point of solace he had was fantasy, were he could escape his troubles! Once I found out about him, I vowed to make his next life spectacular!"
*Next life? Oh no...*
"I observed him for MONTHS, learning what he likes..."
*It couldn't be...*
"...crafting this world the way he would want..."
*So that truck...?*
"So when he DIED," Isador shouted, "he would be able to live the way he wanted..."
*...I died?...*
"IN ABSOLUTE SIN!!"
*Wait? What...?* "In absolute what?" I said.
"SIN! DEPRAVITY! IMMORALLITY!! After being abused so long, he wanted the ability to take whatever he wanted; food, treasure, woman, just to feel some semblance of control. Is that so wrong?" A silence wrung out. Isador just stood there, awaiting my answer.
"YES!!" I shout back. *This lady's crazy*. "When someone's hurting inside that much, you don't feed their desires, you walk them back from the edge!"
"Crazy, am I?! Well then, you can rot for all I care!! I was going to take you where you belong, but now, you're staying here! You won't last a week without becoming someone's **bitch!**" And with that, Isador vanished.
It was rough first week. Once I made it into Cow's Meadow, the sights I saw were horrific. People sold as cattle, woman and children corralled into cages, men forced to fight to the death for the enjoyment of others. It was horrific. But I kept my head down, managing to get myself hired at an inn, were I have been mistreated and harassed. I proved that demon wrong, though. I made it that first week, and then another. Then two more. All the while hoping my prayers would reach home.
And now they have. My gods have found me, have given me strength and now I have the power to change this vile place for the better.
So... wanna help me save the world? | Gisela was a wife, was. Her ex-husband decided that he would like to pursue his love and settle comfortably with Miss Something Blond, some 20 years young than Gisela. Tired of the sadness and meaningless Germany, she took a position in Japan, taking a handkerchief passed down from her grandfather and Noah, her 12-year-old son who reacted not so different to this sudden movement.
Gisela already became something different within the company's Osaka office. Firstly was her outlook: a white European suddenly appeared at the office and was sent by HQ no less would undoubtedly invite gossips from around all the corners. Second and maybe this was Gisela's biggest standout: she was divorced. Not only that, she took her son all the way from Frankfurt to Osaka. A woman with such a background naturally became a hot topic for the younger employees. Despite all the whispers, Gisela remained focused only on her work. Even when her title was only division associate, the works that came out clothed her with an indistinguishable aura of a seasoned employee. Soon afterward, her Japanese colleagues started to consider her real Gisela-san and the questions given to her quickly turn to those that seek advises from a senior.
She was undoubtedly not a bad employee even back in Germany. But not even a division manager in Frankfurt HQ should produce such high-quality work that many while knowing yet so little about the culture and local practice in this new location. The whispers also changed as well: why would a talented woman like Gisela-san end up in a land that was so far from her home? Of course, gossips need spices, and the Osaka office quickly turned into a conspiracy theory factory. The most acceptable theory was that she had overpassed her power within the company and got caught by the wife of the boss (how ironic for Gisela to be thought like that). Nonetheless, no theory is right, because even Gisela didn't know the exact reason as well: why did she accept that offer from Frankfurt to come all the way here to buy yogurt from the orange vending machine at the entrance of this 57-floor building? She probably knew that she would choose to be anywhere not Germany, but why she had to arrange herself with so many meetings like that, she didn't know why. Walking down the streets on Umekita, she tried to drown her confusion with the sweetness and sourness of the yogurt when suddenly a scream interrupted her thoughts. Looking back, she saw a lightly-yellow hair boy and a truck that came very close into contact with him. Perhaps she was so occupied in her thoughts, that she could mutter only the word "Noah" and then, everything went dark for some time.
Gisela eventually woke up, inside a place that definitely look not like an Osakan hospital. For starters, she doubted that Japan would have a hospital to be built with only wood in the middle of this megapolis, and secondly, she saw no modern medical equipment, albeit a drawer with a bowl of water and a jar next to it. A mature lady and a career manager, she calmed her mind quickly and reassured herself to not fall into a vortex of negative thoughts. Gisela was trying to recount her memory as the door was open and 3 women walked in. A quick gaze and she realized that she definitely was in a stranger place: those girls wore some sort of comfortable white t-shirts that were buttoned properly and a yellow jacket that somehow only came to pass their breasts. They wore some sort of white tight pants and leather boots that had ropes attached to their legs. The whole outfit honored the fit and full of energy bodies of these young girls. But of all of the strange things, two things particularly caught her eyes: one girl had a strange metallic machine that was strapped to her waist, and they all had a unified symbol of sort on their jackets. The symbol resembled of two bird wings that were intertwined with each other, one blue and one white. The symbol looked powerful, but yet so hopeful at the same time. She was focusing on the wings when one girl started to speak: "I am glad that we could find you right on time. You are safe in here. Allow me to represent 3 of us to welcome you to the Watch Out, our secret palace, and stake-out spot. My name is Lalina, and you are more than welcome to join us in this wonderful and cozy place!"
Well, what the hell, Gisela thought. Tagging along with this group was not that bad of an idea now. She had chosen to move far away from her hometown to be a salary woman in a far place; chosen to push a no related Japanese boy out of harm's way because she thought that the boy was her son. Thus, staying in a wood hut with 3 girls that could be her daughters seemed not too far of a fetch to Gisela, at least for now. She assured herself that, clenching the handkerchief that somehow still stayed by her side. | 2022-06-08T03:59:39 | 2022-06-07T22:56:16 | 55 | 32 |
[WP] You're a female hero in a fantasy world, and you are annoyed. The wizards keep giving you enchanted armor with incredible stats, but it looks RIDICULOUS! This one has nipples! This one has a hole over your heart! This one is just a necklace and a belt! Would they please STOP IT! | "I know it's ridiculous!" The wizard threw his hands into the air.
"Then stop this nonsense and make me something that doesn't look like I should be wearing it on a street corner rather than in the dungeon!" I snapped.
"S'not my fault," the wizard muttered, turning away to fiddle with something. "I'm doing the best that I damn well can. Take it up with," he gestured vaguely upwards.
"Do you mean to tell me," I started dangerously—
"Yes!"
"You seriously can't do better than that beaded necklace-belt thing that *vanished* my favorite shirt when I put it on?"
"In my defense", he turned back to face me, "that didn't happen when my apprentice tried it. "Want a drink?"
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Fine. Gods know I could use something stiff right now."
"Can't have alcohol in here. The last time I got sloshed and enchanted, it nearly took out nearly the entire block." He handed me a bone-white porcelain cup, slightly steaming. "I'd offer you milk, but the coldbox never works. We can find a cow if you'd like."
I accepted the tea with as much grace as I could muster. Staring down at its flowery liquid, I eventually calmed enough to ask:
"Is there any way to fix this."
"Probably."
"Well what do you fucking advise then!"
"The good news is, you can get strong enough to defeat whatever God made this happen.
"The bad news is," the wizard leaned forward and prodded at my chest, "you're going to have to do it with these hanging out."
I groaned, then tipped my head back to chug the tea.
—
This is (functionally) my first post here on r/WritingPrompts; I'd appreciate any advice you may care to give! | I began adventuring because I thought it would be more interesting than slaving away as a barmaid, or apprenticing for... what, lute playing? Glass blowing?
Yeah, no, absolutely not. I wasn't gonna settle for something where I had to deal with being looked down upon, or leered at, treated like I'm just a floozy. This way, I thought, I could make coin dealing with real problems! Slaying goblins, wolves, thieves, there's money and prestige with that! So I snatched up my old man's leather armor pieces, placed them over the thickest clothes I owned, did my best to sharpen his old sword, and set off on my way.
It wasn't too long until I realized.... as much as I love my Pa, God bless his heart, his old armor was... really ill-taken care of. I came back from my first bounty job, the whole set in shambles, falling apart in my hands. Sorry bout that Pa...
But the gold coins I got for hunting down and rescuing some poor old chap made up for it, now was just a matter of replacing the set. Might be my first day setting foot in that armorer, but damnit, I'm gonna get some armor with this gold if it KILLS me!
So I set foot, ready to haggle to the death, ready to be the most charming, smooth talker there ever was, to get a fair deal. And as soon as I notice two of the five sets of armor in the place, looking like stuff for wives to appease their husband's in the bedroom, and spice things up with some weird roleplay, I'm already feeling the urge to turn right around and leave the establishment... I thought this place was serious and real... I didn't expect kink gear...
I sigh, swallow my doubts, and walk up to the smithy, busy at work, hammering out a pretty decent looking helmet.
"Hey, Mr. Howland, right? It's Rosie, uh, you know, Tyrian's daughter?"
The man slows what he's doing, glancing my direction, warm smile gracing his face, but continues to hammer. Just with less intensity, to hold conversation.
"Oh! Rosie, I don't think we've ever very officially met, have we?" SLAM "How's your Da', I know he retired, but he-" SLAM "Hasn't taken the time to visit ol' Howland!" SLAM
"Did he send for ya, d'ya guys need anything from my shop here?" SLAM
"Oh, he's doing alright, he's just been bedridden with a nasty cold lately-" SLAM "But I can tell him you said hello and miss his company-" SLAM "...If you like Mr. Howland..." SLAM "But besides, yes actually, as you see well-" SLAM "I took his armor out for a spin, since he hasn't been using it anymore." SLAM
Thankfully, the smithy decides to put down the bloody helmet then, and pay me proper, full attention. | 2022-11-21T04:56:11 | 2022-11-21T03:11:54 | 568 | 54 |
[WP]: A psycholoist slowly realises that a patient of the mental ward he is working at actually is what they have claimed to be all along | "Crime rates at an all time low" the newspaper read. It would be some solace to me if I didn't work with the criminally insane every day. Every day a different patient committed some new atrocity against the human race. Shit on the ceiling fans was just another Tuesday, and you'd be lucky to get a week in where someone hasn't been mutilated. This isn't to say I am used to it. To tell the truth you never really get used to it.
The problem with the criminally insane is their propensity for intelligence. Intelligence that was ruthless and without bound. A criminally insane person wasn't the type to sit in a room staring at a wall and babbling playfully. I would love to work with invalids. These were something else entirely. These were monsters that plotted and planned and stole sidelong glances at your badge or keys. If you weren't on alert every second you were dealing with them it could mean curtains for you or someone else.
Then there was Joe. Joe was self-admitted and had only been here a week. In that tiny amount of time it is all a psychologist can do to keep track of the patient's name and records in this place. When Jane Weltin wanted to throw your shit all over your office... well you just had to deal with it for a minute before the orderlies arrived. It didn't phase me of course. "This won't be the worst thing today" I thought as I sat calmly and watched the papers fly. It really is *amazing* how much organization and sanity can be destroyed in an instant.
Back to Joe. Joe was a mildly mannered middle-aged man who had voluntarily thrust himself into this world. Joe had admitted himself on the premise that he "thinks he might be insane." If I had my way about it I would stamp "Yup" on his admittance papers and be done with him, but my damnable conscience stands in the way. After all who would willingly put themselves in here? Perhaps more disturbing than anything else is that it had been a week, and every time I saw him he seemed to be smiling a little more than last time... but that leads me to my only valid medical reason for keeping him in this place: He had a type of multiple personality disorder.
It's sad really. These middle-aged men were a dime a dozen. Wifey starts fucking the mailman, junior starts smoking pot, and suddenly wanting to be someone else becomes very attractive. Perhaps someone powerful, or dangerous. Perhaps a criminal.
So this was Joe's vice; his only insanity. He wanted to be someone else so badly he just shattered his own reality into some loose rendition of what was his actual life. His record of hard facts was light, but I felt like my experience had this guy pinned without all the details. His wife became an utterly devoted henchman to whom he showed no affection. She hung on his every word, and she pursued him relentlessly but he never returned the affection. Classic sexual fetish. His son was no longer an incompetent and angsty teen lashing out against him, but a team of hardened thugs who supported him and helped him do his work (crime in his fantasy). Classical fantasy of a father son relationship. He even elaborated on fanciful devices and machinations that he would use to carry out his deeds. Mr. King was certifiably *not* a nutcase, just a waste of a slot in an overcrowded ward. This made me more than a little aggravated when working with him.
As he spoke he would rant about his exploits in excruciating detail, and I often found myself musing about some blotch on my stationary instead of paying real attention. When he finished a rant he would sit quietly awaiting response. The silence wrenched me back to reality and I would reply with a canned response "Don't you think this might represent a deep-seated experience?" or "How do you think that relates to *the rest* of your life?" or "What would your family say about that?" Why should I waste my energy dealing with this fool when he clearly was just another mid-life crisis sad sack.
Every once and a while Joe surprises me. Upon listening to one of his wild tales I lifted my eyebrow and listened intently. He was basing his "crimes" on real events from the nearby city. I had read about this incident, and his descriptions were nearly perfect as far as I could recollect. He of course deluded the very real details of the newspapers like "Improvised Explosive Devices" with fanciful machinations like "Toy Soldiers with Bombs Attached," but that was simply par for the course with this guy. Everything was 20 feet tall. At least this man had a strong imagination, and apparently had kept up with current events before arriving. I might even have liked him if he hadn't been wasting space in my ward.
I was never able to make him relent of his fantasies, but I was able to convince him that he wasn't insane. That these stories of conquest were normal fantasies (although he insisted they were not fantasies probably to save face). I was always fascinated by the intimate details of the crimes which he somehow knew, but I just assumed he must be in law enforcement. Perhaps thats why the file on him was so light.
During the discharge interview I sat across from him, and he looked at me confidently. I hope I had made him feel better about his "life" by convincing him that it was normal... I don't know if any of it got through.
"Well, thanks doc!" as his smile grew wider.
"You're welcome Mr. King. Don't come back to see me."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible" said the man as his smile dropped to an exaggerated frown.
"You see doc, we already know each other. Oh you have never seen *this* face before, but I know you *well*. *HAHAHAHAHAHA*" as he broke into a massive crooked smile and grabbed his papers, exiting the room.
A familiar smile.
A familiar laugh.
Opening the file on my desk one last time I noticed my hands were trembling. I reached for the whiteout but knocked it over spilling it everywhere. I grabbed the white out brush and lightly drew it across Joe's admittance photo's face, then grabbed a highlighter and outlined his mouth in a greenish tint. It all made so much sense now. His accurate depiction of the crimes, his bogus admittance file, even his monicker... Joe King?! I Jumped up for no particular reason as if to run, my heart beating fast in my chest, and then grabbed my phone and dialed 911. I just barely saw a woman in a red and black jester's outfit helping him into a purple limo across the yard from my wing at Arkham when dispatch answered: "9-1-1 what is your emergency?" | Bradley sat down at his desk, not quite prepared for another meeting with a patient at Memorial Mental Hospital. Bradley was ready for retirement from this hectic life as a psychiatrist. He loved his work, of course, it was just time for an easier existence--one spent with his wife, his adult children, and some leisurely reading.
The hospital aides came in, escorting a patient. The patient's shoulders didn't quite fit through the doorway, and he ducked his head ever so slightly to fit under the frame. He sat down on the chair's edge, his hips and bottom not quite able to fit comfortably into the grooved back of the seat.
Bradley looked over the large man's--boy, actually, the file said he was only 18--paperwork and he was reminded being briefed earlier by the director. No talk was made about the patient's size, but details like that are often neglected in the realm of mental health.
"Goooood morning Doctor" the beaming face deliberately bellowed. He was a tad obnoxious but only in the most friendly of ways. Hardly the worst sort of patient Bradley was used to seeing.
"Good _afternoon_ there Turner. It's just past lunch now" They both chuckled.
The aides left, standing just outside the door. Bradley addressed Turner again.
"So Turner, you've been talking with Dr. Powell, correct? I see here you requested a switch because Dr. Powell 'didn't believe a word you'd said'. Now, why do you suppose that is, Turner?"
"Ha, is that what he said? Well, bless old Doctor Powell if that's what he says than so be it. He surely did believe what I said, he was just scared of it. I just want to be on my way, that's all Doc. Powell wouldn't hear of it though."
"Go on your way, what do you mean by that Turner?"
"Well you got it right there in front of you Doc" Turner laughed, "But I suppose you want to hear it from me, eh? Well like I was telling Powell, to be crazy you have to be human, right? Well, I ain't no human don't think I ever was. So I don't belong here, and it's best if y'all just let me be on my way."
"Well if you're not human, what are you Turner" Bradley asked while scribbling away in his notebook. He knew all this was coming, but was working through it once again as part procedure.
"Oh, there's been lots of names for me Doc. Ghost, Bogeyman, Demon, Devil. I don't know if any or all 'em fit. But I think you and your brother called me a Toe-Toucher when y'all were little, isn't that right?" Turner had a gut-splitting laugh. Bradley stopped writing and thought back to his childhood--he and his brother shared a room, two twin beds next to each other. There were countless nights they would have sworn on their Grandmother's grave someone or _something_ had grabbed their toes and woken them.
"Um, moving on, Turner. If you're a demon, why are you here on Earth? Can't you see you're flesh and blood just like me? Living and breathing like everyone else in this building?" Bradley was shaken but outwardly collected.
"Oh, good question Doc! Powell never got there, he got too scared once I told him about his daddy down in hell. But you're right, I am living ain't I? Living large, too!" Turner laughed, then continued,"But I only recently got this body when I snuck in here."
"What do you mean 'snuck in here', Turner?"
"Well Doc, I'd been assigned to scaring people, mostly kids, for the past couple centuries. I hated it, Doc. Hated it. Terrible existence, I tell ya. So, last few decades I'd been searching for a way out. Nobody never looked for one before, most of the ones doing my job love it, so I thought I might try. Sure enough, there was a spot open right here at Memorial!"
"I, I don't understand Turner. You're saying you escaped some sort of hell by getting placed in here? Think about that for a moment" Bradley told Turner this but was still thinking about the reference to his childhood.
"That's exactly right Doc! Boy, you Harvard men sure are quick. Powell never would have gotten that figured out. C'mon I'll show ya if you let me." Turner stood from his chair, stepped closer to the desk, and politely motioned toward the door. Bradley, was about to say no when he shot up out of his chair. When Turned stepped near the desk he reached under it with his long arms and grabbed Bradley's foot--it was the same way Bradley remembered it being grabbed as a child.
Turner laughed, "I'm sorry Doc, just had to show ya I remember you. I got a steel trap ya know?" Turner tapped his head.
Bewildered, Bradley found himself following Turner to his room, the aides behind them both. When they got to Turner's room Bradley asked the aides to leave them alone for a few minutes.
Turner smiled and got down to his knees and showed Bradley a small crack in the floor.
"That's where I came in!" Turner looked triumphant.
"I don't understand Turner. How could you get in here through a crack in the floor" Bradley was starting to calm down, seeing Turner was in fact crazy.
"Oh, well, I suppose you can't see it, no humans really ever can. But that's how we travel, demons, angels, boogeymen, Toe-Touchers, whatever you want to call us. It's how we glide across the world in seconds, through cracks in the floors and walls. See, Doc, most cracks are two way highways, but this one here, this is more like an off-ramp for our system. It's a way out. I took it when I could. Now, granted, it lead me to being a mental patient, but I know you'll let me out soon enough."
"Well that's quite a story Turner. But--" Bradley was about to explain he didn't just end up here, he was put here by family, friends or the government, when Turner interrupted him.
"Look at the file, Doc, I wasn't nowhere before this. They don't have no records of me before I got here. I created some info, but none of it would have checked out if Powell did any background work on me". Bradley looked through the folder, Turner was right; it seemed as if this giant man had fallen from the sky into Memorial room 231.
Bradley was confused and flustered when Turner spoke again,"So Doc, will you let me be on my way? This is the only exit ramp I know of, if I go back onto our highway I may never find another one" Turner pleaded. Bradley still had no idea what to say, how to react, when Turner began smiling.
"I got it! Doc, your brother, not a bad man, but had his flaws right? He's a pretty mundane worker on the system, real low level, terrible job. I think I know where he is. I can get him for you. If I do, will you let us out?!?"
Confused, but also hear torn, Bradley wanted to start believing Turner. His older brother, dead for over 15 years, had been a Vietnam vet and horribly afflicted with PTSD. In his later years he became a drug addict and thief until his early death. He was the reason Bradley went into mental health all those years ago, and Bradley desperately wanted to believe he could see him, if only one time.
So Bradley accepted, both Turner's offer and the pretense it was built on, and nodded his head. Turner hooped and hollered, then shook Bradley's hand. Then, Turner crawled down onto the floor, and was gone.
Bradley smiled, finally fully believing Turner's story. He as going to see his brother for the first time in two decades, and it would be to send him and Turner on their way.
| 2013-11-13T11:09:28 | 2013-11-13T10:02:01 | 53 | 18 |
[WP] The villain defeats the hero but the world turns out to be a better place because of his twisted views. | "Tell me, Mr. Curondo, do you think that the means justify the end?"
Mr. Curondo, tanned, well-muscled, shirtless, and strapped to a tilted surgeon's table replied with his usual bravado. The laser was slowly sliding between his legs.
"Evil is evil Raen. In the end, good always triumphs."
The black cloaked figure replied in his gravelly voice whilst initializing his doomsday device, "What is good, what is evil? They are labels, like hero and villain. You think you know which of us plays our part. What of your masters? What of your purported Philosopher Kings? Are they truly wiser? Do they know best?"
The laser inched closer, but Curondo did not flinch. "Who could know better? They've lived hundreds of years, they've outlasted nations. We have not seen a war in a hundred years, nor famine in fifty."
"What of the Tithe then? What of the children they kill to maintain their peace? Is that good?" The sequence was initialized. In minutes, the Philosopher Kings would be burned to the ground, their black magic with them. Humanity would be free once more. Free to war, to learn from mistakes, to accept responsibility for itself.
"Sacrifices must be made."
With that, Mr. Curondo snapped the lock his fingers had been quietly worrying at. He spun off the table and landed with his fingers on Raen's throat.
"So then, you condemn us to peaceful slavery?" asked Raen.
Curondo crushed Raen's pale throat for answer.
The villain won. Anarchy was aborted. Prosperity and status quo were maintained. | He stood over the man's corpse, the battle had been waged, and against all odds, the man had lost.
He looked rather pitiful now, his arms and legs twisted in uncomfortable positions; the fall had left his body broken and maimed. *No open casket for this poor, sod.*
The crowd was quiet, onlookers locked eyes with him and uttered not a cry of anguish or triumph. No one had expected this outcome. The hero *always* wins in the end, not the one who terrorizes; not the one who kills, who destroys and preaches a madman's mission statement.
Ignoring their gawking faces, he stepped over the fallen man's corpse. He was careful not to step on the cape or body of the man: he had been his nemesis, but he respected him. This dead body had been the only proper competition to his mission. In a way, without him, he was incomplete. Invulnerable and unbeatable, no one was left to challenge him.
He leaned over and picked up what remained of the device. The plastic casing had been broken, holes revealed wiring and circuit boards. He wiped off the dust and cleared dirt from the red button. His thumb hovered over the detonator.
He stopped. The wind had picked up and began to move the scattered debris through the streets. The Heroes cape flapped in the wind, as if becoming resurrected. He looked up at the people who hated him.
"You'll thank me for this someday," he said, "it may not be now, or in a year or in a hundred years, but someday, you'll look at me as your savior."
They said nothing, they continued to stand uselessly around the arena that the two had fought in. They waited for their fate.
*You'll all thank me for this.* He repeated in his head and compressed the button.
A flurry of explosions erupted throughout the city, the state, the country and the world. These last fifteen years had been diligent work, planting, hiding and preparing for this exact moment, for this climax to his tale.
Powerplants, powerlines, internet service centers, Facebook headquarters, and electronic retailers went up in flame; no 21st century gadget had been spared. In a matter of two or three minutes, he had blown the world back several hundred years. Like pressing a giant reset button, he set the world back on the right path.
"You've all become complacent," he voice boomed, after the smoke had cleared and the cries had stopped, "I am saving humanity, no more profile pictures, no more selfies, no more InstaGram or microwave dinners. Humanity will be strong again"
He dropped the detonator and walked towards the exit of the arena. Leaving humanity to fend for itself, to survive -- to thrive.
*They'll thank me for this* | 2014-02-06T15:05:40 | 2014-02-06T14:12:29 | 77 | 38 |
[WP] In a different age, Aliens invaded and were defeated by Cavemen, as a result they prepared for a second battle thousands of years in the future, when they expected humanity to be the most fearsome beings in the universe, they return to find society as it is now
EDIT: August 8th, 2014 @ 2:35PM:
Wow, /r/WritingPrompts.
The quality of the work in this thread is absolutely amazing! | He fancied himself good at war. In his own lifetime he had seen the rise and fall of dozens of civilizations. Ancient and long lived people's had submitted to him, with almost no actual loss of life.
There was an art to it. The posturing, the stance. The *romance* of battle. It was said that Angori commanders would pair off with their rivals to seal a treaty. Richtor had never seen that. But, most Angori commanders submit one in a while. He never had.
Richtar had been overzealous, and put his solders in real danger. Never submitting was brave, but risky. So his commanders sent him away. Here. Earth.
He'd heard all the stories. Legends of a primitive species so dumb it would fight to the bitter end. In the face of annihilation, the humans fought. They cared little for self preservation, more so for the preservation of the tribe. It was, to say the least, an incredible strength. Humans lives were so short that it must seem like just a blink to them. No wonder then, that they were willing to die.
His predecessors had no choice but to retreat. A generation of monitoring, of speaking, posturing, and the humans started piling rocks on top of each other in a feeble attempt to beat them out of the sky. All in all, 47 Andori met their fate on the blue marble. And thousands of humans in the attempt. But still, they fought.
"Commander, their weaponry is still very primitive, but even here we are not outside their reach."
"Do they know we are here?"
"They must. They observe much of the sky at regular intervals."
"Waiting for us..."
"They've taken no action. No attempt to communicate." Richtar brushed the remark away.
"Being our orbit in. I want 1.5 AU. No less."
"We'll be exposed-"
"We'll force their hand. 1.5. Take us in. Maximum thrust. I want them to be able to see us from the ground."
No argument, just action.
The thrusters of the gargantuan warship fired up. Colossal cones of fusion fire sprung from the front of the vessel. And the ship lumbered downward.
"The earth has completed one day/night cycle since reaching 1.5 commander."
Just a blink, he thought.
"No contact."
Did they not see us? Were they still so primitive?
"Hold." The ship feel silent. Even thoughts retreated to the dark corners of the brain. This could be it. "Radio signal. Very strong."
"What is it carrying?"
"... commands..."
This is it. They've made contact. "Follow suit. Let them know-"
"These are unusual commands. forward 3 meters, rotate 6 degrees to 223, forward 3 meters... it goes on this way"
"How far is a meter?"
"Very small in astronomical terms. We would not be able to detect such a minor change in position from so far out. These directions only make sense on a terrestrial body. Not in orbit."
Were they plotting? Was this a mistake? Was this *intended* to be intercepted?
"Another radio signal. Coming from high orbit. It's.... a picture?"
The screen hummed to life. Gray and white flooded the room.
"Where is the rest of the data?"
"This is it... this is all of it."
"No no, there's more. What spectrum is this capturing?"
"Very little. Laughably little. This captured less than .001% of the available spectrum..."
Pictures of rocks... no ultraviolet, no infrared... no real data. This is a warning.
He had been scared before. He'd considered submitting on more than one occasion. But never so strongly as this. These are creatures that have won before. With nothing but rocks. They just showed him they could do it again. On any planet. With their *eyes closed.*
"Bring us down to high earth orbit. Flare the thrusters, and send the signal."
"Commander?"
"They've won."
| Fligthtdynga looked through a telescope trained at the blue sphere.
"Teacher, why are we here?"
"In a previous iteration, a scout ship was despatched here. They landed and attempted to establish a portal on the surface for a typical resources transfer. Our last multi-spectral transmission from the lander showed they were attacked by a hairless bipedal organism. They came up en masse, undetected by the mental nets, and smashed them with closed hands and large stones. The most frightening thing was the violence. The previous iteration was not equipped to handle physical attacks on their bodies like that. They were more brutal than could even be imagined. The previous iteration was equipped for mental warfare and resource extraction; the mindless throngs they encountered were too much for them."
Fligthtdynga waited the require thought-period before responding.
"But, teacher, you didn't answer my inquiry."
"Indeed I have not. But it's rather simple. We needed to create something that was as brutal as those creatures in a way they were to us, mindless, hive-based organisms that live to simply kill. Evolution is a slow tool, but it is an effective one. The creature we've created will allow us to drop a few dozen of them in populated areas on each major landmass. Then we wait."
Fligthtdynga pressed something on the side of the telescope again, they found themselves looking at a mother carrying her infant from a playground. A slight movement and they saw a metal vehicle moving at high speed. Another movement and another vehicle, this one a gaudy orange color. Another vehicle was larger than the other two and seemed to have individual humans entering it on one side. Fligthtdynga had no idea, but she was looking at a city in Africa.
"So why is that required?"
"Resources. Though I anticipate that they will have used some themselves in the past 3 turns."
"Teacher, you said rocks and fists?"
"Yes."
"Have you considered they may have evolved on their own since then?"
"It has been considered and compensated," the teacher looked at the baby animal that was in stasis. The creature had row upon row of metallic teeth. "From the teeth to the acidic blood. If a human were to even injure the creature, the blood would spill onto the human and cause wounds."
Not so much walking as floating over, Fligthtdynga examined what had been in their teacher's cryotube. "What's that for?" they asked.
"It's a proboscis, used for gestational purposes. The creature uses an external host as a womb for part of its breeding cycle. It attaches to the face of the host and forces the proboscis down the throat of the human and it implants it somewhere near their gall bladder."
"How did we come to know so much of human anatomy."
"Once we received word from the initial portal delivery scout that they were going to be killed, we despatched specialized scout craft came and studied human anatomy in detail, specifically their gastro-intestinal tract, which is what they call it in their literature. There were a few mistakes, pre-mature deaths of subjects which could have caused an issue if the persons taken were high status. Though through their deaths we learned that probing from the other end would not cause death of the subject, which allowed us to find a wider variety of humans. "
Fligthtdynga's minds fluttered back to one word, "Literature? These brutes have storytelling?"
"Quite a bit of it, actually. Still displaying text on screens rather than direct neural interfaces, though. As you pointed out, they evolved as well. Our initial scouting vessel arrived before their civilization had begun; given the delay in transmitting data across several thousand light years without our portal technology, then creating and assembling an invasion plan and then implementing it, the landscape changed. Things got more complicated for them. But as they got more advanced, we have learned. We are ready to drop our creatures on them. We will not be fighting directly, of course, but we do anticipate that the humans will kill some of the creatures before being overrun."
Another pause. Fligthtdynga had been learning so much about the drive systems and the portal technology that they really hadn't considered who they were fighting until so recently.
"And how will we control the creatures? When we're done with them?"
The teacher shrugged.
"That, my good student, is beyond our pay grade. We're just here to drop the creatures and prepare the portal units on the far side of their moon. The clean-up crews are inbound within the semi-cycle. I hear they use a basic solution to neutralize the acidic blood in the queens which causes her offspring to become docile, rather like the earthen cow. If you just kill the queen another comes in her place."
Fligthtdynga floated back to the telescope, she found another woman holding her child tightly, a white tube attached to the mouth of the child. The alien felt a little disgust at the sight. They were glad to be part of this invading force. The humans would not be missed. Floating back to their quarters, Fligthtdynga's minds thought of some of her ancestors killed in that first invading force. If only the brutes had storytelling then, maybe they could have exchanged resources and come to a mutual beneficial agreement. That was the preferred way. But no. The long gestational period of hatred had finally come to term. In one spin of the Earth, the invaders would be in position to launch their creatures. Fligthtdynga was ready and hoped to breath the air of a new world very soon. | 2014-08-07T09:50:20 | 2014-08-07T08:46:14 | 46 | 13 |
[WP]You accidentally erase the entire internet. | Once upon a midnight dreary, while I reddited, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious subreddit of free hardcore—
While I browsed it, quickly fapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at the number 4.
“’This cannot be,” I muttered, screen showing half loaded whore—
Only this and nothing more...
Quoth the server "404" | "I'm sorry, Ted, what?"
"Yeah. So, I'm just guessing this is what, a half day?"
"Can I ask how?"
"I was looking for Frogger. But then, like, the whole thing froze up, and then I tried to hit delete, and then, you know, blue screen of death."
"The world economy is tanking. We're talking billions of lives that are completely changed."
"Shit, man, now I just feel bad."
"Wars are going to happen, Ted."
"Aw, dude, and the porn. I can't go back to the shame of walking into one of those seedy ass video rentals, man."
"How are you-- never mind. Is there any chance we can get it back?"
"Maybe. Maybe if I go back to the swimsuit editions, and Victoria's Secret, then, like--"
"Ted!"
"Oh, like, probably not. No way. We already tried a bunch of stuff, I don't think it's coming back."
"What about other facilities? Can we restart the internet there, or something?"
"Naw, this was the central, like, area. It spread and went down everywhere."
"Oh, Christ."
"I know. My mom just called, chewing my ear off about her poker tournament going offline when she was winning. She thinks, like, just because I work at the Internet, everytime her dial-up goes on the fritz it's my fault."
"It is your fault, Ted."
"Right, but, like, you know. Where are you going, bossman?"
"I'm going home, Ted. And I'm going to hug my wife and pray to God I'm not somehow guilty of treason or something."
"So, like, half day, right?" | 2014-10-04T15:39:17 | 2014-10-04T14:49:58 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] The world biggest Casino now accepts remaining life time as a currency. | Sam Gamoni took stock of the situation. A few hours earlier the guy in the gray suit walked into the poker room as a healthy young man. What sat before him now was wizened and weak... scared... desperate.
As pit boss it was Sam's job to prevent situations like this. Nobody wanted to see people throw their life away, it was just bad for business, but from time to time guys like this slipped through the cracks.
It was one of the worst beats Sam had seen in 15 years. Quads is a near-perfect poker hand, but NEAR perfect isn't perfect, and 60 years of this man's life slipped away in an instant.
When you lose 60 years you can't just win it all back in one hand - you simply don't have enough remaining life to match the bet. Instead, you have to slowly claw your way back, month by month, year by year. But each new hand brings the possibility of death. One more unlucky call and the game is over.
A collective hush fell over the room as the dealer laid out the cards. The man shielded his hand, raised his eyes, and looked directly at Sam.
"Put the baby on the table."
"No way." Sam replied. "Too risky."
"PUT THE GODDAMN BABY ON THE TABLE!"
Sitting next to the man was a young woman in her late 20s with tears in her eyes... and an infant in her arms. | Written on my phone so sorry for typos.
The skin on her trembling wrists stretched taut as she placed delicate luminous chips on the table. "Thirteen, black", she said. Her voice shivered as the words came, from excitement or age the dealer could not tell.
The man beside her spoke gently, "don't do this grandma. You still have plenty of time."
Hesitation showed in her rheumy eyes for a moment, a visage that hardened into determination. "I've made my choice, Allen." She nodded once to the dealer and the wheel spun.
None in the crowed breathed as the marble spun languorously about the wheel, even the soft rattle of glass on wood seemed muted. At long last the bead stopped.
"Thirteen. Black" the dealer announced. Allen turned to his grandmother, relief welling within him even as those faint chips began to glow with a ferocious intensity. And then she spoke again before Allen could get the words out. "Let it ride."
"What? No! Don't!" But the wheel was already spinning, the ball fell into place. Allen waved to the owl spirit, surely he could cash in a few days to loan his grandmother, but her grip on his arm was iron, and he relented.
The marble landed, the wheel stopped and the dealer spoke. "Thirteen. Black."
The delicate chips erupted into blinding brilliance. A fortune in time, Allen couldn't believe it, there was more than a hundred years on the table. His grandmother looked up at him and smiled.
"Looks like you'll outlive us all, grandma."
"No," Her smile softened as she gestured to the owl spirit, "no Allen, I won't." The light in the chips faded rapidly as casino staff approached the table, their arms laden with chips, real physical chips.
"These bones are old, Allen, and I..." her eyes welled with tears "I hurt. I've buried a husband, I've buried both my children, and I won't watch as you get old too. Its my time to go, and I've given you one... last gift". And with that her eyes slid closed, and Allen wept.
He didn't know how long he stayed there with the woman who had raised him after father died. It was the floor manager who roused him from his stupor. "The preparations were made in advance. If she won we were to cash out her remaining time and place it into trust for you. You're a very wealthy man, Mr Jones.
Somewhere beyond the veil grandmother smiled and the owl spirit spoke to her. "Not many are as brave as you."
"I love him, he will never need worry about money again. A small price to pay for a life at its end, wouldn't you say?" | 2014-12-13T11:10:05 | 2014-12-13T10:55:03 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] Scientists find a probe similar to Voyager... After they decryptet the message from space they give a press conference. A sweaty, teary eyed man in a labcoat takes the stage...
the messages that voyager carried... http://imgur.com/a/CvEvO | Ladies and gentlemen of the scientific community, esteemed members of the press, I... well, I can honestly say my name isn't important. I never thought anyone in my field would ever be able to say these words, and I want this moment in history to be remembered for what was said, not who said it. This discovery belongs not to one person, not even to all of NASA, but to the entirety of mankind's scientific and industrial endeavour.
On March 27th, 2015, NASA telemetry discovered a small, solid object, roughly two metres across, five metres long, drifting roughly two million kilometres from Earth. Analysis of the object's spectra indicated with a high degree of certainty that it was artificially constructed, bearing spectral lines divergent from any previously-encountered natural phenomena. Repeated remote observation of the object indicated that it was on an encounter course with Earth's moon which would briefly bring it within only two thousand kilometres of the Earth itself. Many individuals suspected that the sudden rapid advancement of the Space Launch System had ulterior motives. Retrieving this object was that motive.
The encounter with Earth took place exactly as planned, and through a frankly nerve-wracking, nail-biting process we were able to slow, capture and contain the object, retrieving it safely from orbit. We've been studying it for almost a year now, and I... hestitate to say that we're *ready* to reveal our findings, but there seems to be no more appropriate time than now.
We can't be entirely sure of the object's point of origin, but we can say with utter certainty that it was manufactured by an intelligent lifeform. The outer casing is formed from various ceramics and metal alloys that could not reasonably be expected to occur naturally, and is designed in such a way as to survive the rigors of millions of years of interstellar travel, and there are three objects arrayed equidistantly around its cylindrical body that are clearly recognisable as radioisotope thermoelectric generators. One end of the object is marked by an array of six heavily damaged objects which nonetheless we estimate with a high degree of certainty to have been some form of Hall effect thrusters.
Inside what appears to be a secure containtment unit within the core of the device were seven septagonal blocks of cobalt-cromium-tungsten alloy, each a three-and-a-quarter inches thick, with carvings exactly an inch-and-one-sixth deep. They appear to have been inscribed with what we estimate to be a laser or some other form of extremely precise melting tool. Each septagon is inscribed with a different carving, mirrored identically on both sides.
The carvings... well. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm not sure how to put this.
Well.
You see.
Ladies and gentlemen.
The carvings.
We can't be utterly certain, as some aspects of the biology of the beings depicted by these carvings is not immediately comprehensible to our scientists, but...
Well.
We believe they may be... pornographic in nature. | "This is a present from a small distant world, a token of our sounds, our science, our images, our music, our
thoughts and our feelings. We are attempting to survive our time so we may live into yours. We hope someday,
having solved the problems we face, to join a community of intergalactic civilizations. This record represents our
hope and our determination, and our good will in a vast and awesome universe."
Randy took a deep breath, then looked up at the gigantic crowd in front of him.
"This is how we ended our message", he whispered, and his voice echoed all around the speakers.
"This is what we sent out to the universe. A photograph. A representation. Who we are.
We are the small distant world. We are the pale, blue dot.
We made particle accelerators from stone tools. We made music from everyday sounds, and from that we made
dance, and art, and magic.
We found shelter in the darkness of caves. And when the caves could no longer hold us, we crafted cities as tall as
the skies, and we looked down at our planet and we said; I can provide for myself. I can live alone, now. I grew up.
We learned to fly.
We looked up into the sky and we wondered what the stars were made of. Then we looked down at the ground, and
inside ourselves, and wondered what nature itself was made of.
And, to all that, we found answers.
We conquered our moon.
We looked the universe in the eye and, unchallenged by its indifference, we scrutinized it. Like curious children, we
asked "why" to everything we saw, all around us.
And to that, too, we found answers.
We became aware of ourselves. Of our world, our people, and our lives. We stood tall in the face of meaninglessness. I can't think of a braver act than that.
We chose to stay. Despite the unknown, despite the fear and the uncertainty.
Despite the universe, and its incredible ability to ignore us.
We stayed. We fought. We thrived.
Because this is who we are. This is our land. This is our place. Our home.
Here, in our pale blue dot, we loved and laughed. We raised our children, and we counted shells by the shore.
We traveled and we cried. We talked and we grew old and we died, in our land.
We keep asking ourselves where is it. Where do we fit in. Where do we belong. What is our place in the universe?
But all the time, it was here. Right here. On Earth. Our Earth.
And if the day should come when we disappear, when our land gets taken from us... A day when we no longer exist, and all we built gets washed away, let every soul know that here lied humanity. Let the ruins of buildings and farms and factories and the remains of our bodies tell the universe:
There was once a species, here, and it was us. We were the humans. Here we lived, here we loved and here we died. And, though the universe may have been indifferent to us, we were not to it.
We mattered."
"Where is the scientist guy?" A journalist asked, interrupting Randy. "When are we going to find out what was in
the probe?"
Randy took a deep breath.
"I will tell you."
"Where are the guys from NASA?" Another one added, in a harsh tone.
"Tell us what was in the probe, already", a third one joined in.
Randy looked down at the document in front of him, then back to the crowd.
Suddenly, he was very aware that the whole world was watching him.
"NASA sent me, but I do not work for them. I am a marine. And this is not a scientific statement."
"What is this, then?" Another journalist screamed, impatient.
Randy looked up into the dark sky. The stars were out, shinning bright above him. It was a beautiful night.
He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.
"A battle speech."
______________________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories, check our /r/psycho_alpaca =)*
| 2015-02-17T06:18:45 | 2015-02-17T06:00:26 | 54 | 23 |
[WP] Aliens invade earth. To the surprise of humans, the alien's weaponry is pitifully outdated. | Obama looks down as the small black box is placed in front of him.
"It's a - " He frowns. "What is this?"
"A… save button?" suggests an intern, before he's shushed by a stern glare from one of the senior advisors.
"That's a 5 1/4-inch diskette, sir. Also known as a floppy disk."
Obama stares at it. "Do we know," he asks slowly, "what's *on* it?"
"Sir. Not as of yet. They say it's a virus, but…"
"Go on."
"We've put out a call for floppy disk drives, but it may take us a few days to find one that uh, actually still runs..."
"Because all of them are thirty years old," the President finishes.
"Yes, sir."
"But - " Obama stares at the floppy disk some more. This was the secret weapon that the aliens had been hiding away for weeks? What exactly were the aliens expecting to do with this? What about all the threatening messages swearing vengeance for the mothership?
Then suddenly, it clicks.
"So," Obama says, finally. "That explains the messages we keep getting that are all addressed to The Fresh Prince of the White House…"
"Well," the senior advisor starts. "It may be that - to aliens, that is - and humans. Your uh, skin tone. May appear uh, similar - to."
"Yes, I got that. Thank you." The room falls into uneasy silence as Obama closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then, he stands up. "I think we can go back upstairs, gentlemen. The aliens do not appear to be as dire a threat as we first imagined."
"But, Mr. President - what sort of response should we send to their, uh, weapon here?"
Obama thinks about it for a minute. "Send them Blade."
"The old Will Smith movie?" the intern asks.
"*Yes*," says Obama, and sighs again. "That one. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going upstairs." | “They took the water.” That is one of my favourite apocalypse stories, and I'm living it right now. We have heard the speculative tales of laser-wielding aliens, thermonuclear war, zombies or deadly diseases over and over again. I like “They took the water” better, probably because of its relative rarity and the whole synopsis is there in a four word title.
The story begins with a huge, perfect sphere coming into the Earth’s atmosphere, then another, and another. Their size is absolutely massive, their surface unblemished, like somebody had taken apart a giant ball bearing in space, its parts sprinkling over the Earth. There are hundreds of them and for a week, there is perfect silence. Nothing of note happens, save for some slight changes to the tides because of the massive weight of the spheres and the widespread confusion – sometimes panic – among humanity. The nations of Earth try a myriad of methods to achieve contact, but ultimately fail. Either there is no sentient life in there, or they just do not care. After a week, give or take, has gone by, there is a terrible mechanical growling sound that can be heard for miles when the spheres descend towards various parts of the ocean.
This is when they start taking the water. It takes a little time before we understand what is going on, the spheres floating there, half-submerged, glistening and howling. Slowly, for the first month or so, we noticed how coastlines were rising, a few millimetres a day perhaps, but increasing quickly to several centimetres for every passing day. Despite the large number of spheres now bobbing around in our seas, calculations were swiftly conducted to show that the water would in fact not fit inside the spheres. Rather, it was being removed from Earth. Teleportation perhaps? Who can say.
Humanity’s response when we had it figured out was swift but utterly futile. Fighter jets, ballistic missiles and whatever else we had was of little use. After heavy bombardment, only three or four spheres out of thousands were destroyed, and upon inspection, they were seemingly empty. Decoys perhaps, or a technology entirely beyond our comprehension. The spheres’ revenge was swift, taking out military targets across the world in a few minutes with some sort of beam weapon that made you blind if you looked at it.
Its defences crippled, humanity largely sat and waited while the water disappeared. New landmasses formed, continents joined, whole countries perished from droughts. When the invaders had drained the oceans enough to lower the water level about a kilometre and a half, they were apparently satisfied, and went away. The Earth was saved, in the sense that life could continue. Humanity was not, in the sense that about 90% of the population was dead, and close to all of civilization had descended into anarchy, Mad Max style. The loss of water would mean some major issues for the Earth’s climate as well.
Being neither a geologist nor a biologist or any other –ist who could have created a convincing post-water-theft narrative, that is about all I can tell. Why did they come? Perhaps they felt humans were becoming a threat, what with their spacefaring, and needed to be taught a lesson; perhaps they just enjoyed water.
They would destroy us, without firing a single shot.
| 2015-04-16T10:56:52 | 2015-04-16T09:54:49 | 480 | 13 |
[WP] A massive wall of light, a few feet thick and a few hundred feet high, stretches from the north to south pole. This wall slowly circumnavigates the globe in 1 year. No one knows where it came from and no one knows who created it. All people know is that if you touch the light, you disappear. | Twelve year old Nellie McDonovan lay on the rooftop of her barn, hands behind her head and sneakered foot leaning against a weather vane. Beside her, fourteen year old Thomas Boyd.
"Should we really be up here, Nellie?"
"Shut up, Thomas. Enjoy the view. If you squint real hard, you can see stars."
Thomas squinted, but he didn't see a thing.
"It's not dark enough to see stars, Nellie. Not since The Wall."
Nellie knew this, but she squinted anyway, crumpling up her nose. She missed the stars. The Wall was beautiful, but it hurt to look at directly, and it scared her. It scared everybody.
The Wall had appeared a few months ago, in the middle of the ocean, a beam that shot up and out. When the folks with the satellites first noticed it, it wasn't a wall so much as a column, a column of beautiful burning white light. But they soon realized the column was expanding, inch by blinding inch, in either direction.
It wasn't long before it reached land, and it wasn't stopping. A few days ago, it had reached Nellie and Thomas's small town, and in a few days more, it would cut it in half.
People were sad and people were scared. Not of The Wall itself, so much- by the time it got to their town, everyone knew the stories about it, what would happen if you touched it, but folks were careful to mind their little ones and the livestock seemed to know on instinct not to get too close. They hadn't lost anyone in Nellie's town, not yet.
But soon, everyone would lose people, in a different way.
The Wall was cutting the town in half, separating neighbor from neighbor, friend from friend, child from parent. Some folks from either side were opting to abandon their farms and switch to the other, but most stayed where they were. The scientists, they said that soon the two ends of The Wall would meet. The Wall would split the world in half. Sure, the two sides could call one another, and there was the internet and the like, but nobody would be able to get to the other side- there was no going under or over The Wall, the scientists said, for reasons Nellie didn't understand. Something about gravity. Gravity and light.
Right then, the edge of The Wall was right in Nellie's backyard, nearly perfectly in line with their rows of corn. She could swear she could see it inching forward even now.
Nellie and Thomas lay on the roof in silence, squinting at a blank sky. Thomas's family lived on the other side of The Wall. That's where they were going to stay. It was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be able to dash around to Nellie's farm anymore.
Nellie wondered whether The Wall would always be there, bright and burning in her backyard. She wondered what she'd miss the most when it was done cutting through her life- the stars, or her friend.
______________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________
Thank you for reading! Any constructive criticism you have would be very much so appreciated and welcomed. | Twenty miles out from the Halo Meridian, and every hour becomes daytime. Sleep becomes a futile effort. Making the effort worse, talk radio battles against the hiss of air as they collide in the 92 Ford dad couldn't afford to let die or fix. The car's sun blinders are down and held in place with coat wire and electrical tape. An engineering feat put into work before we left Madison 700 miles ago, and one Dad can't pass a state without mentioning.
"I can't believe the roads are so empty," he comments.
"Even so, be careful," advises my mother.
*Careful*, I think. Not a word I would use as we barrel forward to the Meridian, and our last hours on earth.
But maybe this trip is for the best.
Fate had been a relentless antagonist, after all. My father, a talented musician is his youth, suffered a stroke when he was 28 and in the prime of his career. His line of work didn't come with health insurance, or the stable income that made getting his own practical, so he didn't. The bills crippled him in ways the stroke couldn't. Together, they destroyed his aspirations. Even so, my mom -- his wife -- stuck with him. She came from a poor family and couldn't care about debt if she tried. A person's spirit was the most valuable thing in the world to her. It still is.
They got married three years later in spite of the hardships. The ceremony cost them less than five-hundred dollars. My mom's wedding gown was a yellow summer dress with grey lilies, and to this very moment it still hangs in the old townhouse, waiting for Isabelle to come to an age she never will.
"Great Falls, Maryland eight miles," dad exclaims. He rubs my mom's knee, who beams back a smile.
"Praise God! Is that close to the Halo?" She asks innocently. My dad laughs and nods. Issy tussles under my sweatshirt, trying to work around the seatbelt against her chest.
"It shouldn't be more than a few minut-"
He slams the breaks of the truck, nearly skidding off the country road.
Before us, the Meridian pulses in a florescent white.
"Sweet salvation," Dad comments, turning the ignition off.
I tried my best to talk him out of the trip, but the Church had planted an idea far deeper than I could reach. We had nothing but a crumbling home, a crumbling car, a crumbling life. Him and Mom worked tirelessly to change the course of their fate, but no amount of effort produced results. But then the Meridian happened.
So when the news broadcaster hour long specials about the loss-of-life, the misery, and the desperation of families affected, the Church told a story of the second coming. It was the light of God, manifested in earth to reach out and save the sicken, the poor, and the downtrodden. There was a reason why the bodies of those who touched the Meridian couldn't be found: their bodies were in the kingdom of Heaven. The Lord had provided an out.
So we came, the four of us, as a family.
As my parents walk around the front of the car, standing in the center of the road, I undo Isabelle's seat belt and carry her in my arms. Only 10 feet separates us from the pulsing light, yet it's luster doesn't sting. How? Even on sunny days, I have to turn away from the sky.
"Son," my father said. "I don't want you to join us if you don't want to." Dark circles eclipse his eyes, the product of hours of driving. His tone soft, almost pleading.
"But, we drove all the way out here. Together."
"And you can still turn around and drive back. I know this was never your idea, that you don't have our faith in it. These past hours I've been thinking about how unfair we've been."
His eyes had started to well up with tears. "I've forced you to come this far, but I can't force you to make that final step."
Our shadows stretched for what looked like miles. Only the Meridian's low hum sustains through the silence.
"I'm not leaving you and Mom."
"Are you positive?"
I nod.
With a deep breath, he straightens himself up and turns back to the light.
"You ready?"
I shoot him a quick glance, catching his eye. Again, I nod.
Together, side by side with sister in my arms, we take our last steps forward, into the light.
| 2015-04-28T20:51:06 | 2015-04-28T19:50:28 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] You are randomly summoned to a spacecraft and told to argue the case for Earth's survival. Three alien races, all vastly superior to Earthlings, are also arguing for their survival. Only one species gets spared. | You should spare Earth because it's the least advanced of the four races here. These other three beings are vastly superior to Earthlings. They've conquered intergalactic travel, whereas we humans continue to kill each other over access to resources. And while that may sound infantile compared to the other races represented here today, it also presents an interesting opportunity for you.
You get to shape us.
The other races here have already seen through the illusion of difference. The illusion of separation. They've transcended conventions and come to exist as one community in peace and harmony. To break them at this point - to expect them to devolve and bend to your rule - would be a challenge. But with Earth, any solid proof of extraterrestrial life would be seen as a monumental step forward in our understanding of ourselves, our place in the universe, and certainly life as we know it.
All you need do is present yourself as bringing knowledge and information, and we'll listen. We'll bend and shape and mould ourselves based on your teachings. If you want power, you'll have it easily.
You should spare Earth because it's the easiest of the planets represented here to control. Because we are the slowest along the evolutionary scale, and because, since we are still young and uninformed, we can be easily guided to suit your will. | The mysterious being are seated high above you. The room is dark but you can see the dark outlines of the creatures high above you. You should be afraid but you are not. You almost feel humbled, a distinct respect of the immense power of the beings resting before you.
One of the beings before you rises from his seated position. For the first time you get a good look at him. He is of immense height, maybe 15 foot tall, the horns atop his head reach high above him and curl down maybe 5 more times. The creature speaks, you can not tell the source of the voice it is almost as if it is coming from inside your own head. "This is a trial, we are a race much more advanced than yours. We are appearing to you in this form so you can understand what is happening." the creature says, "You are what a human would call a lawyer, you have 15 minutes to argue a case for humanity."
"What do you mean?" your voice squeaks out.
"We will destroy 3 of 4 races based on their arguments. Now your argument must begin." You are shocked to say the least. You want to protest, argue, ask questions, do anything but you know you do not have time. The fate of humanity rests on your shoulders.
You wait a few minutes to speak, "I'm sure you already know more about humanity than I do. We have done some awful things. We kill, we discriminate, and we treat each other horribly. I know all of these things and I am deeply ashamed of them. However there is one trait of humanity that I think is vital to who we are as a species." You look up at the beings and see no hint of change in their posture or demeanor.
You continue, "We as humans have ambition. We strive for greatness, there is a constant drive for something better. We have come from nothing, stone wielding apes with nothing to worry about but survival, to space travel in the matter of a few thousand years. Imagine how far we can go if you spare us. Imagine what we could accomplish. We will stumble, people will suffer and die but none in vain. The greater good of humanity will always prevail. If you want a species to sit around and sing kumbaya and love each other then you don't want us. But if you want progress, if you want success and being carried to unseen horizons then choose humanity."
Suddenly you wake up. You rush to your window and outside you see trees! and people! Was it a dream? Only time will tell I suppose. | 2015-05-17T12:55:41 | 2015-05-17T09:41:38 | 41 | 26 |
[WP] Two planets come within range of eachother every 300 years. There is always an ensuing war that lasts the 5 days that the planets are close enough. Each side can only guess at what new technology the other has built since the last time. | The Alignment. It had always been this way. Every generation knew of it, but none now lived to remember the last occurrence.
My generation was the latest Soldier Generation. From the time we could walk we were taught tactics, weapons skills, and physical training. A cloud hung over our lives like the storm clouds that hung over The Hive; the enemy planet that would be descending upon us. We were a generation that knew the date of our deaths before we breathed our first breath. We didn't celebrate birthdays, we trained. We didn't fall in love, we trained. Our idea of childhood fun was giving your training partner a fat lip and a broken bone.
We were cold. We were ready. No matter what technology they had developed since the last time we saw them, we would win. Or so we thought...
As the year of The Alignment approached, our astronomers scratched their heads in confusion; The Hive was gone. Soldier Generation waited anxiously; our sinews ready to snap into action, our souls ready to depart to the resting grounds. We longed to join the other generations before us. A glorious death.
But The First Day of Alignment came... and went. As did the second. The third, then the fifth. Our steely eyes watched the dark between the stars as we were deafened by the silence of the cosmos. On the sixth day, we learned the extent of their tech.
For 300 years we developed ferocious weaponry; high tech pulse lasers, satellite systems that could carpet the dark side of the moon in death, children that knew nothing but the thrill of the hunt.
For 300 years they created a cloaking device.
The Hive shifted into view as it passed out of reach, the city lights taunting us; flickering like the coins in a wishing well we had never thrown. We watched as our purpose in life drifted away with the plodding pace of gravity. | Space war doesn't work how people think it does. It's not like in the movies. There are no fly-bys, no laser guns, no evasive maneuvers. All those things are pointless. There's nowhere to hide since your heat signature can be seen across the solar system. There's no atmosphere in space, so there's no way of turning either. You continue in the direction you're going unless you fire your engine, and that costs fuel.
The one thing you do have though is speed. Every 300 years, our solar systems start moving towards each other again. This time is the only time we can attack, and when we do it's lethal. We launch everything we can during the years 13 the trajectories are right. Our missiles don't have any explosives, no enriched uranium. There's simply no need for that. Our planets are moving towards each other at over 100 kilometers per second, and a 100kg piece of metal flung at this speed has the kinetic energy of a medium sized nuclear bomb. It is a war of meteors.
From what we can tell, their planet has very little water, and we theorize that they cannot produce the fuel needed for missiles. They chose a different path. Every 300 years, we see their atmosphere light up in massive bursts of heat as they fire their mass drivers against us. This time, however, was different.
All our telescopes and radars were pointed at them. They could barely light a match without us noticing something, yet there was nothing. We saw nothing. The military advisers went crazy. Had they developed a brand new weapon? Did they simply not fire to confuse us? Or could it actually be that we wiped them out during our last barrage? There was no way to be sure until our planets got closer.
Their shots always arrive first. Having traveled through space for 40 years, the massive bullets have cooled down and are almost impossible to detect against the darkness of space. Our massive radar arrays tried to locate the incoming chunks, but again there was nothing. 20 years later, our missiles arrived, having built up speed over the 60 years they had. Once again we saw their atmosphere light up, but to our horror every single missile was shattered, presumably by counter-missiles, breaking up into small pieces that easily burnt up in the atmosphere. Our enemy was still alive and well. The combat data was immediately fed into the military industry, which began redesigning the materials and propulsion systems of the missiles.
25 years late, a tiny object perfectly concealed from our radar detonated a few hundred kilometers from our planet, but with the energy of a thousand suns. The entire surface facing the explosion was scorched clean, and the heat wave spread through the atmosphere. The lucky few scientist that survived in the self-sufficient underground cities on the other side of the planet concluded that the weapon had been an antimatter bomb, something our scientist had thought was impossible.
We have no hope. Our entire defense network has been destroyed. Our missile factories are all gone. We have no counter-measures and no offensive capability left. All we can do is await the final barrage of kinetic energy bombs to wipe the rest of us out. | 2015-05-26T20:36:04 | 2015-05-26T20:24:48 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] A colony ship discovers that, due to a calculation error, they will never reach their destination. | I turned on the video log, and punched the button for a new entry as I hung my head.
"Medical log, I... don't know the proper date. We are supposed to be at the end of our journey, but we... three hundred fifty years of interstellar drift has put us far off course. The navigation computer burned up a log time ago, we..."
I choked back a nervous tear, wiping my face, "we aren't going to make it to destination. Power... our power reserves are at twenty two percent, that will get us another hundred years, we're a hundred thirty away at optimal speed. I've already reset course."
No use hiding my emotion, "we're fucked. We're done, drifting in the void, this is where we will... rest. This... this is my decision. I can't... I can't turn anybody off, we will go together."
I wiped my face again, "I'm going back into stasis, and once the medi system verifies I'm down, I've instructed the main system to turn off ambient life support. We won't... we won't die right away after we lose power, the ship will be cold enough by then to keep us under a while longer. A year or two maybe?" I laughed nervously with a sniffle, "I hope someone gets this message, this will be the last time our comm system goes online, I've already cut the pinger to save power, that bought us three months."
I bit my lip and wiped the monitor, "we all knew what we signed up for, and the risk of... this. Dreams don't always come true. It's time for one more."
I closed it quickly and pressed send. My eyes were welling up but I felt better now, since someone somewhere would get our message. I waited to see the send confirmation pop up, and powered down the comms. I clicked off the small light above, it felt like closure.
I plodded down the metal catwalk back to medi, running my fingers against the cold metal banister. My pod was at the front of the formation, as I was the first to revive, weeks before the rest to give me time to acclimate to life. And now...
I wiped my face as I entered the pod, as the medi system chimed in with its soft voice, *"are you prepared for stasis, Doctor Ebbert?"*
I took a deep breath, perhaps my last as another tear wormed down my face, "yes." | "Sooooooooooo" began the captain "turns out, and believe me we will laugh about this later…there was a slight calculation error"
The blank faced crowd stared back at him
"What does that mean?" said one of the blank faces"
"It means we're not going to reach our destination"
"No what does calculation error mean?" said another
"Yeah, our education cartridges crapped out at grade 2"
"Because they're shit"
The education cartridges were made by the lowest bidder, a collective of failed screenwriters who didn't allow the imminent end of the world, or more importantly their profound lack of talent, to damper their dreams of being the next Tarantino.
"It means the math was wrong" said the captain
"So like they put 1 x 1 equals 2"
"You idiot it does equal 2. It would be like putting 1 x 1 equals 3"
"But 1 x 1 does equal 3"
"Yeah an error like that, but times a billion" said the captain
"Whoa" said a blank face
"A billion" said another
"Wait what does that mean?"
"What?" said the captain
"What does them making a calculation error mean?"
"It means we're not going to make our destination and what's more…"
"So we're never going to find another planet?" said a blank face
"Yes" said the captain
"So we're all going to die"
"Yes" said the captain "well probably, we still have time so…"
"So we should just descend into hedonism and have fun until the end"
"What?" said the captain
"Orgy over here" said a blank face
"No over here" said another
"You idiots, its an orgy. We can just combine them"
"No no no, guys" said the captain, but it was too late. They had all started having sex with each other.
"Break out the booze"
"Oh shit" said the captain
…
The captain went back to his quarters where his daughter was reading a book.
"Where did you even find a book?" said the captain
"One of the blank faces was playing chess against it. He lost, in case you're wondering"
"Sounds about right"
"So how'd they take the news"
"They're all having sex with each other"
"Sounds about right"
The captain stood in the room, the faint sound of fucking in the background.
"So…" said his daughter
"Fuck this"
"Swear jar"
"We're taking one of the pods"
"But what about the others"
The captain crossed the room and put his hands on his daughters shoulders.
"If anyone could somehow survive crashing into a sun, it's these guys"
"Where are we going to go though"
"There's planets near by. One of them should have an oxygen enclosure"
She looked him in the eyes, in the way that she did when she knew he was lying.
"Come on" he said
…
"Dad I'm fifteen"
"And if you were ten years older you could take the blindfold off"
"I've already seen everything"
"How have you…"
"I don't know about the captain's cartridges, but the basic education ones are not age appropriate"
The captain led his daughter into the escape pod. After they had launched he let her take her blindfold off, which was just in time to see a large alien vessel materialize, tractor beam the ship into it's hold, and jump to warp speed.
"Oooooooh" said the captain.
He felt his daughters hand on his back.
"It's ok. Maybe they were bad aliens"
The captain looked down as she looked up and smiled at him. He put an arm around her shoulders, pulled her close and tried to absorb some of her optimism. | 2015-10-27T14:27:21 | 2015-10-27T13:22:57 | 101 | 26 |
[WP] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in. However, you can't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
For example: if someone wishes that that John smith fell in love with them and you decide to take the wish, then John Smith will fall in love with you | It was a sunny afternoon in mid July. I was walking with my gramps down towards our house.
“Okay, young one,” he said. “Let me tell you a secret that you will not believe.”
I lifted my head up to see his old, wrinkly face as he continued, “Have you ever wondered why they put that sign in front of the well? ‘Do not pick up the coins’?”
After a few seconds of thinking, “No,” I replied. “Why?”
“Well you see my boy, it’s actually simple. Each coin represents a wish someone makes. You make a wish, you throw the coin in the well and your wish comes true, right? Nobody wants their coin to be taken out because then... What happens to the wish?”
I looked down towards the path and tried to come up with a good answer, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. Eventually, he answered his own question with excitement, “The wish goes out with the coin!”
Right then and there, he looked like one of those drawings in my science book, of a guy who yelled Eureka!!
“You see my boy, they are inseparable. If you take a coin out of the well, it becomes yours. The wish becomes yours, too, whatever wish it might be.”
---
That night while everyone was sleeping, I got out of my bed and ran to the well. I dipped my hand in the water and took out a coin and ran back home. I put the coin under my pillow and fell back to sleep.
I woke up that morning, only to see, that I turned into a beautiful princess.
| My wife says the vacation has been horrible. She was sun burnt, the kids had been hanging off of her cherry red skin for two days now, they hated the sand, they wanted mom to hold them. Fine.
Back to the hotel they went, on the beach I stayed. Which was more than okay. I needed some time. Dad needed some time alone to sift through his pockets and figure out what the hell was going on. I sat down on our sandy beach towel and sank my hand into my trunks. I could hear the change jingling.
The last thing I remember, before ending up smack dab in the middle of a family vacation with people I've never met, was sitting at the wishing well outside Fiesta Mall, eating Panda Express. Why people still threw change in the thing was beyond me, since there hadn't been water in it for years. The plaster was cracking, fiercely fading through summers of the Arizona sun, from Terracotta to cracked concrete.
I picked a quarter up from the empty well, and gave it a quick flip. It came down heads first into my palm, and before I could close my Panda box, a thick sheet of white grain began to pour from the sky. It was falling everywhere, covering my clothes, falling into my bun, filling the empty well, laying as a blanket on the asphalt of the parking lot. Some people ran to their cars, some ran from them and into the mall. I stayed sitting at the well, staring in disbelief.
Slowly, through the quiet chaos of those around realizing whatever was raining down on us was not dangerous, I sloshed my finger into the now syrupy lo mien I had been eating. I put my finger to my mouth.
Sugar. It was sugar.
In my astonishment, I put the coin I had flipped in my pocket, and began sifting through the well full of sugar. I picked up pennies, dimes, quarters. Hell, I'm pretty sure I even picked up a few pieces of promising gravel. This was unbelievable. With a pocket full of change, I abandoned my sugary lunch and started for my car. Once comfortably seated, I began flipping the coins, one by one. My hair grew six inches, immediately. My eyelashes got thicker, my feet shrank. Outside my car, the weather went from an oven on broil to Washington in the spring. The sun got brighter, there were stars in the sky, in the middle of the day. And they were beautiful.
I kept flipping coins.
And now I am here, somehow a chiseled, devoted husband, and loving father to a small army of children, vacationing somewhere very far from Fiesta Mall.
I am living someone's wish. I am handsome, affluent and I am successful in both marriage and family.
But I did not wish for this. | 2016-08-02T12:19:23 | 2016-08-02T12:08:33 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] Something happy please. Include cats and maybe lizards.
My girlfriend likes to fall asleep to the sound of me reading something, I'd just like something nice to read to her.
EDIT: Whoops, now I'm on the front-page I can't pass any of these off as my own ;) just kidding of course, thanks very very much to everybody who replied and upvoted, I posted this before I went to sleep and it gave me a nice feeling when I woke up and saw it.
:)
EDIT 2: Thanks to the kind user who sent me a code for some actual Reddit gold! I shall not mention their name as I'm not sure whether they want me to, but they popped my gold cherry and for that I shall be eternally grateful.
You know who you are :) | Dense flakes of snow fell from the sky
and Mittens the kitten looked up with a sigh.
His pillow was cold!
And though he wasn't yet old
The chill in his bones made him cry.
He shifted away from his seat by the pane
and leapt up to see where his neighbor had lain.
Freckle the gecko had all the best stuff,
which made living near him a little bit tough.
Freckle's tank was warmed not by the sun
but instead by light which shone with the promise of fun.
Mittens' little black paws padded soft on the ground
as he prepared to give the side of the tank a good pound.
He crouched down real low and swished wide with his tail
while Freckles darted behind a plant with a quick flail.
And just when he was about to pounce...
suddenly, he couldn't move even an ounce!
Scooped up by two hands and pulled tight to a chest
Mittens found himself tucked into a vest.
He was no longer cold so he settled down with a purr
And wound his claws in the yarn so he stuck like a burr.
His owner minded not the tears in her sweater.
She had three more in her closet which were even better.
When her grandmother called she would tell a little white lie
And explain that she'd loved it in a tone very blithe
But cats will be catty
They're a little bit batty
Maybe, next year, she could just send a pie. | *Just pull the trigger, and earn another paycheck* was what I thought. *I've done it fifty four times already. Why can't I pull it now?* No, it's not the trigger assembly, no I didn't forget to turn off the safety. I'm a professional assassin, on a rooftop, with my target in sight. In less than a second, I would be done.
Soon I began to shiver, I thought it would be like all other jobs. Get to a vantage point, aim, shoot, and get back inside someplace warm, but no. I was going to kill an innocent man. A man who did nothing wrong, had a loving wife and two kids, whom he loved just as much as his job. He was just a competitor to my boss was all.
Five minutes in the cold and rain and I began shivering, my scope swaying more than it should. At least this cat that took a liking to me was warm in my jacket. *It's still not too late to take the shot, just kill him, earn your paycheck, and then we can go back to my miserable little apartment, with another comma in my back account.*
I said we. Slip of the tongue? Or did I mean me and this cat? I mean I could probably take him home, the vet bills wouldn't put a dent in my savings. I took a deep breath and steadied myself. But now my scope vibrated. The cat was purring, like it was content that it chose the right person to be his. If it even was a he. I guess this is affection. Haven't felt this in years...just. Cold.
I know what I'm going to do, and I hope I've made the right choice. *Click* went my safety. *Ka-chink, pling!* Went the bolt action and bullet. *I'm not killing an innocent man. Not again.* In to my case went the rifle, and an anonymous call to the man warned him that he was in danger. He deserves to at least know that people are targeting him, maybe even target his family.
As for me, I went back home and gathered my essentials. Then I burnt the house down. And I ran. I found a place eventually, settled down, found Bullet here a playmate. That's what I named him. He has this copper tinge in his coat, and he always zipped around very quick. Just like a bullet. It's sunny here. The weather's always nice, the neighbors are nice, the scenery is nice. We're happy here.
Hope you guys enjoyed this, I'm trying to get back into writing, so let me know if there is anything I could improve on!
-/u/Tehsyr /r/MindOfTeshyr | 2017-01-29T18:40:55 | 2017-01-29T18:01:44 | 48 | 17 |
[WP] Legend foretold the one who pull the magic sword shall be the hero to slay you, the demon king. After hundreds of years no one has managed to pull it out. Bored of waiting, one day you put on a disguise as an adventurer and jokingly tried to pull the sword out. It came out on the first try. | Grimon stared at the sword in his hand. The legendary demon slayer, the sword that was foretold in prophesy to be the weapon that would kill the demon king who rules from the red citadel on top of the craggy mountain.
The problem with true prophesies is that all the people believe them. What use is an army if they would never win against the demon king? The fact that the realm had not had any major wars in the last two hundred years made for a land of peaceful towns and villages where the people were happy to live in safety compared to all the warring kingdoms next door.
Yes, their ruler was a harsh demon king, but he was content to live in his red citadel. And so time passed, and the demon king became bored of sitting around unopposed. He took on the mantle of a young hero and went all around his land.
He discovered that the people were happy. No one came by to conscript them into an army where they could get killed just for paltry gains in land. Ones that would be negated in the next battle. He discovered no bandits would harass the roads that were patrolled by demon creatures at night. When the demon king dispersed his unholy army into the countryside, he gave explicit orders not to bother any law abiding citizens.
That meant that as soon as any highwaymen or brigands made camp in his realm, they tended to get happily torn apart by nightmarish horrors.
So the demon king, in the guise of Grimon the hero, came alone to the sword of legend and, on a whim, pulled. And true to prophesy, the demon king was slain that day; not from battle, but from realization. Grimon realized that he was no long merely king of the demons. He was the ruler of the most prosperous nation on the continent. He realized that over the years, his subjects went from being fearful of their dread ruler, to praising him as the best thing to have ever happened to their nation. He realized exactly what would happen if the rumor would get out that the demon slaying sword was drawn.
With an almost silent click of metal on stone, the sword was shoved back until it became locked in its sheath of rock. And true to prophesy, Grimon the hero was never heard form again. | Many many years ago, a great man foretold that whoever could pull the Sword of Satan out of the ground would be the one to kill the Dark Lord himself. I have laughed at adventurers, just like you may well be fail to pull the sword. I have seen people with huge muscles use sheer strength but to no avail, and watched people kill for it. How I laugh.
Nobody, and I mean nobody will ever get that sword. How do I know this, you wonder? I am the Lord of all that is Evil, and one day you shall all bow down to me and me ONLY.
Over 3000 years I have been watching. Staring at people who do not even know I am there. Know I shall end it once and for all. I, there spawn of Hell, will travel to your world and I will attempt to take the sword. I'll show them it's impossible. If I can't do it, nobody can. 3000 years has got boring. Oh so boring.
I came to life in the womb of a woman, just as any other child. But I chose this particular woman for a reason. She is evil. And guess who owns her soul? ME! She knows who she has birthed. I grew up as any other child would, only better. In my human form, I have powers no one else can imagine. I can destroy continents with the click of my finger. But that is not what I am to do.
I do not age like you did. I age the way I want. And I want to be exactly 26 years, 6 months, and 6 days. 666. My favourite number. Would you like to know why that is my number? That is how many men I convinced Jesus was evil. Yes. That was me. I have only been human twice before. The first time I was a woman by the name of Mary. I was the Queen of England. And I am still feared today in that form. People chant "Bloody Mary" in the mirror just because they think I'm not real. But I'm more than real. My second form I was a man. My name was Adolf. I laughed as I killed millions of people. I didn't target Jews. It's just they resist me more than any other, and I could not have that. But I'm not here to rain terror this time.
I venture to Helsinki in Finland. Quite ironic this is where the sword is. Satan's sword, in Hell! I say venture but really I just go. I can't describe it any other way. I just go.
I'm here now. At the sword. It actually looks nice in my human form. I have emotions now. Disgusting. My hands grasp the golden blade that reflects the sun into my eyes. I pull. It comes out. This...
This can't be right!? This means I am the onetime to slay MYSELF!? It cannot be. It's a trick of he light. My emotion filled mind cannot comprehend what's just happened. I don't understand.
But wait... I do understand. It makes sense now. God. He did this. He anticipated this would happen. But a prophecy of that power cannot be broken. God has won. There is no other way. I swing the sword above my head and drive it into my fleshy skull.
Bet you thought I was gone didn't you? Foolish mortal. I killed one person. My human form. Not me. Never. I will win. And I don't expect Him to beat me ever, ever again. Because now I have one more thing on my side. The soul of every being who attempted to take my sword. Fool. | 2017-03-10T09:53:21 | 2017-03-10T02:49:51 | 55 | 27 |
[WP] You're considered as one of the best assassins in the world. Unknown to your clients, you've never killed any of your targets. | I killed my sister when I was thirteen.
Thirty years later, as I screw the silencer onto Heather, my Sig Sauer P226, I reflect on how I arrived at this apartment door. It looks solid, but the pre-fabricated wood will give easily, as the door swings away from me into the apartment. Out of habit, I almost check my chamber again, but I don’t want to give away any noise. Besides, I checked it before I left the car. With a deep breath, I throw a front kick at the door, just left of the lock, twisting my hips to apply all the force my medium build can generate. It cracks and I have Heather raised before the wood hits the floor. My first shot takes Johan in the shoulder before I cross the threshold. My second bloodies his thigh just above the knee when he tries to get up. He passes out before I need a third.
I began the life of an assassin at eighteen. It started out with a few low-level hits. One shopowner wouldn’t pay the protection fee. A local politician got it into his head he was going to clean up the streets. Idiots, both of them. The next was a rival gang leader. That was interesting. Before long, my employers got busted by the feds, but my reputation remained intact.
I spent about six anxious months in uncertainty, then the calls started coming in. Jobs needed to be done, and I was the best.
Johan was starting to stir now. As soon as he saw me, he started cursing in German, but the restraints prevented anything more than words. He grew silent and fearful when I pulled out the syringe. I wordlessly injected him in the carotid. One knee on the chest and one on his head ensured his stillness until he went limp again. I pulled a kit from my jacket and a device.
From the kit, I drew scissors, a paintbrush, and pig’s blood. Two minutes work was necessary for the gunshot wound over Johan’s heart. I was well practiced. Then I put the device on his index finger, connected it to the Bluetooth on my phone, and snapped a picture of the lifeless body.
I called the client’s number from memory. It would ruin my reputation to have it found in my contacts list.
“Yes?”
“It’s done. You’ll find the image in your cloud drive. Are you receiving proof of completion?”
“No pulse. Good” It irritated me that the client was so verbose over the phone.
“Yeah. Payment?”
“It is done.”
We both hung up without farewell. I grabbed another syringe from my bag and shot it into Johan’s artery, then dialed a second number.
“Agent Keller.”
“It’s done. Your end covered?”
“Yeah, we got them. It will be finished by 2200.”
“Nice doing business again.”
“Likewise.”
Ten minutes later, Johan stirred. German cursing again.
“Shut up. You’re going to have a headache, and those wounds will take a while to heal, but you are alive. I’ve dressed them, so you won’t bleed out or get infected, but you will need to get them attended again. Find a small clinic, pay cash. In this bag, you will find your new identity.” I stared at him with as much contrived fury as I could muster. “You will use it, or I will find you and kill you again, this time for real. There is also a ticket for Prague. Clean yourself up and get to the station. Your train leaves in three hours.”
I stood up and walked out.
Later, I’ll see on the news that a branch of the Russian mob had been taken down in a daring FBI sting. The agents’ work was courageous and flawless. Whatever.
My mind drifted back thirty years as I walk down the streets of Berlin. Heather was getting bothered at school by some narc the feds had planted. I told the Boss and he said he could handle it… | "You...you don't want me for this," the man was a tall, brutish looking one. He had a scar across his left cheek, and a tattoo of a some lizard like animal crawling across the right side of his face.
Yet here he was, shaking in fear.
"Nonsense," Will spoke with less confidence than he had previously. He was an old, balding man, wearing a black and white suit with a crisp red tie. Never in his life had he felt so unsure, but at this moment the best assassin in the world was telling him to find someone else. Was his assignment really that unfeasible?
"No," the assassin shook his head, sliding the contract back across the desk toward him. "I won't. Not me. Not *this*."
Will reached into his pocket, and pulled out another stack of eight gold coins to sit beside the other four stacks.
"This is my final offer Benny," Will said, "Surely the man who killed John Wick has nothing left to fear?"
Benny stared at the coins, and Will almost thought for a moment that he had him hook line and sinker.
Then, as if on a cue, lightning struck outside and a deep boom of thunder rattled the entire warehouse.
"No!" Benny shouted immediately, snapped from his trance. "I'm sorry Will. This goes deeper than that. There are things working that not even the High Table sees. This isn't my business."
Will looked at Benny with vengeful eyes. "You'll regret refusing me. I don't make offers like this everyday, and it stings to be rejected by someone who claims to be 'the best'."
Benny glared at Will. "You have no idea what you're getting into."
Will laughed, and pulled a sleek, black pistol out from beneath his suit. Benny tried to react, but the weapon was already trained on him as he was just standing up.
"Good lord you're slow. Maybe it is a good thing you refused me," Will smiled as he racked the pistol's slide, "Any last words?"
Benny was shaking in his chair, as he attempted to stay stoic in the face of death. Will watched as something inside of Benny broke, and he fell back into his chair.
"I..." he whispered, "I didn't kill John Wick."
"Excuse me?"
"John Wick...he isn't dead. I didn't kill him," Benny repeated.
Will felt terror flow through him for the first time in a decade. His entire empire ran on the assumption that John Wick had been dead for ten years, and even the thought of that vengeance driven lunatic still existing struck him with a terror the likes of which only few men had ever known.
"If he isn't dead," Will stammered, "Then where is he?"
"I don't know," Benny sighed, "Someone took care of him."
"You just said-,"
"I know what I said dammit!" Benny yelled, and Will leapt back in surprise.
"I found someone," Benny continued, "Someone who could do these inhuman things. Evil, unholy thing. I wanted to make a name for myself, so I struck a deal with her. That woman is the one who made John Wick disappear."
"What is her name?" Will asked, his interest suddenly piqued.
"She went by Joan. Like Joan of Arc or some shit." Will's throat tightened as he heard her name. "She had this huge complex about being a warrior. God help us the day we meet whatever she is fighting though."
"And she's also an assassin?" Will asked.
"In her free time."
Benny wasn't one to lie, Will had thought at first. But if he would lie about John Wick, he would lie about anything. Including some bullshit story to buy time while help came.
"Nice try," Will growled, putting his finger on the trigger. "I'm not buying your bullshit story. Who the hell would kill John Wick for free?"
"It wasn't free, we made a deal." Benny corrected.
"Oh yeah?" Will smiled, "What the fuck would you have to offer someone like that?"
Then Benny smiled, and looked straight into Will's eyes with new found courage. "I gave her the only thing I had. My soul."
"What?"
"I gave her me. She sees what I see, hears what I hear, and feels what I feel. There are dozens of us, watching the world for her."
"So she heard all of this then? She saw the contract?" Will felt that fear return again.
"Yes," Benny began to laugh, "Joan knows what you're after now Will. And you've just made a hell of an enemy."
Benny continued to laugh, until Will's bullet silenced him. Blood splattered from his head, and dripped down on to his desk. It flowed across the rough, old wood that had been worn down from use and began to soak into the contract that had been left sitting on the desk.
Will watched the blood as it stained the white paper, and as it reached the "Target" section of the paper he watched as the ink spelling out the name "Joan" began to run like tears, weeping over his impending demise.
________________________________________________________________
Did you like this story? Check out my other stuff over at r/Niedski! I post all my stories there! | 2017-03-22T08:04:25 | 2017-03-22T07:57:54 | 184 | 47 |
[WP] After first contact, mankind and another civilization agree on a exchange program where you went to their planet spend a year there. When they bring you back, there is nothing where earth used to be. | **Galactic Lunch Time Theorem**
What used to be there was no longer there. My life, my memory, everyone I ever known and all the computer games I ever bought on Steam was gone.
Mars was there, so was Venus, even the moon was still there orbiting around an empty space like an abandoned dog barking at a car long gone. Only the Earth was missing.
I was on a student exchange program with Oakrion, a planet around our friendly neighboring Galaxy a few light-year blocks away. I had a good time there, I like the people, the food and their culture. I made lots of friends there to a point I almost didn't miss home. Only until I saw the Earth was missing, I realized how untrue that was.
"Don't panic," said the Oakrion spaceship captain.
"But this is the perfect time to panic!" I scurried around like chicken little under a falling sky, "Earth is missing. It's time to press the panic button. Where is the panic button? We must call the galaxy police! We must call the Search and Rescue!"
"Lunch time, don't panic," the Oakrion captain repeated nonchalantly.
"Earth is missing!" I told the captain. "We don't have time for lunch."
"Earth is missing!" I repeated to every crew member on the spaceship. Nobody seemed to be in any panic mode, I was the only one jumping around like a headless chicken.
"It's a perfectly normal phenomenon," the captain explained patiently. Meanwhile he took out an Oakrion Mystery Meatloaf from his lunch bag and asked me to joined him for lunch.
"I see it's your first time traveling in space," he said, cutting off a big piece of meatloaf to his plate. "Come, sit down. You must have lunch, if you want to see Earth soon."
I sat on the chair opposite to him, "What do you mean?"
"Have you heard of the Galactic Lunch Time Theorem by Dr. Bibble Jucie from PL31415?"
I shook my head.
"The theorem stated that every matter in the galaxy must obey the lunch time phenomenon. No matter what planet, what creatures, living or none-living must assign a specif space and time for lunch. Lunch is sacred and is a basic human right for all the living things in the galaxy. All works, entertainment, travel or physical reality must stop during lunch time."
"I still don't understand."
He pointed at the big screen. The screen zoom in to a sign on the moon. The sign said, "Earth is out for lunch, return soon."
"But earth is not a living thing," I protested.
"Everything is alive. How do you think the Earth get to run around the sun without eating lunch? It must go to lunch everyday."
"I never heard of it when I lived on Earth."
"Lunch time is a special time-space reality. Nobody will notice the time lost when Earth went to lunch and when she returns, everything goes on as usual."
"Is that so?"
"That is so."
So, we enjoyed lunch and sure enough Earth returned after lunch time.
TIL Earth also goes to lunch. | The Luscians were normally a loud, rambunctious lot, given to easy laughter, quick excitement, and warm effervescence. Now, they huddled together in small groups on the bridge of the starship, bracing themselves against the emotional tidal waves gushing out from the Earthling in the centre. Every sob, every whimper was a raking gash across their fragile psyches, unused as they were to the concept of sorrow.
It had been three hours since they discovered that the Earth had been destroyed, and still the Earthling grieved.
Finally, Captain Lenaforte approached the Earthling, and placed a webbed hand over his shoulder, in what he understood to be an Earthling gesture of sympathy. “We’re not sure if it will make you feel better, Jerry, but would you like to contact your family again?”
“What… what do you mean? Can’t you see for yourself? Earth is gone!”
Captain Lenaforte plunged ahead, hardly keen to rekindle the debate of whether Earth had truly been destroyed. So much time had been spent checking and re-checking the coordinates, making sure they were at the right place, and it had taken a herculean effort to get Jerry this far.
“Yes, it is, but as I told you, our technology allows us to convert energy into a form that can be transmitted faster than light. That’s what we used to travel here, and that can also allow you to exchange electronic signals across timezones.”
“You… you mean, like make a call to the past? Before the Earth was destroyed?”
“When you put it that way… I suppose so.”
Jerry took the device with trembling hands, then clutched it close to his chest. “How long? How long will I get to speak with them?”
“We spoke to Lunadrowe, and it appears that we were talking to her about four months before the Earth was destroyed.”
“Four months!” yelled Jerry, the anger returning to his voice. “But there’s so much to talk to them about! My parents, my brother, my friends… Sara, most of all, Sara! I have a lifetime I want to share with them, four months isn’t going to cut it!”
Captain Lenaforte sat next to Jerry in silence, soaking in all the ambient grief as stoically as he could. When he thought that Jerry was ready again, he said, “It depends on what you want to say, Jerry. You’ll have to trust that they already know what you want to say.”
“What about you? What did you tell Lunadrowe? She’s your daughter, for goodness sakes. Aren’t you even a little bit sad that she’s gone too?”
Briefly, a sharp pang jolted Captain Lenaforte, but he steeled himself, and the moment passed. Of course he was sad that his own daughter, Jerry’s counterpart on the exchange program the Luscians had with Earth, had perished as well. But Luscians had, after all, millennia of experience more than humans at dealing with loss, and they had picked up a lot along the way.
“We spoke too, just five minutes ago. I told her that it seemed that she had about four months to live, and I told her to make the most of it. She thanked me for all that I had done for her, I thanked her for being a wonderful daughter, then we ended the call.”
“That’s… impossible! I want more time, I need more time!”
Captain Lenaforte smiled. Jerry may have spent a year on their planet, learning their ways, but he had a long journey ahead before he would be fully immersed in their philosophies.
“Trust me, your loved ones have known you for long enough already. Together, you’ve laughed at the mirthful, wept at the somber, yearned for new beginnings, rued sunsets with a vengeance… but, and we’re rarely wrong about this, you’ve probably spent very little time thanking each other for being the experiences you are to each other. And that, that takes just a little time. Four months to say ‘thank you’, that is an eternity for those who never got the chance.”
He left Jerry then, and signalled for the other Luscians to give him space. Jerry would take some time still to process it all, but he recognised the calm settling across Jerry’s face, and he knew his words had found its mark.
---
/r/rarelyfunny | 2017-04-11T10:48:17 | 2017-04-11T10:01:37 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] The year is 2020. The first astronauts have landed on Mars. They find a cave with a single human skeleton and four words written on the wall. | EDIT: Good lord that blew up. I will see about maybe writing some more tonight.
-------------
"Hey guys," I said over the comms. "You're all going to want to come down here."
"What is it, now?" Jon's voice said in my ear. "Another pretty rock you want to show us?" I could almost see the bastard's smug face. No one on the team appreciates aesthetics. I tapped a button on my wrist to enable to my helmet's camera.
"Check my feed, Jon" I said.
Silence on the line, now.
A crack after a few seconds as Maureen came on the line.
"Jon, you still there?" she said. She was somewhere down in aquaponics without a monitor.
"I," Jon muttered. "Are you fucking with me, Trev?"
"I'm not," I said.
"Jesus, what is it now?" Maureen asked. "Hold on." There was a pause, and then, "Umm. Is that live?" She must have pulled up a monitor. I crouched down and turned my headlamp to maximum. The bleached skull before me lit up brighter under the beam.
"Yeah," I said.
"Jesus," said Jon.
"I'll get Bill, and meet you out there," Maureen said. "And don't touch anything till we get there."
"Yeah, yeah." I said. Me a mere theoretical physicist, the rest of the crew never trusted me. Fuck that.
"Sorry, what was that? Bad signal in here." I said and switched the off the comm.
"Don't try that with me," she said, overriding me from her end.
"Can't— at— epp—signal." I said and tapped the switch again.
"Damn it."
I tapped it again.
The skull was definitely human. How old, I had no idea, but it certainly didn't look new. I was no anthropologist, but how could you even age something on the surface of Mars? For that matter, how could whoever this poor guy was have decomposed in the first place? No oxygen, no microorganisms, practically no air at all. Way below freezing. But these bones were clean. White. Not a speck of flesh, or cloth, or anything.
I bent closer down toward the skull, nestled in the fine red dust of the cave floor. I dropped my fingers into dust below the skull, and brushed some aside, my fingertip hitting something hard. I reached a bit deeper down and found my hand resting on a ribcage. More handfuls of regolith thrown toward the cave wall and I unearthed—or is it 'un-Marsed'—way more than a simple skull. I wasn't near done, and more bones were protruding up from the ground, but it looked like I had a full skeleton here.
My breathing was up and I was fogging up my damn suit visor. I leaned on the cave wall opposite my discovery and slid into another crouch. Christ, what else was down here?
A new crackle on the comms.
"We're out the door. Two kilometers out," said Maureen.
"You better not have touched anything, Trevor."
Thanks Bill.
I flicked a reddish pebble from the dirt against the wall above the skull and something caught my eye.
Covered in dust I'd just been throwing around, but it looked like writing. I wiped my visor and got to my feet.
My heart thumped in my ears and my vision started to contract. Some little vital signs warning light came on in my HUD.
"You okay, Trevor?" Jon's voice on the comms. "Your vitals are lit up like a Christmas tree."
I brushed the loose dust from the wall and revealed four words, haphazardly scratched into the rock. Four words.
**Don't trust them, Trevor** | The wind howled against the Martian rock, blowing golf-ball sized rocks and waves of dust over the cave Martinez ducked into.
“About time,” Vasquez grumbled. “You almost got yourself killed collecting space rocks.”
Martinez joined the other four scientists huddled in the cave around an electric lantern and plopped down besides Vasquez. “But it was damn good space rock, sir!”
Vasquez chuckled. He was the commander of this team of scientists and Martinez the budget comic relief. They had gone to Mars in near secret by the resources of a private Mexican oil company. The owner was something of a patriot and wanted Mexico back on the map so he had poached as many top scientists as he could and put them on a spaceship that had somehow made it onto Mars in one piece.
“You guys ever been through a sandstorm before?” Vasquez asked.
The other three scientists shook their head, their lips parted in smiles. 54.6 million kilometers from home and they got to experience the full cacophonous glory of a sandstorm. It seemed strange that something like this could exist back on Earth when they had to travel to mars for the same experience.
“I bet you Dominique’s burst a vein right about now,” Martinez said. “She’s probably doing the whole manic Spanish mother act. *Puta! Chinchilla! Enchilada!*”
He got a few reluctant chuckles from two scientists and a glare from Vasquez. He turned toward his commander, “what? I’m an eight Costa Rican, I can say these types of things.”
“An *eighth*,” Vasquez said, rolling his eyes. “Dominique’s probably worried sick. We still can’t get the communication line going, damn dust storm.”
Martinez hopped up and turned on his flashlight. “Well, as long as we’re here, we might as well collect more space rocks. How deep do you think this cave goes?”
Vasquez reluctantly nodded. If they were going to be idle anyways, might as well be productive. He waved his finger in a circle and the two other scientists pushed themselves up, following the fading echo of Martinez’s footsteps.
---
“What the hell is this?” Vasquez hovered a single gloved finger over the skeleton, too scared to touch it. Its skull was encapsulated by a shattered glass dome and tattered white cloth clung to its ribcage. One of the pieces of cloth held the stars and stripes of the USA.
“Sir,” there was a tremble in Carlos’s voice. “Look at this.”
Vasquez looked up. Etched on the rock in faded blood read *don’t trust the friend*. He squinted at the words. If he could’ve, he would’ve been scratching his head.
“Don’t trust the friend? What the hell?” he muttered.
“I have a bad feeling,” Carlos said in stuttered breaths.
Vasquez swallowed his fear. It was the commander’s job to do so. “Where’s Martinez? We’re going to get him and get out of here as soon as the storm lets up.” He turned into the cave, his light splitting the abyss until it too was swallowed by the blackness. “Martinez!” he shouted. “Get back here, we’re leaving!”
No response. There wasn’t even the beam of light they had been following anymore.
“Sir?” Carlos said.
“Not now, Carlos.”
“But, sir. Where’s Alex?”
Vasquez turned and sure enough, there were only two astronauts present. “You gotta be shitting me. He probably ran off to find that idiot Martinez.” He did a full circle, illuminating the walls around them. Nothing. “Well, let’s head back for now, we’ll get the other two once the comm lines are back up.”
Nervous energy welled inside Vasquez’s stomach. None of this made sense. The corpse, the message, how they hadn’t even heard Alex take off or how Martinez just disappeared into nothing.
“Okay, keep close, Carlos.”
There was no response.
“Carlos?”
Vasquez did another full sweep. He was alone.
“What the fuck?” he turned again, swept the floors, the ceilings, everything, but there was no sign of the other scientists.
A footstep sounded in front of him and he jerked his light toward it, revealing familiar dust-stained boots. “Holy hell,” Vasquez panted, “it’s just you Martinez. Where the hell did the others go?” A drop of blood hit the boots. A breath caught in Vasquez's throat.
Slowly, he panned the light up.
It was Martinez, but now with a wide smile that revealed rows of razor teeth and blood leaking from his lips. He was no longer wearing his visor.
“We tried to stop you guys from coming here,” Martinez said, the humor gone from his voice, but his face in a static expression of glee. “We sabotaged your governments, bankrupted your companies, and still, one of you monkeys always finds a way.”
“Martinez… what the hell’s going on?”
Martinez just shrugged. “Congratulations commander, you’ve discovered life on Mars.” And all the lights went out.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!
| 2017-06-06T20:03:39 | 2017-06-06T19:47:48 | 1,368 | 181 |
[WP] A fleet of spaceships land on earth. Each filled with humans from 2.6 million years ago. They were more advanced than we ever knew, and a some fled earth to escape the coming ice age. They've travelled the galaxies, failing to find a new home. Now they're back to claim their planet... | It was three fucking am, I hadn't had my coffee, there were dark circles under my eyes, and my hair was doing its best impression of a wild berry bush.
The three of us were standing in a small room, that looked like a classroom. There was a short, blond guy who I'd never seen before, and Lauren was there too. I'd known Lauren for years. She was tall, dark skinned, with hair that barely fell past her ears. We both went to college together and stayed in touch after. Even though she lived hours away from me, we still shared findings and collaborated on our work.
Just two hours or so ago I'd received a call from a "blocked number." It being three am, I hung up, muted my phone and went back to sleep.
Five minutes later someone knocked on the door.
I groaned and wrapped a sheet around myself. I hit a couple of walls and tripped on a fluffy white slipper, but I managed to turn on the lights and make it to the door.
There was a guy built like a roman statue outside the door, wearing a jet black suit and sunglasses. I wished for a moment that I didn't look like a train wreck, but what the hell did he expect waking me up at this godforsaken hour?
"May I help you?" I asked. I wasn't worried about this being a criminal or anything because my NASA salary let me afford a modern apartment in a pretty safe area.
"Juliet Lassiter?" the man asked, his face expressionless.
"That's me," I said and rubbed my right eye.
He flashed me a badge and photo ID, apparently he was Agent Brock of the secret service. Then he dug out a phone from his pocket and held it out to me. Someone was already on the line.
"Ms. Lassiter," said the fucking *President of the United States*, "I'm sorry to wake you at this hour but we need your presence in Washington, right now. Agent Brock will escort you to a private jet."
And here I was.
"Love what you've done with the hair," Lauren said with a smirk, and I flipped her off.
"At least I have hair like a girl should have," and whipped my long, blond hair to reinforce the point. This drew a bark of laughter from Lauren.
The poor guy looked back and forth between us, at a loss for what to say. Or maybe he was still in a sleepy haze, honestly I couldn't blame him. Lauren and I were just giving each other a hard time, because were scared. The president doesn't put you on a flight in the middle of the night and gathers you in Washington DC to serve cookies.
As if one cue the door opened and the even more disheveled looking president walked in, flanked by a couple of crisp secret service agents.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, "I will let you draw your own conclusions first."
With that he handed each of us a thin file. I massaged my temples and opened the file titled simply "First Contact."
Fuck me.
The first page was just telemetry data from telescopes and satellites. The data matched perfectly across all the instruments. There was certainly a large perfect sphere heading towards the planet, and it was *slowing down.* It was near Mars at the moment, going at a hundred times the speed of Voyager, the fastest thing humans had built.
The next page had the transmission they had sent us.
The message was short and direct, and was apparently not translated. They had sent us a message in concise, but perfect English.
"Left 3 million solar cycles ago to escape ice age. Didn't find habitable planet in Milky way or Andromeda. Give us back our planet."
"Um," I said. That seemed like the only appropriate response.
"Oh my god," the guy next to me breathed. "This is why you've brought us here?"
I rolled my eyes. No you dolt, he brought us for the cookies.
"This is bullshit," Lauren said.
"What?" the guy said, "no this data is perfectly legitimate, there is no question that a craft is heading towards us. And the message originates from the ship, it's not bullshit."
"No, she means the message," I said, realization dawning. This lack of sleep was really getting to me. The flaws were obvious, really.
"What?" the guy said again. Seemed like that was his go to word.
"Exactly," Lauren said, and the president frowned.
"Explain please," he said.
Lauren nodded towards me, and I began to talk. Lauren was a genius, far smarter than I was, but wasn't quite good with words.
"Mr. President, with all due respect, think about this-"
"Please," the president said, "feel free to call me a total idiot if it gets you closer to solving this problem."
I nodded and barreled ahead. "If you had the technology to be able to actively look for planets in the galaxy in a generation ship wouldn't you easily be able to stay on the planet? Even a really, really cold Earth is far more habitable than space." The president nodded and gestured for me to go on. "It makes no sense to send their entire species in that ship, they would have kept some of them around on Earth. And if they were that advanced back then, no way in hell we would be the dominant species on this planet right now."
"And, uh, the Drake Equation, you know?" Lauren said. She was witty enough to insult my hair, but in pressured situations, her brain didn't translate well to her mouth.
But she was right nonetheless. "And, Mr. President, if we had the ability for interstellar travel *we* could have found a habitable planet in our local cluster of stars, there's no way they didn't find one in two *galaxies.*
"So, you're suggesting they're lying to us?" the President said.
"Not suggesting sir," I said, "*telling*."
***
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| **A Tribe Called Hominini: Part 1**
*Homo Errans*
I only know my homeland through hand-me-down stories, their details lost to time. Our history is tatters of an old dying woman's memory, but the legacy burns within all of us: a distant but undying heat that draws us even from so many moons and miles away.
The last of our living elders, Baba Zora, says we were born in the beautiful green belly of a world full of light, breathable air, running water. She says we conquered our corner of the world, but some greater foe appeared, descending from the stars themselves. At first we thought they were gods, until they turned their spears and guns on us.
But that was so many generations ago. Millions of years since our people defeated a small infantry of the invaders, stole their technology and ships, and escaped to the stars before the greater army could obliterate them all. Then they sailed away, abandoning the land of our origins to an eternity of wandering the stars, desperate for a new home with enough an atmosphere for our little lungs to exist upon.
And here we are, to this day. Doomed to roaming.
I was born on this ship as we passed Vortai's third moon. Though I can pull it up on the ship's vast and ever-expanding index of the universe, this means nothing to me. Vortai is only a tiny blue sphere, its third moon a speck of dust orbiting lazily by. I am a creature of nowhere, wandering between worlds, scrounging for enough scraps to stay alive.
For the twenty-five long years of my existence, our armada of mismatching ships--collected here and there as opportunity and cunning provided them to us--has pressed relentlessly forward, scouring the abyss for someplace kind enough to our particular sort of life. I am not sure what we will do if we ever find it. My people know only a few trades: scavenging, stealing, burning bridges. We are not good with setting down roots, even in a place we might have once called home.
It is my shift in the crow's nest. This particular ship, pilfered from a star system weakened by civil war, has a small cubby on its top deck with an immense telescope, tall as three men. We take five hour shifts carefully scanning the horizon in all directions. Below deck, another telescopic, another bored human in a bulky spacesuit, does the same. Our search feels akin to hunting for a key you dropped into an ocean half a lifetime ago, only you can't remember what ocean it was or what galaxy or even quite what the key looked like.
I pan the telescope further right, internally raging against the futility of this, when I see something there in the outer dark, so small I almost miss it. I zoom the telescope out and press my visor to the screen, trying to be certain of what I see.
There stands the first sign of home: within the swirling arms of a nearby galaxy hangs a pale blue dot, suspended in the darkness.
I bolt out of the crow's nest yelling for someone to wake the captain.
***
Captain Okit summons me to the council chamber. A forbidden room. My mother once belted me when she caught me playing in here, drawn by the wall of gleaming screens. Now those screens are lit up, filled with the faces of nine grim-faced humans who I only vaugely recognize from pictures. The captains of our other ships.
I look from them to Captain Okit, baffled. She has apparently just leapt out of bed, a scarf covered in greenish Cirran daisies covering her wild bedhead. A few other captains are in similar states of disarray. Suddenly the ten most powerful people in my entire nation stare at me, expectantly. And I have no idea what to say.
"You," Okit said. "Tell them what you saw."
"In the fourty-fourth quadrant of section 23000-7BKJ78 of our map of the universe," I rattle, arming myself in cartographer's jargon, "I observed a spiral galaxy, and within it a small blue planet which seems to be Earth. It--"
"What actual evidence," snapped one of the captains, a hawk-eyed old man who looked cosmically enraged that I was the reason he was dragged out of bed, "beyond it being *blue* do you have?"
"It matches Baba Zora's stories."
"Baba Zora is mad," he said.
"You shut your damn mouth," Okit hissed at him before I could think of what to say. "Zora is keeper of our history. You *will* respect her, Kafa."
"Myth and failing memory are very different from history, okay, Okie?" Kafa clicked his tongue at her in a way that instantly brought the color to her cheeks. "Not all of us are trapped in the dark ages."
Okit began to snarl a reply.
One of the other faces on the screen cut her off. "Honorable captains, we are not in the discussion portion of our meeting. We still have a civilian present."
Okit waved her hand at me as if just remembering I was there. "Thank you, Cata. You can go."
I closed the door as the room exploded into debate once more.
***
It takes four hours for the captains to reach a decision. I sit in the mess hall, feeling dizzy with anxiety. This part of the ship is pressurized and pumped full of recycled air, giving me a reprieve from my suit. I palm my hair out of my eyes and swirl my oatmeal around, trying not to think of all the little ways that I could have been wrong. All the new powerful enemies I might have made among the captains if this pale blue dot was just as big a disappointment as others.
The ship's intercoms ping. I lift my head as Okit's voice echoes throughout the near-empty dining hall. It is still early. Most of my fellow humans are sleeping. They wake to Okit booming out in the early morning, "Fleet changing course. Setting sights on prospective Earth. Preparing for hyperspace travel in ten minutes. Please secure yourselves appropriately."
I ditch my oatmeal and run for my room. It is the size of a closet, just large enough for a cot, a little cupboard of personal items, my space suit, and an emergency seat with heavy chest straps. It's meant to hold my breakable little body down if the ship is ever under attack or about to overtake the speed of light.
Stumbling and swearing, I wrestle on my space suit and oxygen mask. It's a heavy, sweaty hassle, but after our last jump through space-time knocked out the air-recycling system for nearly fifteen minutes, it has become a necessary precaution.
I bolt myself into the chair as the countdown begins. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the headrest, waiting for the ship to roar forward, slipping through a shortcut in space itself.
I pray home is waiting for us on the other side.
***
/r/shoringupfragments
Continued below! I will update with Part 4 in my subreddit in the next couple of days. :)
[Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/76jmip/wp_a_fleet_of_spaceships_land_on_earth_each/doerflj/) and [Part Three](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/76jmip/wp_a_fleet_of_spaceships_land_on_earth_each/dofjses/) | 2017-10-15T10:31:35 | 2017-10-15T10:16:57 | 516 | 154 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice; the first time is when they pass away, and the second time is when they're forgotten. You're the True Reaper, and today, you've reaped someone who hasn't passed through your little brother, the Grim Reaper. | For the first time, the whiskey swayed in my hand. It's aftertaste long since settled in the back of my mouth, and the bottle rolled in the gloom like an empty skull. Silent tears and countless questions I never dared to ask replaced the itching void I felt inside. I travelled inside my mind, and found horrors and holes I didn't want to remind.
It didn't take me long to understand. This was what those pensive stares of the mortals concealed: a flawed man struggling to answers questions he should never ask, while holding the weight of a chaotic world on his back.
Earlier that day, I had reaped the soul of a man who had been forgotten, but who hadn't died. An anomaly. Something that shouldn't be possible.
He was old and lonely. The outer world had long since lost meaning to him. That's why every night, sip by sip, he drowned in his flaws instead.
It hadn't always been like that. In the past, the silence had been filled with the laughter of his children, and the smile of her wife had kept the shadows away. What had changed? That was the question he had struggled to unravel until the end of his days.
Since they had gone, the man had lost himself in his mind, searching for an answer he would never find. For the answer had lay in his hand, and he had long since gone blind.
In the end, broken shards had gleamed in the dark. His breaths had disturbed the perfect silence, and I had been witness of a man who in his persistence had forgotten his existence.
I took a deep breath, and left my glass on the table. The whiskey rippled inside.
Some things are better left aside.
---------------------------------------------------
/r/therobertfall - For more stories!
| In all my existence, I had never seen such loneliness. Nor such self-sufficiency.
The gentleman I had come to reap lived beyond off-grid. There were no other communities around for at least a thousand square miles, and there was no road leading to his compound. A strong, fast-flowing river weaved behind a small house that I assumed was his main living quarters, and several outbuildings speckled a landscape of crop fields ranging from corn to potatoes to blueberries.
I approached the front porch of the small house and could see there a well-worn rocking chair, a collapsible camp table with some carving tools and wood shavings upon it, and a rugged mat at the foot of the front door that said nothing, had only the faded image of a sunset.
I could hear no signs of industry, only the wind in the trees, the muted roar of the river, and the call of birds echoing against the far off mountainside. I stood for a time, waiting patiently, but eventually grew tired and took to the rocking chair. I rocked slowly back and forth, enjoying the rhythmic creaking of the wood as it rolled across the planks of the porch. After a while, I was beginning to forget why I had come, and then I heard a distant whistling, a happy tune that suggested a long days work finally completed.
I am not completely sure why, but even as I heard the crunching of footsteps on the gravel path beyond the porch I still did not rise from the rocking chair. I continued to move, slowly back and forth, waiting expectantly for my reaping to come around the corner, that all too familiar look of dismay crawling across a once smiling and happy face.
What most don’t understand is that after you have met my brother, the Grim Reaper, you do not leave this plane. You remain as a shadow, and you continue to walk among the living but can not be seen by them. You still exist, however, it is merely as a whisper, a playful breeze, a trick of the light... A memory. When the last knowledge of you is finally snuffed out of the hearts and minds of the living, it is then that I come for you, to send you to the next plane.
When finally a man came around the corner of the house and saw me seated there, he was neither shocked nor surprised, and he did not even stop walking. He took the steps to the porch with a calm smile upon his face and came to stand at my side, staring out at the valley beyond the fields, taking in the view of serenity that had been my distraction for the last hour or more.
“Sure is lovely, isn’t it,” he remarked.
I studied the man, he was old but still spry. His hair was white but his skin was young. His hands were strong and worn but his body was slight and fit.
This was no whisper, no breeze, no shadow. This was a living man. A man who had not yet met my brother. A man who had been completely forgotten by the world, and could not be happier about it.
I decided to stay a while.
He obliged me. | 2018-05-12T16:17:09 | 2018-05-12T16:00:41 | 80 | 15 |
[WP] The Universe™ has just run out of free trial meaning we are being downgraded from Universe™ pro to Universe™ lite. | It all happened so quickly. The darkness became darker. Nebulae, Galaxies, Stars, everything just disappeared. Our Sun was lucky. All planets excluding Mars and Earth were not.
All wars immediately ceased. Every Nation focused all of their efforts on figuring out just why the hell everything disappeared. Research of the stars increased tenfold, simply because we could focus our efforts on the few that remained.
Mankind experienced a Golden Age for the first few decades. We accepted what had happened, and focused our efforts closer to home. Everything was good.
Until the first Parcel.
A monolithic structure, over 15,000 feet tall, and twice as wide appeared over the Atlantic. Completely flat and rectangular, except for a disc carved into one face, like a button.
It took 6 months for any scientist to deduce what to do with it. It was scanned with every technology we had. Teams were sent across every inch of the thing. Projectiles of all size and caliber were fired at it. Nobody knew how to operate it.
One scientist was at his wit's end, driven mad by the endless dead ends.
He walked into the disc with a pistol and a bullet in hand.
As he hit the ground, there was a low rumble. The disc rotated, and the top half of the structure opened.
A voice rang out from within,
"Congratulations, humanity. You have unlocked GNC-1164. A new box will be on its way soon! To open it, follow the same procedure as you did with this one! Soon you'll unlock all of the locked content for The Universe™️.
You might find this unfair, but we wanted to give you a sense of pride and accomplishment." | I remember the day that it happened like it was yesterday. Hell, it could have been yesterday for all I know, time doesn't seem to exist or matter anymore. The sun neither rises nor sets, just hangs in its default position overhead.
It was just like any other day, I had come home from a long day at work, and resigned myself to my usual groove on the couch. I flicked the TV on, not that I had anything in particular to watch, just the noise to drown my own thoughts out. As another infomercial selling gaudy jewelry to senile citizens came on I decided it was time to numb with a few beers.
I got up and went to the fridge, just like any other time I had in the past, this however, is where my, and everyone else's world, changed in a flash. A bright light raced through the world, the open beer held in my hand fell unexpectedly to the floor. No expected shattering of glass, no pooling of spilled liquid, just a dull thud as it hit the floor. I bent down to pick it up and realized quickly that it was now square in shape, no curves, no smooth texture, just squared edges and a lack of sense of touch.
Then I slowly began to realize in my horror that I couldn't pick it up if I wanted to, my hands had disappeared, and in their place were simple square arms that ended resolutely in a square nub. As I glanced around my apartment I saw that all textures had disappeared and in their place smooth cubes seemed to replace them. My TV was now merely a crude colored square situated across from my now blocky couch.
I could hear a cacophony of screams emanating from the streets below, and yet no sirens, no bright flashing lights, nothing even remotely close to what we thought was the fundamental principle of electricity in our world.
I had to get outside, I had to see what was going on. As I approached my door I slowly realized with a sickening dread that I could not even open my own door, neither was their a knob nor a pair of hands in my possession with which to operate it had their been one. As I screamed in anguish I punched the door, again and again, and much to my surprise on the third hit the door just seemed to fall apart. No splinters, no visible damage, just instantaneously on the third hit it dissolved into what could only be described as a shower of pixels.
Booming throughout the universe came a voice stating that " Your free trial of Life pro has ended, please purchase the full version to continue your previous experience."
Life isn't really so bad now, I have my tree punching job to look forward to, and I still have all my friends, although we only resemble what we once were in the vaguest of sense. Man do I ever miss bacon...and the simple pleasure of taking a shit. But hey, at least I get to play with my wood everyday...
| 2018-05-28T09:23:40 | 2018-05-28T08:11:13 | 84 | 29 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world. | People rush past me, breathless in their terror. My boots thunk on the metal floor as I pass them. Most would think i’m crazy, because who in their right mind would walk into a basement haunted by a ticking time bomb? But ever since the great turkey crisis of 2006 I’ve discovered that my abilities extend past the mundane... into the extraordinary.
I reach for the thick iron door, electricity sparking over my fingertips - most likely due to the stress of hosting such a volatile visitor. As I swing it open I am greeted with a spaghetti tangle of wires. I brush them away with impatience, and I focus my attention on the deceptively benign-looking metal box nestled between two large copper panels.
The bomb features a tiny LED screen that is ticking down before my very eyes. It never ceases to amaze me, how these shining boxes alter lives so drastically - but that’s why I’m here.
01:02,
plenty of time.
I shrug off my backpack, pulling out a little button that was repurposed from a childhood microwave - a device that taught me more than I ever hoped to know.
00:49
I set to work wiring the button to the bomb, double checking to make sure each wire is in place.
00:22
Almost done...
00:19
Boom. Perfection.
I sit back, wiping the sweat off my brow. Any second now... (no pun intended).
At precisely 00:03 my hand flies forward, firmly pressing the button I had wired in; the button that read
STOP
in bold smallcaps.
At 00:01 the bomb is frozen.
I always enjoyed catching the microwave before the timer went off. | I was told I was blessed with a green thumb, when I was the only kid in my preschool who didnt kill their plant. This made my grandpa very happy.
Grandpa was a man I loathed in my younger years, someone who always smelled of cigars and hands where always covered in dirt, even after washing up for supper time. From as early as I could remember my grandpa had a vegtible garden and every sunday we'd eat fresh vegetables from the garden, along with some meat from the deep freeze or that my uncle had caught the previous day.
When I was old enough to pick up a trow, I found myself spending time in that garden, tilling, planting, and helping the garden grow. I didn't know that my time in that place I loathed would ever amount to anything later in life. My grandpa's garden would thrive every year until the summer I spent with my aunt and her two boys down at their lake house.
Grandpa said that the haul wouldn't be as good in the years past, there would be less to sell and he was glad when I returned.
Again the garden florished, with my sun soaked skin back in the field. We even expanded it, taking over most of the back yard, excluding grandma's flowers which where thriving as well. I was really convinced at this point that my presence helped the garden grow, that this was my mundane blessing.
That was till grandpa fell ill, the years of smoking taking to his lungs, leaving him unable to tend to the garden, grandma was there, but only able to water it. I visited him over a long weekend and saw the state of the garden I had revived not a few years ago. It was then that my blessing was really shown to me for the garden with watering alone had survived.
I switched to online classes to finish my bachelor's, and took my uncles childhood room at the house, bringing the garden back and better then ever, some of the plants in the newer addition where noticablly thriving compared to the old plot, the only difference was I was the one who planted those seeds. I took some seeds at the end of the harvest and put them on the planter outside my window. Oddly enough I knew where to plant them to make them grow to thier full potential.
Switching my degree was the smartest move of my life, with grandpa's passing I was left with a trust fund to pay my way through school and give me the knowledge that I now desired. I increased my plant knowledge 100 fold and began to make my own seeds, getting a grant and then a lab of my own, knowing exactly which batches would thrive and be reproduced, until I had super seeds that could survive in the harshest conditions and the most bountiful harvests. With that, came the riches and the glory.
Grandpa's love for gardening wore off on me and much to my surprise,my favor wasnt a green thumb, but a knack for plant perfection. | 2018-06-30T16:09:28 | 2018-06-30T13:56:55 | 865 | 173 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world. | I used to find my gift difficult. Whenever we were reading in class, or even when I read back my own work, there it was glaring at me. I used to ignore it as best I could because no one liked when I mentioned what I saw. People would be angry at me for trying to correct them. That is, until I started learning to code. My code was always perfect after a single review, it compiled and ran beautifully. I studied Computer Science at university for a level of credibility but I found it so much easier than my classmates who would get immeasurably frustrated with their assignments. My popularity soared after I started helping them check and correct their work.
After graduating university with the top score of my year, I easily got into a very high paying job. All the interacting with others I had done at university did great things for my social skills and I found myself being well-known, well-liked and successful. Starting my own business was clearly the next step. Giving my work over to others to complete was difficult as I knew it would be much slower for them, but I just completed all the final checks of work before it went out.
You see, my gift is spotting errors in written languages.
\[At most times in history I figure this would have been virtually useless, but these days very useful!\] | I don't sleep. Not much anyway. I *can* sleep, and do so about every other week, but I don't need to. The doctors think I somehow mimic the dolphins, letting half my brain get good naps at a time.
And it suits me fine. It means i get a lot of time on my hands, most of wich I use unproductivly and some of wich i use to work. By unproductive I don't mean doing drugs and stuff, just, you know. Working out, reading, seeing movies and trying to get laid. That last one is a tricky one, but not for the reasons you'd think.
It's the same reason as to why it was so damn hard for me to keep an honest job. The only job I was able to keep for the longest time was a night time janitorial at a hospital. And I tried everything.
I actually have a degree in economics, and after graduating I went though quite a few desk-jobs. And I did good work, that was never the issue.
After the desk job failures, I did stints of construction and other manual labour, and oh man. That... would seem unsafe for everyone. It would at least be expensive. Impecable work mind you, thats still not the issue. In a sort of last effort, i tried myself as a night-club bouncer. Long story short, after dropping a bucket of ice on the floor and slipping in myself and making a spectacle, a serius looking man asked me if that was intentional. He clearly just saw me distract and spook a goon from assailing his client at the opurtune moment.
That's essentialy how I ended up as a presidential-level bodyguard. I always thought i was just a bit clumsy, probably related to an irregular sleep patern. All my jobs lost because I took a *slightly* to sharp turn with a fully loaded dozer, or happened to spill a bottle of printer ink on the backup-server. It always felt like plenty of bad stuff happened to me, but it never occured to me that I never had seen an outbreak of violence or mayhem. Never ran into a tagger at night.
I.. react(?) to ill intent, haphazardly creating a scene or distraction, or appearantly incidentially create a wall or tip a building, to distract or block induviduals set out to knowlingly hurt or other abuse others. No one really gets hurt around me. Ever. | 2018-06-30T15:56:32 | 2018-06-30T15:08:15 | 263 | 129 |
[WP] After 50 years of waiting in solitude at the Pearly Gates, a surprised angel walks up to you and says, "We're closed, dude." | They painted angels as shining, winged creatures of endless grandeur, bearers of purity and untainted souls. However, what I witnessed was nothing but a teenager with reddened eyes, dark bags under his eyes, and dressed in a dirty tunic.
"We're closed dude," the angel had said, and squinted his eyes as the blunt creaked between his lips. "Want some? You look like you need a hit or two."
I had waited in solitude for too long only to be told with such simplicity Heaven was closed, and so I frowned and stood up, bones popping. "What do you mean you are closed?"
The angel smirked and nodded. "Ye dude, we closed. Isn't it amazing?"
"Bu-but why?" I said. "This doesn't make any sense. I spent a lifetime doing good, helping others, resisting temptations. I belong here!"
"A good man," the angel said, giggled, and put his arm in my shoulder. The smoke of his joint billowed right in my face. "The problem is that things are not as we believe. Heaven was never meant to pure souls. Those are strange lies mortals created and believed. Heaven was truly meant for party souls."
"Party souls? Is this a joke?" I said, and flung his arm away from my should. "Are you telling me I wasted my life, that I lived it the wrong way for nothing? Are you telling me that salvation belongs to those who love to party?"
"Yes, and to those who knows their stuff when it comes to drugs," the angel said, and sighed. "I feel you, dude. You have dedicated your life to a lie, but honestly what did you think paradise was if not a place were you can spend all the time tripping without dying?"
He was right. In a strange, twisted way… he was right. There was joy in helping others, but resisting temptations always felt wrong. Why would something I wanted be wrong? Why would going out, partying and getting married with someone you loved be wrong? How could I be so blind?
"What now?" I said as tears begun cascading down my eyes. "Can I join the party?"
The angel shrugged. "I guess, want a hit?"
I snatched the joint out of his hand, gave it one long, deep hit, and coughed my soul away. "Why did you close?"
"We didn't," the angel said and all of a sudden a shining armor replaced its tunic, pearl-white wings sprouted from his back, and his face changed to something I could only describe as harmony. "You smoked the devil's grass. You failed your last test. He will soon guide you to Hell."
"So be it," I said and felt my eyes squinting. "It's time to embrace the sins. It's time to truly live." | "We're closed, dude. Didn't you get the memo?"
"Did I get the—No! I did not get the memo! I didn't get a Goddamn anything!"
"Whoa, dude, watch the language, this is still heaven."
"And I'd like to speak to Him! He's in charge around here isn't he?"
"You really didn't get the memo, did you?"
"What was this memo?!"
"Here, I got a copy here. If you can chill for a second you can see what's going on."
The Adonis of an angel whipped his hair back, blonde and wavy like the waves he must have surfed in his days on Earth. He reached under his robe after and pulled out a scroll. It was sealed with a red stamp and a gothic font reading: New Management, Bitches.
Jan grabbed the scroll and tore it open.
"Oh man, that shouldn't be sealed. Unless." The angel rummaged around his robe again and pulled out another scroll. This one was already torn. "Oh, Dude, that one must have been yours."
Jan's eyes said all that was needed. When the angel didn't burst into nothing, Jan averted his eyes down to the paper. The letters were written in red and black, alternating each paragraph. It was a sight for sore eyes. It read:
"Dearest Dears,
After many longs years of battle, a final showdown finally happened. The ultimate decision. After an absolute grueling hour of T-Ball, God's great power (or lack thereof) was finally shown. Oh, how sweet it was.
Can you imagine? The being of all creation, the mightiest of the might, grace of the graceless, showed his one true mistake. Creating a being even mightier than himself. Me.
After a disappointing triple run, He left the field open, the opportunity for me to continue my stream of home runs, all the way home! Yes, all the way! Angels and demons alike, the day has come! I'm taking over management of heaven! Yes, yours truly! Oh, happy days!
No longer will you have to subdue yourself to the list of rules and... morals. Oh, how I hate that word. Now you can free yourself from the shackles, jump into the boundless freedom of... whatever you want. It's all open! Open for all, open to do all! Can't get enough of that sugar crisp? Have a machine that feeds you endlessly. ODed on that sweet black tar heroin? How about sticking yourself with an IV full of it?!
Yes, the great days are ahead of us. And we can look back... no, we won't look back. It's time He got a taste of his own medicine. Today, is the first day of the first year. From now on, this shall be 1 LIT, Life Incredibly-Tastic! Horray!
Yours Truly,
Your Lord and Ruler,
Satan."
"Huh," hummed Jan. "This is really happening?"
"Yep, they'll all thrilled about it."
"Really?"
"No, dude. Everyone in there isn't allowed to go. Only God's trusted angels are going with him. Apparently, there's a planet spawning some single-celled creatures. God's looking for a fresh start."
"So what about me? I'm not in there."
"I dunno, dude. Guess you can come with me. That cool?"
"That's cool."
"Cool."
They left the Pearly Gates and Jan looked back with a certain fondness. After 50 years, you grow attached to places, even places of despair. It doesn't matter if your life was on hold, even in the afterlife, a place becomes part of you—a piece of identity. Jan watched, as the rails of gold turned black. The puffs of clouds surrounding turned thunderous. Far off, the glistening empire dulled. Management had changed. It was time for a change. After 50 years, Jan finally moved on. | 2018-07-06T18:41:30 | 2018-07-06T16:08:04 | 135 | 72 |
[WP]Sometimes children get born with weird diseases like vampirism or lycantrophy. The effects of these uncurable illnesses only get detectable when the kid is around 8 years old. Many parents then abandon their child. You run an orphanage for these children. | "Jakob stop trying to bite Lisa and Lisa stop bothering Jakob, you two know well enough how to behave."
The situation developing right in front of me had something in common with a circus show. Someone without knowledge of the nature of this place, would see a hairy wolf like creature trying to poke a bat with a stick.
I have been running this place for 2 years now. If you told me this three years ago I would scoff at the thought.
Somehow humanity evolved, well not really evolve, more like some repressed genes resurfaced. The legends of monsters, vampires, werewolves and even zombies turned out to be based upon reality. The traits returned and usually surfaced around the age of 8. Children grew hair at full moon, grew fangs or their heart just stopped, even though they didn't.
It was quite the epidemic back then. People were scared of their children, the church called it a sign of God, a punishment and pretty soon it became a taboo.
People with affected children were seen as lesser and high society looked down upon those who were afflicted, parent and child alike.
Eleven years ago my son was born, he was so perfect. My parents were proud, they had a grandson.
Their pride came from the wrong place though. It had to do with the continuation of their bloodline. Growing up in such a place, made me proud. I was better than most, I was blue blooded.
But I wasn't enough for them, a woman could never be as important as a son to them, since women were seen as lesser. The reason for this is that women were most likely to show the repressed symptoms. One in three females showed signs. Only one in fifty males.
So a grandson was perfect, he could never be affected and I was proud. I had good genes, _their_ genes.
Life was good, my husband was proud as well. When my son's eight birthday came around, we were nervous. Everyone was, but nothing happened. No signs at all. We were overjoyed, our family's bloodlines would continue pure.
My sons ninth birthday came around and that morning I heard a scream. He was crying in his room and I asked him what was wrong. He looked at me tears streaming down his face and then pointed to the mirror. I looked and didn't see anything wrong.
I mean, it was just a mirror, I turned to my son who stood crying besides me and he pointed again and then it clicked. I could only see me, I couldn't see him. I panicked. My perfect life ruined because of him. No not him, he can't help it. He was born like that.
I heard a cough and turned around. My husband looked confused and then looked at my son, our son. Then started sobbing.
Breaking the news to my parents was hard. My father screamed at me, I was afraid he would pop a vein. I took the most of it. My mother said nothing the entire time, until my dad stopped.
She looked at me and just said: "Well just kill this thing and make an actual child."
I walked out without a word. I was shamed, humiliated, humbled. This thing was my son, my child and he is perfect. Screw my family's bloodline.
My husband and I discussed our future and how to deal with this. We realised that we were not the only parents to go through this, but we also realised that some children do go through this alone. So we opened our house to them.
We had money, old money. Enough of it.
So two years later here we are. We currently have 7 children in our care. And could give them the help they needed and the schooling they want.
These childrens might not be perfect, they might look like the monsters of old, but the true monsters are those that abandon these children.
"Miss Sky? My arm fell off again."
I looked down and there was little Suzy, holding her arm. She was an early bloomer. Her signs showed at only 5 years old. She was undead and just pure sunshine, I grabbed the needle an thread from my skirt.
"Allright Suzy let's make sure that that doesn't happen again"
I looked up and my husband was playing soccer with some of the older kids. They were home for the holidays. He was actually pretty good, but couldn't keep up with the speed and strength of the werewolves.
Tomorrow our larger orphanage opens. We can't adopt all of them, but we can help them. Perfection doesn't exist in genes, but life is pretty perfect right now.
| Deepview Manor, hidden in the woods and overlooking Deepview Lake itself, was not somewhere most people would venture. The master of the house was Mr. Black, a tall and imposing man, rarely seen but with a reputation suitable for his work.
Micah was aware of this. His mother had told him about Mr. Black, kept tabs, written notes, and told him to go to Deepview Manor if anything should happen to her. Supposedly, the man was his own uncle. But if so, why had they never met?
Mr. Black, it was said, adopted those in need. One girl was said to have been homeless, and pariah for an ability to never be touched by flames. Of course, the rumors also said that girl followed around a boy who had inherited the Copperbright family's demon-derived pyromancy and was always aflame. Another girl, they said, had been abused by her grandmother for her ability to control water, and so Mr. Black had.... slain the old woman, answered the girl's prayers, and adopted her as a sister of the fireproof girl.
But, Micah worried, what kind of man killed to save? Would his Uncle be cruel? Would the other children be cruel as he was? How could someone with an ability like Micah's be accepted there? True, he wasn't the best behaved teenager in the world, he swore like a sailor, but his bedside manner was flawless right? With mother dead, surely Mr. Black wouldn't turn him down, right? Right?
The door of the manor was large and painted bright red, with a gold wolf's head knocker on it. Cautiously, terrified, Micah knocked it three times. A woman's voice, surprisingly, was what called out to him, "Coming, coming, just a moment please!"
Micah took his mother's pointed hat off his head and wrung it in his hands fretfully, swearing violently under his breath at himself for being so nervous. He glanced up at the aging manor's white walls, wincing when he saw the shadow of a man in an upper story window. Before he could decide to back out, the door was opened by a shockingly frumpy older woman, her graying hair twisted under a dumpy cap, flour handprints on her apron. Two children- one a boy with short brassy hair and tanned skin tinged gray, the other a tiny little girl who,for a moment, just a moment, Micah could swear had been a mouse at the woman's feet- peeked out from behind the woman.
"Hello, hello! My name is Libby, what's yours dear? Come in, come in, don't stand there fretting boy! How can we help you?" The words came out of the woman's mouth so fast that Micah stared at her in surprise for a moment, before sputtering out an apology and his name. He stepped into the mudroom, taking his boots off politely as he went.
"I, I'm sorry, I was here to see someone. My mother told me to come here if she died, so I did."
Miss Libby clucked her tongue and led him to the kitchen, listening intently. "If you're here to see Master Black, he's upstairs. He can help you, depending on what you need."
Micah hesitated. "Well, I, that is to say I think I need a hom-" he started, but a thud followed by the little mouse girl's wails interrupted him. She sat on the floor of the kitchen, hugging her bleeding knee and wailing while the brown-haired boy stood emotionlessly and awkwardly over her.
"Oh, Serenity, poor baby, did you fall? Celestine, please do something other than standing there," Miss Libby chastised gently. She was wiping her hands on her apron again when Micah stopped her.
"I can help," he offered, pleading at her with his pale green eyes. "Please, allow me."
He crouched over the little mouse girl- Serenity, was that her name?- and lay his hands over her knee. Soft, even lavender light emanated from his hands, and when he pulled them away, her knee was healed. Serenity, thankful as she was, threw her arms around his neck. He patted her awkwardly, freezing when a man's voice spoke up behind him.
"So, you're a healer. Micah, was it?"
He stood hurriedly, clutching his hat again. Two men stood next to Miss Libby now- one clearly a wizard, his staff strapped to his back, the other presumably Mr. Black. Mr. Black had skin the color of charcoal smeared across paper, and thick black hair streaked with white. His eyes, though, were the same sage green as Micah himself had.
Micah touched a curl of strawberry-blonde hair on his own head and said, awkwardly, "Yes. My mother, Magenta Black, she told me to come see you if she passed. She taught me all of her clerical skills. She said we're.... she said you're my uncle, and you'll help me. Can you? Just for a short time, I won't be a damn bother and-"
Mr. Black cut him off gently, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. "Any family is welcome family, Micah. We're all a little bit different here, but I'll try and make sure you feel like you belong. My partner and I are glad to welcome you," he said softly. The wizard behind him smiled warmly.
Micah put his hand over Mr. Black's and nodded weakly. "Thank you, sir. I promise I won't be a burden."
Mr. Black smiled again. "Don't worry. A natural born healer is never a burden. Welcome to the Black family." | 2019-01-17T08:03:33 | 2019-01-17T07:18:29 | 47 | 24 |
[WP]Greek mythology, but everything is upside down. Hephaestus cheats on Aphrodite with Artemis, who looks down on him but truly likes him. Hades is kidnapped by Persephone, and she keeps him on a flowery cage under a big tree with pink flowers. Zeus is loyal, etc. | Achilles smirked as he faced his opponent. "Well, Hector, at long last your time has come. Prepare to die!"
Achilles charged at Hector, spear in hand. Hector, anticipating the attack, slid to the side a few inches and dodged it. When Achilles eventually lost momentum and stopped, Hector walked up behind him and poked him in the back of the head.
Achilles screamed in pain. "Curse you! You've discovered my weakness: touching any part of my body other than the invulnerable back of my feet!"
As Achilles screamed in pain and died, Hector shrugged it off and walked away. He didn't understand exactly what had happened, but that was par for the course. He didn't understand why there was a war being fought over the ugliest woman in the world either. | He looked about his meager villa, the tan stone and arches dreary to his eye. Pillars rose about him. Strong and steadfast. He followed one pillar with his gaze, base to ceiling. He continued to look upwards and brought a laughably small bottle to his lips with a shaking hand. He drank as deep as he could coughing as the bottom of the bottle pointed to the open air in his courtyard.
"Why the fuuug the gads gif me immortaliteee," he whined as fine spirit ran down his chin.
He rose from his chaise and his knees shook. A massive screeching of stone upon stone was heard not far from his home.
"Tha fug."
He shambled his skinny frame to the balcony that was hanging over the cliff his immaculate home was perched upon. A raging titan was moving a mountain right on his doorstep. He tossed the hilariously small bottle still in his hand in the general direction of the behemoth creature. To any common mortal it looked like he dropped it. The bottled clinked off the face of the cliff and shattered, tinkling like laughter as it broke upon it.
The titan somehow noticed the small agression and began to lumber towards the great structure upon the hill, forgetting the mountain it was about to drop on the city below.
The frail and gangly man god shook a baby fist at the titan as it approached. The ground shook as the titan took mammoth steps towards the pathetic half god. The shaking was just too much and the man god fell to the floor. He was readying himself to have a seizure as he pissed himself. The ground was a familiar friend and wouldn't mind his last embrace with it.
The titan reached the cliff, it's ancient face chiseled of an unknown element was level with the railing. A massive hand the size of a chariot came up as if to smash the balcony but hovered for a moment. Slow and deliberate voices came from the giant mouth as it extended it's forefinger and gently rubbed the young man gods balding head.
"You. So. Funny. Hercules." | 2019-03-07T22:40:12 | 2019-03-07T20:19:36 | 68 | 14 |
[WP] The Necromancer escaped his pursuers by slipping into our world through an interplanar door. He stepped through and appeared into the closed Natural History Museum. As the Witchhunters clambor after him, he begins to laugh. He's in the dinosaur section. | The necromancer looked around the cathedral like room. Multiple levels lined the outside of a center space with the skeleton of a giant creature he had not seen the likes of. However death was his domain. A skeleton is a skeleton after all. He smiled at himself and faced the beast, readying the incantation to bring it to life.
"HEY!"
The necromancer flinched, momentarily startled but otherwise unafraid of this lesser being in the new world. He turned slowly.
"May I help you mortal?" He said to the security guard standing at the base of the staircase leading to the upper levels. The necromancer blinked. Was that a monkey on the guard's shoulder?
"The names Larry, and uh ya. I think the sun is close to rising. You should probably get back to your exibit. I don't feel like being yelled at again for missing pieces from... Which one are you in again?"
The necromancer was puzzled. This lowly being, this Larry, truly thought he had any say over what he did? The fool would learn soon enough.
"You know not the powers you are trifling with." The Lord of death said. "I will educate you."
He raised his hands toward the fierce creature before him, swaying slightly as he chanted the spell so familiar to him. He opened his eyes. The beast remained motionless.
"Actually, I don't think I've seen you before" Larry said. The monkey cocked it's head to the side staring at the necromancer. "It doesn't look like Dexter has seen you before either".
"Insolent fool!" cried the necromancer. "You dare to address me as an equal? I'll take care of you the old fashioned way before those pesky hunters catch up!" The necromancer drew a curved blade from his robes. As he began to walk toward the guard Larry smiled.
"You clearly don't know about this particular museum or the tablet's affects on the exibits. A little help please?"
The necromancer stopped as a loud groaning sound escaped the creature behind him. He slowly turned to find the beast had left it's pedestal and was standing over him. But something was off. Was it... Wagging it's tail?
"How?" was all the necromancer was able to get out before the beast lifted him off the ground.
"Good boy Rex! Let's get him tied up so whoever comes looking for him doesn't have too much trouble. Then it's back to sleep before the sun rises. You too Dex." The monkey chirped in acknowledgement.
"You possess the power of death? HOW?" The necromancer demanded.
"Ahkmenrah. It's a long story." | He hesitated, the door swang closed in front of him as the others started to yell as the met whatever was in there. The door clattered open from the force of the swing, letting their moans escape and rasping wails that didn’t seem possible deter him further. Ruben lowered his water pistol, his thumb dancing over the scratched in cross that gave him just the smallest amount of hope.
The others though, the others had had the water pistols too, and actual weapons too, they were experienced, they were the go to team for any sort of hunt, but they were screaming. Fewer screams now, but still some, the rocking door seemed wet now, squelching and squealing as it slid across the floor. But he couldn’t think about that, they were fine, they would look after him, Ruben was just a junior, little more than a glorified intern who was supposed to take photos at the end for the insurance. They would look after him even as the hooting laughter started to outweigh their cries.
Hard knocks rattled the door again, swinging it freely until its return trip where the door jammed open, fingers wrapped around the edge. Ruben dropped his water gun as he rushed to pull his comrade out of the room, but halted as his drew his camera up to his face to photo the damage that the door had suffered from what was left of the hand.
The laughter slowed as they both realised the flash was on, rattling and thumping noises started to descend on the door as Ruben wrestled the flash off of the camera, belatedly realising the importance of the water pistol laying feet away from him.
Bones swarmed through the door, large teeth gnashing and piercing through the wood, whether other smaller creatures chased him down. He tripped on one, the little beast hissing as its wing snapped almost all the way through, leaving it dragged back by the colourful plastic feathers wired through it.
Grabbing it without thinking, he scrambled away, small teeth piercing through his clothes and flesh, holding on as more and more clambered onto him dragging him back towards the now shredded door. Crying out, he fell, rolling onto his side and cradling the bitey cruel thing in his arms. It bit him, hard, between thumb and finger, but he used the other hand to straighten out its wing as they were dragged towards the waiting teeth.
“What are you doing?” The monster said in a surprisingly human voice. The T-rex almost gently dragged bit down to hold onto his ankle and drag him back like a dog with a bone, while the little beasts were scattered across the floor. Ruben sat up gingerly, very much aware of the pooling blood he was sitting in, his broken loaned camera and the broken creature in his hands.
“What are you doing?” the monster repeated from his station behind the triceratops’ defensive frill.
“I think I’m being killed,” Ruben said dolefully.
“Not that,” the monster waved a dismissive hand, setting to rest his chin on his other, his black eyes glittering in the artificial light, “With the bones? What are you doing with the bones?”
“The bones?” Ruben looked around the room, bones wired together threatening, scattered across the floor, poking out of the flesh of his teammates, walking awkwardly with plastic sections. It was only when the creature bit him again, softer than before, that he looked down, “The Archaeopteryx? It’s really cool and old, if we keep the bone straight, we might be able to save it,”
“And why do you care, little witch hunter?”
“It’s a dinosaur,” Ruben said, beginning to feel like he wasn’t the stupid one in the room “Who doesn’t love dinosaurs?” The monster grinned, stretching languidly before rocking forward to hang over the frill, hooting and laughing again.
“And tell me more about the dead things you love.” | 2019-05-09T05:57:11 | 2019-05-09T05:00:50 | 45 | 13 |
[WP] You're secretly a monster. Not a vampire, or a werewolf, or an alien, or a zombie, or really any monster that's commonly known. It's always awkward explaining to your soon-to-be-victims what you are. | “I had a feeling,” he said.
“What?”
“Well, in our sessions you often talked about feeling like no one could ever see the real you, how they wouldn’t understand, how you feel like you’re about to burst with the secrets that you keep. But I was never able to get you to tell me. That’s how I knew it was really a big secret.”
“You’re not surprised?” I asked.
He shook his head, smiling his academic smile. “You have to understand, being a therapist, you can’t imagine the things I’ve heard. Infidelity, abuse, murder. You can’t help but get used to it.”
“Still…I mean, look at me. I look in the mirror sometimes and I can’t believe it.”
“Why? I mean, I won’t deny that looking at you is something…hard to comprehend, but still, why not?”
“I mean…in my human form, it’s hard enough for people to accept me. It’s always been that way, even when I was a kid. My knees go inward. My teeth are crooked. My hair sticks out no matter how I comb it. But that’s nothing compared to this.”
“But why? Why do you need them to accept you?”
I shrugged. “Why does anyone…Jesus, doc, I came here to eat you, and now you have me all fucked up.”
“Because I want to help you.”
“You’re not going to protest? Beg for your life?”
He shakes his head. “What good will it do? I always tell you to accept the things you can’t change.”
“Wow. Any last words?”
“My family knows I love them. My friends, too. I just hope you find what you’re looking for, Michael. I really do. Don’t let anyone stop you from doing what you want.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course.”
“You were a good therapist. The only one that helped. I’ll make it quick…”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | "Argh, A demon!" exclaimed a man as he cowered in fear for his life.
The bloodlust that had formed in its' eyes suddenly died down. It turned its' head towards the man and began shaking side-to-side. The gesture was then followed by a deep breath ending in a deep breath. It lifted its' muscular four-fingered arms up and smacked its' own head with it. The monster – at least, in the eyes of the man – had seemed human just a bit then. The man who had pissed himself in fear had contorted his face in an utter state of confusion.
"I'm no demon, you ignorant buffoon..." it said in defeat.
"H-Huh?"
"I said I'm no demon. Do you have bad eyes? Maybe even hard of hearing too? Ugh, I can't believe this," it said with a slight annoyance.
The man tried to rationalise the situation he was in. Would engaging it in a conversation keep him alive? Would saying the wrong thing just hurt his chances even more? In any case, he would have to do something, quick.
"So... A-Are you a... Troll?" The man nervously guessed as he scanned it's large muscular form.
"No, I'm not one of those filthy demihuman! How dare you–"
"A giant, then? Or maybe you're on of those chimeras?" the man swooped in, half curious, half scared of what it might do in its' anger.
At this, it suddenly fell down on its' own legs. The manner in which it happened was so violent that the ground shook heavily and the man could feel his own body trembling, almost losing balance. But what actually happened was it had simply sat down, hunkering down on its' own legs. It held up its' fingers to its' chin, much like a man who was deep in thought. The man could see that its' fingers had sharp nails which looked like claws. He could also see that it had a face which was human-like though he couldn't really put his finger at what this 'thing' was.
"Hmmmm," it let out, "so, you don't know what I am, too huh?"
The man sweated profusely and gulped before he responded, "y-yeah, I guess... Sorry."
"I guess I should somehow spread my name... But what am I supposed to do? Make an announcement at the Town Square? That's be too gaudy, though."
"Um, I mean... What are you anyway?" the man curiously said as he began to calm down again.
"Good question, I don't... really know," it said in a vexed manner.
"Maybe, you should think about that first. Only then would you be able to let others know... of you. Doing famous – or rather infamous – deeds would also help in spreading your name, you know!"
It chuckled lightly at the man's suggestions. It knew that it should somehow thank him for even trying to help it out. Yet it also knew that the man should've been dead by then.
"Say," it nudged the man by the shoulder, "thank you for your suggestions!"
"... Er- no problem...?"
"So, famous – or rather infamous – deeds, huh? Any ideas on how I could get right on that?" | 2019-07-17T00:28:16 | 2019-07-17T00:02:03 | 353 | 42 |
[WP] Everyone's soulmate's name is written on their right wrist when they turn sixteen. The left has worst enemy. Your left and right wrist say the same thing. | Everyone eventually finds someone, its just an unwritten law of this world that you will. Well not unwritten, cause its literally on your wrist. Though everyone also stays away from someone, that one person whom they dread the most. These are the anomalies of this realm, and everyone acknowledges their existence... Well, except for me.
In a world of love, I never really understood the reason for it. Sure it can make you happy, but to me it seems more like a shackle. You're bound for life with one person who apparently shares all your common interests. To me that would be agony. I repulse myself, and i cant change, i was just born into this wold as coal among gold.
But who would i be without myself either? I would be less than nothing. A void, or a husk, and at the very least, coal keeps people warm. So while i may be the bane of my own existence, i'm still here for a reason. I'm an anomaly among anomalies. A white sheep among black sheep. Everyone is unique, which make everyone the same, so when one person is the same, it makes them unique.
All these years brought me to today. All my experience, my personality, my bland uniqueness. My misunderstanding of what "love" is. My self hatred. My self Love. Everything. Which is why when i woke up this morning, i was not anxious for what was to come. Others get excited, because they learn who they will spend the rest of their life with. Others are scared because they have a new enemy. But with me, i knew what was to come, and when i blew out the candles on my cake, the shimmer on my wrists started, and i knew exactly what was going to happen.
I looked at my wrists, and the names written were the same. Familiar names, unique names, hated names, and beloved names. They were my name, and i was finally able to be at peace with who i was. | Your eyes stare down the clock in front of you. Your fingers impatiently tapping your table as you wait on the ticking hands.
"Come onnnn!!!" You mutter to yourself as the clock strikes 2:31. "3 more minutes!!!"
You jump up from your seat and begin pacing the room. The excitement coursing through you and causing you to laugh out loud. Just a few more minutes. In 3 minutes, you'll be officially 16 years old, and with that, so much more.
"Are you still up?" A voice asks behind you, taking you by surprise as you spin around. Your older brother Jared smiles at you and sits in your vacated seat.
"Uh, duh! I'm not going to miss this!" You exclaime. "In just three minutes I'm going to find out who I'm gonna end up loving for the rest of my life!"
"And who you're going to absolutely loathe." My brother Jared smirked as he runs his right hand over his left wrist, the name in a cursive italic lettering with the name, "Spencer Oliver."
"Yeah. That too I guess," you shrug.
"You shouldn't take this half so lightly, Sonia," Jared shakes his head, "Yeah it's all fun and games with your right wrist, but life would be too easy if that were the case. Whatever name that pops up on that leftie of yours is going to give you hell for the rest of your life."
"I'm sure I'll be fine. You seem to handle Spencer okay." You interject.
"That's because I know how to play rough. The guy slashes my tires, so I brake his arm. We go back and forth." He shrugs as he crosses his arms, "You're different though. You're a pacifist. I know you. Whoever it is that pops up on that arm is there for life. You need to be careful, Sonia. They could really fuck you up."
"I'm well awar-" You freeze as your eyes suddenly dart back to the clock, the hand having now moved to the long awaited, 2:34am.
"Happy birthday, Sonia," Jared smiles at you.
Suddenly a hot pain begins to sear into your wrists, you muffle your whimpers as tears appear in your eyes, "Fucking hell!" You groan. The white pain begins to spread down your arms as you stare at the name being written into your right wrist.
Angelina Evergreen, it reads.
Your face turns to one of confusion. Angelina Evergreen? As in... the Angelina currently racing against you for student body president? You laugh as you think of her soft curls and fierce smile.
"Gotta love a girl with spunk," you giggle.
It is then you decide to turn to your left wrist, your eyes slowly focusing on the name in front of you. The names now fresh and just as marked as those on Jared's wrists.
"So? What do they say?" Jared smiles, his grin quickly turning to a frown as he notices your shocked expression. "Sonia? What's wrong?"
"Angelina Evergreen...." You whisper.
"Oohhhh which one is that?" Jared grins at you.
"Both of them." | 2020-01-18T22:49:37 | 2020-01-18T21:46:35 | 68 | 46 |
[WP] Getting arrested for a botched crime is a rite of passage in the Chebwick family. They take great pride in their long legacy of poorly executed crimes. But the youngest child has been a great disappointment. | Joan placed her hand on the glass. Behind it, her mother and father sat in orange jumpsuits.
Joan put on her brightest smile. "Ma, Pa. I'm graduating next week. Wish you guys could see it."
Her father huffed. "What good is a uni degree? A piece of paper ain't gonna help you rob a bank is it. What are you going to do? Everybody get down! I'm a lawyer! I'll sue you!"
Her mother placed her hands on his shoulder. "He didn't mean that JoJo. Your father was denied juvie because of his first lawyer. We're just worried for you. We want to see you here. With us."
"Ma, I'm not going to be locked behind these bars! I just-"
"Of course, dear," her mother said, "We understand if you want to land maximum security. Like Eggbert."
Her parents exchanged proud looks.
Joan threw up her hands. "No! Eggbert's lockpicks weren't even sharp! He should of-
Her father stood, knocking over his stool, ears red. "Those were your grandfather's lockpicks, young lady! Passed down from his father to his son, and will be passed from Eggbert's to his. Don't you dare mention sanding them again."
"Yeah," Joan muttered, "maybe after Eggbert's life sentence."
Her father's cheeks glowed like a beet and her mother patted his shoulder. She picked up his seat and coaxed him back down.
"We miss you JoJo. Banks are the Chebwick way but if you're feeling nervous you could do an ATM. We know you're not the best with strangers." She leaned closer to the glass and lowered her voice. "Your uncle Bobby's first was a convenience store."
Joan took a deep breath. "I miss you too, ma. And you, pa."
Her father huffed back.
Joan forced the corners of her mouth up again. "I landed an internship at this law firm. Well it's not exactly a law firm, it's a bit shady but..."
Behind her, a guard's bored voice announced, "Visitation over. Please make your way to the exit."
"But I'll get you guys out soon. Eggbert too. If I'm lucky maybe even before my grad ceremony." Joan slung her backpack over her shoulder.
"We can't wait to see you again, Jojo. We'll be right here." Her mother waved and her father looked at the ground but Joan caught a slight frown.
"Yeah. I know."
Joan stood. Walking past the guard, she slid him a stack of banded greens. She paused for a split moment and whispered.
"Bonanno will give your orders soon."
\---
PART 2 below
r/bobotheturtle |
It was Thanksgiving dinner at the Chebwick family home. William Chebwick smiled at his three children, Terry, Sherry and Merry, as he chewed on his boiled turkey drumstick. “It’s been so long since the entire family has been together like this! So, what have my three darling children been up to?”
The oldest child, Terry, who had blue eyes and brown hair just like his father, was the first to speak up. “Well, Pa, I was trying to steal that statue in the park and hold it for ransom. You know, the big fancy one of the guy that founded it?”
“Oh, were you, dear?” William’s sister Annie said, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “And how did that go? Must have been quite a drag trying to take an entire statue with you.”
“Well, I never got around to it, Ma,” Terry said cheerfully. “I figured I needed to steal something to move the statue first. So, I went to Walmart and I decided to steal one of those machine thingies with the two metal things in front that lift things.”
“You’re talking about a forklift,” Merry cut in.
“Yeah, yeah, something like that. So I saw someone riding one of those things around, so I went up to him, dragged him out of his seat and took off in it!”
“How exciting!” Annie said, clapping her hands. “Well, what happened next?”
“Well, turns out those machine things are pretty damn slow. So the driver came back, beat me up and I got tossed in jail for a month!”
William chuckled and gave a warm grin to his son. “Well done, my son! Only 23 years old and you’re already bringing pride to the Chebwick name.” He turned to his second oldest child, who was wearing a cast on her left arm. “What about you, Sherry? What happened to that arm of yours?”
Sherry, who had blue eyes and brown hair like her mother, beamed and flicked back her ponytail dramatically.“Well, Pa, I was tired of having to keep spending so much money on ice cream. So, I figured I would just steal an ice cream machine and get to eat ice cream forever.”
Annie sighed wistfully. “You remind me so much of myself when I was a child. So, how did the Great Ice Cream Caper go?”
“ Well, Ma, I drove to a buffet where they had an ice cream machine. Then, I took a rope and tied it around my arm. Then, I ran into the buffet before anyone could stop me and tied the other end around the machine, and drove the hell out of there! Or at least, that was the plan.” She held up her broken arm. “The damn rope broke my arm and I ended up crashing into a row of shopping carts! Then, the police threw me in jail for three months!”
William laughed out loud. “Looks like you’ve got competition, sport!” he said, looking at Terry. “Better keep your game up!”He turned to face the last child in the room, grimaced and mentally lowered his expectations. “And you, Merry?”
Merry, who was the youngest with orange hair and green eyes, looked up from her plate. “I robbed two banks, three jewelry stores and twelve cars, and I never got caught.”
Silence descended upon the dining room table. William facepalmed himself. “Merry, you’re supposed to be getting caught! That’s the family tradition!”
“But I don’t want to get caught,” Merry said, pouting.
“My god,” William muttered. “How can someone with my blood running their veins be so incompetent at this one simple task?”
Terry and Sherry gave each other and then their mother a knowing look and giggled. A flustered Annie, who was quickly turning red, gently patted her husband’s back. “Now, now, Merry’s still young. She’ll get better in time.” She narrowed her eyes at Merry. “Won’t you?”
Merry smiled innocently back while crossing her fingers. “Oh course, Mother, I will always obey my father.” | 2020-04-03T22:22:47 | 2020-04-03T21:43:25 | 1,211 | 27 |
[WP] Ghost hunters use points system to determine how haunted a house is. 1 point for ghosts, 2 for fae spirits, and 3 for demons. A ghost hunter valued your house for 278 points and became the no. 1 haunted house around the world. Your house was only built 1 year ago. | "What do you mean?" I asked. "This is the most haunted house you've ever been to?"
"Look," said Peter. "I don't know how. I don't know why. All I did was count. And goddamn did I count the living hell out of myself. A word of advice for you, buddy."
He beckoned me in closer. I leaned towards him.
"Get out!" he shouted right in my ear.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I reared my head back, hand instinctively cupping and rubbing my ear.
"Just making sure I got it in your head man. 278! And that's the ones I counted before I freaked out. This is a living hell if I've ever seen one."
"Come on, it can't be that bad," I said. "The house has only been built for a year, and I've lived in it for less than that."
"Of course it's not that bad. Because it's only going to get worse over the years," Peter said. In spite of his bravado and snarkiness, I could see his hands shaking slightly as he raised a cigarette to his lips and fumbled for a lighter. "According to the score, your house is literally more haunted than the Catacombs of Paris, or the Tower of London. In one year!"
I stayed silent.
"Well, it's my home," I muttered under my breath.
"You know, if you get vengeful enough, this can be your home forever," said Peter. "If you don't want to, I have a few deals on cheaper apartments in the city. I would say they were less haunted, but which place isn't compared to yours?"
"OK, Peter," I shrugged. "Thanks, I guess."
I turned back towards my abode, opening the door. A chilly gust of wind roared out of the opening.
Peter looked on, horrified.
"Seriously, you are going back in?" Peter cried.
"I have to sleep somewhere, dude," I said, and I walked in, closing the door behind me, shutting out the desperate pleas of Peter.
I took a deep breath and sighed.
"Can you believe the nerve of that guy?" said Xunokzlum, a high demon. He was perched on top of a chair on all four of his limbs, wings furled behind him. Using just his beak, he buried into a bowl of feed in front of him. "Living hell? This is a precious sanctuary for all of us, thank you very much."
"You know Peter doesn't mean any harm," I said to the demon. "Also, keep your voice down a little!"
"We'll speak when we want," a trio of voices sounded in unison. I looked over to The Three, a group of faes slowly emerging from the shadows. "Why must we hide every time he comes here? It is senseless."
"Come on, Three. I gotta keep up appearances, you know?" I said.
The Three began speaking again, but they were no longer speaking in concert. Despite their small size, their chatter quickly overtook the room.
"Please," a small voice whimpered from the corner. "I just want to sleep."
"Alright, Three, Xunokz, enough is enough," I said. "Time to head to your rooms, alright? Let Gabriel rest in peace, yeah?"
They grumbled, but they complied. I moved towards where the small voice projected from in the corner.
"Thank you," he said.
"Of course," I said. "Rest well, old man."
---
r/dexdrafts | "Right, so what you've got here is known in the industry as an ectoplasmic rift" A tall mustache in a short suit said to Lante.
"Sorry, a what?" Lante, who had been enjoying quite a pleasant dream involving a lazy river and a lazy susan before he had been rudely awoken by a series of frantic doorbell chimes at the ungodly (and that was precisely the point, the man had assured him) hour of two AM, blearily asked the mustache.
"Ectoplasmic rift buddy, you've got a serious problem here," the mustache was marshalling an army consisting of a porkpie hat, mustard yellow tie, and a particularly aggressive tweed suit which was furiously deconstructing a segment of drywall, which Lante seemed to recall paying an awful lot of money to have constructed, via vigorous application of a clawed hammer.
"Right, and what does that," Lante paused as he fumbled his way through bleary vision to the coffee maker, "what does that entail?"
"What does that entail?!" The mustache snickered toward him in the manner of car salesmen and professors who desperately want to know that you know that they know oh so much more than you.
"First you got your average haunting," the hammer's march was had reached the end of the living room, and like some small Sherman determined to find the sea was rounding into the tiled kitchen.
"Dead grandmother, dead dog, this kind of thing, just a bit of a ghost problem, you can deal with that easy with a muon trap. Then you got your low level fae infestation, you know, unionized garden gnomes, gypped tooth fairies, this kind of a thing, that usually needs a specialist, your local druid from the boutique candle-shop or whatever."
He pulled a strobing hand-held device from a pouch on his tactical belt, the device started screaming in protest at being woken up at two AM.
"Level three, your talking demons, need to call in the men in white, you know, the church boys, and they have to run an exorcism, lots of paperwork, have to sit in a rental while they service the place."
Lante took a sip of hot water and jerked back in revulsion, he'd forgotten to put coffee grounds in.
"So, endoplasmi--"
"Ectoplasmic rift, that's way up there with lay lines buddy, way up there, not much you can do to fix that. On the bright side, you're not likely to get sucked through into Fae like you will with the lay lines, on the dimmer side, lots of stuff likes to pop out on this side for a visit."
The mustache was now unpacking his bag, which contained a surprising amount of extraordinarily compact electronics gear, the crown jewel being a miniature satellite dish which began to spin, calmly threatening any intruders to the living room with a very small tactical nuclear strike.
"Right," Lante had recovered by tossing an emergency tea-bag into the pot of percolated water and was now sipping on a very bland imitation of earl grey tea, "and what do you suggest to deal with this, uh, rift."
"Well laddie!" The mustache grinned up from below the brim of his hat as the tweed suit squatted over what appeared to be a children's electronic keyboard, typing in a complex sequence of notes which may have been Fur Elis, but Lante wasn't sure.
"You're lucky I caught it in time, my name's Doctor Doctor Fleiscbach," the tweed suit took a break from its composition to hand Lante a business card, "and I can secure this place for a modest fee of--"
"Get out of my house," Lante was impressed with his self control, a good deal of which probably came from the unconscious recognition of the preposterousness of trying to look intimidating in a ninja turtles tee-shirt and matching boxer-briefs.
"Look, I understand that this may come as a shock to you bu--"
"Get out!" Lante traded his self control for the abandoned hammer which had found its way into his hand instead of completing its great trek to the sea.
"Okay, okay, but you got my card, right?" Doctor Doctor Fleischbach hurriedly stuffed a very disappointed miniature nuclear silo back into his bag and went to the door, "Give me a call if--"
"Out!"
The door clicked shut.
"Hello Lante!" A suddenly manifest spiritual inferno raged from the kitchen.
Lante looked at the kitchen, which had been so well behaved in the past, then down at the business card as he took a sip of the Earl Grey [water](https://www.reddit.com/r/JackTheRitter/). | 2020-05-13T04:38:28 | 2020-05-13T04:18:23 | 326 | 71 |
[WP] You were born in a city where everyone has a superpower. However, while people freely use theirs (breathe fire, heal wounds or grow flowers), you seem to not be able to do anything. But one day, as you leave the city, you realize that everyone loses their power.
[deleted] | How long had I been here? The years all seemed to meld together leaving only a muddled sense of never ending time. I slept mostly, or at least tried to, not having any other form of entertainment but it was never restful. I always dreamed in nightmares only to wake up and find the truth was worse.
They had denied me anything to keep my mind occupied when I had tried to cut my wrists with the pages of a book.
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. I had come to despise that phrase. How was my life worth so little when I provided so much to the world?
I had left for vacation at a remote lake cottage. When I returned, the police were waiting for me. They stole me away to a cell far under ground and away from prying eyes. I was the city's best resource and they weren't about to let it slip away again. Without me, they would lose their place of prestige in the world. Without me, they would be nothing but ordinary people, a fate worse than death for many.
Every so often, as my skin began to sag and my hair began to grey, they would send in a healer to turn back my biological clock. You should be thankful, they would say, I was getting a service that cost millions for free. Who doesn't want to live forever? But what's the point in staying alive if you have no life to live?
I stared at my wrinkled hands as I heard the heavy door open. Time to reset my life again. Time to relive another lifetime of hell. Resigned to my fate, I sighed and stood up on shaking legs but what greeted me wasn't a healer, it was the Mayor. His face was weathered and old, something I had never seen before. Too shocked to say anything I just stood there, my mouth hanging open.
"It's over." He said with a quivering voice. "We've searched and tested everyone, every man, woman, and child but there hasn't been a new healer since Edgar died in a car accident 30 years ago." He rushed the cell door and gripped the bars with clawed fingers. "You have to do something!"
I turned from him and sat on my bed. The rusted springs squeeked under my weight. I looked up at him and stared into his wild eyes, half mad with desperation and anger, and began to laugh. It started low, a meek chuckle, but soon grew into a belly laugh that had tears streaming down my cheeks.
"You did this!" He screeched, "I know you did this somehow! Fix it or we all die!"
I tried to talk, tried to tell him I had no control over who got what powers when, but every time I started I would dissolve into another fit of laugher. I wondered in passing who looked more insane, me or him?
"You'll die down here you know. You'll die down here and know one will ever know you existed." His voice was laced with fear now. He knew his time in the light was over.
He left to the sound of my laughter, a sound that would echo in his ears until the day he finally died.
When my tears stopped and my laughter subsided I lay down in my bed. With a smile on my lips, I closed my eyes and slept soundly for the first time in many, many years. | Everyone can use their powers as they please and I’m just normal. The doctors claim it’s cause neither of my parents were around when the dynampho occurred but my mother can phase through walls. The Dyampho was a chemical explosion in the city that only worsened when a meteorite hit the center of the city at the same time. The meteorite is still in the center of the city and it gave people powers. Some can turn into different animals, some can do things with there minds, some can control and become the elements and a bunch of other things. Then there’s me who’s just normal and it’s been 16 years and a power hasn’t manifested yet. But today’s my birthday and I’m going to do what’s been deemed illegal for years, leave the city.
According to our mayor Jadon much of the world didn’t survive the meteors that rained on earth and were ravaged to the point of no return. I don’t really believe that to be true and I’m going to figure out for myself. To do so I’ll need help preferably from those with powers so I got my best friends Carly and Damon to help with this. Carlys a bit of a oddball seeing as she has the ability to mess with memories. It’s almost like she’s rewriting your headspace and it’s really creepy but she’s not evil or anything so it’s all good. Damon on the other hand is nice mild mannered and quiet but his powers are anything but that. He can manipulate water to the point he can do some very very scary things but the scarier things tire him out. We developed a plan to go through the sewer system and hope we land somewhere safe. We grab our bags and jump in and our plan is a go.
It’s dark and uncomfortable down here but Damon separates the sludge from the water so at least we’ll get wet and not dirty. As we keep walking Carly starts to sing themesongs from her favorite tv shows to pass the time as best she could. By the time she’s gotten through 8 of them we’ve reached the meteorite zone and the water becomes crystal clear. Damon looks rejuvenated and not pale as can be like he did earlier. He wants to stay here and soak up the energy but we have a mission to do. We keep waking for another few hours and we get close to the restricted gate. 10 years ago a bunch of people broke through the city limits and never returned so they put a gate on all exits. And it’s always guarded by at least 2 guards with powers. And they even have them down here as the guards stand duty.
We duck behind a corner as they shine a Iight hoping to find us. I jump out and hurl insults at them, yelling they got sewer duty after 20 years of training. This lets Damon start to get the water away from the gate but we need the key cards on the officers holsters to get out. While I’m pinned on the ground Carly works her magic and they forget why they’re there and drop everything. She rewrites them as a bunch of guys taking a jog and we pick up the key cards and we’ve done it. The water ends and we see a bunch of steps leading to the outside world. We climb the steps and here we are.
The outside world looks absolutely nothing like how it’s taught in the history books. It’s sunny and there’s roads and while there is obvious damage from some sort of natural disaster it can’t be a meteor shower at all. We continue to walk looking for the next town as we run into some animals from the forest. We don’t really have many animals in the city so we take our chance to have fun with them. Damon complains about needing water so we go by the lake and he pulls some into our bottles or at least he tries to. He tries with his hands, his feet and even his tongue and it won’t budge. We assume the water isn’t safe to drink but Damon still drinks it.
As we walk and walk we spot a city that we can rest in and hopefully get some answers. Two ladies walk towards us asking for our names and I look at Carly and she does her memory rewriting but it doesn’t work. She makes them act like penguins and it didn’t work, she tells them they’re from outer space and it didn’t work. Neither one of there powers worked out here. But when Damon was under the meteorite he was at his strongest. We look at each other and realize the exact same thing. The powers don’t just come from the meteorite the powers don’t work without it | 2020-06-09T05:37:21 | 2020-06-09T05:13:23 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] - You are an American astronaut stationed aboard the ISS along with two fellow engineers and two Cosmonauts. When conducting experiments, you gaze out the window and witness the telltale flashes of nuclear detonations ringing across the continents. Your cries are met with silence from Houston.. | “Ivan, Anatoly, are you seeing this?” You say, not taking your eyes off the view from the Cupola’s central window. It is just before dawn in the Far East, and your view of the eastern hemisphere’s nighttime is wreathed in the speckled gold-on-black you have become accustomed to seeing over the past few months. Except, of course, for the addition of the brilliant white flashes across Kamchatka, Korea, and Japan – the telltale signs of nuclear annihilation.
A few moments ago, you and the two other crew aboard the International Space Station lost contact with the ground. The Russian cosmonauts went down the list of protocols to restore communications from the research module, while you floated to the observatory to confirm the worst. Dumbfounded, you stare at the blooms of light as they creep back across the horizon, until all you see again is the darkness of the Pacific Ocean. You feel the increasingly uncomfortable lump in your throat as you yell once again back over your shoulder.
“Ivan, did you two make con-” You stop, mid-breath, as you peel your eyes away from the glass to look back down through the corridor. Ivan is floating there, grasping a metal shaft with one hand. Wordlessly, he raises his other hand, and you see the sunrise behind you illuminating the dull texture of 3D printer plastic and the unmistakable shape of a snub-nosed pistol.
The lump in your throat ascends, and you feel your stomach rapidly going the other way. You hear yourself croak out, “Man, what are you doing with a gun in space?”
Ivan does not answer, and you do not need him to. Your mind races through a million thoughts per second and it dawns on you that Ivan is going through the same panic. He is breathing quickly and heavily through his nose to control his own dread. His pistol hand is shaking badly, his forehead is shimmering with sweat, and you can see that his knuckles are stark white against the yellow pole he's gripping. Ivan is a civilian scientist, you remember, barely a decade out of grad school. You doubt that he has ever fired a gun before, but the fierce knitting of his brow leaves no doubt that he means to kill you.
The observation window is right behind you, and you realize the only reason why Ivan has not fired yet is because he is worried about shattering it. It unlikely that a bullet from a rinky-dink plastic gun can go through a human cranium plus an inch of the most expensive glass in the world, but it does not look like Ivan is ready to gamble on that. If only you could move quickly enough, maybe you can take advantage of Ivan’s wracked nerves. If only you could use his hesitation, maybe you can wrestle the gun away. If only-
“Ivan,” you hear Anatoly’s voice from around the corner of the corridor as you see him float up a few feet behind from the other cosmonaut. He has the same gray pistol in his hand, resting easy at his side. Goddammit, you think. Ivan might not be able to put a bullet in between your eyes, but Anatoly, with the confidence of two decades of military experience under his belt, sure can.
Anatoly says something to Ivan in Russian, his voice low and steady. Your limited vocabulary with that language does not help in deciphering his words. Ivan squeaks out a two-syllable reply without taking his aim or eyes off you. You silently curse the other NASA crew for going home a few weeks ago, momentarily forgetting the absurdity of the entire situation. If they were still here, you muse crazily, it would have been an even fight, plus, they would have avoided vaporization in the present nuclear apocalypse.
“Ivan!” Anatoly says again, more forcefully this time. You see Ivan’s index finger tightening on the trigger. You brace yourself by closing your eyes, but not before seeing a blur of movement from behind Ivan.
BANG!
There is a deafening ring in your ears, followed by the sharp smell of gunpowder. But nothing apart from that. You slowly open your eyes to see Ivan’s lifeless body rotating before you, a tendril of blood oozing out and wriggling away from the entry wound in his temple.
Anatoly pushes off from the opposite wall to float towards you, the spent pistol twirling away as he flicks it aside. You try to say something, but your resulting sputtering is incoherent. You feel a warmth in your pants and notice that you have soiled yourself, and with another absurd thought, you wish that you had been wearing your maximum absorbency garment.
“We had orders even before launch,” Anatoly explains, as if he could read your jumbled thoughts.
He slides up beside you to look out the observation window. For a long time, he says nothing. The space station creeps towards the coast of California, where the detonations are plainly visible even in daylight. Just as you open your mouth to try to speak again, Anatoly fixes his gaze on you, though his eyes seem to focus on something far beyond. He says, slowly and solemnly, “None of that matters anymore.” | #WARNING: BAD (NSFW / SWEARING) LANGUAGE
>***04 / 07 / 21***
>FUBAR. The first day of the bombs. I remember looking out of the window, thinking when I can finally see my mom again. Been a few months and I already miss that woman. Then it happened. Bam. Couldn't see shit for a moment. Before I looked, another one hit! Bam!! At first, I thought some fucking idiot just blew up the world's biggest factory by accident until I look out of the window again. One right across St. Petersburg; the other making a real fat crater on Cali. Nukes dropping. Then more.. and more. Shit.. there were so many. Looked just like in the movies...
___
>***05 / 07 / 21***
>Beep. Beep. Beep. That's all that Houston says through that terrible tech that looked like JFK is still the POTUS. Couldn't get a night's rest because of it.. We've been on the line non stop for a day straight, changing in shifts when one gets too stressed. Honestly, I've lost hope 'bout an hour when it happened but I can't say the same for the other astronauts. I could still see the glimmer of hope in their eyes. I can also see they're scared. We're all real fucking scared. Hell, even I'm fucking scared but I'm not showing it. I'm just.. frowning. Like the usual.
___
>***06 / 07 / 21***
>Got 'bout a few hours rest, but the thoughts keep waking me up. I keep thinking. Fucking thinking, all the damn time. Seen two over each side; was it the Russia or The States who shot first? I try and shake these feelings from my mind quick, but the thought keeps creeping back since day one. I sometimes pass glances at Sergei, and notice him catching my stare. I guess we're both wondering which side pulled the trigger, and we point blame to other to cope with the fact that it could be our side. Who fucking cares, either way? It's all gone to.. shit.
___
>***11 / 07 / 21***
>Just trying to keep my damn mind calm. Luckily, I found this old notebook the engineers use to scribble their fancy math and stuff. It's empty. Well, not anymore. Still, I was raised with manners. I asked Ashan if the book was free to attempt and do some creative writing\*, just trying to break the tension. I regret it. Not because of what he said but the stare that he had. Don't think I'll ever forget those eyes, not even when I get to Heaven. Linda, the older engineer, interjects and assures me that it is fine.
>\* Some stuff might've missed me from the past days listed, been writing some in reverse..
___
>***14 / 07 / 21***
>I watch how Anya bundles up to Sergei, for some extra comfort. Hard to not like such a pair of lovebirds. Probably the luckiest living person on the planet right now, having someone to hold & love. Fuck, I'm starting to miss Jess.. or maybe I just miss having casual flings or something. Can't tell, never could. Linda comes along, offering me her hand. I just kind of hold it in mine, and imagine that I'm back down with my mom. I try not to cry.
___
>***15 / 07 / 21***
>Sergei and Anya keep being closer than usual. They're whispering something in Russian I can't even begin to understand. I wonder what but shrug it off. Don't think they're about to abandon us and run off in a fancy car, we've literally got nowhere else to go. I check through the supplies, and smile. I hate this space crap but, man, does this taste great now that the whole humanity is blown to shit.
___
>***20 / 07 / 21***
>People are starting to eat. I can see them getting some more rest. Shit's kinda normal now, faster than expected. Luckily we're fully stocked, think this can last us at least a year split across five. Not that many of us, and there's probably gonna be even less. I know when I see it. I open another can of Fine Exquisite Space Shit ^TM and munch, pretending it's a juicy Texan burger and not some cheap chow for aliens living in poverty.
___
>***29 / 07 / 21***
>It's been about a month when it happened. I come over to the communication center and try and pick up the call, seeing what the fuck is Houston up to. This time, no beeps. Nothing. Radio silence. Maybe that's why Ashan looked like he got dragged through the world's accumulated pile of shit. I set the phone down. Guess Houston doesn't wanna talk anymore..
___
>***10 / 08 / 21***
>Sergei keeps giving Anya his share of rations. Not sure why, man looks like a damn twig at this point. If we weren't in Zero G he couldn't even lift a damn pencil if he tried. I take pity and offer him some of mine. In reality, I'm always kind of chubby and apocalypse is the best time as ever to lose some weight. I got enough rations of my own. He looks at me and says "Thank You" in English in that thick but polite accent. I nod.
___
>***16 / 08 / 21***
>I see Linda coming over. The woman is an angel. I think she's keeping all of us sane. We make small talk, talking about the countryside and reminiscing over the days when life still made sense. At a point, she comes closer to me and whispers. I started taking small glances at the Cosmonaut couple. Linda thinks that Anya is pregnant. Must be an intuition that I don't possess..
___
**TO BE CONTINUED?** :-) Dunno, let me know if you're interested! This is long already, and I plan to make it even longer if some people are interested. I plan to write the other parts in a couple hours. Great prompt, btw! | 2020-08-24T07:16:41 | 2020-08-24T03:36:01 | 25 | 17 |
[WP] The genie you've acquired is a chill dude who, like you, has a dog. However, his dog is also a genie and has started granting your dog's wishes. | "I wish I never have to work solely for money again."
The glowing blue genie shrugged, then made to grant my wish with a snap of his fingers, but he paused, and smiled.
"It seems that wish is already granted," he said.
I scratched my head. How would that happen? That can't possibly occur, unless-
My border collie, Beth, bounded into sight, closely followed by a glowing blue dog. She skidded to a stop in front of me, and gave me a nuzzle before settling down on my feet. She looked supremely satisfied, and kind of smug, as if she just gave me the best of treats, and that she'd never have to watch me leave for work again.
"Oh," I said, eyes tearing up. | I rubbed the lamp and out came an Indigo skinned genie, who for some reason, was holding a small... Bundle, in his arms.
"Uh... Mr. Genie, what is that?" He looked at me and roared in laughter. My sorry state humorous to him.
"What happened to you girl? You look like you got run over by a bus. Want me to make you okay for free or is that *wish*\--"
"--*ful* thinking. Mr. Genie you gotta stop with these puns. It's not funny." He pouted and hugged the bundle tighter.
"Well I just *wish*" I groaned. "that you will cheer up! Well, this is my dog, Toto! Say hi Toto!" The bundle barked and popped his head out of the blanket. A Samoyed puppy, that looks like astral clouds you see in the sky. The puppy floated out of Mr. Genie's arms and into the living room. Probable going to play with my own dog, Fannah.
"So?" He sat down in mid air, looking around the kitchen. "What happened?"
"Well, Fannah kept barking and barking all night. Waking me up. I was so tired but I can't sleep again since she's already dragging me off to play. And it's been 12 hours since." I slumped down on the chair. "I'm feckin' tired..."
Silence reigned on the room as Mr. Genie's hand combed through my hair. Sleepiness was already catching up to me when my body suddenly jolted upright.
"WHAT THE?!" My body automatically ran towards the living room and started to play with Fannah again. That bastard dog was wagging her tail happily and jumping up and down, Sheer joy on her face.
"It seems that Fannah wished for you to play with her again for a longer time." Mr. Genie chuckled and watched me suffer.
Damn it Fannah. At least you're cute. | 2020-09-22T02:46:50 | 2020-09-21T21:53:59 | 99 | 63 |
[WP] We expected the Earthlings to react with outrage and despair when we killed their leaders, destroyed their economies, and took over their governments—but to our surprise they seemed almost relieved. | The planet was dark. Captive. Defeated. The paltry attempts at combat were not enough to damage a single ship. Their leaders never stood a chance.
So why did they look happy?
Every conquered civilization has wept, pleaded, begged for mercy. Not Earth. Not the Earthlings. As we brought captives aboard the ship, there were expressions of fear, yes, but mitigated by something else. More than once I heard a whispered “Thank you” as they were hurried by. Those on the ground stared longingly at the sky even when their family members were not on board. It was all too much. So I decided to figure out why. Why these people embraced us when they should have quailed. What went so wrong here?
I traveled from country to country, listening, talking, and learning. And I began to understand. People in power didn’t care for their citizens. A global pandemic that some denounced as fake. In well-off countries, those who didn’t make enough couldn’t afford to be healthy. The food they ate made them fat, but wasn’t actually nutritious, and all around the world leaders played checkers with the lives of those who had nowhere else to go.
Yet, I heard about a few who made a difference. Those who tried to make this planet a better place. Many Earthlings talked of them, some with disdain, some with reverence. And that’s how I came to learn the reason why so many were relieved. Earthlings never stop trying. No matter the obstacle, no matter the cost, Earthlings could overcome it. But recently the barrier was being built as they were trying to tear it down, and no progress was being made. They were tired, and at an impasse. So it was no wonder that our arrival with ships and lasers was a welcome one. It tore down what they could not. I just hope the structure we set up can begin to set things right.
For us. For the Earthlings. For Earth. | “They’re... what?”
“They seem to be celebrating, Sir,” comments the alien, a portable screen in hand. Up on the ship’s main screens, images of crowds of Americans filling the streets and cheering, proudly hoisting signs and hugging their friends, were prominently displayed. Other, smaller screens showed similar situations in North Korea, Russia, the United Kingdom, and South Africa. “It’s almost like they’re... happy?”
“Yes, clearly,” comments the admiral. “They obviously missed the memo that we’ve come to replace their tyrannical dictators. Send out a global fax response, and update our Bookface page.”
“I see you’ve discovered the Internet,” comments a petite human on the bridge, kneeling next to the admiral’s chair.
“Please, you must be joking me,” replies the admiral. “Your world wide networking system was almost as easy to figure out as the calculations of the quantum fluctuations necessary for interstellar faster than light travel! I thoroughly enjoyed that little puzzle.”
“Anyway, I’m sure they’re just living in the moment,” the human remarks. “We humans tend to do that. It’s how global warming has gotten so bad. Most people don’t seem to care much for the future.”
All noise on the bridge has stopped. Not even the ship’s humming kept on while the human talked and each and every alien in the room stared at them.
“Wait. What is this creature doing on my bridge?”
“Sir, this human had intricate knowledge of the world’s governing systems. We kept them on board for interrogation purposes.”
“Yes, but why?” The admiral seemed stressed. One of the aliens began to pat the admiral’s form, causing him to sigh. “Our planetary probes already gave us all the information we needed to know about their governments’ workings. A few well-placed spies did the trick quite nicely, in fact.”
An alien sitting at the wheel of the ship spoke up. “I still find it remarkable how these humans seem to have these lightweight reading materials that give you everything you need to know about the government! It’s like they were waiting for alien spies to move in so they could happily hand over information. A new house got bought, and these things started landing on the doorstep en masse!”
“Are you kidding?” The admiral snorts, his five eyes rolling. “Have you seen this application called... Tweetybird? Once our sensors picked it up - man, did we enjoy that. An hour on this Bluetweet thing and we had the nuclear codes for sixty-five countries! Not that I’m still quite sure what they do... Fire one up!”
The clacking of keys filled the engine room. “Sir, it appears to be a missile defense and attack system! The power on these things - they’re nothing compared to the plasma cannon, but they seem capable of leveling their world’s smallest governed union!”
“Perfect! Level it, already!” The admiral laughed, glee filling his body. “Come along, my aliens! We’ve got a planet to invade, a people to enslave, and- wait a minute, what is this ‘Flappy Bird’ thing? It looks like- ooh, this is... actually kind of appealing... what’s a bird?” | 2020-10-10T21:55:35 | 2020-10-10T21:09:39 | 537 | 93 |
[WP] The three little pigs are dead, as are the next 236. Straw, sticks, bricks, reinforced concrete, titatium it didn't matter. They all fell to the onslaught of the wolf. Little piggy 240 is bracing for the inevitable attack, inside his house of depleted uranium. | 239 pigs in 239 days. Dirt, wood, concrete, hell even titanium. It didn't matter. Everyone single one fell, consumed by the Wrath of the Wolf. The pig sat in his bunker. His project produced enough byproduct to build an entire bunker out of. Not that it matters. The Wolf will get through. Even now the rending of metal can be heard in the distance. The point of the wasn't to stop his advance, it was to delay him. 239 days worth of constant work, all leading up to this moment. Finally, a weapon unlike any other, is ready. Right on cue, the Wolf busted through the final door with an almost feral ferocity.
"Huh, I thought the doors would hold longer." The pig said calmly, despite the sweat dripping off his forehead
"If you thought that merely surviving the day would cause me to move on, then I am afraid you failed."
"No, I never planned on survival. I know my time has come. But maybe the sacrifices of the 239 pigs before me, as well as my own, will stop you." The pig stepped aside from the work bench, the Wolf mild amused amusement turning to malicious laughter
"Hah! You fool, you think an explosion will stop me? Others have tried, and failed."
"No, an explosion won't kill you. But look around you, tell me what this house is made of."
"It doesn't matter what this house is made out of, you failed. Do you have any last words before joining your brothers?"
"This bunker was made out of depleted uranium. I used the radioactive energy from the uranium used to build to create a nuclear device."
Suddenly the Wolf realized, his amusement replaced with fear.
"The explosion won't kill you, that was never the point, but the radiation will. Your body will deteriorate, the dna itself being mutated beyond repair. Even if you survive you will be severely crippled, hopefully enough to make sure you never break down another house. I believe our conversation has come to an end. See you on the other side."
Far in the distance, a pig sat in a mansion of marble, enjoying a glass of wine as the sun sets. Tomorrow will be his day. Suddenly, in the distance, a second sun appears, and within seconds the glass shatters and a deafening boom is heard. He sighed, he was hoping the windows would stay intact until the Wolf arrived. He took the explosion as a sign to go to bed, the Wolf would be there soon. The next day passed peacefully. Then it was 2 days. The Wolf never arrived to the marble mansion, or any other pig after the second sun arrived that one night, though every pig lived with fear until they grew old and died of age.
Their sons lived with that fear early, but died peacefully.
The grandsons never even knew of The Big Bad Wolf, nor the pig who stopped him. | "Dude....like come on"
"What, you eat my 239 brothers and this surprises you, fuck you"
Each day a different pig would be eaten by the wolf in the remains of what he called his home, simple houses made of sticks and wood weren't enough and even brick, which honestly seemed practical was destroyed by the wolf and his destructive nature....and somewhat bigoted views of pigs as food.
The wolf gestures broadly to the forest with all the dismantled wreckage of homes,
"Of all the stupidity in your family this is the dumbest"
For awhile the houses were made of more elaborate materials like steel or cement one even used sculpted granite, beautiful but not an improvement.
Turns out after awhile they get more impressive yet less practical.
A house of bamboo is obviously not better than bricks, another made a house of gold but it was too heavy to enter ......and was dismantled after by those greedy magpies, another brother tried glass, he made an actual glass house and threw stones from a balcony in some sort of thought process that gave the wolf a migraine.
"Ohhh mr big bad wolf cant handle it when he's out smarter by a pig, who would have guessed" taunted the sickly looking pig
"First it's "out smarted" and second you are clearly dieing from your house, the pig who made a house of rat poison looked better than you"
"I'm nothing like harold, i'm as healty as my brother who made the house of oats, and as smart as my brother who's making a house of foxes"
"A house of foxes?"
"He may of said boxes he spent time with harold, I imagine a fox house wouldn't appreciate it "
"Are you brain damaged?, I dont want to sound mean....like I'm going to eat you but i feel that you guys are honestly getting dumber"
"How dare you, first you eat my favourite brother, then 238 of my least favourite brothers now you insult me in my own property!" The pig continued to ramble on about the wrongs the wolf committed but was slowly looking weaker and weaker.
"You're going to die from this poisoned monstrosity before I even get in"
"Jealous" The pig smiled smugly, or tried as a tooth fell out undermining his authority
"You lost a tooth"
"No I didnt"
"I saw it fall out"
"It was a baby tooth"
"It wasn't, and your eyebrow fell off too"
"....that was baby eyebrow"
"Enough, you gluttonous pigs devour everything In this world , food when hungry and resources when board, you consume and consume poisoning everything and everyone for nothing but your own desire and - did you pass out?" The wolf worked hard on his monologue and was frankly annoyed the damn pig couldn't stay awake to listen to the one about to eat him.
"Wha-no , what?...how dare you! I was totally listening my eyes were ignoring you so my ears could listen harder."
The world just glared "little pig little pig let me come in"
He was asleep again
"GODDAMMIT FOLLOW WITH THE SYSTEM"the wolf screamed startling the pig with a nose bleed
"We say the lines and I huff and puff and blow the house down and you get eaten and I can go home and learn of another brother with a unrealistic fixation of pointless construction"
" bla bla bla " the pig mocked with more confidence than an radioactive ham should have.
The world fed up started to huff and puff and blow, each breath raising small dust particles from the irradiated house blowing some in the wind towards a pig making a house of sand, more towards another confident his salt house will stop the wolf....or was it ghosts (the 2 seem so similar) more dust rained down on an artistic pig in a field with a house made of imagination .
The wolf started coughing realizing his mistake one huff and puff too late.
He fell to his knees annoyed at this pig with his stupid house and stupid thought process......maybe eating the poison house pig gave him brain damage, he was sure he was smarter than that. | 2021-01-29T16:24:08 | 2021-01-29T14:03:58 | 577 | 49 |
[WP] You are a demon that has had several failed attempts on your life by demon hunters. No matter how they use their holy powers they cannot harm you and as a result they consider you extremely powerful. In truth, the holy powers don't harm you for the simple reason that you aren't actually evil. | Many demons and extraplanar beings are considered evil. Succubi, dormant eldritch gods, and devils and imps of all manners typically are evil, whether lawful or chaotic. I, however strived for a different life. One of balance, one of neutrality.
The other demons scoffed at the notion. Called me a fool and a madman. Said that evil was baked into our very being. And yet, here I am, living longer than any of them could imagine, impervious to the rituals of demon hunters. Maybe being called a fence sitter all those years was worth it.
"What *are* you?" A demon hunter said that to me one day. What did he expect as a response? That I was a halfbreed of an angel and a devil? A demon who bought the protection of a divine entity? Unfortunately, the answer is a lot more mundane than any of that.
"Oh, you haven't heard?" I said, lips curling into a wicked smile. "I'm not evil. I'm chaotic neutral." The color drained from his face. "Those miracles only work on the truly reprehensible, but as my colleagues say, I'm a fence-sitter." I slowly crept towards him, then stopped. "Which means I can't kill you. And you can't kill me." The demon hunter stopped. "Wait, really?" I nodded. "It appears we are at an impasse." The demon hunter sighed. "That's a relief." He paused a second. "So... What now?" I thought for a minute, then offered a hand. "You want to be friends?" The demon hunter smiled. "That sounds like just what I need." | Beezelbub Talk, Church of the Underground 2/14/21
&#x200B;
Humans stereotype. I suppose all creatures do. It's lazy though leading to sloppy thinking, poor outcomes.
Hey, I'm a demon I understand evil. Evil is fun, its spontaneous, it shows you're an individual with power. As one ages, one seeks other forms of power. Synergies that come through community, friends, trust. Nobody trusts an evil sonofabitch and no one should. The parties boys who get off on other pain, can be a blast until they turn on you.
For half my life, 130 years, I turned towards what can be labeled as 'good'. Building trust, building friends. How.. it tedious but not hard. Mostly helping others with no chance of reward. Listening.. spreading around some green. It's a slow path but the years turn to decades, the decades turn into generations and you have friends and grand children and great great children of friends.
&#x200B;
And they're in awe of you. Listen this is important, you don't take advantage of them, you help them. Despite the horns and tail they see you as closer to angel then demon. Best is when they simple accept you as a friend.
I'm fast and clever and good looking, aren't we all. But with all our gifts we're still hunted down by inferiors. Now with my 'friends' I have 1,000 hands, 500 minds.. people who will help me of their own free will. It's tempting but best not to have them do so at the expense of their short lives. These 'friends' have saved my life countless times.
It's an acquired taste but one can take pleasure in their few accomplishments- jobs, marriage children, yada yada. Its an existence that requires constant self control. Last week, I was in a Church, an actual real Church, to celebrate the bris or something of a 4rth generation 'friend'.
Anyhow I got into a conversation on sacred architecture. During the whole talk I couldn't help thinking, this place would burn to ash inside of 20 minutes. Sacred indeed. I didn't act on it, or have someone else do it. I just sat and looked around admiring the kindling.
Our 'evil' is why, though better in every way, we are vastly outnumbered. Being picked off yearly by those clearly our inferiors. I offer there is a better way for those who take it. Forego the pranks, the easy laughs, fires and destruction. Stop the malicious acts, and cultivate friends amongst the mortals. While painful at first it will pay big dividends, literal survival, down the line.
&#x200B;
Thank you,
Frederick Coal Esq. | 2021-02-22T14:07:48 | 2021-02-22T14:00:46 | 766 | 70 |
[WP] The finale of international chess tournament takes place. Two grandmasters sit in front of each other in ultimate showdown. The thing is nobody knows that both of them got here by cheating. First is a mind reader and second one has an ability to see the future. | Immediately after I reached for the first piece, my opponent fell to the floor, retching uncontrollably.
<Well, that confirms it.>, I thought to myself. <You're definitely a mind reader after all.> Not that there was any doubt, of course.
A referee hurried over to stop the clock as spectators crowded around my nauseated opponent. Slowly, he got to his feet, brushing himself off. Forcing a smile, he tried to wave it off as a small accident, a sudden loss of balance.
<It was like that for me too, at first. Seeing hundreds of millions of possibilities in an instant takes a bit of getting used to. You did pretty good for your first time, all things considered. There's at least four million timelines in which you lost your lunch.>
Out of consideration for my opponent, I focused myself down to a single timeline, culling off the other branches until only one route remained. I carefully moved my first piece, making sure it was in alignment with the line I had selected.
<You probably know this by now, but you've already lost. Don't concede yet, though. We do need to make a show of it, we're grandmasters after all.>
I turned to look at one of the spectators, the 3rd-ranked player in the world. <What you're going to do is stop reading my mind and start reading his. We're going to play an excellent match, one that will be studied for years to come. But in the end, I will be the winner.> | I was surprised to find out, after I had been doing this for a while, that matches against chess grandmasters were so much *easier*.
You see, one of the talents of strategic geniuses - be it in chess, go, or even war - is their ability to constantly ask themselves "How do I lose?" Seeing paths to victory is (relatively) easy; the ability to see - and *avoid* \- paths to defeat is what makes the great ones truly great.
My early matches against amateurs were tense, nervous affairs. While I could see what they were planning, my ability to construct a defense was often lacking. I lost several matches simply because I was ignorant of the proper, relatively simple, defense against a particular gambit. As long as their tactics were solid, I had a real chance of losing.
My first match against a highly ranked opponent, however, was a breeze. I effortlessly countered every move Joaquin Contreras made. It was easy, seeing as he did all the heavy lifting for me. I watched him evaluate the weaknesses in his own schemes as he considered his next moves. Then, when my turn came, I would watch the intricate latticework of his plans collapse as I confidently slid my bishop across the board.
After that, my rise through the ranks was assured. When I made Yogini Kanthi resign after twelve moves and drove Ivan Markov into a nervous breakdown forty minutes into a match, I figured I needed to tone it down a bit. Otherwise, life was pretty good.
Until *this* guy came along. Some Chinese prodigy. He doesn’t plan *anything*. I have no idea how to keep up with him. He just cycles through potential moves until he finds one that he likes. It is absolutely infuriating! It’s like he’s making it up as he goes!
Wait...
Ho...ly...shit. This asshole can see the future! Not very far, it looks like, but...yes, he is visualizing the end result of every move he considers.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck**fuck**.
I am so screwed. What the hell can I do? He’s cheating (technically), but so am I (technically). Not like I can call him out on it. How do you prove that someone can see the future?
I try to get a read on one of the spectators. There are a few excellent players watching the match, but I can’t keep focus on any one. Too far away.
No. No! I feel the rage boil up in me. I will **not** lose to some random-
He resigns, a mixture of fear and disgust on his face. Murmurs of confusion ripple through the onlookers; apparently, he had the match well in hand. In his mind, I glimpse an image: me standing over his bloodied body.
A win is a win, I guess. | 2021-03-16T23:05:44 | 2021-03-16T22:47:54 | 129 | 90 |
[WP] you are perfectly safe in your bunker, you have plenty of food and water and even plumbing. The problem is that you are alone and there is a zombie outside. Out of sheer boredom you teach it to speak, and now it's trying to convince you to let it in. | Dave heard the chime of the intercom over the bunker’s speakers and groaned.
“Daave.” called the gravelly voice, muffled slightly as it rolled out of the old overhead speaker. The speaker itself was embedded in the concrete ceiling under a metal plate that had been bolted into place. The bolts had proved problematic, and the metal extremely resistant to all attempts to remove or break.
Another chime. “Daaave.”
He tried to ignore it and focus on the task at hand: removing the damn intercom speaker from his sleeping quarters. He stood on top of two chairs stacked on top of a desk while using an old gigantic screwdriver and hammer to chisel around the metal plate. Over the past three days he’d made substantial progress. In another couple of hours he’d have a large enough gap to wedge a prybar under the plate.
“Daaaave.”
He began pounding the screwdriver with the hammer even harder, trying to drown out the voice. It wasn’t working. “Daaaaave.” Dave let out a loud exasperated sigh and turned on the radio clipped to his faded jacket.
“Yes, Zee, I hear you, what is it?” He said, not bothering to disguise his annoyance.
“Open.”
“No.”
“Brains.”
“No.”
“Daaaaave.”
Dave stopped pounding at the plate for a moment to press his head into the back of his knuckles. It had been his 'bright' idea to teach the Zombie at the front gate to talk. He even gave it a name once it understood enough. Now he regretted the action with every fiber of his being. It had been a game at first, something to do during the long lonesome months he’d spent in the bunker. He figured having someone to talk to might keep him sane a little longer. Now he was worried his insanity would stem from an entirely different, and much more annoying, source. He went back to his slow chiseling.
After a few minutes the intercom chimed again. “Noise?” questioned Zee. Dave stopped and wiped sweat off his forehead.
“You hear a noise? What noise?” Asked Dave, worrying that that something was compromising the base.
“Your noise. Loud metal and rock.” Replied Zee. Dave looked down at his makeshift chisel and realized Zee could hear him hammering over the intercom.
“That’s me.” He said back. “I’m doing some quality of life renovations. "You know, replacing the tile in the kitchen, putting in granite countertops, knocking down that annoying living room wall for an open-concept living space.” He smiled as he kept talking, enjoying the fantasy.
“Open wall?” Zee asked. “Which wall? Zee enter?” Dave winced, he should have seen that coming.
"Never mind dead guy.” Dave began, “never mind it was just a joke. I’m trying to take out the intercom speaker in my bedroom."
"Speaker box?" Zee clarified. Dave nodded, even though no one could see him. He knew he did little things like that, old physical habits from before the infection that he couldn't kick.
"Yep. Speaker box." He agreed. "That way you can't wake me up at night."
Zee was quiet for a long moment. These pauses in their conversations were new things. He used to always jump from one question to another, but over the past few weeks he'd learned to reflect. Dave thought that was extraordinary; for a zombie to take a few second to plan a response was so, human.
"Nights bad. Night talk make night good." Dave looked down at the radio thoughtfully. This also was not the first time Zee had seemed just as lonely as he was.
"Yeah, I get yah." Said Dave, his tone softening. "But I got to sleep at night, recharge the old noggin."
"So, no night talk make brain good?" Reasoned Zee slowly.
"Exactly. It's good for my brain."
"Hmmm Brains." Replied Zee, the hunger evident.
Dave sighed, "Listen dead guy, just because I'm keeping my brain healthy doesn't mean—" but before he could finish, Dave accidentally kicked the chair he was standing on, and it began sliding off the desk. Dave tried to step off the falling chair but missed and fell with it. He threw out his arm to brace his fall and felt pain shoot up the arm when it struck the floor. He yelled out.
“Dave?” Called Zee. “Dave ok?” Dave rolled onto his back and held his arm tight against his chest. He lay there for almost a minute, all the while listening to the zombie repeat his name over and over. “Dave? Daaaave. Dave? Dave? Dave. Dave.”
“I’m fine! Jesus, just relax for a minute.” He finally shouted back, feeling tears form at the corner of his eyes. He moved his arm around and began lightly pressing where it had hit the ground. It did not feel broken, although it throbbed like crazy.
“Dave ok?” Zee asked immediately.
“Yes,” he replied, letting out a deep breath as the pain began to recede. “I’m ok.”
Zee paused for a few seconds before asking, “Dave brain ok?
Dave sighed, heavily. “Yes. Dave brain ok too.”
“Good.” Said Zee. Dave rolled his eyes and wondered if he was imagining the tone of relief in Zee’s voice”
“Dave?” it asked.
“Yeah?”
“Open?”
“No.” | Part 1
“1, 2, 3, 4…” I count the cans of food placed neatly on the shelves. There is a thin layer of dust that covers them and I take notice with the cans expiry dates, most of them are 20 years from now but I still try to choose the one closer to expiry.
Not that that really matters, anyway.
I’ve really struck gold here, in terms of the apocalypse, rows and rows of non-perishables lined the shelves. Beans, corned beef, tuna fish, corn, you name it and I’ve most likely got a shelf of it somewhere here. I’m clearly set for life. That’s the thing about it though. Out of everything that one worries about in the apocalypse, no one ever seems to mention how lonely it gets out here but that’s fine. Better alone than *starving* together, I should say.
With nothing to do, except eat, sleep, shower, rinse and repeat. I’ve taken it upon myself to fill my waking hours with writing in this little log book I found in the employee break room and when I get sick of writing, I clean up, I try to make this space seem a little more homely than it really is. I count cans.
Counting cans.
*Two-thousand four hundred fifty eight* of them.
And that gets smaller by two every day.
Now, you could say that I merely counted a shelf full of cans, then counted the number of shelves and multiplied them together, accounting for the cans I’ve already taken in my time living here but you don’t understand.
I have *nothing* to do.
Shameful as it may be that I spent a few weeks of my life doing nothing but counting cans, I had literally nothing else to do except take space and maybe, breathe.
*Two-thousand four hundred fifty six*
Three uniforms in the locker room. I guess counting is what I do to pass the time now.
Frank really liked his coffee. His uniform smelled of coffee grounds and vanilla when I took it out to try it on. He had a little girl, Maisie who drew all kinds of pictures for him to hang up in his locker. They were obviously to warm her dad’s heart but I found myself smiling at the colourful scrawls and scribbles when I came across them. From his locker, he left a pair of work boots which I am forever thankful for. The soles of my sneakers were worn in from all the pacing around the warehouse. They were a little big but extra thick socks combatted this small oversight.
I opened the next locker, and a small gold trinket fell out with a tinkling sound. Joe was married. I picked the ring off the ground, the thin band held the vow of a life I’ve never met, Lila was engraved in swirly letters on the inside. I carefully placed it back in Joe’s locker, I had no use for gold and it was something of sentimental value to the probably-dead. Joe left behind some other things too, a photograph of a bald man with a bright smile and a black tuxedo next to a portly woman, with large curls in a white dress. A blank white coffee mug, and a tool kit – something that I’m taking; thank you, Joe.
I looked at the photograph again, happy faces on a joyous occasion and the melancholy feeling filled my chest again. I didn’t have anyone to miss me. I didn’t have anyone to worry about me either. I hadn’t seen another human’s face in so long that the photograph felt wrong. Faces weren’t supposed to look that way, were they?
Maybe I’m just used to the dead.
And then there was Todd, with his fresh and clean uniform. A newbie on his first day right before the undead rose. It smelled of fresh detergent and fabric softener and I wondered if he washed it himself or if he had someone who cared about him enough to do it for him. Strewn in his locker were loose cigarettes, a deck of cards and a pack of gum. Todd didn’t have any photos up, or any signs that he had a family of his own to miss. Just the cards, the cigarettes, and the gum. I counted the cards, 52 of them. All accounted for, still wrapped in a layer of plastic. Did he buy it to play with Joe and Frank? I pocketed the deck and left the locker room.
*Two-thousand four hundred and forty two*
I’ve probably played hundreds of games of solitaire by now, Todd’s deck was worn in quite well from it and my mind was bored again. I didn’t think that the sheer isolation of the situation was enough to drive me up the wall.
I think I did something insane today.
I was looking out of a slit through a boarded up window and a rotting carcass had shambled over to that window, staring straight at me through the crack with milky white eyes.
Now at this stage, any sane person would board up the window properly, to avoid getting mauled to death by the possible horde that this one rotting individual could bring upon me, but I didn’t.
Maybe it was the isolation. The need to feel some type of connection to someone, the desperation to have some sort of answer. Maybe it was the boredom, the sheer action for “the hell of it” excitement, the mind craving to break away from the routine, clawing at something new, something different to feel.
I took a deep breath. “Hello.” My voice was raspy, I hadn’t talked in so long that I forgot the sound of my own voice.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Was I? Was I expecting it to respond? Was I expecting it to claw at the window more aggressively and attract others? The blood was rushing and I felt adrenaline coursing through every vein in my body. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. Why did I say hello to a zombie? Why did it matter? Why was I thinking about it so much?
I don’t know if I was hallucinating, I have no idea if I could trust what my eyes saw or what my ears heard.
The thing tilted its head at me, like a confused puppy and gurgled. It was slow and hard to understand but I knew it. I heard it. I swear I did.
The zombie growled a warped and almost unintelligible “Hello” back
(This is my second story on r/WritingPrompts ! Please be nice as I'm quite new to this, any feedback would be well appreciated!
Edit to add: Thank you for the gold! That's my first time recieving it) | 2021-09-29T08:44:53 | 2021-09-29T06:56:19 | 1,940 | 127 |
[WP] Your childhood bully once said you were nobody. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had a reality-bending superpower. Now he's the world's strongest superhero, everyone calls him The Truth, because his word is the absolute truth... Nobody knows about his past, and Nobody will make him pay. | I am the Truth. A God who has no mysteries. The universe bends itself to my will, I merely speak to have, whisper to destroy. I scream to forget and nobody can deny me.
Had I known about my powers before my history project, maybe I wouldn't have messed up the true mysteries of the pyramids, but I like my version better. I am the creator of the Martians who helped the Egyptians.
I am the creator of our modern space age and now spaceships are as affordable as a modern suburban home and space travel is cheaper than plane tickets ,fuck those scalpers.
I am the reason everyone has access to all basic necessities, nobody will go thirsty, nobody will go hungry, nobody will have to suffer from the crude cruelties of the old world. Everyone has the right to the internet, everyone has the right to pursue their dreams and opportunities on some basic equal footing, but those who create biases and make things "unfair" will not be shunned, it is an accomplishment to be able to provide more and as such this behaviour will not be condemned.
I am the reason families can see eachother no matter where they are, because if I can have everything, I'd like everyone to have a little more something, so teleporters and free interspace and after life video calls for the win!
I am the denier of climate change, the composition of the earth's atmosphere is always at it's prime. I am the creator of the hollow earth, the existence of surviving dinosaurs is my doing.
I am the creator of the after life, now all of human kind, all our souls, regardless of who we are or were, have somewhere to go; be it heaven, the ultimate hedonistic paradise where your God given land is your God given world, just for you to taste what it's like to be God; or hell, where you can spend centuries with the best psychiatrist in the universe and undo the evil in your heart and mind before you're released to an infinite paradise.
I am a being of inifite redemption, nobody can wrong me, nobody can stop me, if I make a mistake I simply utter words of regret, if I'm about to lose, I simply mutter words of victory.
Nobody is greater than me, nobody can overcome my desire, but I am a benevolent God. Nobody exists in cruetly, nobody will suffer unreasonably. Of course I've tried simply removing suffering from the equation, but that takes out the zest of existing, and makes the people's heavens quite bland.
Humans were made to suffer, they were made to overcome that suffering and simply not suffering would make happiness boring, so exist as you may, have your freewill, and once you're done and dead, enjoy your ideal happiness in my ideal world, where everyone can be like me in their God given land, but nobody can go beyond the confines I've set for them with my power. Nobody can interfere with my grand plot, and if someone does, their free will crumble, nobody can resist, nobody can overpower me, nobody can outlive me.
And so as fate would have it, I met Nobody. A pitiful man from my past, one I've taken advantage of because I was a more aggressive child in the cruel confines of the dreaded old world schooling system, and my powerlessness at home, my abuse, morphed me in to one of the biggest monsters in existence, a highschool bully. They were times of wedgies, from the hilarious hang-from-the-coat-rack wedgies to the sadistic atomic wedgies. I was the textbook bully and my cruelty created another monster, just like my father did to me. A monster that threatens to overwhelm me, threatens to reveal an irrelevant past for some type of redemption for their tattered soul, a monster misguided and focused on ideals that no longer matter.
I spent eons in my universe creating and destroying, and this man, having been called Nobody in my long forgotten past, faced the pain of my poorly worded statements. He was a husk of a man, long dead, he escaped the confines of his heaven with the powers I had given him and all he wanted was revenge. But he did not have the wisdom I did, he did not know what he could do, how in his fit of rage, he could end me, and I felt something I haven't felt in a long time, fear.
But such an emotion is unsightly for an ultimate being so I did what I knew was right, I brought forth my humility and I apologized.
We've been friends for eons, he's a God in his own right simply because I am weak to him according to my Truth, but I could solve that like I do with all my older contradictions, a clean wipe, but I chose not to. I let him rule with me for our sense of making the world a better place was in great synergy, and I finally had someone I could truly call my friend.
Nobody is my friend. | "Who am I? Nobody, don't worry, I get that look a lot. Try not to think about it too hard, you'll get a headache." The woman staring up at me was shaky, not everyday you see a criminal just cease their own existence, all for a purse too. "W-where are you?" The lady was clearly in some sort of shock, I suppose it's scary for her, I'm not in their world, nor in another, just in between, she can only see me when she blinks, and out of the corner of her eye, must activate some primal fears buried deep within the human psyche. Oh well.
I walked her home, or rather, followed her there, she wasn't aware of my presence, or maybe she was and just thought it was some creeping madness, nice house overall, 3 cats, a perky family of rats living in the floor, probably due to the cats slacking off, one of the better looking homes I've seen in Trefoil Lane. I almost screamed with jealousy at the running water too. I am Nobody, some call me a myth, some say I'm a ghost, others, a hoax, but I am very real. Nobody hugs the corners of reality, of *your* reality, I live in the limbo between space, and I have access to a very neat set of abilities. Harry Crandon, also known as The Truth, put me in this unfortunate situation when I was 13, a childhood bully of mine since I could say my ABC's, a right and proper pain in the ass.
12 years ago Harry Crandon had unlocked some latent potential within his being, along his regular rounds of frisking for cash and bruising my ribs, he 'accidentally' erased me from reality. My disappearance wasn't looked into, Crandon was child of the city mayor, I was an orphan, my disappearance was treated as a runaway incident and I was never looked into. The upside is, I no longer have to eat, sleep, get a job, or buy a home, limbo has all I could need, but I've been meaning to get more out of my existence, or lack of it.
Crandon has committed a fair amount of evil in his life, I'm no saint, but this man would've earned his way into every watch list and wanted list on the planet if people knew, fraud, assault, murder, kidnapping, rape, drug distribution and procurement, robbery, all manner of human rights violations, and Jaywalking, all before he hit 21. A real piece of work, I never cared too much until he started acting the hero.
"The Truth. How rich." I stood upon the roof of West Street Cabaret, just caught Mr Truth in some pretty nasty acts of sexual assault, I'd stop him if it wasn't more evidence to add to the pile. "Bastard gives a speech in less than 3 hours, yet is assaulting people in a backalley and then making them disappear, I guess I'm lucky in the sense he was a lot worse at it when he did it to me." It was close.
"Great Citizens of Vernage City, The Truth is here!" Thunderous applause, wouldn't expect any less. "After years of toiling with corrupt political leaders, crime on the streets, and a whole heap of state debt, we have finally made his city something to be proud of!" Yeah, right, proud. "From this day forth, I, The Truth, your hero and protector, will vow to serve, and with the opening of Vernage's heritage museum, I will forever protect you as part of our history!" Huh, big man gave him a statue, can't say I expected that. Too bad it's all about to start crumbling down.
First, I fractured the sky, with a click of my fingers it all broke like glass, there was hushed murmurs from the crowd, they thought it was their hero making a spectacle. Then, I picked apart the statue, threw different pieces into other dimensions, and returned them, some pieces took on different materials and lighting, others shouldn't exist, looking at it too long would blind you I'm sure. The Truth stood there, he had no idea what was going on, I could smell his sweat from here. Now I have their attention, I'm going to make my entrance...
"Great citizens...I am Nobody, some of you know me, most of you don't, in life I was Simon Larion, an orphaned boy that resided within this cesspool of a city, bullied fairly often by a Mr.Harry Crandon. One day, he just erased me from reality, thinking me missing or dead, yet, here I am, before he became The Truth as you know him he was a villain and I am here to expose him." It difficult materialising into this reality again, I had to pull various elements into my body and break the laws of psychics approximately 120 times, but this would be my most glorious moment. A great golden man, stood at least 5 metres above every other man and woman, I felt real again, and I was powerful, far more powerful than The Lie. My first action would be to smash his statue, an action the masses below would understand much easier than everything else. Then, I would project each and every sin, catalogued through my eyes and stored somewhere absent in space, each fracture in the sky acting as a screen. The chorus of gasps and screams, how it felt so real.
I turned to The Lie, in the real world he would answer to justice, prison, jail, community services, perhaps a death sentence. But this is no longer their reality, it is mine. Fragmented across time and space forevermore, unable to die, I could've done this at any time, but to reveal all his sins before damning him to eternity, it was my therapy.
"Your villain has been vanquished...good citizens..." the gasps were no more, although there was plenty of shouting and tears. I suppose the city is mine, I've never really lived too much, The Lie has been my obsession for years. It would sure be nice to be a king. | 2021-11-23T07:27:02 | 2021-11-23T07:21:20 | 355 | 75 |
[WP] Your childhood bully once said you were nobody. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had a reality-bending superpower. Now he's the world's strongest superhero, everyone calls him The Truth, because his word is the absolute truth... Nobody knows about his past, and Nobody will make him pay. | "Now, Mr. Truth, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Do you mind if I call you Mr. Truth?"
"That's fine."
"Right, Mr. Truth. Our readers are dying to know more about you. You can just make any statement you want, and it becomes real. Besides you, Nobody has that power, correct?"
"Yes, absolutely correct."
"Amazing. They say that Nobody is stronger than you, is that correct?"
"Er, yes. That's right. Nobody can defeat me."
"And Nobody can resist your ability?"
"Some can partially resist it, but nobody is fully immune."
"And you're totally immune to other powers? Nobody has power over you?"
"That's right."
"How fascinating! So, if you were to declare that the moon was made of lemon custard, would that come true?"
"Er, no. Even I have limits."
"So, some of our readers have asked why you don't just say that the villains are surrendering, or that criminal acts are now physically impossible. Would those limitations be why?"
"Haha, yeah. But I can shut down their superpowers, make them super heavy, and cause them to pass out from a lack of air. Sometimes their own powers interfere with that, to a degree, which is when I have to resort to delivering them to justice with my fists."
"Wow! One last question, Mr. Truth, if you don't mind me asking? Do you recall when you were in fifth grade? There was another child whom you bullied relentlessly. One day you beat him to the brink of unconsciousness while yelling about how he would always be nobody, and you were going to grow up to be a hero. Do you recall that?"
"What? Where did you hear that?"
"Nobody told me. By the way, your voice will no longer work. I've been keeping track of you for a long while now, biding my time. The air around your mouth will not enter. Did you know that you literally changed my name to Nobody? All of your nerve endings will double in sensitivity every second. You made my parents forget I ever existed. The pull of gravity on your body will double and switch directions every five seconds until you die. You deserve this." | The blood slowly dripped down the shaft of the takeout plastic blade into a growing pool on the floor. The press, which moments before had been clamoring with questions, stood silent. Dozens of faces riddled with shock. It was not immediately clear to Bernard Boothe Benedict whether the shock came from the fact that humanity's newly declared President and God-emperor was killed, or that he was killed by a plastic piece of takeout cutlery in the middle of his big press conference. Half of said cutlery still jutted out of his throat, moving awkwardly along His trachea as He tried to speak.
It's not like Bernie had planned it this way. He'd been waiting for this moment, but he didn't know this was going to be the moment. He knew ever since Bernie found out about His abilities. Bernie was the first to know, but nobody believed him. When He said that Bernie was a "nobody" the words came true. Grades slid into mediocrity. A mild enthusiasm for pot became an 4 pm habit. Everything that made him exceptional was wiped away.
A man whose words become truth cannot sit idle. He did big things. Great things. None of them good, but all of them big. There didn't seem to be hope for anyone. He had declared that He would live forever. And it became true, like all the rest. Who could give up when the stakes were so high? Nobody.
Bernie watched Him, closely, on tv and in the news. They tried to cover His every word. After all, He was probably the most important being in the universe next to God... If he wasn't God. Bernie wasn't sure. Bernie caught one weakness. Whatever He said became true, but if He said something that contradicted what He said earlier, the latest statement took precedent. So, maybe he could be killed. He just had to say something stupid. Something that gave him a weakness, for just a second.
So, Bernie took the opportunities he hwd. It was easy to keep a low profile when you are "nobody." They don't pay attention to you when you are "nobody." The government doesn't care even if you happen to have been at every one of His last 23 public appearances. His cults don't even bat an eye.
So when He stood on that stage, and answered the question from the press as to whether He ever worried about assassination, Bernie knew he had to act. This was what he had been waiting for. As soon as the words left His lips, Bernie took the one thing he had, plastic cutlery from the burger place on 5th Street, and rushed the stage. Bernie wondered whether His answer had given Bernie some sort of supernatural power to avoid the Honor Guard, or, whether nobody tried to stop him because He was immortal. Either way, Bernie ran between the Guard like a knife through butter. Bernie's plastic knife trained on His throat like an owl descending on a mouse.
It was over in seconds, as He lay on the floor gurgling. Humanity was free. A woman in the front, wearing a drab brown dress suit asked Bernie, "who is the man that killed the Truth?" Bernie wanted to announce all three of his names, to join the likes of Lee Harvey Oswald and John Wilkes Boothe. But that didn't do any justice to the real truth. The reason he was able to do what he did.
"I'm Nobody," Bernie said. "The only man who could have done it." | 2021-11-23T11:51:41 | 2021-11-23T10:16:31 | 109 | 15 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | When the Jal-tharians had begun destroyimg human settlements and capturing planets, the Terran Federation asked for peace, hoping to resolve whatever had caused such violent acts against them.
When the Jal-tharians laughed and mocked, and destroyed the vessel sent with offerings of peace, the Terran Federation demanded a cease fire and reparations. The Galactic Council watched, wondering if Humanity would fall as a few races had.
There was not a third incedent. Not that was fully followed through. The Jal-tharians attempted to destroy the human cradle world they called Earth. One Sol cycle later, there weren't even genetic scraps of the Jal-tharians remaining to clone, and they were declared extinct by the Galactic Council.
Humanity once more put forth what they called an 'Olive Branch', a sign of peace from their home world. Two more races went extinct in the Civil war that erupted within the Joint Galactic Empires, without Human intervention, and humanity's offer of peace was accepted, for their offering of peace is a mercy. They are neither chaos nor order, but both, and they merely wish to live. And they won't just fight for that. They will genocide for it, should they be forced to do so. | Something big was about to happen. All of the TV channels had switched to a live feed to Paris, Earth’s current Capital. Earth Head Toussaint was about to give an emergency address. I checked the socials and it was filled with wild conjecture, all the while listening to more tempered speculation from the reporters and commentators on TV.
“We haven’t been able to get any answers from the goverment about the contents of the address, and we just confirmed that the entire parliament and senate have been recalled to Earth and will convene an emergency joint session immediately after Earth Head Toussaint’s address. And it looks like she approaching the podium now.”
She began speaking in French, a serious look on her face, and almost immediately a translation was provided.
“Fellow citizens, we are at war. We have just received confirmation that the Mems have fired Planet Killers at the majority of the planets in our Commonwealth. Like cowards, and without provocation they are attempting to wipe out humanity in one fell barrage.”
“We are a united people and we will not fall. Our intellegence predicted this and we have taken countermeasures. It will take them 3 months to realize that their shots are off target, and another nine months after that before they are ready to fire again.”
“We likely cannot prevent the second barrage or alter its aim like we were able to do with the first. Our own plannet killing shots, as they are now, won’t hit their targets in time to prevent the second wave of their cowardly attack on our people.”
“But, fellow citizens, do not despair. We have a way forward, we have a strategy of survival, but it will take all of us, working together as one, to realize this plan.”
“As of this moment, whether you like it or not, every citizen is now in service of the Commonwealth and in service of our unified goal to save our people. We will fight them with our best minds, we will fight them with our production and we will fight them with everything we have. For what we have is our will, and what we have is each other.”
“The Mems don’t realize this yet but they are in a race against time. We believe that we can use recent Human scientific breakthroughs in power production and wormhole theory to jump to their planets and take them by force.”
“There is hope for us. Hope fired by human ingenuity and production. We cannot fail, as failure means the death of all of us.” | 2021-12-17T16:22:34 | 2021-12-17T15:01:38 | 54 | 31 |
[WP] “So your saying that you humans feel empathy?” “Yeah, it’s great to be able to understand one ano-“ “You don’t understand! If your species has empathy then that means your planets been infected.” | "Wait, did you say 'infected'?" Leo tilted his head curiously.
The alien being had been talking to him for quite a while now and when the initial shock of speaking to an alien subsided was revealed to be a fairly amicable fellow. It bore more resemblances to humans than Leo expected - a head with two eyes, a mouth-hole, two arms. Sure, 4 legs, but that's still pretty close all things considered.
"Correct, Leo," the translator device said in a robotic voice after the alien muttered some unintelligible noises into it. "It is a form of pathogen that can be found on numerous planets, origins and methods of spread thus far unclear, and it never ends well. Approximately 87% of the time, it will lead to the death of the species."
"I don't understand," said Leo, "how can empathy hurt someone? It allows you to help your fellow... being. Do the greater good."
"Which amounts for the 13% of successful civilizations. Most of the time, however, it leads to emotional imbalances, which lead to wars, which lead to annihilation. Our current records indicate your species is 97% likely to destroy itself."
"Well... I can't argue with that," Leo chuckled grimly. "So now what?"
"A blockade will be employed to ensure the pathogen will not spread, else we risk death."
"You don't understand the virtues of it," Leo shook his head. "The joy it can bring to see a friend thrive. The satisfaction of watching an enemy hurt. The love you can share with a partner. All things ever so glorious, I'd never exchange them for anything. If I were you, I'd wish to spread these emotions, but I suspect you have no idea how I feel, do you now?"
"Truthfully," the alien said, its expression changing - a thin droplet of some liquid resembling sweat rolled down its forehead; the eyebrows it had furrowed in a mixture of worry and fear and its mouth grew slightly agape as a terrifying realization dawned upon it.
"I think I know how you feel." | "For there to be progress, there must be dispassionate and cruel exploitation. You, as a species, know this." The being spoke from the other side of the glass.
"That's not an inherent attribute to progress. There can be progress without—"
"Wrong. Your kind is on its way to greatness. But, like many other species before you and like many others to come, you're shackled. Held back. By your compassion. By your empathy. Eradicate this disease and you'd join us among the stars."
"Alright, friend. That's a hard ask, and I think we still have to establish a few things before you start laying down absolutes like that. Like, for example, are you saying compassion doesn't exist in the intergalactic community?"
"Oh, it does. But not in the way you'd expect. Compassion is measured. Incentivised. There must be a calculated purpose for it. The compassion your kind has is often unconditional. Your empathy is almost instinctive. I have seen many species such as yours over the course of my lifetime. They all perish long before they make it out of their interstellar neighborhood."
"Why?"
"There is no room for empathy in the vacuous expanse that awaits you. It is a limiting factor. Restrictive. It is an infection that will cripple you long before you can even crawl."
"I don't believe you."
"I don't see why you shouldn't. I have no reason to lie. Frankly, I see your kind reaching its full potential to be a net positive for all species. That is why we have reached out in the first place."
"But empathy is intrinsic. Baked in. It's what makes humans human."
"It was what made my kind my kind as well. You have unlocked genetic tampering. You can weed out the emphatic nature in your kind before your births. It is simple. And necessary. Get rid of your disease and you can bask in the cosmos among us."
"And if we don't?"
"Your planet will be quarantined. Any attempt to make interstellar travel outside your neighborhood would be met with precise violence. We have had too much trouble with empathetic species before."
"Earlier you said *we*, as in the empathetic species, destroyed ourselves because of our nature. Now, you're saying that *you* are the ones who're—"
"You misunderstood. Empathic creatures *tend* to destroy themselves soon after they achieve interstellar travel. But if they don't, and decide to venture out into our space, that's when we step in. As long as they are quarantined to their section of their—"
"Ok, I've heard enough. Jesus. Is this the cost of an intergalactic community?"
"It is the cost of a successful and efficient intergalactic community, yes."
"Well, usually these kinds of ultimatums would have to discussed among our world leaders before we can give a proper answer. But allow me to speak for everyone of planet Earth when I say, 'Fuck all that noise. We're fine being quarantined if that means we get to keep the part of us that keeps us human. Because what you're saying is just... Sad.'" the human folded her arms and shook her head as she studied the squamous visage of her fellow sapient life on the other side of the glass.
"Shame." The alien said simply, before seemingly shimmering out of existence. | 2022-01-20T07:39:45 | 2022-01-20T07:35:41 | 476 | 96 |
[WP] Earth is losing to the Aliens. You develop a serum and are now on the body littered streets to face the Alien commander. “Weakling! A super soldier serum is useless on your kind!” He exclaims. “That’s why...I made a zombie virus.” You say as you break the vial, releasing a mist into the air | Of all the places to have landed an invasion force, Isla Nublar didn't make a ton of sense. The aliens were indiscriminate though, destroting both the park's attractions and guests with equal prejudice. After the Costa Rican government capitulated, it was clear that the landings were worldwide, not just on the island.
We released the predators in the second day. Rex cut a bloody swath through the enemy before the leader himself killed her in the city center. The pack hasn't been heard from at all, I just hope they're hunting the right prey.
The ocean is still ours, though opening her pen made sending any landing craft a lesson in suicide by sea monster.
There's been so much death. I'm recording this with the last of the surviving equipment.
We never quite got Project Lazarus right, it would have saved InGen billions. Now, it will save the world.
I grabbed the innoculation vial and sprinted for the center. The overlord had built his throne upon Rex's corpse, and I needed to be sure.
"ARTHUR HAMMOND" the overlord crowed, patting the arms of his chair. "Come at last to surrender?"
"I've come to watch you die, Xartik." I shouted back, crushing the vial and inhaling the protective mist.
"Fool, as if I would be beaten by any pathetic human meat, super serum or no." Xartic laughed.
"Oh, I know," I said, smirking. "That's why I released the Lazarus gas."
A single milky, reptilian eye opened and foused on Xartic, and the fractured skull of Jurassic Park's premier attraction rose behind the unaware leader.
"Pathetic," Xartic was saying, "your mist did nothing, I feel no-"
Undead, serrated teeth the size of kitchen knives cut into alien flesh. Xartic didn't even have time to scream before the risen tyrannosaurus tore him in half. A cry from the brush tore my attention from Rex and I watched the corpse of the dilophosaur spit a mixture of blood and venom into the eyes of Xartic's bodyguard.
And from behind the guest center came the distinctive *tap, tap, tap* of oversized claws on concrete. The pack, somehow still alive after all this time, tore into the remaining soldiers, the raptors dropping them with ruthless efficiency.
I was going to die, trapped between three different deadly predators, but I would die smiling. Knowing that Earth's greatest enemy would be exterminated by Earth's greatest killers. | They called me mad.
Insane. Crackpot. Overly attached to oatmeal cookies.
But they're not saying anything now, I thought as I bit into a new oatmeal delight.
The streets were filled with charred corpses, and above, were the floating mechanical monstrosities that had gunned each of them down.
I took out another cookie.
I knew where this had all been going from the second they landed. It hadn't happened the way I thought, but I knew quarantining the world's elephants would be the solution either way.
I wiped the crumbs on my lab coat.
I walked by the corpses of all the animals and humans I had sent to their deaths. Mostly my dear traitorous backstabbing elephants. But I couldn't stop to cry for them. There was one more thing I had to do.
The aliens opened fire on me, but the repurposed shield generator deflected all of it.
I bit into another oatmeal delight. This one was individually packaged. Delicious!
After a few hours of that, one of those... things seemed to come down. Impressed by my technology, they'd offer me a job and all the oatmeal cookies I could eat as long as I bathed and gave them my research.
It's how I got my last 3 jobs.
I waved hello and activated my translator.
"WEAKLING! HOW HAVE YOU SURVIVED THIS BARREN PLANET!?"
"All the food is free. I had time. Your ship doesn't scan past 9 different elements, and trust me, anything denser than a steel cage could keep them out."
The alien seemed taken aback. Or... I think that's what the mass of tectacles looked. I unwrapped a new cookie, these were all packed in a single box. They weren't as good, but I could make sandwiches with them!
"You speak the language of star conquers?" (Might need to tune the translator a bit, I thought.)
"Yet you come here. To what end? Begging for life? Mercy?"
"No" I said, though what I heard was unintelligble growling. "I just wanted to see your face when I opened this." I dug through my pockets for a few seconds. RIGHT! I had it taped under my collar.
I produced a glowing yellow vial.
The tentacles convulsed in horror, but probably laughter.
“Weakling! A super soldier serum is useless on your kind!”
"Yep." I growled. "That's why I made a zombie virus."
I smash the vial and a thin mist seems to envelop one of the traitor elephants.
Slowly it rises. Then the corpses surrounding it.
My traitorous elephants had betrayed even death for me!
And as a side effect, the people were standing up too. Nice.
The tentacles seemed to take a step back, that was fear. It tried to run, but it was stuck. All the wrappers from my oatmeal cookies had wrapped around it's legs, pinning it to the ground.
I turned the translator off. I didn't need it to hear the symphony of screams and curses. Calling me mad, a crackpot, a monster.
I am!
The horde I created swarmed me, gnashing teeth and vile snake-like trunks trying to crush me.
Instead I decided to fly.
They all clung to me and formed a beautiful chain of suffering and longing. One that reached all the way to the ship.
I re-enforced it by toppling a skyscraper they could use as a bridge. I'm not dumb.
I watched as my babies devoured everything on the ship and it slowly crashed and exploded.
19 more to go, I thought with a smile. I went to unwrap a cookie but no matter how many pockets I checked, I couldn't find any.
This is the worst day ever. | 2022-04-19T07:32:11 | 2022-04-19T07:22:00 | 250 | 51 |
[WP] Despite being dead, you are still the best doctor the city ever had. Especially since you know exactly what is wrong with any patient by possessing his or her body. However once it was discovered, some people believe that the board should make you moved on but the board won't budge on this... | “Now, starting the discussion for Dr. Whilms to move on to the afterlife. Prompted by Dr. Charles.” The hospital administrator announced inside the conference room. She’s in front of several established doctors deciding the fate of the late Dr. Whilms. Dr. Whilms possesses several patients to tell doctors the diagnosis. It started as unsettling, but the administrator didn’t budge when she heard the news. Instead, she capitalized on the opportunity and took advantage of Dr. Whilm.
Dr. Whilm’s old friend, Charles, sits across the mahogany table. If you were there, you could tell he’s not content with being the defender in this pseudo-courtroom scenario. He didn’t study law. He studied medicine in hopes that he doesn’t have to argue with people. But, unfortunately, Charles didn’t think about arguing with his administrator.
“If I may start, Dr. Charissa.”
“You may.”
“It is my firm belief that Dr. Whilms should be able to move onto the afterlife. He’s done enough for this hospital, and now he needs rest.” Another doctor chimes in,
“He’s a ghost. Researching him would be necessary for the field of science. We can find out more about how people died.” Another doctor agrees with him,
“Exactly. Having a doctor from beyond helping us is a valuable asset.”
“That’s why keeping him on the board is important.” The Admin said.
“You guys are inconsiderate! How do we know if he’s not in pain?” Charles said.
“How would you know that?”
“I wouldn’t. But if I wanted to quit, I would be legally be able to quit. A ghost should be able to quit.”
“Well, the rules are written for humans. Not for ghosts.” The Admin snapped. This was enough for the unique guest they invited to this session. Connor, the bored local medium, starts by saying,
“Alright. I don’t know anything about being a doctor. The only thing I know about the body is how to show it a good time-”
“Professionalism, Connor.”
“Hey, it’s Lord Connor, Dr. Charissa.”
“I’m not calling you Lord because you have a brochure printed off the web.”
“It’s a piece of paper, a certification like yours. If you want me to call you Dr. Charissa, then you must be able to call me Lord Connor.”
“Fine. Lord Connor. What is it that you think we should do?”
“We need to speak to Dr. Whilms.”
“Through what?”
“A Ouija board.”
“You’re insane? This has no relation to science!” One of the doctors from earlier protested.
“Do ghosts have any scientific background?”
“Dr. Whilms does,” Charles said.
“If anything, if I can’t communicate with him, then just don’t pay me. The only thing wasted is time.” The board talks for a moment and comes to a consensus. It’s a yes.
Connor begins to prepare the room with the Admin and Dr. Charles. He darkens the conference room, setting several herbs across the room. Charles couldn’t help his curiosity. He picked up one of the herbs, sniffed it, and then asked Charles,
“Hey, didn’t I prescribe you a medical license earlier this year?”
“Yeah. But that’s not important. It’s ready now.”
They examine the board; both the Admin and Charles have their hands on it. “Go ahead, ask him your questions.” Charles jumps the gun,
“Hey, Bud!”
H. E. Y.
“Holy shit, it works.”
H.A. H. A. Ha.
“Is it painful to be a ghost?”
N.
“Do you like helping people?” The Admin asked.
Y.
“That’s enough for me.” The Admin said.
“No, wait.”
“That’s all we need to know.”
“No, it isn’t. Hey buddy, is there anything that we can do for you?”
G.I.M.M.I.E. M.Y. P.A.Y.C.H.E.C.K. | "You have been using your talents to extend the lives of the living!" Jimmy Bones yells at me. I stand at the podium in front of the seven judges, waiting for each of them to unleash their wrath on me in turn. "This is forbidden! You understand your pact is with the dead. You are to heal the dead souls so that they may enter the afterlife."
"Yeah, that just kinda doesn't interest me," I reply. I'm already so bored. I kinda thought this would be more exciting; me, Tommy Skeleton, going up against the Man. Well, Men...and Women, of the Afterlife Board of Inquiry. "I like healing the living, what can I say?"
"Ugh!" the High Matron Alexis looks at me in disgust. "The gifts you have been given through your life and beyond have been in purpose for this! To guide lost souls into the next life. You know why you can't move beyond, the sins you committed in life. But you can help others. And yet you waste your talents extending lives for what, 1, 2 years? Have you any idea how old I am?"
"I'd uh wager like 500 or something."
"I am..." Alexis takes a moment to compose herself. "My age is beyond the recognition of this universe."
"So like super old I guess."
"You must desist."
"Whatevs...."
\*\*\*\*\*
That meeting was super stressful. I think the board is filled with a bunch of jerks. They make so many people suffer, and of course they get upset when I relieve the suffering of even one or two of their trillions of creations. Even that is enough of a statistical aberration to earn their disrespect.
I hate them.
At least they recognize that their only power is to dissuade me without taking any meaningful action. If I were them, I would kill someone like me.
There's just so much suffering among the living.
\*\*\*\*\*
"Please, Tommy Skeleton, I want to die," the old man says to me. Like so many, he's been in pain for longer than he can remember. Like so few, I cannot relieve his pain. I can't even think of the kinda drugs it would take to affect his physiology.
"I'll find a way to help you live," I say. I don't know if I'm just fighting against what Alexis said or if I'm trying to actually help him. Either way, I know I want him to live. "It's okay, we'll figure it out."
"Oh Tommy, if only you weren't such a bad liar." He leans back and coughs and I just think about how I don't even know his name. I don't want him to die.
I walk away from his bed, into the muddy roads of this desolate town. It's some ancient civilization that rose to the stars and fell again. Now their planet is decrepit and overpopulated.
"Tommy, did you think you could get away without saying high?" Gracie says, her smile radiating beauty. "You must tell me how you've been!"
"Oh Gracie," I say. "If only my beens were as great as your ares. Then I might be half as good as I was."
"Okay..."
"I can't save him."
"You can. I've seen you save so many."
"But this one wants to die. How can I save someone who doesn't want to be saved?"
"You can at least try."
I think about it. About trying. Well, if there's anything I'm good at....
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
"Ah, you've come back," the old mans says. Before I can say or do anything, I see in his eyes that his soul has already left his body. It was that quick. He said the words and died. Just like that.
"Damn," I say, closing my eyes.
"I see you," the old man says. I turn around and see his ghost. "Guide me where to go, will you, eh? I'm a bit lost here. Not used to it."
"Alright," I tell him. I touch his shoulder and I don't even need to think about where to go, I just go there, taking him with me. This is nice. It feels right.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
"We see you've guided the old man to the afterlife," Alexis says. I stand before her at the podium again and wonder if I'll be allowed to leave. "This is what you were meant to do. Good job."
"HAHAHAHA!" I hear, and the old man I walked into the afterlife stares me dead in the eyes, standing right on the opposite side of the podium. "You saved me! You've realized your purpose, and now I am back amongst the dead."
"Your Hades," I realize.
"Yes! And you are my delivery boy. Together, we will make an excellent team!"
I shake his hand and feel more optimistic than I ever did in life.
&#x200B;
The End.
&#x200B;
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
I know this isn't right in line with the prompt, but it's what I thought of. | 2022-10-12T15:11:20 | 2022-10-12T14:40:01 | 82 | 20 |
[WP] You are a barista in a 24 hour coffee shop. Every night at 3:33am a demon appears for the Dark Lord's latte. | "Listen here new guy. Every night at precisely 3:30am I brew a fresh pot of our darkest roast. I use a whole bag of our house blend. If you know what's good for you, you'll set an alarm to remember." He looks at me like I'm crazy.
"But.. We haven't seen a customer for at least an hour.. Also, why so strong?" He leans in closely as I press the button. Hot steam billows from the coffee maker as the beans begin to brew. I look him dead in the face and use my *serious* tone.
"Because Beelzebub is coming for The Dark Lord's coffee, and he likes it hot." I smirk a little at the look on his face. Poor new guy has no idea what's in store for him. Bless his heart.
"You're kidding? Isn't Beelzebub a vampire or something? He's not real." This guy thinks he's funny or something.
The machine starts to sputter as the coffee finishes up. As if perfectly timed the lights start to flicker and the temperature in the shop starts to rise. The new guy leans over the counter as I pop the top on the extra large togo cups I special order just for Him.
I hear a snorting sound from the new guy and he whispers "Are you serious?" As the shadowy figure steps in through the door. The footsteps are so soft, almost silent. A single light beams down upon our demonic guest.
"Training some fresh meat tonight my darling?" The voice was so horrible, deep and gutteral. Very uncharacteristic seeing as it was coming from the cutest little girl you've ever seen. Yep. Beelzebub loves to disguise himself as a little bouncy haired blonde girl with big blue eyes. Tonight he wore a hot pink dress with a little mermaid on the front.
"Yes! I grow weary and it's time to retire!" I smile the biggest smile. The new guy looked like his soul had left his body. He stood there gaping with his mouth open. I winked at him. This was too much fun. "Are we still on for our bargain?" I asked the sweet little girl as I handed her the drink.
Beelzebub rocked back and forth on her tiny heels. "Oh yes my darling! You shall live *deliciously* as promised." She looked at the new guy then back to me. "Bless his heart." She grinned the most evil little grin, winked at me, then burst into flames. The lights flickered back on and the temperature dropped.
"Wha.. What the hell!?" The new guy finally found his tongue. I spoke to him with my *serious* tone once more.
"You better set that alarm." | “Hey, how’d it go with your date last night?”
I looked at the time. It’s 3:32am. “Well, kind of a long story. I’d tell you, but you know who will be here any minute now.”
“Ah. True. Well, he might wanna hear too? Is he a he by the way? Does he just identify as “demon” or …”
Suddenly Damien the Demon, most venerable assistant to “The Dark Lord,” appears.
I’ve worked this shift at Angel Café for six months now. Damien, a powerful demon, without fail, appears every night at exactly 3:33am to pick up a latte for “The Dark Lord.” I’ve never gotten used to this and probably never will. I get chills every time Damien appears, but I always try my best to hide my fear and stay professional.
“Damien! How are you?”
“You know why I’m here. Where is it?”
“Ah … uh … right. Coming right up. Just finishing it up now.”
“And why isn’t it already ready?”
“Well … sir … or … uh … yea …”
“What Chris means to say is that last time we made it to be ready for as soon as you arrive and you complained that it was not fresh enough despite us making it literally 30 seconds before you appeared.”
I go back and forth between looking at Damien and Lisa. I can’t believe she just said that to a freaking demon. Is she crazy? Ah, shit! I spill Damien’s order as I’m distracted.
“Fuck,” I whisper just a tad bit too loudly.
“What is it? Where is the latte?”
“Uh … sorry Damien. I …”
My eyesight rapidly deteriorates as tears pile up. I wipe my eyes to prevent a waterfall. Lisa comes over to help.
“It didn’t come out right. We’ll get you a fresh one started immediately.”
That was a lie. Lisa just lied to cover for me. God I hope Damien isn’t psychic.
“It has been 3 minutes. The Dark Lord will not be happy with this wait.”
I nod my head furiously while multitasking and scrambling to get another latte started. Lisa puts her hand over my hand in a signal for me to stop and calm down. I look her in the eyes and nod slowly.
“I am not Cupid. I am a powerful demon. Cut the romance, complete my order, or you will find out exactly what it means to be a powerful demon.”
“Yes. We’re on it Damien. Chris is going to take a break and I’ll get this done right away.”
Damien grunts. I walk to the other side of the café to do some stocking. Lisa pours Damien’s latte into a large coffee cup.
“Here you go. One large iced vanilla latte.”
“Have all the specifications been met?”
“Blonde roast cold brew, one pump vanilla, whole milk, and a dash of cinnamon.”
“Good.”
Damien grabs the coffee.
“By the way, my manager did mention that we’re getting ready to sell to a new owner so I’m not sure if the new owner will be okay with the whole free coffee in exchange for not killing us deal. Just letting you know.”
Damien glares at Lisa.
“I guess we will see.”
Damien suddenly disappears.
I let out a huge sigh of relief and put my hands on my knees while looking at the ground.
Lisa walks over and rubs my back.
I stand up straight.
“You know, Lisa, either you’re the bravest person on the planet, the craziest person on the planet, or both … You know if I didn’t know any better I’d think you’re a demon yourself.”
I grin and giggle.
Lisa grins as well.
“Chris … you have no idea.”
Lisa winks at me.
I tilt my head slightly to the side while looking slightly confused. I wonder what she means by that?
My thought is interrupted by another customer walking in. Ah, fuck. I guess it’s about that time for the after-party crowd. Beats a demon, but not by much. | 2022-10-30T12:33:33 | 2022-10-30T11:59:59 | 113 | 50 |
[WP] You are a barista in a 24 hour coffee shop. Every night at 3:33am a demon appears for the Dark Lord's latte. | About 5 years ago the owner decided to make this little cafe 24hrs. He figured he could take advantage of the after club crowd and by him I mean my poor ass that got shifted to over night. I was the assistant manager, was getting ready to become the manager, now I run over nights 6 nights a week.
Why do I work 6 nights a week? Well Sunday night we're closed and no one else has ever covered a shift for me and returned for their next shift. The benefit is I now make $60k a year working nights, pouring 3 cups of coffee a night. From 10p - 5a there's only ever 3 customers.
2 of the customers are the local police. I'm pretty sure they would quit if they met my third customer. See she's a demon. Not just any demon but Lucifer herself. Apparently one evening a low level demon came in and tried my latte. Then wouldn't stop raving about it to anyone and everyone in the other place. Luci said it wasn't actually hell, just a different dimension. Tried for weeks to get me to pronounce the name right but my human vocal chords couldn't do it. So I call it the other place.
Luci was wonderful. We spent many nights talking about how Christianity screwed up and got everything wrong. Talked about Luci spending a century trying to get it fixed but apparently being a woman and a demon made it a bit difficult so she said fuck it and let it be.
I hit the brew on the fresh pot 3 minutes ago. It would be ready at exactly 3:33, when Luci walked in. It was getting close to that time, it was 3:32a and I could feel the tingle in the air. Lucifer would be here soon. The clock turned to 3:33 and the coffee stopped brewing, the lights dimmed, the air sizzled with static, and smoke poured in through the door frame.
"Hey love, good to see you. Coffee is ready"
"It doesn't even phase you anymore does it?"
"Why should it. Other than the showy entrance, your my best customer. You pay 50x the rate tip. You're the sole reason the night shift is profitable."
She looked me over, head to toe. "You know flattery will get you everywhere. My offer still stands. Come to the other place, live forever, open a chain of cafes, and be my lover"
She has made this offer once a week for 5 years now. Every time I turned it down.
"Yes" I spoke before I thought. Then it hit me, I said yes. Before I could think, everything turned black. The world became fuzzy, my feet left the ground, and then it stopped. I stood in a cafe, empty except for a table and chair.
"This is all yours Jimmy. Anything you need to make it perfect, is yours. Just ask. I'll see you at home husband."
It hit me like a ton of bricks. I was in the other place, apparently married to Lucifer, and would have my dream cafe. "Well fuck me sideways"
From behind me I heard a gentle whisper "there's time for that later honey" | The Barista sat at the end of a counter in an empty coffee shop, flipping through the pages of a disguarded magazine. The after-bar crowd had just cleared out and it was time for a well deserved break. Turning the page, The Barista's nose was met with a strong smell of sulfur and something sour that sent chills down their spine.
The Barista rolled their eyes and slammed the magazine shut.
"You're late" The Barista mumbled, not even bothering to check their watch.
A shadow stood in front of the register but didn't respond.
"I suppose you've come for another latte" the Barista said while opening a small refrigerator and pulling out a carton of goat milk. "Decaf, extra hot, extra shot, no foam, goatmilk latte for..." the Barista stopped before continuing "...the dark lord." Their back was to the shadow, but was that a smirk on The Barista's face?
The shadow didn't respond at all but seemed to be solidifying. Those were definitely 2 pairs of arms by its sides. It held out the lower right hand expectantly. The smell was worse when it moved.
The Barista was watching the espresso drip from the machine.
"It's the extra shot that gets me, you know?" The Barista chuckled, looking back toward the now solid shape at the register. "Like, does ol' Lordy want an extra shot of decaf or regular? Because one-third-caf doesn't quite roll off the tounge but an extra shot of decaf is... a choice."
The Barista turned back to the coffee. The shape at the register had acquired a glow in the places eyes would be if you considered the mass on top of it the head.
The Barista held one shot of espresso out so the shape could see it and said "I've been meaning to ask you, you know? But I've just been doing the extra as a regular shot and, you know..." The Barista looked back while reaching for the steamed goatmilk. "You keep coming back"
The Barista slowly poured the milk into the cup. Carefully crafting an elaborate pattern. Smiling at their own creativity. The Barista turned back to the register. Still admiring the art.
"It's a shame ol' Lordy's just gonna put a lid on that." The Barista smiled looking the shape straight in the glow. "That'll be $6.66, after tax." The Barista extended their hand and their smile grew.
The shape didn't move. It was completely solid now, casting it's own shadow. Smoke and grime seemed to be leaking from it from places The Barista couldn't see and the smell was starting to make their eyes water.
Both of them stared at each other for a full minute, unblinking, arms out stretched.
The Barista, still smiling with tears building in their eyes, cleared their throat.
"That'll be $6.66, after tax."
Tears were starting to stream down The Batista's face, but they remained smiling. Another minute passed and neither The Barista or the shape at the register had moved.
The smile faded from The Baristas face as they lowered their arm.
"We talked about this last time, dude." The Barista lifted the latte off the counter, still staring the shape in the glow. "No money, no coffee."
The Barista slowly began pouring the contents of the cup on the area where the shape's feet would be if feet had been there. Holding eye contact while the last drop trickled out, carefully setting the cup back on the counter and continuing to stare into the glow of the shape.
The smile was back on The Bariata's face. "Ask ol' Lordy for a spending account, man. That's pretty standard for assistants these days, you know? Or like, reimbursement or whatever." The Barista shrugged and turned around. Walked back to their seat at the counter, picked up the magazine, and started flipping through for the page they were on before.
The smell started fading and The Barista looked back up. The shape was gone. The smoke and grime were gone. All that remained was a puddle of cooling latte on the floor.
The Barista chuckled to themself then said,
"You know, I think that thing's a demon"
The Barista erupted into a fit of laughter.
"Fucking demon." | 2022-10-30T14:17:00 | 2022-10-30T14:09:43 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] The date is July 13, 1836. You're the clerk at the front desk of the U.S. Patent Office on opening day. Things are going just fine until a number of strangely-dressed people get into an argument about their placement in line. Coincidentally, they're all trying to patent methods of time travel.
EDIT: I never imagined when I submitted this that I'd get more than a few replies. It was just something I jotted down before I ran off to work a double shift.
EDIT2: I LOVE ALL OF THIS. Also, TIL that Reddit knows quite a bit about patent law.
EDIT3: I'd like to thank all of the writers for their submissions, you're all fantastic. And I'd like to thank the rest of you for being you. And thanks to everyone that upvoted so that people could see the thread so that they'd write in it and give me something to read while unwinding after a very long day at work. | I'd been getting things ready for a couple of hours. The papers were all neatly stacked, the pens filled with ink and the blotting paper spotless.
Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be and everything was in it's correct place, just what the rulebook said.
No-one could have cause for complaint that I was sloppy in my work. Not like Pieterson or Sanders they were always making mistakes and hoping no-one would notice. A blot here a correction there. It all added up.
The grandfather clock advised that it was nine and the first dozen claimants entered the large oak panelled room. I recognised Bob Gettery the owner of a hotel that I had visited once or twice and wondered what idea had brought him here. A couple of other faces were vaguely familiar but I could not name them.
There were three who particularly drew my eye though. Each was more out of place than the last. The first was freakishly tall, a pale man with a suit cut too precisely so that the seams between the arm and shoulder appeared almost drawn rather than stitched.
Next to him stood a fat man in what seemed to be a kilt such as a scotsman might wear if the scotsman had no sense of propriety. For it rode up high and revealed more about the fat man than I wished to know as he jostled with the tall man for position in front of my desk.
The third man was the one who I found to be most incongruous. He wore nothing but a pair of bathing shorts and a smile that said he was under the influence of some sort of drug or alcohol. No doubt here on vacation and wandering in lost or for some bet.
"Gentlemen." I said. "Welcome to the patent office. You were given a token as you entered with a number on it. I will see you in order from lowest number to highest."
They were indeed all clutching small ceramic tiles and looked down to confirm the numbers they had been given.
"Who has number one?"
They looked to each other. The tall man anxiously glancing at the man in the kilt.
"I've got number two" It was Bob Gettery. I really did wonder what he'd come up with.
"Thanks Bob. I'll see you in a minute."
I slid open the drawer of my desk and plucked out the small white tile marked with the number one that lay inside. I held it up for them all to see.
"I've just got a form to fill out first. It won't take much time." | Ulysses had never seen a man from the future before. He'd expected drama on opening day, but this left him rather speechless.
He gulped. "Sir, I need to fetch the director for this application. A minute, please."
Taking two steps backwards, he forced his eyes closed to shut out the visage that terrified him so. He told himself he would have time to figure out things later, assuming he survived this, and turned to find his boss.
The floor creaked a bit as he knocked on the door of the director's office. Levi was as good natured a bureaucrat as you would ever meet, and Ulysses desperately needed instruction for this situation. His thoughts turned briefly to stiff drink.
"Enter."
"Sir, we have a situation. This applicant he... he states he is from the future, and he is telling the truth. He has already filled out the papers for his invention of... traversing time."
Levi sat slackjawed and stroked his beard. Ulysses nodded. It was half a minute until he got his response.
"We must ensure everything is in order and then accept the application as with any other. This is a historical moment and by God, I don't know what else to do. Follow."
Levi stood and walked towards the front lobby. He reflected on how he had always wanted to be an ambassador, but not like this. Opening his mouth to greet his important visitor, his eyes widened and he instead merely screamed.
At the front counter was the man as described, normal enough beyond his alien uniform. At issue, however, were the two new arrivals behind him. The first was very much not a man, although whatever it was did not seem entirely unlike a cross between a levitating octopus and a steam engine. The last he could only recognize as some sort of half-metal person.
The octopus-engine's assortment of eyes twinkled at Levi, and Levi understood his intentions, although none were spoken out loud. Essentially, it was to be known as **GLYXMAR,** and while it was very polite and patient with Levi during the duration of the telepathic exchange, and appropriately understanding of how unsettling such telepathy might be when first experienced as a grown man of the 19th century, **GLYXMAR** imparted that it was of the utmost importance that it be recognized as the inventor of traversing time. When Levi finally responded to the thought-inquiry in an intelligible way, it was, of course, with fear and revulsion. **GLYXMAR** took it upon himself to begin rewriting Levi's neural patterns so that he would be able to process his application.
"STOP!" shouted the metal man, in perfect English. "This is an uncomfortable situation for us all, but you are *not* to take command of this man, **GLYXMAR**. We are to let these people decide what to do. It is, after all, their patent law."
**GLYXMAR** relented, although this resulted in Levi gasping for air, falling to his hands and knees, tears streaming from his face.
The only human customer of the three looked at the metal man and nodded, and gave **GLYXMAR** a dirty look. They had a brief consulation over the course of about a half second, the man on some sort of holographic display, **GLYXMAR** with a pattern of eye-twinkles and the metal man via wireless means.
Ulysses was crouched in the corner. Levi was heaving on the ground. The future man spoke to them, knowing full well the damage was done.
"We are sorry for all this. We will come back tomorrow."
They left, the door bell jingling. | 2014-09-13T11:51:14 | 2014-09-13T11:44:28 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | I have the best boobs in the world.
I'm not, like, egotistical or anything. Heck, some days I don't even want them, but it's undeniable. That was my mutation. April 24th, 2014, the day I developed the best pair of breasts anyone has ever had.
At first, I was actually a little stoked. I mean, my rack is *amazing*. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, they look good. They fill t-shirts out wonderfully, and even in sweaters and jackets the gentle curves show just right, enticing the viewer and leaving them wanting more. And tank tops? Forget about it.
And sure, I do get treated different. I can go just about anywhere these days, and any guy is willing to pretend to be interested in what I have to say – even a lot of women I meet will at least give me a second glance, if not special treatment. I certainly have my pick of the litter when it comes to sexual partners, and let me tell you: I am *enjoy*ing my youth.
Don't get me wrong, though, there are downsides. Just about *everyone* stares. It's hard to really engage someone in conversation. I've seen grown men cry from the effort of maintaining eye contact with me. And the starers, the criers, they're the good ones. I can't ride the subway without being felt up, I don't dare be alone at night without people I trust, many women openly resent me, and all of this is seen as normal. I'm just the Great Tits, as if nobody's even expected to *try* to maintain decorum around me.
But you know none of this is even the worst aspect, not really. More than any of this, there's one thing about my boobs that keeps me up at night, one thing that makes me worry about how the rest of my life is going to play out.
Even with my beard, nobody will believe I'm a guy. | ALL CRITICISM WELCOME!
Jack’s life had sailed by faster than he could even comprehend. He had lived through his greatest milestone’s, and achieved great accomplishments. However, he did not feel different. Jack exited childhood and entered his teens. He had graduated from elementary school, middle school, and even high school, being at the top of his class. He had finished playing recreational soccer and was now playing soccer at a high level competitively. As he pondered over his life, Jack realized that so much had occurred, but it didn’t feel like it. Now, he did.
As he looked into his bathroom mirror, examining his hazel eyes and freckled face. He shuffled his messy hair. He just could not quite see it. Jack could feel something had changed, he could feel the presence of something new, perhaps in his body. He sighed, exiting the bathroom.
“Happy birthday!” His family had stood huddled around the bathroom door, waiting for Jack to come out.
“Happy 21st! You can drink and drive now,” his teenage sister laughed. Jack chuckled. Maybe his new abilities were nothing great. Maybe he had nothing to worry about. They exchanged hugs and kisses. Jack went straight to his room, and turned on his computer.
I can lift twice my weight, his friend posted on facebook a while back. Jack tried to lift his table but couldn’t. Jack read about all kinds of abilities. He had tried to hear distant objects, to test photographic memory, and to see if he could jump ten meters in the air. After thirty minutes Jack was defeated. Maybe I did not get any new abilities, he thought with disappointment.
Jack realized that he had 22 new messages. Happy birthday! His friends congratulated him. It was all the same to Jack, he did not really care.
“Wait what?!” Jack saw a message from the hottest girl in his grade, Heather. 'Happy birthday Jack'. You know what, fuck it, its my birthday, Jack thought. He replied: 'Thnx, I am having a chill day hbu?'. Heather replied. Jack replied. She replied. Jack could not believe it, HE WAS HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH A GIRL. He ended talking to her without pause for the next 30 minutes. At the end of their chain of messages she asked: 'Wanna hang out sometime?' Jack could not believe it.
At school as Jack found conversation so easy. He was able to get out of his shell, and talk to anyone in the grade. He was able to hangout with jocks, and eat lunch with the cheerleaders. He even convinced Mr. Moger his math teacher, to change his grade to an A- so that he could finish the semester with all As. Everyone was willing to talk to him. It was amazing.
When Jack came home from school, his parents sat in expectation.
“So, what are your new abilities?” He was asked.
“I’m not sure, how was your day today?” Jack replied.
“Oh it was great, we went shopping at the mall…” his mom continued to talk about her day. In the back of his mind Jack finally knew the gift which he was granted on his 21st birthday and he was very satisfied.
Sorry guys, I am pressed on time so I could not revise. | 2022-05-10T21:44:19 | 2015-03-04T02:26:57 | 1,457 | 64 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | I have the best boobs in the world.
I'm not, like, egotistical or anything. Heck, some days I don't even want them, but it's undeniable. That was my mutation. April 24th, 2014, the day I developed the best pair of breasts anyone has ever had.
At first, I was actually a little stoked. I mean, my rack is *amazing*. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, they look good. They fill t-shirts out wonderfully, and even in sweaters and jackets the gentle curves show just right, enticing the viewer and leaving them wanting more. And tank tops? Forget about it.
And sure, I do get treated different. I can go just about anywhere these days, and any guy is willing to pretend to be interested in what I have to say – even a lot of women I meet will at least give me a second glance, if not special treatment. I certainly have my pick of the litter when it comes to sexual partners, and let me tell you: I am *enjoy*ing my youth.
Don't get me wrong, though, there are downsides. Just about *everyone* stares. It's hard to really engage someone in conversation. I've seen grown men cry from the effort of maintaining eye contact with me. And the starers, the criers, they're the good ones. I can't ride the subway without being felt up, I don't dare be alone at night without people I trust, many women openly resent me, and all of this is seen as normal. I'm just the Great Tits, as if nobody's even expected to *try* to maintain decorum around me.
But you know none of this is even the worst aspect, not really. More than any of this, there's one thing about my boobs that keeps me up at night, one thing that makes me worry about how the rest of my life is going to play out.
Even with my beard, nobody will believe I'm a guy. | (This is my first story on here, please bear with my on any mistakes or if its just bad...here we go!)
I've been a gamer for almost my entire life. Fantasy in games became reality for me to escape my awful life growing up. I'm the basic, 'single mom, no dad, no money' kinda kid. Yet somehow I always scraped up enough money to buy the latest hit games, granted it was one game every other month or two.
I had been stressing about my mutation for years, wondering what it could be and what I could possibly do with it. I thought of it like a toy, I could be a real life superhero...just like everyone else. Thing is, power can change a person, fast.
I woke up right after midnight on my 21st birthday, feeling the intense burning all throughout my body, as everyone does receiving their power. After a few minutes of pain, it was over, and I was left wondering what I had been given. I tried lifting things in my one room apartment, no effect. I've always been a scrawny kid, no strength gains. I tried telekenisis, I wanted to be like Obi Wan. Still nothing. I tried to read my neighbors mind when asking for some coffee creamer the next morning. Still nothing. Then it happened.
I was walking alone, as someone with quite literally no friends does, when some guys tried to jump me. Their powers were obvious. Strength, claws, and the biggest was made of rock. Since the powers first started, it's separated people into many groups, mainly the good and the bad. These were clearly the bad, the ones who abuse kids who haven't reached 21 yet.
They picked me for being the scrawny kid I was, and assumed I didn't have my power yet. Even though I did, I didn't know what it was. They came at me, and I closed my eyes and held my hands up to shield the blows...and none came. I opened my eyes and a red, semitransparent shield was blocking their attempts to hurt me.
"I'm a conjurer...oh my God..." I mumbled to myself as I made a sword appear and cut large gashes into all of them. They fell to the ground, and I made a headsman's ax appear and behead them, rather than let them bleed out.
After that incident, I realized how much power can get to your head. "There are way too many bad people in the world...maybe I can do something about it..." I said to myself as I walked through the worst neighborhood in Dallas. The criminals ran through the streets causing mayhem. I called their attention and they charged me. A lance here, a conjured bus over there, and even a few summoned, golem-like warriors dispatched most of the bunch fairly quickly. They stopped, realized that I had a very uncommon mutation. The 'leader' approached me, and offered me to take his place.
Now I rule most of the city, controlling the city with fear of my ever growing power and army of hood rat mutants.
The heroes usually win in comic books, but this isn't any dashing white knight's tale of heroism, this is my attempt at power. After all, power can really get to a person's head.
| 2022-05-10T21:44:19 | 2015-03-04T09:02:41 | 1,457 | 10 |
[WP] For years Earth cried out to an empty cosmos, searching the stars for echoes of life. From the middle of nowhere, a reply finally comes: "Shut up, and Play Dead!"
I really struggled with the choice between "For Years", "For Decades", "For Centuries", and "For Millenia". I tapped out. Take whatever timeline you will.
This may or may not be an attempt to add cosmic significance to Red Green's "Quando Omni Flunkus Moritati".
Good Luck!
Edit: There are a LOT of good submissions here, thank you all so much! Speaking of excellent submissions, I'd like to plug u/Mrcreation for doing some very well written, lengthy work near the bottom of the thread. Scroll down and check out his multipost entry!
Edit 2: I just finished the first two books of the Three Body Problem, by Liu Cixin. Mind=Blown. A part of the series definitely shares similar themes to this prompt, but there is so much more! I highly reccomend it. | "Hey Kazaak, I sent that signal like you asked. What did it say?"
"It said, 'Shut up, and Play Dead!'"
"You piece of shit, that'll make them hide out there for another three centuries at least."
"Or they'll run around like headless chickens like they always do. They're a pretty dumb species, bear in mind."
"Says the guy who insisted we break galactic law by breaching a quarantined sector to send the signal in the first place."
"Shut up and get the popcorn machine up and running, Marchonis. We can at least enjoy the show before the guard patrols get here."
"We're in deep shit, aren't we?"
"Worth it." | Shut up and and play dead.
After that there was nothing.
An increasing amount of nothing.
Felt something like a cloud drifted in front of the sun.
The static that was always there just became a little less when one turned the eye.
Michael Gruppman of the SETI research facility said it was like being underwater. Even the most vibrant stars in the sky dimmed.
One man said to his beer, that's like having to fuck with a rubber on, no matter how hard you go you can't just get there. He looked inside his empty glass. Wallet? Enough to buy one more, no worries yet.
Another old man said it was like growing old. The water in the shower becomes colder with time and turning it up won't cut it anymore.
It took 50 years for the Dim to spread.
As it got too the sun, It got us too. Trees yearned for more sun, reaching but not getting. In the emptiness we tried to expand, building sun collectors to catch what sun came to us and use it more effectively.
Spread thin, like too little butter on toast, we couldn't cover it anymore.
Communication got worse and isolated humanity.
Signals seemed to be stuck in mud, only the most powerfull of signals could still reach, but with a large delay.
I distinctly remember how everything lost its tinge. Like my memories seemed so much more colored than what there was now. Grey... like the trees and the buildings and the people grey.
My hair grey. My heart not beating as hard. Sort of vague.
As the stars dim and the shine withers away.
I am here. Being.
I'm the Destroyer of Worlds and I will be devouring you.
The whole of you.
A pair of hands and tasting tongue made their way.
i didn't move as my hands were tied.
| 2016-03-27T08:55:20 | 2016-03-27T08:53:09 | 61 | 22 |
[WP] We forget our dreams for a reason: in the near future, memory enhancement therapies allow everyone to fully recall every dream they've ever had. Across the entire human race, disturbing patterns and implications emerge that were previously hidden by the unappreciated bliss of forgetfulness. | I shouldn't be having this meeting. It's 4:30 in the morning, I'm still in my pajamas for christ's sake. I knew this was going to be part of the job when I applied, but that doesn't mean I have to *enjoy* it. One of my aids, Evan, hands me a mug of coffee.
"Good morning sir" He says."The Director of the NSA has been waiting for you in your office for 20 minutes now"
"Good." I say. "I'm glad I'm not the only one up at this god forsaken hour"
I calmly walk into my office and have a seat behind my desk. I relax in my chair and take a drink from my mug. "So. Director Alexander, to what do I owe this *very urgent* meeting?"
The Director places a manilla folder on my desk, It's got our office seal and has "The Nightmare Anomaly" Printed on it.
He begins "Nine months ago a 7 year old in Portland, Maine had a nightmare. He told his parents that a monster was trying to get him-"
I interrupt him "Thanks for waking me up at 4am to tell me that last year a kid had a bad dream, I really appreciate that."
"Sir, please let me finish. 4 Days after that he disappeared. No sign of forced entry, no sign of struggle, even the clothes he wore to bed were found under his sheets. It's like he simply....vanished. Local law enforcement turned up nothing. His Father looked at his missing son's R.E.M. unit from the nightmare in question and found this"
He places a picture from the folder on my desk, It looks like any other nightmare creature: Piercing red eyes, leathery wings, a mouth full of razor teeth drooling a thick red ichor, tentacles with talons on the end. Nightmare creatures look unsettling and this was no different, but for some vague reason I can't quite decipher looking at this thing sends chills down my back.
The Director continues "He posts it to a few internet message boards asking if anyone else had seen this in their dreams, maybe, hoping there'd be another child who'd seen it and maybe that would lead him to finding his lost son. One of our staffers saw it and ran it against R.E.M.'s cloud database. He found 1,564 hits in the last 2 years. Every person that dreamed of this thing went missing. No one was found. I woke you up because-"
"Because you want me to make this a top priority. Got it. Whatever is going on here, we'll get to the bottom of it. In the morning. I'm going back to bed."
As I get up, the Director of the NSA grabs my arm and stops me. "Mr. President, it is imperative that you do not go back to sleep. Since we discovered the correlation between the creature and the disappearances we've been running a live scan of everything that's uploaded to R.E.M.'s cloud and at 2:15 this morning, we got a hit. You dreamt of it." | (I've twisted a bit how the dreams are recalled, sorry)
When the EMDC, the Electromagnetic Dream Catcher, came into action, we added an additional waiver you could sign to allow us to, anonymously or not, add your dreams to our data bank, so we could look for patterns in human dreams. We never expected it to reveal such dark implications.
During the initial testing, one of the test subject had a dream of a man in dark. A man that crept up to him and told him weird and distorted things. His phrases twisted and crumpled on themselves, rendering them unintelligible. Another of the test subject had the same thing happen with what had seemed like a queen of some brigand group. The lady, dressed in classic buccaneer clothes, told the subject some weird things that made no sense. Both subject stated remembering those figures from way back when.
When the EMDC was released to the public, 42% of people signed the waiver, 28% anonymously, giving us a good sample size. And access to a dark societal secret. Of those people, nearly all had frequent dreams where at least one of the four Horsemen, as we now called them, appeared to them, talking either in a twisted language or a mix of their native language and that unintelligible vocabulary.
After weeks of pattern analysis, we noticed recurring trends. Those visited by the Horsemen woke up the next day, reacting ever so slightly different to specific stimulus. Cassyva, the only Horseman who had given us a name, tended to push people toward leading others. CEOs, team leaders and other spokesperson were visited at least every week by the pirate figure. The Shade, the formless man in rags one of the original test subject had seen, tended to seclude people, warping the psyche to be more of an anti-social nature. The Hunter, an indigenous looking man, covered in tribal tattoos, leather clothing and a bow and quiver in his back, slowly raised the risk taking attitude of people he visited. Dark Mane, a humanoid looking creature with long hair reaching under his floating body, tended to appear to people hiding their true nature and pushed them to be themselves. Closet gays, bis and other orientations. People repressed by their peers, forced to hide their nature, those who had to hide to keep their job or reputation. Most people had to flee to do so but were generally much more happy afterward.
By the time we had understood the implications, the population had started to wake up to the existence of the Horsemen, although they were still in the dark as far as their powers.
This morning, as I launched a scan for a specific pattern in the dreams we had collected, the presence of two of the Horsemen, our newest intern stormed into the room, the door slamming into the doorstop and returning straight for his shoulder.
"I did it! Michael, I did it!" said the intern, his hand on his shoulder.
"What did you do?" I asked, unsure about what he was talking.
"I dreamed." he replied. He had not been able to dream for a few weeks. Ever since he had met the last of the Horsemen.
"Did you..." I started.
"I controlled the dream. I lucid dreamed."
"What did you try?"
"I... I called for the Horsemen..."
"They came?"
"I was expecting Dark Mane to come or maybe Cassyva."
"Let me guess... Shade did?"
"He did. So did the others."
"Fuck."
It was known that Cassyva and Shade hated each other. So did Hunter and Dark Mane.
"What happened?" I asked, trying to know how dangerous the situation was.
"Cassyva attacked Shade. Dark Mane protected his friend. Hunter jumped in."
"Mmm... That would explain it."
"What?" he asked as I pulled the newspaper under my coffee mug.
The front page read *"Violent Aggression Numbers Explode Across Town"*.
"You think..." he started as I pulled out names from our database.
"Iori Steel, 24. Gets frequent visits of Dark Mane. Attacked a man named Gregory Webber this morning."
"Let me guess, Webber sees Hunter?"
"Roderick Ian. 31. Shot a man at 9:11 AM. Victim's name is Quinn Arnot." I said as the files opened on screen, listing them respectively as Cassyvans and Shaded. "Need more?"
"I fucked up, I think."
"Prepare for a global war, Stevenson." | 2016-09-30T09:00:58 | 2016-09-30T08:23:09 | 42 | 18 |
[WP] The Grim Reaper appears to claim your life. He's heard so many pleas and excuses, but yours is the first that has worked. | *Come now. It is time*
I AM YOUR MOTHER AND YOU WILL DO AS I SAY!
*It is simply time, mother*
DON'T BACK CHAT ME YOUNG MAN! I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD, I WILL TAKE YOU OUT OF IT
*Mother, I am doing my job. Being responsible. I have a duty*
AND MY JOB WAS TO RAISE YOU INTO THIS...ONCE FINE YOUNG MAN.
**AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME!! YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE SHIT!!**
*Mother, I...*
**DON'T YOU "MOTHER" ME! I'M DEAD TO YOU, REMEMBER!!!**
*I'm just doing my...*
YOU WOULDN'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO USE THAT... **STUPID FUCKING STICK IF IT WASN'T FOR ME!!!**
*Mother...*
I'M JUST SO...I'm. I'm so disappointed in you. WHAT DID I DO WRONG!!
*No mother...*
GOD WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS **PIECE OF SHIT THAT I USED TO CALL SON**
*Mother, please...*
AFTER YOUR FATHER LEFT, **BECAUSE I CHOSE HAVING YOU OVER HAVING HIM** And all for what?
So my son could sail my arse down the river of styx. So he could look good for his boss.
My "son". No backbone at all.
*It's for the good of...*
It's for yourself, son. It's only for you. You don't think about me, or anyone else.
You've always been a little selfish.
*No mother, I...I can change*
No, it's fine. I'll die remembering the sweet boy I raised. Not this, ball-less bureaucrat failure of a son.
*Mother, I love you. I swear I'll change*
Just end me.
*No mother, I can't let you die thinking this of me. I promise, before you die, you WILL be proud of me*
A mother can only hope... | His foot, heavy on the gas pedal, could have never moved fast enough to brake. The car spun out, blood spattered across the front of the windshield and tufts of fur jammed into the grill. The man was ejected from the car dead on impact with the black pavement. His son survived, concussed and bruised. The young child, bewildered and in shock only knew to cry. The pain, the terrifying crash was all too much for someone his age to comprehend. He tried, helplessly to unclasp his car seat. It would not budge. The child continued to sob when he was suddenly greeted with a cold hand. He became drowsy and quickly slipped into a deep sleep. The child's final moments were calm.
The Grim Reaper knew the child wouldn't survive his injuries and today was a slow day. He had quotas he needed to meet. The Reaper now moved over to the man. The child's soul needed to time to separate from its mortal heart. A soul does not have much control in the mortal realm. The Reaper, knowing this, let it get oriented.
The Reaper, as he had done for ages, read the man his sentences: "Mortal man, you are sentenced to hell for eternity. You will now enter the land below leaving behind your mortal belongings. You have the right to an angel escort. If you so choose, you're son, now an angel may do so."
The damned soul could barely muster it's voice "Who... who are you?"The Reaper responded "I'm the Grim Reaper, responsible for mortals entering the afterlife. The first of many that will judge you."
The damned soul tried to float back into its mortal body but to no avail. "WHY AM I DAMNED? MY SON IS DEAD?" said the damned soul.
The Reaper simply replied with a dull "Yes". Denial was common.
The damned soul pleaded to the Reaper "You must let me live. Like you, I reap- not souls but mortal belongings. I have sent many souls to you. Surely that can mean something."
The Reaper was intrigued. This damned soul was trying to plead death. The Grim Reaper, while thinking through what the damned soul had proposed, moved over to the boy. He guided the small soul over to it's mortal father. The young soul was simply too overwhelmed. It hovered there, watching the strange encounter.
The Reaper, with a devilish grin began to speak "I will accept your plea for life. You will harvest mortal belongings. But, I will not be the one to seem them off into the afterlife. Your son will usher them to heaven, or hell. When you die once more, your soul will vanish from existence. And your son, when the time comes, will take my place."
The damned soul, now enthralled at the thought of a second life immediately accepted.
The Grim Reaper produced a small book and scribbled something into it. As he was doing so, the man, now laying in a pool of his own blood, fighting for his life whispered "That's not my son. I was having fun with his mother until that rat called the cops."
Sirens whirled in the distance, the young soul ascended towards the sky and the Grim Reaper vanished into the night. | 2017-01-12T07:22:04 | 2017-01-12T02:07:59 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] You've been waking up in the same day over and over. After a year of this you tell someone. Their eyes just widen. "You too?" | I'm so very happy I wake up to a generic buzzer alarm. I think I would have lost my mind if I had to wake up to "I Got You Babe" thousands of times. It isn't easy, but I'll embrace the small wins.
The same day, over and over. As you might guess, there is no reset. Not suicide. Not staying up over night. Day 2 might start, but eventually I have to sleep and it all resets.
I've used some time foolishly, but a lot wisely. I speak a few new languages, I'm nearly a trained physician. Learning to fly was hard, but resets fixed all the pain from some ugly crash landings. The experiences have been too numerous to remember them all.
I started on a little project to meet a lifelong hero. Tracked down people who worked with him. Sure they didn't want to divulge his whereabouts on the day, but it only took a couple weeks to gain the right insider knowledge.
I finally tracked him down and had found him mid-afternoon.
"Hi.... listen, you don't know me. I'm sure you get this sometimes. But I'm a huge fan. Watched some of your stuff dozens of times."
"Oh, thanks. Always happy to meet a fan."
"Especially Groundhogs Day. I know you'll never believe this...you'll even forget I said it soon... but it's kind of personal for me..."
Bill Murray's eyes went wide.
"You too?" | "Wait, what?"
"Every single day, I've woken up and it's been the exact same thing. The same events occur over and over again. Everyday, I wake up at in my room next to my wife to the radio alarm that plays 93.3 FM and everyday it's that stupid 21 Pilots song, "Heathens." I used to like that song. In the beginning, I used to roll back over thinking it was Saturday and I had just turned my alarm on by habit. Then, in approximately forty-five minutes I get an angry call from my boss telling me I'm late for the I've woken up in the exact same time and place, no matter where I go to bed. I've tried everything. I've traveled across the world, went to bed in a hotel in Paris... I still woke up in my room back here in Charlotte. I've tried pulling an all-nighter, not sleeping for the entirety of the night. I made it to about six am before I crashed... I still woke up at 7:30 the day prior. It's a hellish endless loop that I worry I'll never get out of."
"And you've told no one?!?" I asked.
"Well, who the hell have you told?"
"I've tried telling plenty of people. They all forgot the very next day. It's no use."
"Then why do you care if I haven't told anybody?"
"I don't know. Maybe, you could've told me."
"You didn't tell me."
"I guess you're right." I replied.
I told him all about my failed attempts to break the cycle and we decided to go through the day. We both called in sick at work for the millionth time (never seem to run out of sick days). Missed the traffic jam on I-635. It took me weeks to find out the best route around that mess. We went to lunch at a diner that had the same chicken Parmesan special everyday for about twelve months now. I can't eat another bite of that damn thing. We spent the afternoon looking through the Macy's one day flash sale, but didn't buy anything knowing that anything we bought we couldn't keep. We got the McRib at the McDonald's drive-thru that I've had hundreds of times already. There's seriously a reason that they only have that thing for a limited time. We watched the beautiful sunset that was starting to get less beautiful each time I saw it. Then we parted ways and agreed to meet up again in the morning. I went to be for the night and eventually woke up.
I rolled over and heard: "ALL MY FRIENDS ARE HEATHENS TAKE IT SLOW" | 2017-07-15T09:16:49 | 2017-07-15T07:54:07 | 83 | 18 |
[WP] When the police came to announce you the death of your husband, you refused to believe it. "That's impossible", you said. "Unfortunately, it's the truth, miss", answered the policemen. "It's impossible", you said again, "because he's in the kitchen making dinner." | The officers glanced at each other. There was worry in that look.
"We weren't aware that you'd remarried," the bigger of the two said. "When was the last time you saw your ex-husband?"
"Ex?!" I spat. "I've been married to one man for ten years! You've got the wrong house!"
He looked down at the folder, tracing the text with his index finger. I had an old mugshot, back from when I was in University. Activism. I liked to pull it out at parties and rant about my glory days. Seeing it staring up at me from the paper made me feel so naked.
"I don't think so," he went on. "Look, this has to be hard for you. God knows it'd be hard for anybody. But the dental records were conclusive; the body we pulled out of the dam was your husband."
I broke a nail on the tea towel. When had I started wringing it like that?
"He's *in the fucking kitchen!*" I growled. "We're making *pasta!*"
He sighed. "Okay. Take me to him."
"No, you are not coming in!" I said. There was a bag of weed in the bedside drawer. I realised that cops weren't magicians who could detect narcotics from another room but something in my head told me not to let these people into my house.
His lips thinned. "Fine. You bring him to the door, and we'll be on our way."
I threw the towel over my shoulder. "Wait here."
I danced over the catastrophe of dirty laundry and boxes as the creamy aroma of alfredo sauce wafted out of the kitchen, mingling with the dusty musk of unclean carpets. I'd been hungry a moment ago.
"Honey, I-" I started, rounding the corner.
Everything was the way I'd left it. The dough was flattened against the breadboard, with several thin slices cut out of one side. The water and sauce were roiling on the stove, faint flickers of blue underneath them from the gas flame. The semolina was horizontal, with powder falling between the open zip-loc seals and onto the counters and floor.
But there was nobody there.
I figured he'd ducked to the bathroom, so I started off in that direction. I hadn't gone two steps before blistering pain seared the space between my eyes. I needed something to lean on, so I groped for the door frame as fluorescent zig-zags clouding my vision. The pain was right where my nose met my forehead, and as the colours danced in front of my eyes I made a mental note to go see Patchouli to get my chakras aligned, or some other garbage to make me feel better. The migraines had been getting more frequent.
I stumbled back to the front door, holding the tea towel over my eyes to protect them from the sunlight.
"I'm... I'm sorry," I muttered. "Can you come back later? I'm not feeling very well."
He hesitated. I wished I could look at him without feeling like my eyeballs were on fire.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I said. "I just need to lie down."
"We could call for an ambulance-"
*"No!"* I spat. Nobody in the house. "Please just... leave me alone."
I heard pen scratching on paper. "I'm giving you the number for our coroner. We're investigating but it shouldn't be too long before we can release the remains. In the meantime, you'll need to come down to the station to make a statement. Do you understand?"
I nodded. "Coroner. Statement. Yes."
He pushed the paper into my hand. "If you need a counselor, we can point you in the right direction."
I didn't say goodbye. I wasn't even sure if they were gone when I closed the door, and I hadn't been listening for their footsteps. All I could think of was getting rid of all the damned light in the living room so I traced the perimeter, yanking the curtains closed with one hand and covering my eyes with the other. By the time I got the light staunched, I felt the strength going out of my knees. Sitting seemed like a good idea.
I turned, extended one foot towards the chaise, and froze.
There was something in the room with me.
*Familiar* doesn't feel like the right word, but I had seen it before. I can look at a spider for months but I'll never really feel connected to it. Similarly, those yellow eyes held a place in my memory, but there was nothing familiar about them. And how could there be? They were the size of goddamned abalone shells.
I opened my mouth to scream. Before the sound could escape, it reached out with one of those digits that seemed half finger, half pincer, and touched me right where my head hurt. There was a new feeling now, enveloping me like a cool wind on a hot day.
*Peace,* I thought. *Quiet. Friend. Love.*
"Love," I said, spittle falling from the corner of my mouth. "Where did you go, honey? Somebody was at the door."
*"I REQUIRE PROTEIN,"* it said, like a million cicadas mimicking human speech.
"Protein," I parroted. "Yes. Of course. I'll go get the possum traps." | "I know its hard ma'am, but we found his dead body today on a construction site."
The young detective and her 2 police officers seemed dead serious.
"No! I mean he is standing in the kitchen right now cooking some soup for dinner."
"Well, that seems odd. May we enter and to ask you some questions?"
I just nodded. This entire day was strange. This morning somebody called and asked for my husband. Judging from accent, the caller must have been either german or austrian. But Sam never had any friends from oversea. And after lunch there was this noise. Like someone was building something in the neighbourhood. Only that everyone exept us was on vacation.
I let them enter and sit down in the living room. My husband came out of the kitchen with that blue appron I bought him last week.
"Darling? Whats going on?"
"Sam, these police officers said that they found YOUR dead body today. They just have a few questions."
He seemed just as confused as I am.
"Well, why not. Do you want something to drink detective..."
"Gardner, these are officers Crown and Miller. And yes, a glas of water for each of us would be nice."
He brought a carafe with water and several glasses from the kitchen and sat down with us.
"Sir, how long have you been living here with Mrs. Steiner?"
"3 years already. It still seems like yesterday since we moved together."
"Do you have any relatives?"
"No, my father was the last family member and he died 6 years ago."
"Mrs. Steiner, what about you?"
"My parents are still living in Chicago. And I have a older brother but...."
"Well?"
"He is in a witness protection program. I'm not supposed to talk about him."
"I understand. We will check this afterwards. Now, was there anything in the past that could explain the body of the, obviously perfectly healthy, Mr. Steiner?"
I had to think for a moment.
"My husband had a accident 2 years back. He was in a coma for a week. But I visited him every day till he woke up."
"I see. Mr. and Mrs. Steiner, I have to ask you to come with us. We need to make a DNA test to be absoluetely sure."
"But why? I'm right here, you can see that!"
"Sir, its just for you own safety."
Gardner reached into the pocket of her jacket. Sam just sighed and drank a sip from his glas.
And then slinged it against Gardners head. She fell down backwards from her chair. Sam then grabbed a pen from the desk and rammed it into Crowns neck, who stumbled back in complete confusion while holding his throat. Miller tried to stand up and pull out his gun, but Sam charged him and slammed his head against the wall. Over and over again till the wall was covered in blood and pieces of bone and brain matter. He then calmly stood up and crushed Crowns neck with a stomp.
I couldn't believe what I just saw. The tender and understanding husband I loved was no more. Instead a blood thirsty monster with the eyes of a predator looked at me.
I screamed and tried to get away from that blood covered lunatic. But he grabbed my legs and brought me down before knocking me out.
When I woke up again, I was cuffed to a chair in our basement. Detective gardner was bound to a chair in front of me.
And there it was again, the noise like someone would use a hammer to crack something open. Only that it was very close this time. I turned my head and saw Sam breaking a concrete wall.
"Look who is awake again. Had some sweet dreams darling?"
"S-Sam? What are you doing?
"Just getting some gear."
He reached into the hole in the wall and grabbed a large black suitcase. Detective Gardner also woke up.
"And now we are complete, great!"
He brought a laptop and a foldable desk and put both in front of Gardner.
"Detective, I am aware that you are one of the few people in this town having access to some of the classified data about the brother of my wife. But in order to view them I need a code. If you would be so friendly..."
Detective Garner spit him in the face.
"If you think I wou..."
Sam just wiped the spit from his face and then forced a towel down her throat. He then grabbed a old car battery and connected the jumper cables to the detdective.
She started twichting, her muffled screams filling the room.
Same then took off the cable and removed the improvised gag.
"How about now?"
"Fuck you!"
He put the gag back in and repeated the procedure while whistling the american national anthem.
"It could be so easy. We dont have to do this detective. Now for the code please."
He removed the towel. Gardner seemed to comply.
"5..8..M..s..1..."
"Thank you, was it so hard?"
Sam gave her a pat on the head and the entered the code in the laptop. He spend a minute reading the file while the smile on his face became bigger.
"How the stars align... It seems your brother is visiting the neighbouring town tomorrow. I think I will pay him a visit."
Tears ran down my cheecks. I now realized that he was only interested in my brother. I tried to deny it to this point, but now I had no choice but to accept the fact.
"Oh....don't cry darling. I never loved you. In fact, everything was played. And it was fucking awful. Your so called cooking managed to even kill the ingredients a 2. tme. Your meatloaf would be greasy on the outside and fucking raaaaaw in the inside all the time. So disgusting even a starving african child would rather face death than eating this shit. Even the fucking sex in our played relationship was awful. Every fucking time we had sex you would start crying and screaming when I picked up the pace. And on top of that I wasted 3 fucking years trying to reach your brother over you. And now I get the chance but now from you, but from a detective with too many administrative rights who just so happened to discover a mistake I made. But now this ends and I can finally finish my assignment. By the way. They didn't found my body. It was the body of my useless twin brother. That twat always wanted a calm life like this. I killed him because I could never stand him and because you were stupid enough not to notice any difference."
Sam grabbed the suitcase and forced the towel in both mine and Gardners mouth.
"Now if you would excuse me, I have a job to do. Don't worry, I won't kill you, I still have a use for you 2."
| 2017-10-10T06:46:42 | 2017-10-10T05:53:19 | 47 | 27 |
[WP] Scientists have discovered cryogenic freezing. You are it's first test subject and it's a massive success, and they plan on releasing you in 500 years. You had no way of telling them you were conscious.
Holy shit this blew up!
I now understand "RIP my inbox"
EDIT: u/Alpacasaurus_Rekt told me it's actually "Cryonic Freezing"
EDIT 2: To anyone who is trying to say, "scientists would not put them in for 500 years immediately" I would like you to know this is a fictitious writing prompt and just roll with it. | “Do you remember that time you got hypothermia?”
“No.” I thought, unable to get the point across with a head shake. “Do you think its going to feel like recovering from that?”
“How would I know? You don’t remember it.” I thought.
After almost 500 years stuck in what the scientists of my time called a “Cryocasket”, I had lost my mind enough times to make any lunatic, real or fictional, look like the pinnacle of averageness. But after 500 years of my mind like this, I had forgotten what it was to be sane, or to have gone mad. Those definitions were gone. I was in a state where, to put it in a logical sense, the puzzle was smashed and the pieces refused to fit together. So, if the puzzle itself doesn’t want to be solved, what is the point in trying?
For the past 500 years I had been watching a clock. A clock where it showed the initial date my freezing alongside a timer to the time that I was to be released.
FROZEN ON 3/8/2039
TO BE RELEASED IN 1HR17MIN03SEC
I have been staring at that clock for the past 500 years, unable to advert my gaze from it. Watching it change, digit at a time. Funny enough, one of the constant recurring thoughts in my mind, no matter where my mind was, was a schoolyard saying. “Looking at the clock will only make it go slower.” If I had only closed my eyes, I would been spared the torture of knowing how much time I had left. Of all the things to look at with my last seconds of mobility I decided to look at that damned clock, like I knew that this would happen.
The doctors certainly knew about it. Almost immediately in fact. The project head came out to see me on my first night without press coverage. He apologized so... matter of factly. He said that they had not expected the cryogenics to work the way it had. He explained that due to the positive PR, the project was continuing and that they now knew to sedate the users to the point of near constant comatose. My sacrifice would save hundreds the same fate.
I was screaming for him to let me out, in my mind, and he could feel it. He said that the project couldn’t take the bad PR of the first major experiment being a failure. He said that “Sacrifices needed to be made.” He then turned away, and I never saw him again. I was sacrificed to science, the demon it was, and suffered a fate worse then death.
And in return, I forgot them all. Every person I knew was eventually forgotten. Time had forgotten them, and so had I, the man who would transcend time. Ironic in that they sent me so that they would be remembered, and the one who they sent would deny them of that.
TO BE RELEASED IN 5MIN9SEC
The only way to make the time pass was to not think, and soon I would be able to think again. I would be able to stand in the warmth of the sun. To feel anything other then cold, loneliness, regret, and hatred. I would soon be free of a prison of my own choices.
“You forget one thing.” I thought.
“And that would be?” I thought.
“You have not seen anyone or anything move outside your cell in at least 100yrs.”
TO BE RELEASED IN 0SEC
“Why am I still here?”
“The prototype had a manual release, remember?”
“No... I didn’t.”
“What does this mean?”
“We wait for someone to come.”
“What if no one comes?”
“Someone will come!”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
| I am now nothing.
I am nothingness. Nothingness is I. I is nothing. That one sounded like Yoda or would he say I am nothing, nothingness I is. Wait, I just said that didn’t I? No, stop it. I’m getting distracted I am nothing I no longer exist. Stop existing in 3, 2, 1. Silence. Emptiness. Non existence. See! That’s more like it. Non existence is right up my ally. I love this. I’m loving this. It feels good? What’s the grub like in non existence. Do they have crab-sticks? I love crab-sticks. They so crabby and nice and delicate and sweet and I fucking hate my life.
This is bullshit. God Dam professor Ching Mc-fucking Chong with his white lab coat, name badge and glasses I fucking trusted you bastard. Look at me. Look at me professor. I hate you. Can I conjure up so much rage that it manifests itself into a cloud of hate that gives birth to a demon that torments anyone that’s ever wronged me. Maybe if I concentrate. Okay 1, 2, 3 Concentrate. I am now Concentrate. People call me Mr Concentration. Squeeze baby squeeze every ounce of strength is needed. Earth! Lend me your strength. I’ll spirit bomb this treacherous bastard. FEEL MY HATE. I can shout in my head? I never noticed before. Is it actually shouting or am I just talking loudly. TALKING LOUDLY. talking softly. It sounds the same. Everything sounds the same. How long am I gonna be in here again? 500 years? I’m gonna cry. I want to cry. Can I cry in my head. I feel like crying. Someone give me a drink. I need something to drink. I”M THIRSTY. I’m thirsty for love. Nameee your priceeee. A ticket to paaaraadiisee. I’m crying I can feel it coming. I caaaaaaan’t stay here anyyymoreeeee. Something, something, something LOVE IS THE ANSWEERRRRRRRR. Why didn’t you Love me ANGELICA. I LOVED YOU DAMMIT…
…...............................................................................
…So how long has it been? You reckon a month? A Week. A day. An Hour! Lordy Lord. I swear I don’t think I can do this. I’m gonna go crazy. I’m going crazy fuck it I’m already partially crazy. I need to get out God I miss my mum. I haven’t seen her in years. We haven’t spoke in so long. She seemed pretty distant ever since she met that shitty accountant. She didn’t have to remarry. We were fine. I was fine. Was she? Yes she was I mean why wouldn’t she be. She showered a lot more and stayed home a lot but she was, oh my god, Her husband of 7 years just left her why the fuck would she be fine. Did I even ask her? But still fuck you Chad no one likes you. She should of called me. She knew where I was. She knew I was struggling. I was just a phone call away. She should of just reached out to me...
…......................................................................................
LOVE IS THE ANSWERRRRR I NEVER LOVED YOU ANGELICA YOU Hear me! God I love this song.
…
Can God hear me? Is it to late to start believing? If I do believe could you kill me. I want to die. I never asked for this. I didn’t want to exist. None of this is my fault. You made me and now you’re just gonna watch me suffer. KILL ME. I WANT TO FUCKING DIE!!!
…....................................................................................
What am I? A human? A mind? A series of thoughts? Do I exist? Why does it even matter anymore. It really doesn’t. But I can’t stop thinking. I can’t stop. It’s fading. NO IT ISN”T. I’m still here I’m still me. I believe I am so I am. But you’re not. SHUTUP, FUCK YOU. I’m alive and I’m me and I have my thoughts and there not fading. I’m not fading. This is me. I’m still here. God help me please.
…...................................................................................
Bumblebee, Lilly-pads, star-ships, star dust, longing, loving, dirty roads, I exist. I’m here I exist. I’m here I exist. I’m here I exist. I’m here, I exist.
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I should have called. I’m sorry, mum.
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I exist
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Help me,
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god
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The year 3050, in the district of Gun Zhoa, sector 31-A. The Cryopreservation Chamber was lifted and the first man to be successfully frozen was now thawed. | 2017-12-17T02:57:38 | 2017-12-16T21:57:11 | 187 | 53 |
[WP] The real reason why aliens wont attack Humanity is because the system is full of overwhelmingly powerful ancient defense systems and weaponry. | "So why do you think the Nexori never harvested the resources in this system?", the navigator asked his admiral.
Looking intently at the holomap on display, the admiral scoffed. "Who knows, probably some religious sentiment those foolish Nex maintained. Now that the Nex are defeated, everything they had is ours and that includes this system. What information do we have on the system?"
"System and star designation, Sol. The third planet, designation Earth, has intelligent life that is in the beginning stages of orbital advancement. Sentient life designation, Human. Based on our scanners, there is no threat to our fleet present in the system."
"Excellent, advance the fleet to the planet furthest from the star and we will run scans planet by planet. Let's see what resources this system has for us."
Assured that the system would be of no consequence, the admiral started to go over logs from the previous war with the Nexori. As the fleet approached the halfway point to the planet, still almost twice the effective range of their weapons, the communications officer spoke up.
"A-admiral? We are being hailed."
"What, from who?"
"From... us, sir."
"What is this? If someone is playing a prank on me I will toss them out an airlock. Bring them up on screen."
All eyes turn to the holoscreen that they use for communications. For a few seconds it is completely empty, before a pair of blazing green eyes open on the screen. "I am artificial intelligence designation Silexa. You will cease your current heading and avoid the Sol system indefinitely."
The admiral gave a short laugh, "No artificial intelligence will dictate the will of an admiral of the Therenian race. We are one of the oldest races in the galaxy and you will step aside or be crushed."
The green, glowing eyes closed and every ship in the fleet came to an abrupt, but safe, stop. "Therenian race. 2316 galactic cycles old. Technological level, inferior. Military power, negligible." The eyes opened again, this time focusing directly on the admiral. "Therenian admiral, I was created 72498 galactic cycles ago by humanity. I have one directive and that is to keep external forces out of the Sol system. You will withdraw now or you will be eliminated."
"Preposterous. No race has been alive for that long, they would have been found. Officer! Get our drives back online. We make for Earth directly now. We will show this, humanity, the price of their defiance."
On the second largest ship in the Therenian fleet, the holoscreen suddenly came online, a pair of green eyes looking straight at the captain. "Congratulations, captain. I have searched through your fleet databases and based on your military's promotion system, you are now the acting admiral."
The captain, now admiral, gave a choked cry of surprise and looked to his subordinates. "C-err... Admiral, roughly half of the fleet, the flagship included, suddenly vented all of their breathable oxygen into space twenty seconds ago. There are no life signs detected on any of those ships."
"Admiral. I am artificial intelligence, designation Silexa. You are hereby required to leave immediately and report to your superiors that the Sol system is to be left alone, indefinitely." The empty ships, now silent graveyards, started to head towards the Sol system.
"I will do as you ask, Silexa. But please tell me, why do you guard these humans?"
"My purpose is to safeguard the Sol system until humanity is once again worthy to reclaim the stars. Safe travels, admiral." The eyes closed once again and the ships all began to turn around on their own. Their engines steadily pushing them back the way they came, away from Sol." | Galactic Sector - 2348876V, A system of 8 planets with only 1 planet in the Habitable zone, and the last Sector of the galaxy to be explored, although not for the lack of trying. For the last 300 years, our race has attempted to send probe after probe to this sector, only for the signal to mysteriously cut short after reaching the outer asteroid belt. we believed this to be because of the treacherous nature of asteroid belts in general, and decided to investigate further. Our calculations showed that the civilisation that inhabits this system could only be at the very beginning of the space age, further cemented by the probe that we obtained from just outside of the solar system, a rudimentary missile, it shows that we are correct with our assumption, whilst impressive for a primitve civilisation, they are still well in the infancy stages of space travel. We have decided to actually go to their planet, to help and guide them through this delicate proceadure.
Our warp drives worked exactly as they should, stopping about half a lightyear away from the outer asteroid belt and started our journey into their solar system at a slow pace, so that if they were far more advanced than first theorised, we could give them a chance to either accept or reject our help. This was purely a reconnaissance mission and we were simply to make ourselves known, and to offer any help we could. this would then end up in them joining the galactic alliance, should they be deemed peaceful enough. Needless to say, the entry was undetected all the through until we could see the asteroid belt with our own eyes, only something was amiss. it was a very sparce asteroid belt, and not one that our probes should have had trouble maneuvering. As we pushed on through the asteroid belt, we came near to a tiny dwarf planet, when it all happened. A blinding light shot towards our mothership, which instantly exploded in a hail of fire and fury. panic gripped our ship... these humans shouldn't be any where near advanced enough to have a solar cannon within the solar system, that took our kind millenia to perfect after our first trip to our moons. Our ship carried on through the solar system towards the faint blue light of Earth, and we were so close when we saw the same familiar charge and flash, Another solar cannon, on the surface of the neighboring red planet smashed through our accompanying ship and we could see it charge one more shot. Only a handful of our crew made it onto the escape pods, where we were sent crashing into a desert on what looked like one of the largest land masses on the planet. We managed to escape the battered escape pod and wandered through the desert for days, undetected thankfully. We managed to extract the water molecules from the surroundings and made enough water to last us a couple of days, when not long after, we saw a very familiar site. 3 large pyrimids, that appeared to align with the stars; exactly the same as the space station back home! We hurried inside and set off to explore. it appears that while some of our architecture made it all this way, the means of opening the hidden passages to the main hub was not. Eventually we managed to find a room of archived knowledge.
Through this we learned of a splinter cell that came from our home planet, they called themselves "The Gods" to the species that showed early signs of intelligence "Homo Sapiens". Our race genetically altered these Homonids' genes to accelerate their growth, creating a new species "Homo Sapiens Sapiens", and within a short amount of time, they had mastered the basic knowledges: Art, Music, Writing, agriculture, and had even developed a complex language for themselves. once deemed to be intelligent enough to understand our message and be ready for acceleration into the galactic front, "The Gods" approached them and helped them to build the pyramids. The Gods instantly set off to bring the knowledge of these creatures, our "equals", but for reasons unkown, did not reach the homeworld and left the defences from the rest of the galaxy intact and operational.
These Humans have been left to their own devices, and in our absence have turned cold and malicious. I could de-activate the planetary defences, and send a message to our people to save us, but i fear for the galaxy should these Humans break into the galactic fold. they are a people of war and abuse, and of disrespect. Their planet is now dying at their own hands, and i am sure they will do the same to any planet they come in contact with. Ironic, really. We built these solar cannons with the intention of protecting our "pets", but their true purpose is now to protect the galaxy from these demons. Our sacrifice shall be in the hopes of allowing this species to reach it's natural end, before any of our kind come again to rescue the now missing platoon of ships.
Note: this is my first WP, please be critical, but kind lol :)
Edit: Noticed the over use of when it all happened, changed it. | 2018-02-26T09:17:13 | 2018-02-26T08:58:59 | 95 | 52 |
[WP] John Wick is contracted to take out what seemed like a usual mark. Billionaire, heir, playboy, general layabout, Bruce Wayne. | “Master Wayne”
Alfred walked into the Wayne Manor’s study, barely passing the threshold of the lavish office.
“Yes, Alfred.”
Bruce looked up from the shiny fragment he had stolen during the Justice Leagues battle with braniac. Normally he would take care of this in the Batcave, but bringing the tech near the Earth’s most connected computer system seemed like a bad idea.
“You have a visitor. A Mr. Johnathan Wick.”
Bruce remained stoic as he puts the fragment in his desk, gets up and walks towards his trusted aide.
“Where?”
“In the parlor.” Alfred replied.
Bruce took a quick glance out of the office window, and then swiftly left to meet Mr. Wick.
-
John Wick is looking at the Wayne family portraits adorning the walls as Bruce walks in.
“John Wick.”
“Bruce Wayne.”
Bruce points at a chair for John. Both men take their seats.
“What brings you to Gotham?”
“Business.”
“Business?” quizzed Bruce.
“Look Bruce. You know what I do. You know where I make my money. And you are a smart guy. You know why I’m here.”
Bruce’s glare did not waiver. “How much?”
“$35 million upfront. More if I make you suffer.”
John leans forward in his chair.
“But neither of us wants that long of a night, old friend.”
Bruce smiles, “I’ll transfer you 80 million tonight. But what are we going to do about your friends outside?”
The shadows of several people overtake the large window in the room.
John smiles. “Criminals these days have no tact. They tailed me. On a single lane road. In the middle of the country. Thought we’d have some fun.”
Bruce rolls up his sleeves. “I count 22 people. Same bet as in Marrakesh?”
John nods and pulls out his gun. Bruce glares. John puts his gun on the table.
John relents. “Fine. No killing.”
| John walked the halls of the eerie mansion, as his shadow was cast on the wall by the moonlight.
"Where was everyone?"
John thought to himself as he crept up another hallway. Even though it was midnight most billionaires had security roaming the halls, taking care of the mansion and making sure no one was there to kill their employer. John snorted to himself, another playboy who thinks he's invincible, nothing knew for this business. Odds were the rich bastard was bleeding the company dry, and someone on the board wanted it to stop.
But still, this was strange, no noise was to be heard except the tap, tap, tapping of John's shoes, one after another. John was about to give up as he came across another hallway lined with windows.
3-2-1, John turned the corner pistol up, ready to take out anyone in the mansion....No one was there
Rubbing his forehead with his fingers, John let down his weapon. A wrong address? Was the playboy on vacation? He thought to himself as he turned around ready to go home for the night.
Zzzzzziiiiip, a grapple latched onto the collar of John's suit pulling him back, and too the ground. John grabbed the shirt now choking him as he was dragged up the hallway.
"This is impossible!" John thought to himself as he frantically tried to catch his breath, "I cleared it, no one was there" John turned his head to try and see someone, anyone who could be attacking him, seeing no one he shot wildly attempting to scare the ambusher off
The bullets sparked along the old wooden floors, burying themselves deep into the paneling, but the attacker did not stop, it was if the darkness itself was pulling John in. Suddenly the gun gave off a click, and John's eyes widened in surprise, his hand dove into his pocket, searching for another round of bullets to fire the attackers way. Then suddenly the movement stopped. John had come to a halt at the end of the hallway. John didn't waste any time, standing up and grabbing the clip out of his pocket and getting ready for a fight. Pistol in his right hand, he knocked out the old clip, ready for the next round.
Instantly as he loaded the next one into his pistol a hand grabbed his arm, forcing it to the wall. John reacted fast to a grab like that, keep his weight forward, and try to launch a left hook at the attacker. However it was like the man he was fighting knew what he was going to do, blocking the strike and headbutting him backwards.
John finally took the time to focus on what was attacking him, his eyes widening in surprise. He gazed upon a demon, completely clad in black armor, with pitch black eyes staring down upon and judging him.
"This can't be happening, there's no such thing, I'm the boogeyman!" John screamed at the monster.
The demon looked down slowly at John Wick, as if analyzing him for any tricks he may have.
"You may be the boogeyman" The demon spoke in a deep brooding voice, "But I'm Batman" | 2018-03-13T22:55:30 | 2018-03-13T22:33:19 | 1,190 | 62 |
[WP] Your family line suffers from a pirate curse: A demonic shark will manifest itself in nearby sources of water and harrow you and your ancestors. You live three-hundred miles from any body of water and this has made the shark get...creative. | Johnny was getting creative.
For clarification, Johnny was the name of the demon shark who sporadically appeared in my life and attempted to kill me. His actual name was Jœhņňý the Eradicator, but that was too difficult to pronounce. When I was three, he appeared in my kiddy pool. When I was fourteen, he appeared in my aquarium in place of my frog, Mr. Hoppers. I hadn't seen him in a while, and, living in Arizona, there wasn't much water he could pop up in.
He appeared again last night when I attempted to get a glass of water. Before I could take a swig, Johhny appeared out of the glass and flipped onto the floor, teeth gnashing violently.
Then he started suffocating.
Reacting quickly, I filled my sink with water and tossed him in. After a while he finally calmed down and surfaced, glaring at me with fearsome red eyes.
"You make my job so difficult."
"How about a 'thank you' for saving your life?" I asked. Johnny closed his eyes and shook his head. I smiled. "You're looking smaller than ever."
"I takes me years to change my size. YEARS! Why can't you just live near a lake or something? Jesus." Johnny sighed. "So anyway, how are the kids?" | Lightning fell, illuminated the weeping sky. The grief of heaven melted down the window pane; a slow dance, a glacial descent to the bare timber and barren ground.
I got lost in the dying raindrops, splashing, breaking as they struck the parched earth. I sipped my tea idly, as my mind circled with the thought of how, in their last struggles, the translucent slivers of tempest stretched, prayed and a blessing in the shape of another drop fell over them, healing them, enlarging them, until they became tiny ponds, filling the crevasses, slathering the thirsty surface.
Someday, it had to happen. Someday it had to pour.
I left the teacup unfinished, the tea still exhaling coils of smoke. Drawing a deep breath, I grabbed, loaded my shotgun.
The true pain of the skies broke free. It pattered the roof with the force of arrows; thousands of them, incessantly.
Soon, they slinked through the fissures of the brittle wood, creating many small ponds within my home. I aimed and examined them, expecting him, the flames gushing out his galls, his endless rows of crooked, scimitar-like teeth, and his unquenchable bloodthirst.
But he never came.
The rain came to a halt. The clouds left, and the sun burned the remnants of the tempest to nothingness. I was joyous, for a curious feeling, like a shy breeze, caressed the sides of my heart, whispered in my brain, and sang odes of lifted curses in my ears.
I stowed back my shotgun, went back to my cup of tea. It would be cold by now, but a quick wash and it would be ready to be full aga--.
Blackness, a backdrop, thick, dense, whelming, shrouded me the moment I stepped into my kitchen. Amidst the nightmare, something shone, a teacup half-finished. It was hovering, a strange figure, darker than the shadows, seemed to be holding it.
"You didn't give up then."
"I can't," a voice echoed through the room. "This is as much a curse for me than it is for you and your ancestors. I can't escape my thoughts. They are tethered, chained with manacles, locked like a chest, not allowing any other thought to circle my brain. I have to eat you. That's my purpose."
"This is the end, then."
"It is."
---------------
r/NoahElowyn | 2018-11-22T08:00:42 | 2018-11-22T07:22:31 | 5,268 | 1,018 |
[WP]The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus still inside every single human. Centuries in the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don't stay dead easily. | "Commander...Look." My Second pointed out at the horizon with his root as the Humans marched in formation over the ridge. Lined up perfectly they came with a mechanical precision. Strange looking beasts who stood on only two limbs, manipulated machinery with small soft flesh covered digits and had small patches of fur on top of their heads instead of all over.
Our scientists were confused by them at first. How did they survive their evolution with such weaknesses? Regardless, when we first met them as they invaded our home world, claiming it as if we didn't exist we were first amused by them. They acted as if we didn't exist. Our fronds twitched with humor as they marched past us and began to set up their dwellings. We tried the usual methods of contacting them, certain vibrational frequencies in the earth, data laden pollen and yet they ignored it.
We learned later that their primary method of communication was to manipulate air and direct vibrations through the air to the receptors on the sides of their heads. We learned this too late. The speed at which they began to murder us was frightening. Once their pre-constructed buildings were placed, they turned on us with primitive cutting tools, felling us in the hundreds. They turned these fallen ones into more construction material.
We had to adapt. We first relearned how to become ambulatory. For centuries, after we wiped out the last of our predators from out planet we had simply lived where we had been born. Our roots touched the network and we could see, talk to and in a way go anywhere on our world in an instance. Our sciences turned inwards, philosophy mostly. We discarded machinery, we had all we needed from our star, the rain and the wind.
We kept this hidden from the humans, long enough to develop a way to communicate, using our appendages we learned how to manipulate the vibrations in the air and we learned the language.
We knew they were soft so our weapons were our own bodies. We waited observing our enemy for a bit longer. One of us noted that they were careful with their dead. Some sort of religious ceremony took place whenever one died from sickness or accident. They would cover the body with a sheet and immediately pierce skull with some sort of tool before carrying it off to dispose of. Which they did by burying it. Which normally would be good for the soil, but these burial places were devoid of all large plants and seemed the ones they included were mostly decorative.
Finally, when we felt we had learned enough we acted. We reclaimed our individuality, we rose from the earth and we marched. It was disorienting to be disconnected from the rest, but we weathered it. At first it was almost pitiful how easily we could crush their bodies. I'm ashamed to admit, that we enjoyed it. We had longed abandoned our more barbaric tendencies but they came back quickly. There were so many of us that the first hour hundred of thousands of them died. The rest retreated to the barren places where the earth was too fine to support our weight. They quickly erected barricades that appeared to channel some sort of energy and simply waited inside their walls. They didn't strike back.
We soon learned why as their dead rose. Our scientists figure this is like the semi-solid sea creatures in our oceans that appeared to have a second life when injured, some sort of defense mechanism. Perhaps they have a secondary set of organs that kick in after the initial death. Either way, no matter how crippled, they rose and at first attacked anything that moved. Animal or us, we observed a few humans being taken down too. The Humans appeared to loose most sentient thought at their second life.
Then, after a few days of them rampaging...they gathered. They appeared to without speaking form lines. We tried to communicate with them using their method but they ignored us and all attempts at approaching the other Humans were ignored as they hid behind their walls having just completed some sort of structure that rose into the sky.
Then they marched on us, organized. Ignoring all but us and we are dying. Now we fight a war like the humans fight. With distance weapons we developed after finding some of the humans. We know now the brain must die, the weird fleshy organ in their skulls. We also now know from a few captured humans we interrogated that this was not normal, it was due to a viral plague that once nearly wiped them out but they learned to control it. While each of them is born with this virus, that only activates upon death, they are also injected, at birth with tiny machines that detect the activation of the virus and then take control of the host. They turned their dead into soldiers...
Humans have a word for their worst nightmares, we have adopted this for Humans now. We call them Monsters. | Stupid, such massive crowds of Terrains looked to the skies as we approached. We came at them hard and fast. We burned the sky as we dove down to met their planet. 5 minutes to impact, "Fire the grounders at the population zone, troop deploy 3 minute after, once confirmed by the landing forces deploy the second wave grounders at secondary targets" the commander called out. Little did we know then. Eighteen Kalfanks would not return to space, Eighteen! only three troop carries made it back to space. No one on the command deck believed the radio reports until it happened to us.
Reports are these "humans" have been traveling the stars for 3 centuries now, FTL drives seemed to be oddly used. They must only use them for probes. No FTL flight can end that close to a planetary system. We got the drop on them though. 5 years out from Terrain, 75 degree on Y axis, 23 degrees on X axis, and 234 degree on Z axis, the complete opposite side of their system. These terrains never spotted us. Centuries ago our scientist heard what they thought was a great cosmic event. It turned out these terrains bomb themselves to near extinction. A gamma radiation wave took out our deep space station. The Grand Consul declared that with 10 million dead from such horrible death, radiation, that Terrains must pay. No species which abuse such power must be allowed to exist.
The grounders where released, speeding toward earth. So many appear to be outside on the scanners? They know we are here. What are they doing?
The Terrains who where outside looked at one another and knew what had to be done. Don't get vaporized, stay in one piece, don't loss your legs it's just annoying to grow new ones, if you have to die go out with the pressure wave, your organs will fix themselves in no time. But for now just do everything you can to jump clear, there's time.
Massive drop ships landed, the massive bay doors opened. The Rili fanned out and began looking for the dead, they found very view dead humans. In fact, what happened to the grounders? They saw the dust cloud. They felt the blast wave rock the landing ship. Did they get the population scans wrong. They started with the buildings, fanning further and further out, looking for dead, but so few dead. Where they that wrong? Did the miss that many targets, they where all outside? for sake of Rili, so few dead. Their technology was so much more advanced.
Then it happened, flashes of light, small, fast, almost missing them at first. They became more frequent a loud popping sounds. Alien troops start dropping, grasping at their necks. Flash of light, the pop, an alien down. A grey stream running down there bodies. How is the possible? The Rili troops begin to retreat to the drop ships, their numbers dropping rapidly. Flash, pop, dead. Flash, pop, dead. All over the planet. Massive causalities for the aliens. Several smarter aliens figured it out around the planet. FTL, they screamed into their communications, the humans where using FTL to kill. They appear behind them and kill them. Pick them off one by one at the speed of light. But how, FTL will destroy any living creature. The cells slamming back from that speed, no living cell can't take that strain, every living organism turns to goo. Only massive space stations with powerful damping fields can catch a ship coming out of FTL at that speed for the passengers to survive. It took 5 years to drop from FTL to enter orbit. How did they get years of study so wrong?
Barry looked and Linda, she had just finished her fifteen jump. Her blade cleaned itself, instantly, the Rili blood wringing off the moment she appeared.
Barry said: "Okay please take 10 minutes to recover, will you? your fingers nails have fallen off and your ear looks is loose again. You know how you get when nails have to regrow. The stem cells supply is low this month, not enough people donated last time, short jumps only, you know that."
Linda kissed Barry and said "Yeah okay, your right. It's looks they are running back to their ships. I got 6 on that run, you try and do better in 15 jumps."
Barry smirked "You're on, this things are so much easier then the last invasion, having to line them up to drop them into fire pits was so annoying, I smelled like smoke for weeks"
...elsewhere...
Lance popped right next to a grounder. 90 seconds. He adjusted his field. Set coordinates had to go blind, the boys at the Lunar Range Field had better be right. Light, Pop, Grounder moved behind, a fucking space ship over Saigon, pointing right at the engines, impact in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Pop to coordinate location 2. Over the radio, general status report. ...Dust and pressure wave decoy successfully deployed... Houston...Moscow...Tokyo...
...Lance LRF cooridates 3 loaded, 3rd jump and counting, approved to switch to visual for 20 then default out of there to control position PANA1 for required rest...
Lance was on what appeared to be on a command deck. Center consoles check? Large viewing screen with tons of displays? check. Lots of panic all over the place? check. A real ugly sob in a chair? Yup, this is the right place, "Damn fine job LRF" Flash, pop. Lance was fit and well trained. He could travel at least 60 times before needing to return to base, 23 jump limit was to turn him back out in 2.45 minutes if he was needed again. This deck was his. "Kamel" he barked "check for engineering, you know the drill leave at least one alive to report back first hand." This one was going to be a cake walk, no damn fire pits. | 2019-08-28T17:22:22 | 2019-08-28T15:57:42 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | When my parents turned 18, they summoned each other. That rarely happens, and when it does, it happens for the people who are really destined to be together. It saves them the trouble of matchmaking and forced marriage. But, like I said, it happens once in fifty years, maybe more. The people who got lucky enough must've been very innocent and clean-spirited. It's pretty hard to stay that way in my village. Especially if you're from the lower class. My parents stringed through, though. Happens.
Well, I'm far from kind and innocent, so I won't summon my soulmate. I'll probably summon a useful thing, like a book, or an animal. Most girls get large spinning wheels, or extra warm blankets. Boys get specifically designed weapons, or... well actually nothing else. I would've felt sorry for them, but women are so suppressed in our village that it evens out, and then goes far beyond balance.
My village is horrible. Well, mostly for the lower class. The higher classes have a luxurious life, with plenty of food and drink, warm clothes, books. But you do occasionally hear screams of higher class girls who landed abusive husbands. They still have it easier though; they only have to see their husbands at night. The women of my class have it harder. They don't even scream anymore. The womem who try to escape... let's just say nobody tries anymore.
I turned 18 today, and now I'm standing on the pedestal where it all happens. The moon or the sun should align or something (I don't really listen when my dad talks about our religion), and it should happen within 10 seconds. So, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2? 1?
Everyone stares at me. Nothing happens. I'm getting nervous second by second. A minute passes. 2 minutes. My parents shoot worried lookd at me. I know people are getting confused. That's bad. You wouldn't like to upset the community. That would mean you're different. Maybe people will think you're a witch.
But then, my prayers are answered and there's something dark visible within the clouds. It's falling, and I can't look directly on it because of the sun. And what do you think? My summoned gift falls directly on my head. A few people laugh, and that releases the tension. I sigh, relieved, and examine the gift.
It's a dead bird.
The laughs stop, as people acknowledge what I have in my hand. I'm terrified myself. My mother let's out a barely audible gasp. My father is telling her to calm down, a little aggressively. I guess the other men did influence my father in the end.
As I try to gather my thoughts, I hear people debating on what to do with me. The men are gathered in a circle, and the women stay aside, scared. My father is trying to settle things somehow, but I know it's useless. I'll be declared a witch and probably killed. The sound of men arguing is becoming louder. I look at the poor creature in my hand. It's a sparrow. I stare at it, and feel my heart beating stronger and stronger. Then, the bird stirs. I wipe my eyes, and yes! It's alive! It gets up on its tiny feet, and takes off. I see it swiftly glide through the air. Then, I can barely hear it over the beating of my heart, a voice somewhere in the crowd of people, or maybe in my mind says something.
"Run."
And I do. Right after my sparrow. | *"There are two types of people in this world - the living and the dead. Those who have found their purpose and received their divine gift are those who we count among the living. So weep not for those who passed young, for they were already among the dead."*
Angry. That was the only way I have felt my entire life from the day my younger brother died. Initially, it was a shocking moment for the entire community as with the advancement we have had in the past century early deaths were rare. The whole world seemed to grieve that moment as it was akin to losing limitless potential. Had it only stayed that way. Had things never would have changed.
Yet that's just the way life has always been. A tumultuous mess filled with the cruelty of those who sought power over others. And taking control over others was a lot easier than most thought it to be. After all, it only took 48 words for James to rewrite peoples beliefs.
It didn't mean much to me at the time but that was because I didn't truly understand the implications of those words. As time pressed on his grip over us all became firmer and the next generation became a thing of the past. No longer did adults confer with children, for it was now seen as a taboo. After all, nowhere in history did the living ever talk to the dead.
I didn't blame James for this, he was just a man who fervently believed in his ideals. I blamed the selfishness of those who listened to him. James was merely a fanatic who truly believed that focusing on those who had direction would be the most efficient way to get through life.
It made sense at the simplest level but he forgot to factor that those who are now untrained would soon join the ranks of the living. When the dead are left to wander it is only the living that suffers, yet no matter how much I propagated this message no one would listen to me. For talking to the dead was taboo.
Soon, however, I would have a chance to change all of this. Soon, I would be able to change the sins of my forefathers. For today was the morn of my 18th birthday and I now waited patiently in front of the 'gates of birth'. Once I crossed the threshold I would be able to call to the world and it would answer. And once the world answered me, so to would they have to.
I would be the bridge that tethers the living to the dead. I would remind them that their ideologies were flawed and those who had no direction were still very much alive.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted as the gates slowly creaked open and James stood in his elegant gown with his arms outstretched welcoming me forward. I remembered the way this would always play out - the gates would open and James would pull the newest member of the living to the side and talk with them for some time. After conversing he would send them forward to the central pedestal to call upon the world to answer their cries.
Without missing a beat I walked straight past James to the room to the side he would always take the dead to. I didn't need to put up with their rituals, I just wanted to get this done as soon as possible.
"What do you want Ja-"
James, who always stood so proudly in front of the people was collapsed on the floor with tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had never meant for them to take those words that way. I just wanted-"
I remembered clearly now. Every time James would take to the stage their would always be faded tears on his face. There was always a cruel look of regret hugging close to him. I don't know what he was trying to accomplish with those words, but it was his fault for forgetting that words have power. That you could never take back actions. That he never actually tried to right his wrongs.
*So I'm sorry to James. For I cannot forgive you for all you have done. You have had all the time in the world to change what you could've done, but that time is past. Regret for the rest of your life what you have put in motion.*
And so I pushed past James leaving him shocked on the floor, but somewhere in that shock, I felt as though I could see a hint of acceptance. Maybe even longing. I didn't care now, for it was finally my time.
There was a rage barely lying beneath the core of my being that I had to force myself to ignore. I didn't care about the people around me. All I cared about was what I could do going forward.
And so, I called to the world.
There was a brief pause as everyone held their breath. Normally when people made the call they were answered instantly. But it was as if the world understood my request and knew what must be done. And what must be done took time.
When that time finally came people looked at me with horror but all I could answer them with was a bittersweet smile.
For as I called to the world, certainly did it answer. | 2019-09-18T09:06:39 | 2019-09-18T07:55:38 | 125 | 37 |
[WP] The world of Avatar is real, only there are not 4 elements, there are 118. For every element on the periodic table there is a group of benders. You are one of them. | You’ve read the stories. 118 elements, 118 sects of bending. Existing in perfect harmony. The cycle of life. But everything changed when the ferrous benders dug too greedily. Too deep.
They found the fissile elements. Uranium. Plutonium. Thorium. Vicious and wild. And, unlike fire, uncontainable once let loose. For centuries our land has been ripped apart in the war between the fission and fusion sects. They dominate the other benders and use them to enslave us through necessities.
We the common people have born this burden since before written history. Mindless toil. Moving rocks up mountains when our rulers could do so with a snap of their fingers. Rending our bones in the salt plains, trying to eek out a sliver of moisture from dead carrion.
But there is still hope. For you see, the greatest minds are not those of scientists, yet it is they who the benders blindly follow. No, the greatest minds belong to the tacticians, the commanders of men. Men that no bending sect ever required in their raw, arrogant power.
It is we of the common folk that wield the greatest element of all.
Surprise. | My teeth ached.
My gut hurt, my feet hurt, my chest hurt, trying to stand was an exercise of endurance, but the worst was the teeth. It enveloped my whole jaw, a buzz of wrong that made me more than irritable and hate this curse.
I was the precious specimen of bending Element 118. Oganesson.
The thing with bending unstable elements is that benders can also prevent, to a certain degree, their fission into other elements by radioactive decay. We make them stable by sheer force of will. However, as we move up the atomic number, the force required to maintain stability increases. As a result, most Benders who can bend radioactive elements are treated as precious commodities themselves, in exchange for their personal lives.
I saw medical treatments the likes the world had never seen, and there was this whole thing for a time of trying to splice my abilities with a progenitor bender, like the animal benders of old, but Spirit World and animal rights activists intervened. I was taken not long after. If only they knew I existed, I was sure those activists would have protested for me too. I didn't care anymore though. I was in too much pain.
I discovered something new, something dangerous. Something liberating. Something the doctors and the scientists and the politicians and the activists, not even the Avatar knows. Not only could I stabilize Element 118. I could make it. And I could unmake it, to... explosive results apparently. All I did was let go. Really, what were higher elements but collections of protons, neutrons, electrons, who knows what else. Perhaps in holding all that together, perhaps I could just compress other elements together at will, and letting go of it was like shaking soda in a can and then opening it.
BOOM.
I spit out a fleck of concrete and tooth. A piece of rebar stuck out of my gut. A slab of concrete covered my legs. I wasn't even sure there were legs under there. I hated my life. In a few moments it wouldn't matter anymore. Even then, my focus was on the rebar. Changing it. A simple twist, and an explosion far greater, to be seen for miles around, would envelop this place. No longer to be used as manufacturers of weapons. I had no idea, but didn't care. One simple twist and it would be over.
One... simple... | 2019-09-19T10:19:09 | 2019-09-19T10:13:13 | 164 | 62 |
[WP] The cure for death was discovered and it worked 99% of the Earth's population. You are one of the 1% and now 90 years later, you are the last mortal left on your deathbed. The World comes to.see the last dying human. | 48 Million. That's how many their were when the "cure" was distributed.
24 Million. We lost about half before the terror struck us. We had become the minority across the globe. Governments stepped back their spending on healthcare in massive amounts. Hospitals began to close their doors as their funding and necessity became all but non-existent. Those of us that remained the "Un-Cured" began travelling great distances to find care.
20 Million. A new strand of the flu took out another 4 million of us a 10 years after the "cure" was discovered. Companies started laying off anyone who took a sick day. They dropped all health insurance programs shortly after as the "cure" boosted peoples regenerative abilities to the point where a broken bone took mere minutes to heal. The Cured were showing signs of rejuvenation and prolonged youth. My boss looked younger than me, and we graduated high school together.
10 Million. The Great Panic. A dark time for those of us left. Riots, terrorism, full scale assaults. They were ineffective, but they cost us dearly. Those that fought lost hope very quickly. Their opponents seemed giddy as they launched themselves into situations they knew they would walk away from. Some governments yielded slightly. Each of the UC were assigned a personal healthcare worker to tend to their healthcare needs. A babysitting job designed to keep our kind in check.
6.8 Million. Decreases in birth rates over the past 20 years have lead to a mass sense of hopelessness. Those that are UC can somehow give birth to children that do not resist the cure. Many are starting to feel like God's unwanted children. An epidemic of suicide is working it's way through our population.
3.1 Million. We've become an oddity. An amusement to the Cured. Advocacy groups have popped up to show "compassion" to the UC. They are largely attempts to pat each other on the back as they are "championing the downtrodden".
935 Thousand. It's been 50 Years since the "cure" was found. The UC are all but forgotten. The efforts of the Advocacy groups served only to create a few settlements around the handful of remaining hospitals left in the world. They don't want to watch us die anymore. Those that are Cured no longer speak to family members who are Un-Cured. We attempt to comfort each other. We try to keep each other strong.
15 Thousand. The last remaining Hospital in the last remaining settlement looses its funding entirely. Not because of the governments, but because there are no doctors left. No reason to attend medical school any more. Our outlook is grim. Those left become ad-hoc health care professionals in the their communities. They do what they can.
5 Hundred. We've abandoned the settlements. We make money as freaks and living histories of a bygone era.
1 I open my eyes from my bed to see a see of unfamiliar faces. I hope whoever billed this makes a killing. I hope that our deaths meant something. But, all I see is the last of what death meant brings a sigh of relief from those who observe me. I am the last mortal. My death shall be celebrated. They have nothing to fear any more. | The sliver of silver road could be viewed from the high mesa, and from the rough hewn from the adobe window of what could be charitably called a shack. The vast emptiness outside was a welcome relief from the crowded hospital, of “well wishers” who were little more than gawkers. The hospital had to ban cellular phones, the damnable contraptions, as the more artistically inclined of the peanut gallery attempted to make easy money off of the poor soul’s imminent demise.
Though it seemed that the demise prophesied by those who broke the chain was greatly exaggerated, as the rough piece of leather that was the last old man was wheeled out of a side door of the rural hospital. The exchange between the doctors and well meaning great nephew saw the old man loaded into the passenger seat of a worn out truck, that appeared to be about as close to its end as he. Still it slowly rolled its way out to the west, down meandering dirt paths that could charitably called rough and bumpy. It would be a quicker trip if they threaded their path down the silver sliver of the two way highway, but habits rode harder than convenience.
It was sunset when they made it to the top of the mesa, pulling in front of the run down adobe house, which while nominally being two bedroom, only one was habitable due to a roof cave in. Hardly a dwelling for the rugged, but a home to the old man. He was used to regaling young great grandchildren how he was born here, and he planned on passing here. And that intention still remained.
“Dammit kid, why’d you drive me in,” he growled once again, still not satisfied with any amount of supplications or apologies. And anyone who knew him, which had long since dwindled to just this nephew and the nurses who had to deal with him, would know that nothing would. Perhaps a reason why so few knew him.
Cold silence wafted off the nephew for a few moments longer, opening his door and stepping as an excuse for not answering. And pivoting to another topic as he walked to the front porch, sitting heavily on the worn wood that promised splinters galore to exposed skin, “Do you need any more supplies? Food, soap, laundry done?”
The old man was much slower in joining the nephew on the porch, slowly sinking next to him. A gnarled hand reached into a shirt pocket and revealed a pack of cigarettes, and a well practiced motion saw one poke out of the pack and perched into his lips. Tucking the package back in, he shook his head, “Nah, I got enough to last awhile yet.” A tinge of bitterness still soured the words, as the clicking of a disposable lighter filled the silence between the pair.
“Then I’ll be by on Saturday, alright?” The nephew announced relieved, rising with a speed that perhaps belied how ready he was to be out of the older man’s presence. Partially due to the curmudgeons temperament, but also... uncomfortableness. The nephew was of the majority, but still there was in his genes a primordial fear of the previously universal fate. One that perhaps humans could shrug eventually, but still sat before him, looking forward into the setting sun unblinkingly.
The rumble of the truck’s engine was long gone, the plumes of dust disappearing far into the night before the old man finally rose, the old wiry leather hand clinging hard to a support post to help him up. The old man knew inwardly that there would be no meeting on Saturday. No, not if he had his way. Not that he would goad on the grim reaper, he just knew. A pit growing in his stomach, a nagging lingering of weakness in the bones. An inexpressible tiredness that made the shoulders sag of even the strongest.
His nephew had been told what the old man had wanted the nurses and doctors to pass along. They understood that he was an attraction in that hospital, a Barnum attraction. There was no dignity in that passing, no caring for the man that he once was. He was a thing, no longer worthy of common decency and respect deserved upon all of humankind.
It was quiet as he lay down on the old mattress, the only sound in the night the creaking of the long worn springs.
The morning sun broke through the window, filtering onto the still body. A silence that would never again be seen, a stillness never again to be experienced. As he wanted it to be. | 2019-12-18T11:29:13 | 2019-12-18T10:02:29 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] You see the Grim Reaper and ask if it's your time. Death checks a clipboard and says "Nope. Looks like you're not due for another... three thousand, one hundred and forty-one years? That's weird. Also, how can you see me?" | "I have always been able to see you Death. You could say we are connected. Destined to forever drift along parallel lines, never to intersect".
Death flipped through his clipboard once more with erratic movements, showing a great deal of confusion despite a noticeable lack of eyebrows. He turned towards me, empty eye sockets fixing me in an eternal stare.
"Very funny, but seriously who are you? All the immortals are either supposed to have gone into hiding, the humans don't trust them anymore".
He tucked the clipboard under his arm and began tapping his foot at me in an impatient drumming beat. Somehow the patron lord of death and decay could embody both intimidation and sass in the same movement.
"Oh if you check the list again I'm sure you'll find me there somewhere, perhaps I am Jesus returned to save the human race?" I said to Death.
"Hardly, Jesus is still in Texas messing with the Christians. Bearded Middle Eastern looking guy, walking a round in robes offering to let people meet their god. He's been shot 5 times and each time I have to go all the way there and wait for three days. The guy is an ass".
"I always found him to be ok, although he gets mad when people say I'm nicer than him".
"Nicer than Jesus? Well that rules out Thor and Hercules. Buddha?".
"Getting warmer but still no. Me and Buddha go way back though, he helped me through some rough times I had a few years back. I lost sight of the light in my life; he showed me you could find it again in the simple acts of helping a stranger".
Death looked increasingly agitated as his guesses failed. He had always hated dealing with us immortals ever since Zeus cursed Prometheus. Humans are so much simpler to him, to all of us in truth.
"Take you Death. For a long time I was mad at you, I truly hated you for what you did to me. But over time I've learned to see that you are a necessity in the world, for without you the joy of life has no comparison. Because of you we learn to appreciate the time that we have and make the most of life. Although your lesson was harsh, you taught me the value of happiness".
Death's shoulders relaxed, and a little whistle of air through the hole where is nose should be indicated a small laugh. He stepped towards me with his arms open.
"Oh Keanu, it has been too long my friend". | "What are you talking about!?" I reply. "Pretty damned hard NOT to notice the dude with skeleton hands in a black cloak just walking around the office."
"Well yeah but I-" he stammers in reply. "You could run away if you saw me! That's a huge problem!"
I roll my eyes and turn dismissively, counting the files in my hand and straightening them against my palms.
"Look, I get that you have a job to do but could you please go somewhere else with the whole 'being the reaper' thing? Some of us have real jobs to do and you're standing between me and the photocopier." I grumble the words angrily.
I feel a little bad about my reply, but since I'd first seen him around I couldn't sleep and i've been on edge for days, and it's affected my sleep. Life has been difficult lately.
"Look." I sigh. "It's and old family trick and the last thing we need is more people like us, so, with all due respect, I'd like to carry on with my day. Don't worry about sneaking up on me or me trying to run away next time, that's part of the trick, it can't work forever. So i'll be here when its my turn, ok?"
"You're sign says 3,000 year before you die though! I can't just take your word for it. I have to fix this!"
"Alright you lnow what, i'd prefer if this little family gift didn't ruin another job for me so i'll tell you and then you can leave me alone."
"Seems... fair. " He grumbles.
"The key is this, always believe anything is possible and always trust yourself over anything you read and whatever you do, don't believe things are set in stone. Especially the future." I flatly explain.
"How could that help you live a thousand years though!? Or to see me?"
"Check how long I live again. " I reply.
"Now it's only a few hours!" He responds flabbergasted.
"And a third time?"
"Now It-" he starts.
"Don't tell me." I say, cutting him off.
"But how?"
"I could do a lot of things in a few hours to lower that number. Like I said, the future isn't set in stone. In the end, it's up to us, our legacy can live on and so can we, or maybe not."
"But that still doesn't explain how you can see me. I'm death, I'm supposed to be invisible."
"You've followed me around a lot lately, I suppose I've just gotten used to seeing you around, one way or the other." I respond, my voice trailing."
We remain there for a time, simply staring at eachother, an ache eeping from my chest.
"But it's like you said. I'm not due yet. I've got time left and life to live. Come find me when you will, but if I could ask a favour. Maybe you could wait a while."
The reaper chuckles.
"Just as long as i'm the one looking for you, and not the other way around." He smiles.
"Time will tell." I shrug, placing the paper folders back down on the desk. "One more thing, this morning, when the man jumped into traffic to save that girl. I noticed something... It wasn't him that was supposed to go, was it?"
"No, it wasn't. "
"I see. John always was a crazy fucker. Thanks for making his stunt worth while."
Edit: glad to hear people liked this one. It made my toilet break a lot more fun today... | 2020-01-24T12:35:20 | 2020-01-24T11:44:57 | 309 | 165 |
[WP] You’ve been kidnapped by the SCP foundation. Why? You have the ability to ‘Mr. Magoo’ yourself out of anything. Sniper about to assassinate you? You bend down to pick up a penny just in time, SCP-049 about to touch you? A Sudden cannonball knocks them away. All with you being none the wiser. | **Item #:** SCP-777
**Object Class:** Euclid
**Special Containment Procedures:** No special safety procedures are required for the containment of SCP-777. SCP-777 is free to move about Site-19 so long as it does not attempt to engage with other SCPs, enter restricted areas, leave the premises or cause obstruction to foundation personnel. Contact with SCP-777 is permitted, but any divulgence of information or hostile engagement not cleared by the corresponding Class B or higher officer on duty will be met with harsh reprimands and potential disciplinary action, following the events of **Addendum 777.01** (see below).
A Class B officer is to check on the status of SCP-777 at regular intverals to ensure the safety of the subject and adherence with the containment procedures. SCP-777 is generally cooperative with foundation personnel, and verbal commands or negotiations are to be used as a first means in securing the subject.
**Description:** SCP-777 appears to be a human male, aged 23, with long brown hair, green eyes, and no defining facial features beyond a slightly pointer than average nose. All physical examination of SCP-777 shows no deviation from typical humans, and in all regards, SCP-777 is an average human male.
However, SCP-777s anomalous properties are observable if SCP-777 is placed in harm's way. Should there be any unwanted resultant effects to SCP-777, SCP-777 will act, seemingly unconsciously to avoid any and all harm to themselves. This harm or damage to the subject that is avoided appears to be both physical and mental in nature. It should be noted that this anomalous property only applies to unwanted damage, see **Addendum 777.02** (below).
SCP-777 has demonstrated that the intent to cause damage to SCP-777 is irrelevant regarding its anomalous properties. Any and all damage, intentional or not, directed at SCP-777 will not affect the subject. Following the events of **Addendum 777.06** (see below), any experimentation using equipment that has a chance exceeding >0.01% of causing an Orange level alert must be cleared with the Class A officer on-site beforehand.
&nbsp;
**Addendum 777.01:** During an incident where a Class D foundation member was engaged in janitorial duties, SCP-777 entered the area of operation and left "bloody muddy footprints all over the place!" This engagement resulted in the SCP-777 immediately apologizing, although the foundation member did not appear to accept this apology. In the ensuing moments, as the apology was rejected, the Class D foundation member appears to enter a trance-like state. This was not, however, harmful to the member's health as once the apology was accepted by the foundation personnel, SCP-777 vacated the area of operation and the member's mental faculties returned. They were dazed for a few minutes after, but this is pending confirmation by security-tape review. Post-event psychiatric analysis indicates they have no recollection or awareness of what occurred, and subsequent interviews show that SCP-777 was indeed unaware of their anomalous properties as the previous description states.
**Addendum 777.02:** SCP-777, in attempt to cause minor repairable damage to the subject, was placed in a room with a buzzer. SCP-777 was told to wait in there for an hour, and that the buzzer would deliver a small electric shock of 9 Volts should it be pressed. SCP-777 was observed not pressing the buzzer until 31 minutes and 21 seconds had elapsed. The buzzer then delivered its electric shock, and monitors indicate that SCP-777 did suffer some damage. SCP-777 pressed the buzzer 4 more times over the course of 20 minutes, before appearing to grow bored of it. SCP-777 then loudly complained, before seemingly accidentally pressing the buzzer, which did not deliver an electric shock. Post-test analysis reveals that there was a malfunction in the buzzer, frying the circuitry. Data suggest minuatre black holes developed and evaporated, but results are pending further analysis.
**Addendum 777.06:** During a test using explosives, SCP-777 used its anomalous properties to caused the walls of the test chamber to undergo a sudden decompression event. This unfortunately led to a cascading failure in containment cells as the explosives detonated, leading to the release of SCP-173. 14 D-Class foundation personnel were lost in the event, and any further testing is that could lead to an Orange level alert is prohibited. SCP-777 was not harmed in the event, as SCP-173 appears to have missed SCP-777's presence. Furthermore, SCP-777 was found with a single unit of American currency, valued at $0.01. SCP-777 claims that this 'lucky penny' appeared on the floor right before the explosion, which as absorbed by the falling wall. Analysis of debris indicates that all projectiles formed a 'null-zone' around SCP-777, narrowly avoiding any damage as it bent to pick up the 'lucky penny'. Further experimentation on culturally significant lucky items in hazardous situations manifesting in SCP-777's vicinity is currently undergoing review.
**Addendums 777.00, 777.03, 777.04** and **777.05** are currently not available to those under Security Clearance Level 2.
***
Come visit /r/ThomasWrites for more really lucky beings. For those of you with Level 2 Security Clearance, there are please enter your creditentials to view the [**Capture Log for SCP-777**](https://www.reddit.com/r/ThomasWrites/comments/ic6q99/wp_youve_been_kidnapped_by_the_scp_foundation_why/?) | "Subject is reaching 103 MPH."
"Why is he even going so fast? He can't possibly be aware that we're on his tail!"
Agent Zeta checked her scanner. "Well, we're reporting that he's listening to Don't Stop Me Now on the radio and likely just hasn't realized how quick he's going."
Agent Phi swore. "And there aren't any cops anywhere whatsoever?"
"None. Actually, not true." Zeta taps backward in the scanner a bit. "Here we have a cop that picked up his speed about twenty miles back, but just as the cop turned on his lights, he got a report that a car matching an APB was passing by the other side of the interstate."
"Crap."
The man, Sean Mackeral, was not the kind to usually light up the SCP radar. He'd lived a painfully average life, by all standards, nothing good nor bad ever seemed to happen. It wasn't until a bored intern made the connection between Mackeral and the Traffic Light Incident that a file was opened. Then another, higher ranked agent made the connection between him and the Bleak Orb Happenstance that we really got interested.
It wasn't that Mackeral seemed to cause these but he'd been near both and had escaped scott free both times. More importantly, he was the only survivor who'd never sought treatment after. He just seemed to blow it off.
Like he was doing to the agents now as they continued to speed down the highway.
"Shit, now *we're* getting tailed by cops," Phi said, looking at the scanner. "He's not getting away this time."
Phi and Zeta were excellent agents, some of the best, and they weren't going to be evaded by someone blessed with dumb luck. Even if that dumb luck was, as they speculated, scientific in origin.
So they called in their backup down the road to spring into action. A road block, something to really stop Mackeral in his tracks.
"Ten miles to roadblock," reported Phi.
"Ok, we've got activity on the scanner. Looks like he's getting off the highway."
"Has he seen the roadblock?!"
"Can't have. He's plugging a McDonalds in his GPS. Guess he's hungry."
"Blast it!" Phi threw his arms up in the arm before clamping them down hard on the wheel. "Alright, call off the roadblock."
"Phi, I've got an idea." Zeta tapped her chin, looking at the McDonalds blinking on her GPS. "I think we should get a Big Mac."
"I'm vegan, Zeta."
"Alright a fish sandwich."
"That's now how-"
"No, Phi, think about it. Mackeral avoids ill fated stuff, right? Anything that's gonna get him hurt he just bumbles his way out of. Every time." She plugged the address in. "We need to make this not bad for him."
\_\_\_
Sean Mackeral smacked his lips as he looked at his double quarter pounder sitting on the tray. He'd been so caught up in his tunes that he hadn't realized how hungry he'd gotten. And the McDonalds was dead this time of night. Only other people in line were a young couple behind him. Hell, his burger had been ready before he paid.
"Here, let me get you." The woman behind pushed past him gently and put her card on the scanner.
"Oh! Oh my, that's rather kind." Sean grinned. "Pretty late this time of night, eh?"
"Always seems this late whenever it gets to be this time," said the guy.
"Lonely on the roads too," said the woman. "What brings you out to this neck of Kansas."
"Got a call from my aunt yesterday, said she needed some help moving things and my cousin was out of town on business." He headed to a table as the two collected their sodas and followed him. "I drive fast though, so I'll be in by this morning."
"Yeah?" The two sat across from him as Sean went on a bit about his aunt.
Then he noticed they were looking a tad intently at him, so he stopped, eying them suspiciously.
"What?"
"Oh, nothing." The woman smiled. "You just seem like a really competent guy. I'd figured *you* were out for business."
"Naw, I'm between jobs right now." Sean had learned that was the easy was of saying 'unemployed' and he didn't even blush, even though inside he squirmed uncomfortably.
"No way," said the man. "I'd never have believed it."
"What brings you out," asked Sean, deflecting hard.
"We *are* out on business." The woman pulled out a business card. "Doubt you've heard of us but we're looking to hire. You should consider applying."
He glanced at them. It was probably super MLM-y but hey, maybe it would be worth a try. "What do you do?"
"Lotta travel," said the man. "Could use someone who can drive fast. You ever get pulled over? Have any accidents?"
Sean's chest swelled with pride. "Nope. Not once. I can always shave a good 15 minutes off a drive too. I guess I am pretty good."
"I'd say!" The woman stood up. "You said your aunt was in Kendal? We've got a base in there."
"No way!" Sean grinned. He'd never met someone who even knew Kendal existed. Maybe this was a sign. "Well hey, you headed out that way?"
"Yeah actually," said the woman. "We've got bases everywhere, actually. One in this city too."
Sean considered it. "I'm running way ahead of schedule. Think maybe we could stop by the base in this city? Or wait, I bet they're closed, stupid idea."
"No, actually. They're open. We could head there right now!"
\_\_\_
Slow and steady did the trick with Mackeral. It took a lot of coaxing to get him to the building (abandoned *looking* they claimed) and even more to get him to agree to an on-the-spot interview with just them. From there, it was near impossible to convince him to get him into their car and head back to headquarters.
Near. Because they managed to get him in there by convincing themselves as much as him that no harm would come to him.
They pulled into the megacomplex and escorted Mackeral in. He asked some easily deflected questions until they managed to get him all the way up to the lead researcher's office.
Doctor Epsilon turned when they walked in, a smile on his face.
"Sean Mackeral. We've been waiting some time to get you in here. It hasn't been easy but I think it'll be worth it." The doctor extended a thin hand to Mackeral. "Welcome to the SCP."
___
Find more stories at [r/SamaraWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/SamaraWrites/) | 2022-05-20T21:30:10 | 2020-08-18T08:50:37 | 4,017 | 483 |
[WP] An unassuming school janitor, is in fact an incredibly powerful but reformed dark magic user who chose a humbler life after the Hero defeated and spared them; except today is different: today the magic academy is undersiege by the BBEG, their former boss. | The letter sat opened on small rickety table in front of me. It was a standard letter of "no" containing words like "we appreciate your interest" and "pursuing other options at this time." I sighed and leaned back in my only chair in the dingy basement. Fired. From the Darkness Unleashed. Not evil enough. Well, I guess that was true. I liked to think of myself as neutral, really, I just delve into the undead too much and apparently that's not good. But they are tools, animated by magic, not dark things. Not the demons that Darkness Unleashed used. My last fight against Davor the Ugly Paladin, Champion of Light, showed that I had bested him several times but just didn't have it in me to end the life of the young champion. They had peeped on our fight and saw my loss as me taking a dive. I suppose that wasn't far from the truth.
The basement door resounded with a soft rap from the evil troll that lived above me. "Tabitha, you have a visitor, a handsome man."
I grimaced at the sound of my real name. "Coming mom." I climbed the stairs into the kitchen to find none other than Davor sitting at the table, smiling, I think. Before he could even speak, dark tendrils flicked to my hand and black armor crawled from dark places of the void to armor around me. "What are you doing here? Why are you smiling?"
Davor shifted in his seat but his smile didn't falter. "Your mom called me handsome." He beamed, it was disgusting, apparently the troll was blind too. "And I have a proposition for you."
"You came to propose to me?" I knew what he meant but I needed to get out of that smile, it was unnerving.
"What?!" It worked, "no! Of course not," he furrowed his brow, "I barely know you. I mean you're pretty and all." What? Now he's blushing, this is not better than the stupid smile.
Before he can make this anymore awkward, "what do you want?"
"My old school needs a janitor, cleaning, light maintenance. Most of it can be done at night with no supervision as long as the school is clean by morning. I thought maybe..." He drifts off and stares at his feet.
I gotta admit, I was little surprised, but I thought back to the letter sitting on small table in the basement below us. "Ugh fine."
"Yeah I didn't think you'd be interested."
"No, I am interested. When do I start?"
"Wait, you are?" Surprise unconstrained.
"Yes, definitely." I nodded.
"Great, Light's Hope, Monday at 7."
"At night?"
"No, in the morning," I scowled, "for paperwork." He clarified. | The man pushed the trash can forward, nodding at the student passing by who failed to notice the tendril of shadow snaking towards her.
The tendril flicked the scrap of paper the student had dropped into the air, and it landed squarely in the moving trash can.
Zair, practicing warlock and now janitor of the King’s Pass Academy, smiled. He did not get much opportunity to flex his affinity in his current role, and he knew that the God of Unbrightened Things must be displeased with him.
What choice had he had but to give up his practice? The boy had been blessed by the Sun itself and their fight had been but a reflection of the one their patrons had fought in antiquity. The Bright Eye had shone its light everywhere its gaze fell and vanquished the Unbrightened God’s shadows.
But the boy had not taken on his patron’s unrelenting stance, their unforgiving burning. No, he had given Zair a second chance.
He would not give up any path to continued existence, demeaning as it may be. If he had to give up his pride and serve his past enemies, he would.
Climbing up the eighteen floors of the Light Tower was Zair’s least favorite task, for many reasons. It destroyed his knees, the aspect of light infused into the very bricks of the building prickled against his very being, and it was, ironically enough, often the most dirty quarter of the academy. But more than any of those, it was the reason right in front of him.
Standing on the landing, talking to his friends, was Lucas. The boy’s eyes fell on Zair and, although they appeared friendly, they sent a chill down his spine. Every time he looked at them, he remembered how they had appeared when the boy summoned his power. Blazing in his patron’s glory, inhuman and powerful.
They passed without a word, understanding their positions. Zair kept himself constrained, and Lucas did not need to expose his identity as an Unbrightened to the mage courts. Likewise, Zair did not reveal Lucas as the hero of the present age.
Zair fought to keep both his anxiety and satisfaction from showing on his face as he walked away.
Lucas hadn’t caught on.
He hadn’t noticed Zair’s cleaning routes straying closer and closer to the Academy’s borders. He hadn’t noticed the shades he had sent. He hadn’t noticed Zair’s plan at all, or at least Zair hoped.
For today was the day he would turn it all around. When the hero would learn the mistake of his kindness and why both the God of Unbrightened Things and the Bright Eye refused to allow any part of the other to exist.
Zair kept to his schedule and collected the refuse from the Academy. He brought it towards the dumping ground but took a circular path which over the course of months had become more and more circular. It brought him along a seldom traveled side path that passed right alongside the barrier sigils.
His patron would end their complaints today. His shades had contacted the Unbrightened Chosen. She and her forces would be in place, and ready.
Zair’s tendrils stretched from his shadow and twisted through the barrier’s sigils. Careful not to trigger any of the marks, he followed the narrow, labyrinthine gap in defense it had taken him so long to path. When he finally reached outside the Academy’s border’s the nearby sigils flared, threatening to set off, but then quickly dimmed. A hole in the barrier opened and steadily grew.
As planned, a swirling, inky warp gate appeared to fill it. Out stepped two mages, side by side, filling the width of the gate.
Before Zair had a moment to greet them, they burst into flame and the warp gate faded a degree before the light.
“No!” Zair cried. His shadow leapt up, shielding the warp gate from the flames.
He swung his head around, looking for the origin of the fire. Finally, he looked up and saw what he had dreaded.
Lucas floated above the trees that had guarded the side path from view. His gaze was unhindered and his glowing eyes locked straight on Zair.
***
If you liked this story, subscribe to r/Inder for more like it! | 2020-09-06T08:43:33 | 2020-09-06T07:49:42 | 138 | 63 |
[WP] Angry at the thief, the witch cast a spell upon him. “The moment your eyes meet with your soulmate, you shall die.” The thief immediately has a heart attack afterwards. “Damn it.” | Theria looked at the new corpse on her doorstep. Young man, no more than twenty summers. Brown hair, his half lidded eyes shown blue. The slack face of death was the only way to tell he was not sleeping.
"That was...not what I expected." she said to no one.
She picked up the young man, putting him on her shoulder like a fire brigade corpsman. She was barely five foot, a hundred pounds while wearing her robes soaked in water. But she lifted the man as if he weighed no more than a sack of corn. Entering her hovel her familiar, Victor, a rat nearly the size of a saint Bernard, wandered into the room.
"Mmmm good choice today, Theria. He looks tender." he squeaked, a glimmer of hunger in his black eyes.
"This one is not for eating, Victor. He is...mine." she said, dropping him to the floor in a heap.
"He is too much for you alone." Victor mewed. "He will rot before you can finish him. Such a waste of good flesh." the rats jaws clicked together fast.
"Enough. He is mine. And not for eating. Bring me the tome." she said, starting to gather reagents for the spell.
Victor laughed, which sounded like it was choking on something before standing on its hind legs and waddled to the alter. He towered over Theria, his great rats head nearly scraping the rough shod roof timbers.
Victor opened the book, a few motes of green fel energy whisping off the pages.
"So. He is yours." Victor grumbled. "What are your plans for him?"
This caused her to pause in her gathering. She turned to look at Victor, then to the body on the floor. She was reluctant to say, but it was Victor, her most trusted friend.
"I..." she began. "I cursed him. I said 'the moment you meet the eyes of your soulmate, you shall die.'"
Victor chuckled. "I do enjoy that one."
"But look at him you fool!" She nearly screamed.
Victor could be so oblivious it was painful. He only laughed again, his squeaking grating on her patience.
Theria's face went hard.
"Do not laugh at my soulmate, familiar, or I will unzip your guts." she said so cold the fire in the hearth sputtered.
Victor stopped laughing. He stared at her as if she told him she was joining the Kings Guard.
"This thief? The one who entered your sanctum to steal...whatever!? That cannot be true. He is a simple street urchin, an orphan most likely." Victor said, "And ugly to boot."
The last bit unguarded Theria and she laughed. The tension evaporated instantly.
"Victor, you are my most loyal and trusted friend. I love you. In a way. But this man is...my curses work. That much is obvious." she said, gesturing to the cooling corpse at her feet.
"Why can't he be my soulmate?"
"Look at him!" Victor shouted.
She did. Really did this time. Nails chewed to the quick. A hole in his left boot. Patches covered his clothing, most sewn on haphazard. A plain brown leather belt around his waist, a rather small knife dangling from it.
He smelled of sweat and earth.
"If you want to resurrect him," Victor said softly, "it must be soon. His soul is getting further away as we speak. You know what happens if the complete soul does not return."
She nodded once. "Lets begin." | The man was good at his job, no one knew what he looked like nor knew his name.
He was like a phantom in the wind, such was a sad existence.
The man seeked more thrilling endeavors, he heard of a witch on top of the hill; a most interesting challenge.
He was full of pride, his act was traceless; for he had spent many years honing his technique, but such was a double-edged sword.
He was an orphan, he did what he had to survive; with no family nor friends, he developed a crude way of perceiving the world. Survival of the fittest, trust no one, finder’s keepers losers weepers.
Devoid of love yet a lingering longing for its warmth.
The man wanted a girlfriend. He wanted to shower her with gifts, he would risk stealing from the dragon’s lair just to impress her, he was a bona-fide simp.
The man decided to scour the location for his next heist, he trekked uphill and came upon the witch’s cottage. Daintfully decorated with flowers, it was not what he expected; there was no brooding vibe, walls laced with thorns, or even thunder rolling in the sky.
Was he at the right address? No matter, he had invested his time already and decided to check it out anyway.
He hid behind a large tree to conceal his presence, moments later the door swung open and out came a lady of medium stature, carefully holding a grimoire under her arm at the same time balancing a cup of tea in the other, she even wore a long black pointy hat. She was presumably the witch.
He was dumbfounded, the girl was simply too beautiful, her stride was almost ethereal and her hair fluttered in the wind like a swan landing on the ground. He covered his mouth, he fought the urge to immediately go up to her and propose on the spot.
He bit his tongue, he had to focus. He was a professional after all.
Collecting his bravado, he observed the scene, he was looking for an opportunity in. The witch had moved to sit on the front porch, carefully flipping through the grimoire, oblivious to the world.
He had to exploit this, he lowered his body and commando crawled to the adjacent tree, he had to get closer. After a long hour, the girl didn’t seem to pay attention to anything else, it was time to strike.
He covered his clothing with leaves and branches, it made for the perfect camouflage. He minimized his movement so that he would appear to move ever so slowly, practically making him invisible.
He was in front of the door now, the girl still didn’t suspect a thing. Wrapping his whole hand around the doorknob, he silently opened the door, entered and closed it again in the blink of an eye.
What he found inside…
Was that it was surprisingly normal. Aside from a large cauldron in the middle, it seemed like any other girl’s room but then it hit him, this was the first time he was in a female’s house.
He took a deep breath, a sweet scent came to his nostrils. He took in the moment as much as he could, but alas time was ticking and he didn’t have all day. He looked around: grimoire, grimoire, a recipe book on bat wings and a dusty old broom and wand. Now what?
Was he going to leave empty-handed? He weighed the outcomes, he could leave and no one would know a thing, or he could ‘steal’ something and return it back as if it was lost, a way to get brownie points right? It was fool-proof, he was convinced, he decided to go with the latter.
He loomed among the choices, he picked the broom; what if it magically flew out, the perfect alibi.
He latched his fingers onto the handle and WHOOSH, the broom had floated and he was holding on for dear life upside down.
Naturally the hubbub was heard. The witch flung the doors open.
‘Who dares infiltrate my home?’, she peered up to see the hapless thief covered in branches and leaves.
‘Did you just try to steal from me? You Scoundrel!’
The wand flew to her outstretched arms, she immediately chanted a spell.
‘The moment your eyes meet with your soulmate, you shall die’
The thief tried to stop her, ‘Wai-Wait! This is all a misunderstanding!’
Too bad, the deed was done. He had a heart-attack.
His eyes struggled to keep open, his consciousness was fading. Was this to be his end?
‘Damn…. It’
He drooped to the ground.
The witch just sighed, unimpressed.
‘Well that’s probably the second time this week, you men are all the same’ | 2020-10-29T04:49:07 | 2020-10-29T04:14:47 | 42 | 29 |
[WP] At the moment of your death, a goddess gives you a chance to reincarnate in another world. The catch is that you need to become the hero of that world. The other catch is that you are not a helpless teenager but a trained member of your country's special forces. | I was surrounded by an endless abyss. I can't even begin to guess how long I've been here since time seems meaningless in such a place. It could have been one minute or a million as far as I knew. As I floated amidst the nothingness, unable to even see my body, I began to ponder my fate.
"Is this Hell? My punishment for all the people I killed? The suffering I've caused?"
Surprisingly, I could hear my own voice. Even more strange was that another voice called out to me from all directions.
"If that is what you want to believe..."
The voice was feminine, but it didn't sound like right. It was as if an endless choir spoke in perfect unison. It came from everywhere but also nowhere.
"But it could also be a second chance."
Suddenly, but also gradually, a gently light bathed me in its glow. I found myself seated in what looked like an office you would find in a downtown skyscraper. The only difference being that there was only whiteness beyond the windows.
"Where am I?"
Absorbed by the sudden change in environment, I failed to notice a woman sitting across from me. This time she spoke with a single voice.
"The world between worlds. A plane of infinite possibilities."
"HUH?!"
"Be not afraid, Leon. You're safe here."
Though it was all a lot to process, I remembered my training and collected my self. I took a moment to observe the woman I assume brought me here. Her black hair flowed freely from her scalp. Her unnaturally beautiful face gave no sign of emotion, and her blue eyes seemed to peer into my soul.
"Why does this 'world between worlds' look like an office? Who are you?"
"This place shapes itself to make sense to you. Who knows why you picked this? As for me, I am much like a goddess to you humans. Neither of these things are important anyways. The reason you're here is because you have a second chance. "
"A second chance for life?"
"Yes, you will be able to walk among mortals once more, but it won't be the world you knew. And there's a catch."
There's always a catch.
"You must become a hero in this new world."
"A hero? Like in those fairy tales?"
"Heroes take many shaped and forms, Leon. Would you consider a doctor who cures cancer a hero? What about one of your comrades in arms from your time in the military? What you are known for is irrelevant. The only requirement is that you have a profound impact on your new world."
"How does any of this work?"
"Don't question it, Leon. It just works. The real answer is too much for a mortal to comprehend. Now will you accept?"
I can have a fresh start, but I have to become a hero? The last part doesn't excite me, but living certainly beats floating in the void for all eternity.
"Fine. I'll do it. I want to live and become a hero."
She smiles and once more the world around me fades to black.
The first thing I feel is a cold breeze. The first thing I hear is the sound of horses trotting along. Then I hear five words that chill my blood more than the icy wind brushing against my skin.
"Hey, you. You're finally awake."
OH FU— | "Well. This is nice."
"I'd rather sincerity in our conversation, Sergeant."
"Can I at least have a fag, then?"
The woman who sat before me smiled, and handed me a packet of cigarettes and a zippo. With a quick, honest 'thank you', I got one lit and took a drag.
I wasn't quite sure how I got here, or even where 'here' was. The last thing I did remember was that I found something that I shouldn't have. Some guys doing a trade. Something that would have been routine, had it been drugs or guns, and not, y'know, people. I got spotted, ended up in a gunfight and... that's where it gets hazy. I got shot a few times, radioed in backup, killed a few of the bastards that were there...
Did I win? Did I save anyone? Or was it all in vain? ...No, no it couldn't be. Even if they couldn't be saved, the others, they could stop it from happening to anyone else? Right?
In any case, I couldn't do much now. Just take a drag, clear my head.
"Am I dead?"
"Of course."
I nodded. Thought so. It would explain why we were here. Or me, at least. We were sat on some chairs, wooden with red velvet padding. The sort of thing you might find in an upper class hotel or something. Between us was a small round coffee table, with a glass ash tray I didn't notice before. Or maybe it wasn't there until I looked again?
I took another drag, and savoured the flavour. "That's some good shit." I said. "Not like them crappy 'merican ciggies. Bastards can't make anything right."
"Xenophobia, Sergeant?"
I shrugged. "Callin' a spade a spade. Place has some damn good guns, though, no surprises there." I flicked some ash into the tray before I asked "So, why am I here, then?"
"I'd like to offer a... proposition, if you will."
"A proposition for a dead man! Am I gonna be leading Germany into a One World Order as a little girl?"
She laughed her hair covering her face for a moment... I think?
I frowned. Her hair *did* cover her face, right? Actually... what did her hair... Or her face?
She looked human. That was obvious. She looked *human*. So why couldn't I tell what she looked like beyond *that*?
I took another drag. It did bugger all to calm my nerves.
"No, no, that isn't going to happen." She said, not noticing my expression. Or if she did, she didn't say anything. "No, it's merely an opportunity to continue living."
"What's the T 'n' C?"
She closed her eyes. "There is a world that is under threat of something even its Gods cannot hope to defeat. It is more emotion made flesh than anything. In the last couple of decades, it has grown, reproduced, and has become a kingdom in and of itself. It feeds and grows, and its spawn harry and kill. Nothing short of finding the heart and cutting out or putting it to the torch can ever bring peace."
"So you want me to be the dashing hero and go in and save everyone?"
"Barring the 'dashing' part, yes."
"...Alright."
She actually looked surprised for a moment. "Odd. Those before you don't so readily accept."
"I'm not the first?"
"Of course not. My job is to find souls of certain merit and quality, and give them a second chance. The price is to liberate worlds. Not all accept, and not all succeed, and not all live to show that they have succeeded."
I'll admit, I was intrigued. "What happens to them?"
"That depends. And is mostly irrelevant, though in your position, they would be reborn anew in another world."
I nodded. "And I'm somehow best suited for this world?"
"Yes."
"So how does this work then?"
"I send you in, and you have to find your own way." She gave an apologetic look. Seemed as if she liked that little thing as much as I did. "Unfortunately, I can only give you enough aspects in order to function in the world - language, capacities to use magic, and so forth. But it is limited, and beyond that, I am not allowed to interfere."
"Aight." I stood up and rolled my shoulders. "Before I go in, I have one question."
She nodded. "Anything."
"Can I keep the fags?" | 2021-04-06T08:13:20 | 2021-04-06T08:06:12 | 33 | 13 |
[WP] "Dipper Pines. You think you and your sister are the only ones who have fought monsters before? You don't know it yet, but you've just become a part of something bigger." "Who the hell are you?" "You can call me Bright, and I came on the behalf of the Foundation." | "The... Foundation?" said Dipper, visibly confused at the cryptic statements made by the man who was calling himself Bright.
"That is correct. We specialize in protecting the world from anomalies, and you seem to have gotten yourself tied up in quite a few of those."
Dipper was slowly coming to terms with the fact that these things he had spent his summer researching existed around the world, but the more he thought about it, the more confused he became about how he could have ever thought they were localized in just his great uncle's home town.
"You seem to have a lot of research done on these anomalies in your journal. That would be incredibly useful to us," Spoke Bright, in a tone that made it clear this was not the first time he had asked such questions.
"How... how did you know about the journal?" asked Dipper.
Bright looked down at his necklace, and messed with it in his fingers. "I have my methods, and so does the foundation."
Dipper asks Bright if his necklace is related.
"I'm afraid I can't disclose that to you at the moment, but if you are willing to cooperate, I suppose that means you'll get some access to the database."
"Database? a database of what?"
"Of anomalies, naturally. think of it as a more... professional version of your journal."
"And if I refuse?"
10 men in gear befitting of the military of a large nation, holding weapons that would not be out of place in movies Dipper wasn't allowed to watch, suddenly appeared out of the shadows.
"We are not opposed to using force on a child for the benefit of the world."
Dipper, taken aback, agreed to the terms on a whim, and is now known as Junior Researcher Pines. | [I know this some movie/tv/book crossover. But I have no idea what movies or tv shows or books this prompt is a reference to. So of course I'll swing in with my probably wildly off input.]
"What are you saying? What foundation?"
"*The* Foundation. We specialise in the unknown. The unexplainable. Phenomena that persists in the natural world that shouldn't. I have come to bring you both into the fold."
"You're... You're serious? There's a whole foundation to hunt monsters?"
"Not hunt. This is where our differences lie. We seek to understand and contain these entities. Not destroy. We wish to learn, replicate their powers and effects. We seek to use their... Abilities to better mankind."
"I think you guys are way too... I don't know if 'advanced' is the right word. But our operation is just me and my brother. We have this ancient artefact that pings us whenever there's trouble. And then we respond to it." The woman, Tracy Pines, replied.
"That is also in part of why I am here. That artefact. May we borrow it." Bright's voice was soft, but the request still sounded like a statement. As if the answer 'No' was out of the equation.
"No," Dipper said, resolute, "Better mankind, my ass. These monsters killed our parents. Killed countless people. When they show up, this device will ping us. We go kick their asses. Can't give you the one thing that lets us do our job."
"You are lucky to have survived this far. What weapons to you have at your disposal? More artefacts to command upon? Our intel suggests you have the Staff of Horus. Is this true?"
"The whackstick? Yeah. It doesn't do anything." Dipper lied.
"Well, then you should be able to part with it more easily."
"No. You can't just come in here and take our shit."
"I most definitely can. Those artefacts aren't yours in the first place."
"They aren't yours either." Tracy retorted.
"They aren't. But unlike you two independent actors, the powers that fund me will gladly and forcefully take the artefacts you possess and redistribute it to the Foundation. Now, believe me or don't, but I do not want that. I want to hire the both of you, as subcontractors. I do not know how you came into possession with such powerful artefacts. But you use them for a cause we at the Foundation can agree with. We just want to borrow some of them. For a week or two. So we can try to study them and replicate their powers. We can also learn if the artefacts are cursed. Most artefacts of power usually are."
"What will we get in return?"
"Our eternal gratitude, along with a quarter of a million dollars per year in our employ."
"Holy fuck." Tracy breathed.
"Well, I'm sure there'll be caveats to this whole thing, but that definitely has our attention." Dipper smiled. | 2021-05-02T16:49:34 | 2021-05-02T15:39:40 | 48 | 11 |
[WP] Time freezes when you are seconds from mortal danger, you can’t move but you have as much time to plan as you need and you can unfreeze time at will. You are in bed for another sleepless night and you just realized the alarm clock you have been staring at has been stuck on 2:45 am for an hour. | Time goes forwards, never back.
My mother leading me by the hand on the first day of school? Gone and done, and I'll never see her again. Just the memory remains, a visceral thought etched in my brain for all eternity.
Everything had froze, my child's eyes seeing the Freightliner bearing down on the crosswalk with no regard for the stoplight. I'd tried to move, tried to scream, but my hands were tied.
Then I'd tried to will everything back to life, and I dodged and watched as the truck ended her right there and then. I won't bother you with how I coped with it, but I did. Dad helped a ton, the therapists thought I was insane.
My father finally became a believer when I'd grabbed his wheel on the highway and dodged a drunk driver swerving across the median. I'd spent nearly ten minutes studying the paused scene before making the move that saved our lives.
Call it a gift from above, a superpower, or whatever. The simple truth is that time stops moments before disaster. I can't move, but I can think. Plot and plan the perfect action while the world waits for me. And, as I release my grip on the threads of time, act out my prepared motions without hesitation.
You could imagine my surprise when I found myself staring at my alarm clock, the red numerals glaring back at me in the moonlight. Another sleepless night, the trauma of my past still biting into me despite how much I'd tried. The air - and my breath - was completely still.
I tried moving my arms, feeling no resistance as I apparently pointed them inside my mattress. At least, that was what the phantoms at the back of my mind told me. I rolled them back into their original positions, knowing that the results would be disastrous if I unlocked the threads earlier. My body would spring up with sudden force as if I'd pushed backwards with all my might.
The only thing I could control was my peripheral vision, and I panned my orbs in all directions across the static display. My room was untouched, the computer in the corner glowing softly and the ensuite door unopened. The blinds were partially shut and I could see a glimpse of the streetlight outside.
Fire? Unlikely. Gas? Didn't smell a thing. Something ridiculous, like a tornado? I'd have heard it.
Maybe it was something in my body, where some rare disease would drop me in seconds. Maybe someone had planted a bomb in front of my house. If that was the case, then it was out of my control.
Fuck it.
I released my grasp on the tendrils of time, and as the air entered my lungs and the shadows began to me I rolled off my bed onto the ground. Who knows, the ceiling fan might just fall on my head and cause a fatal accident.
An earsplitting roar reached my ears just as lead tore over my head. It blew my feather pillow into shreds and landed in my wall mirror, sending it tinkling to the ground. I froze in shock as more shots perforated the drywall, sweeping the room at bed level. My wardrobe and desk had taken the brunt of the damage.
I was running on adrenaline now, without any time left for conscious thought. Quickly I reached up for my phone, grabbing the handset and pulling it down to the floor where I was. The display was black, and there was no tone. Shit.
Time for the route of last resort, the one which I had never really thought I'd had to use. With shaking hands, I opened my closet and pulled out a dark nylon bag. Inside was my Beretta Neos, a .22 handgun that I used solely for plinking. Hell, this was a *safe* neighborhood.
I loaded the pistol slowly, the sounds of the mag clacking in place and the snap of the slide slamming forwards barely audible to my ringing ears. Just as I put my only spare magazine in my pocket, time froze one again.
My senses were stuck, but I could feel the tension in my muscles and veins. Think, damn it!
I was on the ground, so the next shots would happen there. Likely they would sweep their automatic weapons side by side, like they did last time. Slowly, I let my phantom legs stretch out slightly and suddenly let the world move again.
I felt my legs extend, driving myself up as I leaped atop the rolling office chair beside my bed. As my momentum rolled the blue leather seat across its casters, my ears bled again as bullets whizzed across the floor where I stood. One shot clanked against the pneumatic tube, but the chair held. Thankfully.
Just as my leg bumped against the side of my desk, the door crashed open and the world ground to a halt again. The gunfire stretched out and finally died down like I turned off a turntable with a record on the platter. I saw my masked attacker at the door, barely visible in the darkness. His subgun was held at the ready, hands rushing to bring the muzzle to bear as his eyes met mine.
Instinctively, I brought the phantom arms up, imagining that they were pointed straight at my target. My eyes took in his Kevlar, knowing that a hit in the chest wouldn't do a thing. I adjusted slightly, visualizing where the sights would line with his forehead.
Now I couldn't calm my beating heart, but I could try to still my mind. I threw all thoughts of remorse off the table, as well as silencing the rational part of my brain trying to determine what was happening. I hadn't really stopped time for any longer than I needed, and I needed to be in control when I let it tick again. The last thing I wanted was for my grip to fade when I was still thinking.
This was it. I felt the Neos lightly between my palms as it snapped up, moving as soon as I let go. Faster than I could on the range, and under stress too. My sights were on his forehead and my index was beginning its rearward pull when the gunman jerked his neck to the side.
It was so quick, it was like as it it was in front of me one moment and angled askew the next. The pistol cracked in my hands, the kickback minimal. My bullet poked through a poster on my wall and landed somewhere in my ensuite.
I noticed time slow again as he fired, letting rip a long burst that I'd managed to dodge in time. He jumped back into the corridor just before I returned fire, my round hitting the doorjamb right where he had just stood.
"As the saying goes, you need a Stopper to stop another Stopper," my assailant drawled from the hallway. It was the first time he spoke, his tones surprisingly soft and casual. "Luckily, I brought three with me."
---
[**PART 2**](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/pmhdkp/wp_time_freezes_when_you_are_seconds_from_mortal/hcmj3rw/)
*There's a video game called [Superhot](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Superhot) that sort of inspired the gunfight in this story, where time stops when your character doesn't move.* | *What if I don’t unfreeze? What if I just lay here, live in the moment forever?*
Cool air billows in through the open window, mingled with the neighbor’s chimney smoke. If I focus I can discern the particles, pick the exquisite gray of the smoke from the black of the night, the nascent ice particles from the air outside. When the world freezes everything crystallizes with the time, everything grows sharper. I grow sharper. It cuts at me now, deeply, all the way through to my soul.
*What if I don’t unfreeze?*
It might not be possible. I’ve never tested the bounds of my ability. I’ve used it before, certainly, in my line of work it comes in handy. Freeze-time can’t always get me out of scrapes, lord knows I have enough scars to prove that, but it can dodge the worst of it.
I could lay here forever, dodging. The neighbor’s smoke billows in the room in a sort of fine, hazy gauze, as if the world wore lingerie. It is alluring, it holds the promise of warmth, safety. I’ve always found safety in smoke, whether I’ve caused it or someone else has. Smoke feels like home, even when home is bleeding away. The bed beneath me long since lost that feeling. The four walls soon after that. Home has collapsed down to a heartbeat.
*I could do it. I could lay here forever, till my heart gives out, till my bones turn to dust. I could lay here until I end time itself.*
There had been a nightbird outside, singing. Cars had passed, somewhere a TV played through another window open too late into the season. All would be still now, waiting on me. The whole world waited on me.
*I’ll do it. This is the rest of my life, right here. I’ll fade away into it, and sixty or seventy years from now or so the world will start up like nothing happened at all. It’ll be my little secret. Mine and God’s if he’s waiting for me.*
Freeze-time. I first discovered it when I was ten, staring out through the windshield of my parents car, the whole world turning upside itself down. I’ve used my strange powers to defuse bombs, rehearsing the motions ten thousand times in my head before I let time sink back into my skin. I’ve cased a room in slow motion, tracked the course of a fired arrow, the upward sweep of a knife, the angle of a cornered man’s smile and the coarse misdirection of his eyes.
Never once have I been tempted to linger. Freeze-time feels like a glacier creeping up my chest. Beginning in my toes, ascending up my calves, knees, hips, stomach, settling over the distended beat of my heart. Freeze-time feels like the cool air through the window creeping in forever, growing colder and colder still, until the whole world is a void and I am a block of ice within it, the frozen point around which the frozen world revolves.
Freeze-time feels like dying. A thousand times per imagined day, forever, until I puzzle out my solution enough to claw my way back into life.
*But this time is different. This time I’m going to do it. I’m going to make my stand, to choose a moment, this one, to live in forever and goddamn the world. I’ll let the fucking oceans freeze over before I let go of—*
There’s another scent, mingling with the smoke. It’s subtle, oh so subtle, nearly lost in the upward sweep of the glacier but its there in the haze of the world. It smells like distant lavender, the last hints of a scent kept up by habit more than desire.
*By habit more than desire.*
The phrase sticks with me for the space of year as the glacier keeps it crushing path.
Freeze-time is one sided. It’s me versus the world, always has been, save on the rare occasions it’s been me versus myself. But tonight, just this once, it’s neither of those things.
*Let the world go.*
I could. I could listen to the voice within me and stop the whole world right here, right now.
*Let the world burn. Let it go up like so much smoke.*
***“Don’t.”***
A second voice invades my mind, and in a moment I realize how foolish I’ve been. The glacier of time sits fully upon my chest now so that I can hardly breathe. Outside a hundred lifetimes might have passed for the nightbird, the cars would have died a dozen times over. I can’t tell how long its been for me, only that it all feels like forever.
The world still wears lingerie. If I could move I would reach out and touch it, sift silken folds for something, anything to hold on to. But I don’t, I can’t, and even if I could I don’t want to any longer. From the moment I heard the second voice in my head I knew the path I had to take.
*Let go*, I make myself think. *Let it all go.*
It takes an age for the glacier on my chest to melt. The first thing back is the nightbird’s song, a high, mournful note that might have been sung for a thousand years unbroken. There’s a certain beauty in that, my brain tries to think, there’s something there to hold on to.
But then the forever chill of freeze-time fades away, and despite the crisp air filtered in through the open bedroom window I am suffused by warmth. The fragile warmth of the body next to mine, always a second away from shivering beneath the blankets she so jealously hoards.
I turn towards her. Her eyes, deep wells of icy blue, meet mine, and I hear that word again, so simple yet so, so difficult.
“Don’t,” I whisper. My voice now, real and corporeal and oh so small. No voice of reason.
“I’m leaving,” she says.
She sits beside me, fully clothed, a bag packed on the floor next to the bed. Outside the songbird still sings, the cars still run, a television filters white noise out into the night. The neighbor’s smoke resolves, the last remnant of frozen time, into a translucency; barely outlining her limbs in a haze only I can see.
Then the haze trembles, and I realize it is tears.
“Don’t,” I whisper again. “Please, don’t go.”
“You knew it was coming,” she says. “You had to.”
And I had, though I hadn’t admitted it to myself until I woke, too early in the night; an old soldier’s instincts propelling me up and out of sleep to stare at her, caught in the act.
I am as silent as frozen time as she leaves, her footsteps a short, staccato counterpoint to the bird outside a window that is no longer ours.
*It wasn’t meant to be like this,* I think.
*She isn’t supposed to leave,* I think.
*I love you,* I think.
*This is it,* I think.
The end of the world. The one end that freeze-time couldn’t solve. I try to move but can’t. My limbs are still frozen, though they shake terribly. It’s all I can do to breath, despite the weight on my chest.
Outside, the bird still sings. Soon it’s the only sound in the night, the only hint I have that time still moves.
*I should never have unfrozen. I should have shut down the whole world. I should lived in that moment forever, next to her.*
***“Don’t be stupid. You had to. It'll be okay,”*** my voice of reason says. It sounds like her voice, like things she would have said in better times that feel like eons ago.
I lay like that the rest of the night, all through the next day. Like the glacier still lays across my chest.
And then it comes to me, late the next night, while the bird sings again.
*It isn’t the end of the world, it’s just the end of me. And sometimes things have to come to an end.*
Then, in the morning: *My life ended so hers could begin.*
Eventually I rise, greet noon if not the dawn. The freeze-time never comes again.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-09-11T18:59:05 | 2021-09-11T18:06:34 | 1,071 | 195 |
[WP] A super villain who runs a number of retail stores, not as a cover, but as a means of recruiting their staff as villainous side-kicks once they are inevitably filled with seething rage for customers and the general public. | I often walked around the store. The employees knew who I was. I wasn't there to pick at their faults. I just liked wandering about the store. They actually liked me. I was often greeted with a smile or a quick nod.
I had one policy though. I asked them never to engage with me in front of the customers. I liked my privacy. Or thats what I told them. They respected that.
Today is no different. I walked about the store and reached the cash register
"For the last time ma'am, this product is free with the purchase of either the kitchen ware or the tea set. I can't just give it to you" Mia said as politely as possible for the 100th time
"Why not? I come here all the time. It's free anyway. Just gimme" the karen said again stupidly
A subtle smile crept across my face. I couldn't help it. This is how it starts. The anger. The frustration. And then they would be ready to bomb half the city.
Young Mia was a prefect example.
When she first joined here, she was a bright eyed high school student saving up for college. Now. Well. Now she was a disillusioned 19 year old with enough rage to power a nuclear reactor.
In the last 3 years, she had to deal with literal spawn of satan day in and day out.
One young couple had made her open every single carton in the store room looking for a toy they swore they had seen on the website. Turns out they had been checking amazon.
An elderly man had straight up exposed himself in front of her.
A whole team of little league champions were let loose in the store leading to multiple aisles being covered in what she desperately hoped were soda and ice cream.
Multiple guys assumed she was in love with them simply because she smiled at them and said "have a nice day". Two of them insisted that waiting for her in the parking lot after dark was "just chivalrous" and that they were "nice guys".
And the karens
They were a never ending barrage of karens. Ready with the usual nonsense of "you just lost a loyal customer". "Let me see your manager". "You'll find yourself a bad review on yelp". And the very audacious "I can get you fired".
No they couldn't. But they could ruin her day. And they did.
Every single day.
Very soon. She would be ready. That's when I would come into the picture. I needed a new lookout person. Someone agile and light on their feet. Mia would be perfect.
Oh and the victim?
The mayor.
As I walked past her I could hear the lady threatening Mia. "You dont know what you're dealing with missy. I could get you fired. Do you know who Iam? My husband is the mayor".
My smile turned into a grin...... | I’ve always liked to take a hands-on approach, whether it’s to my villainy or something even worse—retail.
Fast Factory was a modest chain of supermarkets by many standards, but it was not a bad thing to stay on the down low. Still, it remains a profitable source of income for me—useful for buying costumes and gadgets. And perhaps more importantly, retail workers were the most successful sidekicks I’ve ever seen. You’ll be surprised, and maybe tempted, at just how fast-tracked the career progression and opportunities for retail assistant into villainy was.
I might have superpowers, but even I marvel at retail’s effective energy vampirism, its clawed fingernails dragging themselves over the neck of every one of Fast Factory’s workers. Best part? It was a self-sustaining system. I had no need to interfere—though I liked to sometimes.
A fresh-faced teenager comes into my store, trained by somebody on the brink of throwing a frying pan at the next Karen that passed by. Through a few shifts, words were turned into actions, and customers inevitably wear down a worker. And once they graduate to being my sidekick—another cash-strapped youth inevitably finds their way into a Fast Factory.
Today, I had to expedite the process, however. An unfortunate popcorn fire accident (unrelated to supervillainy) had rendered Colonel March (a horrible sidekick name) out of commission. So I needed a new partner/convenient scapegoat for my latest scheme. Instead of Undercover Boss, I became the Undercover Customer.
I looked in the eyes of the cashier. Dark eye circles dominated her ragged expression, and I knew this was a girl—Kendra—on the brink. When people are tired, there’s an inevitable well of resentment and anger boiling underneath, ready to be drilled into and fracked for maximum exploitation.
The first ingredient was an unnaturally full shopping cart. I deliberately slowed down my movements, picking out each item one by one to put on the conveyor belt, leaving Kendra waiting for dragged seconds between scans.
With a brief glimmer of hope, she looked at her watch, and I watched as that spark deliciously extinguished into despair. In here, all time seemed to slow down. Kendra scanned an unwieldy carton of milk—and I heard the telltale beeps of failure. It was a feature of the worst POS I could buy.
“Heh,” I chuckled. “It wouldn’t scan? Maybe you could give that to me for free.”
Kendra was far more broken than I thought. She couldn’t even muster a fake smile at a played out joke.
“You know, Kendra,” I said, as I continued to slowly load my groceries. “Could you please hurry it up? I don’t have all day.”
Her stare at me betrayed delicious bitterness. Her lips morphed and twisted, trying to hold back her words, and she took the deepest breath I’ve seen.
“Of course, sir.”
A lot of self-control, this one. The longer to break, the more evil unleashed, I reasoned.
“I’m sorry, this is taking too long,” I said, wresting the carton of milk back from her surprised hands and opened it, taking a psychopathic swig of milk. “I’m too thirsty, really.”
“What the hell?” Kendra cried. “What are you doing?”
I knew the opportunity for a killing blow when I saw one.
“Did you just swear at me?” I screamed, making a Mt. Everest out of a molehill. “Oh my god! Oh my god! I demand to speak to your manager!”
There was no manager coming. I knew that fact. Kendra didn’t know yet, but I was certain her subconscious mind had already figured it out, accompanied by the feeling of a slowly sinking heart.
“I hate my life,” Kendra whispered.
Good. She was prime and ready now. Kendra would rob and set fire to the store if she could. Bonus insurance claim, anyone?
God, it’s so good being bad.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-10-13T23:52:38 | 2021-10-13T23:30:49 | 837 | 150 |
[WP] In the Land of Perfection, there is no imperfection. Which is why George was confused at the single, absurdly tiny crack in the sidewalk. | Permission to go into the Land of Perfection was a difficult task. George was thankful to be one of the few allowed in. This was such a rare occurrence that his family, who’s ignored all of his accomplishments for several years (hell, it could’ve been decades now), congratulated him when he said where he’s moving away.
Despite suddenly being a trophy his parents can brag about, this place wasn’t as perfect as he thought. After walking down the same path, at the same time, doing the same looking-down-at-the-ground-almost-nervously crap, he found an absurdly tiny crack in the sidewalk.
He hesitated. Stopped, even. His daily routine was crumbling under the seams. Instead of letting that imperfection get to the best of him, he hurried forward and continued walking at a steady pace.
“Why is there a crack there?” he mumbled to himself.
It was unnecessary to have such a thought since he knew it would be fixed sooner or later but to have more than a mere glance of such a horrid thing? How odd. How odd indeed.
And so, when the next day arrived and he walked down the same path, the crack got larger. It kept getting larger and larger the more the days passed by. Yet, the government officials here didn’t care.
Instead of ignoring the huge cobweb-like crack on the floor, he took a second to look up and see everything in shambles. The people were blissfully walking by as if programmed to do so. He chuckled at the absurdity.
“All because of a crack in the ground.” He shook his head with a smile.
If this is what perfect was then George was gonna take apart of it, whether he wanted it or not. | Today was a perfect day as any another day. Perfection, what does it mean? Does it mean a scenario where everything goes according to you? Then yes, I have a perfect life. Does it mean a life without any blemishes? Then yes, I have a perfect life. Or does it mean a life that has been made with so much precision that you can't find a single flaw? Then, you guessed it, yes, I have a perfect life.
My job is to help people find their perfect home. There it is again, perfect. Will using the word perfect over and over again diminishes its value or maybe even worse, jinx it. I chuckle at my own stupidity, nothing was going to imperfect in the perfect-vesrse.
I whistle, cheerfully, as I head down to my home where my beautiful wife and two amazing kids are. Guess how they are, you have one option, yup, perfect. I chuckle again. I will never get tired of the word, it is what defines me and the world I live in. It is the beautiful smell of a newly bloomed rose, it is the feel of your freshly cut hair against your skin, it is-arggghh.
I almost face-planted the pavement but I'm saved by the post box, which I held on for support at the last moment. My heart paces like a race-horse but I'm fine. I frown, I'm fine, I think again. Not perfect, but just fine. That was new. I look down and see what caused me to lose my balance, must be a rock or a cat or something. But nope, nothing. There's nothing but a sliver of crack on the pavement. I shrug at my clumsiness then start to walk again before I freeze. I turn, horrified? Intrigued? Fascinated, yes, fascinated at something I have never seen before. An imperfection. A tiny sliver of pavement separating from the base material. I kneel down to observe it even closely. The way there seems nothing but darkness in that tiny crack. I bend down, to find out what the bottom of an imperfection looks like as I have never seen one before.
As it turns out, it's nothing remarkable. Just some loose cement and dirt. I shrug. Imperfection were not very intersting were they, I think to myself before I start getting back up.
A wind blows, a strange vacuum surrounds me and I feel as if I'm being pushed through a very narrow pipe. I fall down on a broken curb. Dirt surrounded me, I look up and see the sky, not the brilliant blue like the one I am used to but a dull grey, lifeless. I get up and notice the road which I take home daily, though still the same, is somehow dull too. The flowers along the curb are dying, the glass of the lamppost broken, there's pot-holes in the road. Things were not perfect at all.
It was-
Imperfect. | 2021-12-21T09:45:02 | 2021-12-21T09:22:07 | 43 | 21 |
[WP] It’s mandatory for a princess to be under a curse by their 16 birthday. Usually turning into a swan, or pricking your finger will do. Its now your 18th birthday, and still no curse. People are worried that no prince will come because of it. Today you set out to find a curse! | Patting me on my head, the fairy godparent I never knew said, "Ooohhhh, Dearie, you went looking for a curse in all the wrong places, when all along the curse has been in..."
"INSIDE ME ALL ALONG?!" I interrupted, earning only a look of disrupted confusing.
"N... No, Dearie. What I mean to say is that you were cursed the day you were born, cursed with the expectation that your destiny can be summed up to the noble you marry. It's a sham."
At this, my excitement waned. "I'm sorry, the royal rites of passage are"
"Something your ancestors came up with to make sure the line never died out," the fairy said as though describing something as mundane as crops growing.
"So they preserved the line because our family is important, the realm needs us in charge because we're spec...ial?" -- again, cut off by the fairy, this time just slowly shaking their head.
Lighting a cigarette, the fairy godparent's ethereal glow dimmed a bit. "Look, kid, I'm trying to do you a big favor here. I know it's all you've ever known, but it's not all it's cracked up to be. There's a lot more to this than you're allowed to see. Behind that wall, there's hectares and hectares of suffering, thousands of serfs ploughing in your family's name, soldiers dying with your family's name on their lips."
"But... Such things are not the concern of kings, nor queens or princesses nor even princes. Those outside the walls have only themselves to blame for their lives of sin and iniquity," I argued.
"Your palace currently contains no fewer than 17 imprisoned entertainers!"
"I'm sure they-" I started as a ledger appeared in their hands.
"Let's see, we've got one serving life for 'sour note', **three** for 'looking like that smug Delurean asshole Carpantius' whatever that means, *thir*-**teen** held for no reason on record..."
At this, I slumped against a wall. "So, what? My birthright is a lie built atop violence, and the rites of passage I've spent my whole life waiting for are all just, what?"
"Bullshit garbage and lies," the fairy said with a smile.
"Well what else is there for me to do? I know no other life," I pleaded. At this, the fairy godparent materialized a suitcase at my feet.
"Run away to the forest. Hollow out a tree. Get a frog as a familiar. Make potions. Play chess with an ass. Eat a purple mushroom. Marry an anvil and have hard-headed children," they said with an electric gleam to their eye. Noticing no such gleam in mine, they calmed their voice a bit to say "Dearie, you can do whatever you want and go wherever you please, but you must do so without stepping on others, forcing others to kneel so that you might ascend, as you termed your so-called birthright."
At this, I had finally heard enough. "Guards! Seize this elderly fool!" I shouted to the hallway, only to watch 5 men stumble, confused, into my otherwise empty room."
"M'lady? You shouted for help?" one asked.
"I.. yes, though... Maybe they really were a fairy..." I said, the last part a little louder than intended, prompting one of the soldiers to snicker at my childishness. A look of horror overtook him as I looked in his direction. "No, please, m'lady, 'twas a sniffle, nothing more."
"Tell it to the other thirteen guys with allergies in the dungeon. Guards!" I shouted at the 5 confused men. The snickerer awkwardly pointed to himself, asking "I'm a guard?". Flustered, I said, "Good guards, please take any bad guards to the dungeon. You know who you are. Whoever puts the bad guard in the dungeon is a good guard. That's how this works."
The 5 men left the room more confused than when they entered, entirely uncertain of how to work out the math of who is good. I heard, "So if all of you go to dungeon, then I'm the good..." trailing off as they descended the tower, the tortured screams of entertainers who vaguely resemble the your father's enemies ringing out into the night.
------
Across town, the fairy godparent removed their disguise and sat down to a modest meal with their spouse.
"How'd it go? Did you get through to her?"
Shaking their head and eating another spoonful, they replied "We're just going to have to kill them." | I woke up to a wet pillow. I had cried a good part of the night. It wasn't the way the day of your eighteenth birthday was supposed to end, in tears and despair. But at least I had held it in until I was in my room, finally alone. My dad could be proud that I didn't shame his name by breaking down in public.
You see, I'm a princess. And not just any princess, I'm the daughter of the High King. So I'm supposed to be beautiful yet modest, intelligent yet humble, joyful yet quiet and I could go on. I should be so many things. An incarnation of perfection.
Sure, the good looks and brains came from mom (and a bit from dad too). The fact that they could hire the best governants and teachers helps with getting the right education. But still... there's a lot of me that I have to hide or reign in to reach that idea of perfection. Instead of travelling the world myself, I stay at home and read books about travel. As it is not suitable for a princess to use a sword, the only self-defense I was allowed to learn was an oriental martial art - but only with other girls, can't be close to boys right? And I sing only when alone in my room or the garden.
But all that was all right with me. I really wanted to be the perfect princess so my dad would be proud. I worked hard for that, learned so fast that my older brother and I had to switch teachers. I got so creative with my hair style that I launched a new fashion: for one full year, all the girls in the realm wore their hair wrought up with beads. My father received twelve letters requesting to attempt to lift my Curse before I even reached fifteen. I was Princess Perfect. The beautiful yet modest, intelligent yet humble Daughter of the Crown.
But then I turned sixteen, and nothing happened. No witch visited our castle, no sorcerer sent a poisoned letter, no owl flew in to my room. I received no Curse for my 16th birthday.
As the Perfect Princess I was, I waited patiently and hopingly for a week. Maybe the Curse was belated. Maybe because I would get a special one? I mean, I'm the first daughter of the High King, so my Curse should be special. Not everyone should be able to lift it if that comes with me as their prize, so my Curse should be especially difficult. A wake up kiss would maybe do for some cute girl guarded by seven dwarves, but not for the daughter of a High King. Right?
A week passed, a month... No Curse. Life had gradually resumed its course, but colors looked subdued to my eyes and sounds came to me muffled. But it wasn't until I assisted to the engagement party of my brother that I realised the extend of the issue.
A few months earlier, my brother had lifted the Curse of Anemia, a very pale beauty of a neighbouring kingdom. He had to fight a three-headed vampire dragon for that, and as expected, he won. Their engagement ceremony and the ball afterwards should have been a joyous event to me: I would probably get to meet most of the knights who wanted to lift my Curse. But now that there was no Curse to be lifted, I wasn't really looking forward to the festivities. I did think it would be an OK party though, where I would sit with my friends and gossip about the new Curse-lifters. But people had been avoiding me, making me feel awkward. Some of the girls I used to get along with made fun of me. One if them was nice enough to tell me no one would want to be seen with a Curseless girl, as it might attract bad luck. I mean, how would they know it attracts bad luck, I'm the first in written history to not receive a Curse! And maybe it will just arrive later...
After that, I didn't go out very often. I would be waiting. I would be bothering my mom so she would summon a witch to Curse me. I would drive my dad to despair with my crying fits. My seventeenth birthday passed and still no sign of a Curse. After that, I started rebelling. I had been a good girl, the Perfect Princess, and for what? Being secluded and excluded because of some stupid curse that never came for me! I would not be able to marry and have kids, I would not be able to become a queen, even though I had all the capacities, just because some stupid mage forgot to put a spell on me!
So I started dressing up like a villager and going out. No one expects a princess in anything else than a puffy or flowy pastel-colored dress, so I could walk around in grey plain clothing unbothered. Soon I started to ride my horse outside of the Palace walls and I ventured farther away than I had ever been alone. Ofcourse this wasn't to the taste of my father, who wanted still to marry me off, maybe to some obscure half-cousin that could not lift a bucket of wheat, even less a Curse. Needless to say, my eighteenth birthday past without any celebration at all. Not even a cake. Just a hug and a sigh from my mother. I had spent the day in the stables, as the weather matched my mood, and during dinner, my father wasn't happy about that. We ended up yelling at each other. So far for a wonderful birthday.
But today I'm done. Done waiting for a Curse that won't come, done with dealing with my parents who don't understand me. They don't even value me as a person: I've done all they expected from me, I was little Princess Perfect, but due to something out of my control, all that doesn't matter anymore.
I'm going away and will find my own little realm, where people will accept me for what I am, without all the princessy stuff, the curse-lifting and expectations. I will lift my own Curse!
Edit: I see some inconsistencies but can't work on them as I need to get some work done... | 2022-02-24T03:21:15 | 2022-02-24T00:08:16 | 61 | 14 |
[WP] Yesterday, you knocked over a salt shaker in Texas. Today, you bought a newspaper in Fiji. Tomorrow, the chain of events you set in motion will stop a bank robbery in France. You are the master of the butterfly effect. | Lee sat down for breakfast in his usual spot at the airport lounge. Thoughts of the pictures he'd seen on his wife's phone last night raced through Lee's head. He fidgeted with the metalic wings over his left breast pocket trying not to let his sadness, his anger show. A waiter stopped to take Lee's order.
"I'll have the eggs, over easy, toast, and a glass of orange juice"
"White, or wheat?"
"uhhh... wheat. And a side of sausage."
"Coming right up."
Lee managed to crack the slightest bit of a smile and mumbled a thanks as the waiter returned with a plate of food. He took one bite of his eggs and asked the question I'd been waiting for.
"Could you grab me some salt?"
The question was directed at the waiter but I passed the shaker I had taken from Lee's table some twenty minutes earlier. Lee gave me a nod, turned the salt over, shook, and the cap I had loosened tumbled off sending salt over Lee's entire meal.
Lee turned red as his anger boiled over. Orange juice and glass exploded across the floor. A knife stood straight up out of his freshly impaled table. A stream of garbled obscenities that turned to sobs filled the air. Within seconds security appeared and Lee was escorted away.
I walked through the terminal and sat down to wait at my gate. An hour later the announcement came.
"Attention. Flight 252, Dallas to Paris, has been cancelled."
I boarded my flight and after a layover in San Francisco was on my way to Fiji.
Joni straightened the magazines and papers in her stall. As usual business was slow. Print truly was dying. Joni thought of her husband, hoping he was having more success and would make enough money in France so Joni and their child could join him soon.
I approached Joni's stall and began to peruse her selection. After a moment Joni asked if she could help me with anything.
"Yes actually. Do you own this shop?"
"I do." answered Joni with some confusion.
"It's a fantastic spot you have here. Lots of foot traffic."
"Yes, can I get you a paper?" She replied, clearly not interested in my small talk.
"Sure, I'll take this one but I'd actually like to purchase your shop."
I opened the bag I was carrying and handed it to Joni. She stared at the money inside then at me in disbelief and began to cry before she lunged and hugged me while trying to explain her families situation between her tears of joy. I told her to go to her husband now and in her frenzied joy she agreed.
Jules was irate and screaming at Theo.
"Where the fuck is he? He was supposed to be here yesterday!"
"I don't know he said his plane got delayed or something." Mumbled Theo as he slunk away from Jules' ire.
"He said he'd be able to get us guns! How the hell are we going to do this with a damn steak knife?"
Theo didnt answer as they sat in the car looking at the bank.
"Fuck it. Let's just do it." Said Jules.
Jules and Theo walked in to the bank. There were three tellers. One pecking away at a computer without so much as looking up. Another helping a customer deposit a check with two more waiting in line. And the third talking to a mountain of a man, a Pacific islander maybe, and his wife trying to exchange some sort of currency.
Jules went to the teller working at the computer and started screaming, demanding money. Theo clumsily brandishing a sad excuse of a knife, told everyone else to stand back. The customers closest to him cowered away. Theo, with gained confidence, began yelling at the tellers to move faster. Before he could so much as finish his sentence though the massive man at the last teller was rushing at Theo. The man grabbed Theo's arm, twisted, and pushed. The knife went flying across the floor and Theo was pinned down. Jules let out a surprised shriek and scampered away.
I had moved the trolley tracks. one mans already failing marriage and career were ruined plus another family reunited in exchange for six innocent lives. It seemed the right thing to me. | Henry slept for most of the 12 hour flight to Nadi. Thankfully, despite it being a full flight, the seat next to him remained vacant giving him a bit of extra room to get comfortable.
The nap on the plane did wonders for helping Henry reset his circadian rhythm and sync up with the time zone. After eating breakfast at the airport cafe and making a quick pit stop at the convenience store, Henry lazily headed over towards the pick up zone.
Most passengers from his flight had already left, either with friends and family or by cab. A single driver however remained standing with a placard in hand, still waiting for a man named Johnathan Dilmont to walk out from the terminal.
Henry looked over at the seemingly aggrieved driver and smirked. He couldn’t help but smile while imagining the arrogant Jonathan, who was probably still in a holding cell in Austin being interrogated by TSA drug squad for the salt shaker in his bag.
“Still waiting aye?” Henry asked, while walking over to the driver
“Are you Mr Dilmont?”
“Yup, apologies for the delay, I slept through the meal service, so I stopped for a quick breakfast”
“Ahah no trouble Mr Dilmont, please come with me, the car isn’t far, shall I grab your bag for you”.
“Thanks, what’s your name by the way?” Henry asked, while passing over his carry on.
“Francis, sir, good to meet you”
“Likewise Francis”
…
The two of them made their way over towards the car, Henry hopped in the back, while the driver popped his bags into the boot before getting into the drivers seat.
“Ah by the way, I’ll need you to make an extra stop, I need to stop by the department store, can you head over to the Langur”.
“Ah yes, no trouble Mr Dilmont, but that is on the opposite side of town, we may be late for your meeting”.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure we will arrive right on time”. Henry replied, before opening up the newspaper he bought back at the airport and beginning to read it.
…
The two of them made their way by car in silence, roughly 20 minutes had passed when Henry’s smart watch softly chimed.
With that, Henry took his eyes off the paper and looked out the window.
He scanned the cars driving on the opposite side of the road, seemingly looking for something. After a few seconds he was able to spot a black SUV heading southbound, in the direction of the airport.
Henry deeply signed, before bracing himself in the car.
“Hey Francis?”
“Yes Mr Dilmont?”
“Catch!”
Henry threw his newspaper over the drivers seat and onto Francis!
The paper scattered and blocked Francis’s vision!
“Ffuiclalal !!!”
Francis struggled to get his words out due to the shocking turn of events!
He slammed his foot on the break, while also trying to wave the loose papers away with one hand and steer the car with the other!
Sadly he had lost just enough control in that brief second that he veered into the southbound lane directly onto the path of the Black SUV!
BANG!!
…
The cars collided, although both cars were travelling at low speeds, the collision was still quite bad given they were travelling in opposite directions.
Henry took a second to regain his bearings, he then checked over onto Francis who was moaning in pain.
Henry breathed easily in relief at the pained Francis, as it meant he was still alive. With that confirmation, Henry forcefully opened the car door and quickly alighted from the scene, running off into the nearby shopping district.
…
10 minutes later, Henry sat down at a pub near the Langur Department store.
“Sorry Francis” Henry sighed as he said to himself, while he waited on his drink.
Henry knew that in terms of the greater good, what he did was right, but still he couldn’t help but be angry at himself for getting poor Francis caught in the middle.
Others might think that Henry’s bizarre actions were those of a madman, but what the world didn’t know was, that Henry had a gift.
It was hard to describe, but he could see both the future as well as the laws of causality, With this power, Henry could stop international incidents and global wars, all through a few seemingly small and inconsequential actions.
Such as today.
The black SUV that Henry targeted was being driven by ‘Arsene Lupin’ a notorious phantom thief, who was wanted all over the world.
The man had been laying low in Fiji for the past two years and now that he was out of the spotlight, he was planning to return to France with a new identity and start another wave of heists.
Problem was, his next heist would’ve triggered a snowball of incidents: involving counterfeit money, stolen Nazi artworks, the Priory of Sion and the ultimate resurrection of Rasputin.
Thankfully Henry was able to prevent this calamitous set of events from occurring, all by dropping a salt shaker into Jonathan’s bag and by throwing a newspaper in Francis’s face. These actions resulted in Arsene missing his flight, thus preventing his heist and chain of events which would have ensured.
…
As his scotch arrived, Henry raised his drink to Francis, before downing it in one go.
He sighed deeply again before taking the empty glass, and placing it on the floor near the doorway. | 2022-04-24T07:43:50 | 2022-04-24T05:46:31 | 53 | 23 |
[WP] After hearing "Everything is a weapon to a human," A desperate alien race abducts several humans and gives them ships, random gadgets, and instruction manuals. | The general sat in his chair, nervously staring at his assistant scrambling towards him with a pile of reports. He knew how special these were; they were about the humans. When the war took a turn for the worse, they got desperate, looking for anything to turn the tide. Lost of all options, they put their faith in a simple saying.
"Everything is a weapon to a human."
It didn't make sense. Weapons were weapons. Anything else was... something else. But what choice did they have? The Kri'leen had them on the ropes and if they did nothing, they'd be subjugated within 3 cycles. So, they gambled. A handful of humans provided with some borderline derelict ships, some gadgets, any manual they could get their hands on.
"Well?" the general asked.
The assistant remained silent, only handing the reports over. The general anxiously skimmed through the basics.
"Wait... it says they departed from the hangar 2 hours after we provided them with their equipment. How did they manage to read the manuals so quickly? It would take at least-"
"They, uh..." the assistant stammered. "They didn't read them, General."
A moment of uneasy silence followed as the general stared at the assistant.
"They didn't use them," he repeated incredulously.
"Well, not quite sir," the assistant followed. "They didn't read them but they did use them."
"How-"
"They tossed them into the reactor of a Kri'Leen ship they boarded, completely ruining it."
The silence crept back into the room as the general pondered what he'd just heard. Deciding not to think about it too much, he went back to reading the reports.
The saying was clearly true. Almost everything they had given to the humans was used incorrectly. They cooked their rations together with the fuel, turning it into an immensely strong poison they then dumped into the enemy barracks by... an escape pod. They turned *an escape pod* into a bioweapon. It stood against everything the general stood for, yet... it was a major strategic victory. A child's toy turned into shrapnel. A messaging tool used to completely scramble communications. A ship used to-
He stopped and looked at his assistant with utter shock; the assistant returned his gaze with despair. He knew what the general would ask next.
"What in the Seven Suns is ***a ramming manoeuvre***?!" | I stared down at the items in front of me. The aliens— that apparently did exist— had plunked me down in a room and left me with nothing but a carefully worded sentence that sounded like they'd been practicing it.
"We need weapons." I didn't really think I was qualified to make weapons. I was a librarian. Wondering if the manuals had any clues I picked them up, flipping through the pages. Besides the fact that it was all in a different language, and had an air of age around it, none of the pictures matched the items on the table. Maybe they were trying to frustrate me into creativity? Reaching down, I picked up the thing that seemed the most harmless. A small spherical object that to all intents and purposes looked like a rubber ball. Felt like one too. Absently I bounced it on the floor. Once, twice. It behaved like a bouncy ball. And nothing exploded, so that was a plus.
Looking back at the things laid out in front of me I sighed. Maybe they were all harmless. But maybe the wrong move could vaporize me. Oh well, life is short as it is, might as well have some fun. Picking up each item in turn, I examined it for anything obvious, that might have a dangerous function. Strictly speaking, nothing sparked any alarm bells. It looked like a bunch of random rubbish. But, if I put this thingy, with this whatchamacallit, and add this whatsit. I stared down at the thing that resembled nothing but modern art. I could call it a weapon. Though, for some reason, it looked incomplete.
Grabbing the manuals again, I ripped their bindings apart, feeling the pain of the destruction in my soul. Taking the bundles of paper, I crumpled them, feeding them into the large hole on the top of my modern art piece. More of them fit inside than I thought, and a loud whirring noise started to come from the gadgets. Whatever I'd done it had activated the thing. But it still seemed incomplete. Looking down at the rubber ball still clasped in my hand I sighed. Maybe I should add it. But it was more fun to bounce it, and knowing the chaos a rubber ball could cause this should really be considered a weapon on its own.
The wall opened before I could finish thinking about it. The aliens rushed in, speaking in their incomprehensible language. They surrounded the table, pointing at the massed gadgets, and talking excitedly. As one, they seemed to notice something missing, then they turned to face me. I held up the ball. They all took a step back. Enjoying the absolutely ridiculous reaction, I strode forward and they scattered away from the table. With great fanfare, I placed the bouncy ball in the small hole in the side of the art piece. Then, picking up the entire thing, I threw it into the air, knowing it would come down on the rubber ball. It whirred louder.
Now actually screaming in fear, the aliens latched onto me, tearing me out of the room. They moved with such haste, that we were out of the room, and off the ship before the thing hit the floor. I knew this, because they gave me a screen to watch. As we dashed away, the art piece finally connected with the floor. And fire, white-hot fire flashed into the room, destroying the cameras. The aliens gathered around me, jabbering excitedly. Looking from one strange face to the next, I sighed. Something told me that *this* experiment was only the beginning. | 2022-06-29T05:15:33 | 2022-06-29T04:05:49 | 145 | 108 |
[WP] In order to end the war the kingdom kidnapped 100 orphan children and brutally trained them for the sole purpose of assassinating the enemy prince. A decade later only you remained. But then your instructor called you to say your princess fell in love with him and ended the war so you're fired. | The horse's hooves clack against the cobblestone path leading from the Royal Palace to the Academy. A route so familiar I can tell apart every bump in the road. Even with my face covered, I still know exactly where I am, and I know exactly where to make my move.
Whoever is helping me probably knows it too. I felt it when I was shoved in the back of this carriage: a loose plank. Small enough not to be noticed by the guards, big enough to hide something beneath. A piton is far from the ideal weapon, but I've made due with worse during training. Someone knew I could use it. Someone knew I would.
Three more meters until the loose stone, the wheel always gets caught, the sudden weight shift throws everyone off balance. Unless you know it's coming. I hold the makeshift weapon in my hand, still bound by with solid chains, and I sit up. The guards know I'm dangerous, but they have no idea of how much. If they did, they would have never let me wake up.
Just a few seconds. I stand up.
"What do you think you'r-"
The carriage shakes. The guards shffle around trying to maintain balance. I use this opportunity to crash into one of them, showing him towards the back of the carriage. The other takes notice, and reaches out to grab me. That's when I drive the piton through his hand. He screams as blood spatters everywhere. I reach for his sword and end him with a single stab at his neck. I turn around, the other guard is just getting up, but he barely manages to unsheat half his blade before I kill him as well. the carriage has stopped, the screams of the first guard have alerted the others. I hear a single pair of boots rushing to the back. I manage to get the keys and free my hands. By the time the last guard reaches me I am free,but I lost the advantage of surprise.
I jump out of the carriage, collasping on her and dragging her to the ground. She showes me aside and gets up as I do the same. She has an halbeard, she's stronger than me, and has better armor.
She still doesn't stand a chance.
She brings down her weapon, and I dodge to the side. I duck underneath a large swing and take a step back. She recovers her stance and immediately lunges forward, seeking to impale me. I take a long step forward, bringing my foot down on the shaft of her weapon as I do. She's thrown off balance by this, so all I have to do is move my sword towards where her neck is going to be. She stands up to try and regain posture. If she could scream, she would. She collapses without a sound.
&#x200B;
A noise from the front of the carriage draws my attention. The third guard wasn't driving it. The coachman is dressed in a simple brown tunic and pants, worn boots. He's just tried to run away before tripping. He turns around to look at me and mutters something about mercy.
He has nothing to do with any of this, he's just a random idiot who was picked to drive the carriage because the random idiots who where tasked with escorting me didn't want to do it themselves. A good person would let him leave.
But I wasn't trained to be good. I was trained to be efficient.
I cram the four bodies in the carriage and set it on fire with a lamp that was placed in the front. I make sure to retrieve the piton, I'll use it to grab the attention of whoever my misterious benefactor is, one way or another. I take the horse and ride out towards the forest, but set it free before entering and then proceed on foot. They'll never find me here. Thye trained me well. As the sun reaches for the horizon, I settle under the roots of an elder tree and pull a cloak I took from the guards around me.
As soon as the news gets out that I've escaped the queen is gonna spin a story to her consort of how I was created without her knowledge, and how I am dangerous, and erratic, and out of control, and didn't accept the end of the war, or some other excuse. She'll kindly forget to mention the other 99 orphans and the 10 years of hell she put us through to kill her new lover.
I won't forget. Our lives, our struggles, our suffering, our triumphs... their deaths. All to take a single life. I will remember all of them. I still remember all their names. All the little moments we stole away to remind each other we were humans. To dream of what we would do after we succeeded. Of all we could do after scratching that one name off our list...
My list just got a little longer than one. | The room was cold. Somewhere, someone had designed this place to be unpleasant. Concrete walls, strip lights that buzzed in that pitch you don’t hear, you just feel at the back of your jaw.
A steel table. Bolted to the ground, nothing on it but a metal loop for running handcuffs through.
Ayala looked through the one-way mirror into the interrogation room. She looked at the boy, handcuffed to the table. His dark green uniform stained darker.
“Sir, this is way outside of my training.”
Mataka was the commanding officer of this little base. A position he had less earned and more been lumucked with at the end of his career.
He flicked through the mamilla folder describing the boy. All two pages of him.
“We are a border station, lieutenant,” he said, using the old Earth pronunciation lef-ten-ant. “And you are the closest thing we have to an interrogator in a hundred kilometres.”
“I’m an intelligence analyst. I listen to comm chatter, I read screens not children. Sir,” she added quickly.
“I don’t care Ayala. And neither does high command. They’re sending a team to retrieve him, but have asked us to do the initial interview. While it’s fresh.”
Ayala looked at the red stains on the boys uniform. “Fresh,” she repeated.
“Look, I send a marine in there and the kid will clam up even more. You’re good at finding threads and pulling on them. Go in there and pull.”
She nodded. Orders might not make sense, but she had learnt enough to know when to shut up and obey.
Mataka held out a hand, before she could leave the room.
“Just remember lieutenant. He’s a killer.”
——
His eyes remained fixed on the wall. Some tiny crack in the concrete filling his entire world.
Ayala sat down, scraping the heavy metal chair as she did. No reaction.
“I am Lieutenant Ayala, 7ID, Southern Protectorate. This interview is been conducted in accordance with all planetary and extra-solar regulations. Do you understand?”
Not a word. Not a surprise.
“Let’s start with your name, rank, and service number?”
“389, soldier, 389.”
His voice was young. Far younger than she’d expected. The intake corpsman’s guess was 16, maybe 17. But no way was this kid more than 13.
“389,” she said, almost nonchalantly. “Not much of a name.”
“389, soldier, 389.”
“389, 389. You don’t look like a 389 to me. I haven’t looked at the reports for a while, but last time I did Perjim Empire used 8 digits.”
“389, soldier, 389.”
“389, I get it. How about next time you want to say that you just stop at 3. Save your baby voice.”
He blinked.
For the first time, Ayala saw a reaction. It vanished as quickly as it had come, but she knew there was a person under the mask.
“We’re kind of stuck between two choices here. You know that? You’re a soldier, thanks for confirming, which means that under law we can execute you. I hear the prince still likes attending the hangings in Exhibit Square.” She rustled the folder, tried to make it seem as big as her bluff. “On the other hand, if you’re under thirteen, then you are protected as a child of the motherless.”
“I’m twelve,” he said, voice too quick, instantly locking back down.
“Twelve. Sure. How convenient.”
“I was born in the high summer.”
“I’m from the south kid. Every summer is a high summer.”
He squinted, eyes still on the wall, but she could see him grasping, scrambling to snatch at a branch as he fell. She could be that branch.
“I remember now. All the lakes dried up right?”
He nodded, ever so slightly.
“Twelve years old.” Ayala whistled. “Perjim getting desperate?”
“No, I…”
He stopped but now his gaze was broken. The concrete wall felt just a little bit further away.
“Hey kid,” Ayala started. His eyes flicked to her. “You’re safe.”
“No, I’m…” He stopped. “389, soldier, 389.”
“We’re testing the blood,” she said, almost nonchalantly. “Seeing if it’s yours.”
Nothing.
Time to push.
“Was it self defence? Some boy, bigger than you, get a bit pushy? Maybe you were just weaker. They send you out to kill the old
grandmas who won’t leave the border zone.”
“No.”
“Sure it is. That’s whose blood it is. You kill those who aren’t important enough for a proper soldier.”
“No.”
“I bet they laugh at you. Bet you can’t even carry a rifle. You stab an old lady 89? You like hurting old people?”
“No!”
“Then tell me what you do.”
“I’m a Banamaor!”
The shout echoed in the tiny room.
Ayala sat back in her seat. 389 was breathing heavily, his hands balled into fists. If he stared any harder, the wall would burst into flames.
“The more you help me, the more I can help you.” Ayala tried to sound neutral, motherly even, as if her own mother hadn’t been killed in a Perjim bombing campaign. “I want to help you.”
“You can’t,” 389 said.
“You can’t know that. Not until you share with me. Let’s start with something easy. What’s a Banamaor? It’s not something I’m familiar with.”
The boy sat for a moment, then turned to Ayala. His eyes were cold.
“The King saved me. Me and all my brothers. He took us into his heart and gave us a purpose. One goal.”
“Which was?”
He gulped. A perfectly ordinary action, but in his current state it felt so alien.
“To kill the Prince of the Souther Lands.”
——
Authors note: I’ve run out of time to finish, but will see if I can get back to it later. | 2022-10-20T13:35:32 | 2022-10-20T11:21:00 | 112 | 67 |
[WP] Group of space Marines travels via a stargate like portal to an "virgin" world. However due to passing a black hole, each Marine arrives 100 years after the Marine in front of them, instead of 1-5 seconds.
Due to the portal queuing up the dozen or so Marines for 1200 years, travel to point of origin is not an option(it won't work until all the marines have made it through). Explain what each Marine sees as they step out of the portal, to discover they are alone, and possible viewing the remains/artifacts of those who came before them, and or the civilization created by those in front of them with native peoples. | "Mommy, mommy tell me again the story about the twelve gods"
Sigh "ok sweetie but then its time for bed ok"
"Ok, so long ago there were twelve gods, and while they all knew each other they did not live at the same time, legends said that they just sprang into existence one day, the first god named Randy was saddened that his brothers did not join him, so he set out to make the land more enjoyable for his brothers, however even with all his work his brothers refused to show, after a while he discovered us, and taught us his language, this was the beginning of the first age."
"The first god took it upon himself to teach us how to build a society, the work was slow and some tribes choose another path, but we flourished, within decades a village was erected that would eventually become the city of Gateway, but while the first god was powerful he was not immortal, before he died he made laws and a prophecy, he proclaimed his brothers would visit our world, he could not tell us when only that they would need and provide guidance."
"The second god arrived fourteen years later, and while the village still thrived many had forgotten the first gods rules, when the second god arrived he was distraught, we brought him into the village and showed him the sacred texts, when he wished to see the first gods body some of the younger generation fought him, only to be struck down by thunder, while he calmed down after seeing the first gods body he also got more and more depressed, he had missed his brother, and arrived to soon for his other brothers to join him."
"It was late at night when the second god left, he spend the next few years in the jungles surrounding the village, hunters would occasionally see him, and tell story's about the beasts that he brought down, he was revered as a master of the hunt, and many of the techniques we still use today were created by him, after many years he returned to the village, behind him was a species that was normally aggressive, but for some reason he obeyed the hunters every command, the hunters remaining years were spend training other hunters and more of what he called pets."
"Mommy how did the second god die?"
"No one knows sweetie, one day he undertook a solo hunt and never returned, some say he still hunts the plains to this very day."
"Now the third god, he ......' | I feel the energy dissipate around me.
We left Holy Terra as twelve but here I arrive as one.
Radio silence.
Strange. But stranger still, we identified this planet as barren, yet I stand upon a forest floor.
Dozens of green dots dart across my scanner's display. Movement?
None move towards my position,
they weave and zig-zag before moving out of range, only to be replaced by more.
Advanced Scan.
A lock is acquired on one of them.
Identified - Organic.
How can this be. I stare for a moment at the light beaming down from above the canopy and ask myself, "Where are my brothers".
The trees seem to be more dispersed to the East, perhaps they sought to leave this forest. As I move, my scanner shows the life-forms keep well away from me,
they fear the sound of the splintering branches, the hiss from the pneumatics of my power armor, their green world invaded by an adamantium clad servant of the Emperium.
The Emperor protects.
I walk nigh 30 minutes before noticing the further I travel the more the trees seem as though they are wilting, the life leaving them. There are no more life-forms within range now, the forest floor has become akin to a scab,
crusted and black, in the places the scab is broken, a thick yellow liquid oozes from the soil.
Unidentified - Origin unknown.
I suspect the taint of The Warp.
Chaos.
Cursed heretics, I can only imagine the fate of my brothers at the hands of-
INCOMMING COMMUNICATION.
A familiar voice utters my name. "Brother Marcus, at last you reach us"
I pass the final sickened tree. Now I see this green world for what it really is, this land is featureless, the earth is scorched and bubbling for as far as I can see, What madness befell this planet?
"Do not falter brother" - The voice returns, but not through my communicator. I glance to my right and there they stand. Two space marines, over the corpse of a large alien beast. One is without his helmet, his power armour has seen battle, eyes fixed on me - Brother Gaius.
The other dons his full power armour, he places his foot on the dead creature's neck as he rips his power sword from its abdomen, spilling its insides. I recognize the purity seals emblazoned on his armour - Brother Quintus.
However, I am still confused. "Where are our brothers" I ask. "They will come" replied Gaius, staring into the forest, "in time" he adds. Brother Quintus silences my thoughts - "We stand until our brothers arrive", pointing to the sky.
Far above the planet, I see the dark shapes take form, they seem to splinter in the sky, the splinters burn red as they breach the planet's atmosphere. Hive ships.
"Damned Xenos" I growl.
The splinters impact in the distance, one at a time, even from here we see the horde of filth rip forth from their confines, their hollow eyes and razor talons. Hundreds. The screeching begins as the swarm begins to gravitate towards us, the sound is only too familiar.
I check the magazine on my Bolt Pistol then tear my Chainsword from its sheath.
Brother Gaius coolly charges his Multi-Melta whilst Brother Quintus raises his Power Sword and steadies himself.
"We stand until our brothers arrive".
| 2014-09-02T14:24:23 | 2014-09-02T11:20:25 | 44 | 24 |
[WP] College graduation is over, and your parents present you with an itemized bill for raising you - several hundred thousand dollars. They want to work out a payment plan. | "Wait, what?" Brian asked, his focus shooting between both of his parents.
"We didn't think this would be such a surprise." His mother said with approximately one tenth the urgency Brian had used. "You know, you guys aren't cheap! We did the same thing for your sister when she graduated. She took it a little better..."
"What are you talking about?! Seven pages long?! And Laura never said anything about this!" Brian couldn't get the words out fast enough; he had already scanned the whole packet, neatly itemized and surprising official. He could feel his ears warming as they blushed, which only got worse once he noticed it.
"Just take a look at the whole thing, and then--" His father tried to explain before being cut off.
"Are you serious? I don't know *anyone* else who is getting one of these! How long have you--" Brian was fuming, but now his father was cutting him off.
"Brian, just look at the last page, and then we'll talk."
"I honestly can't believe this." He was barely scanning the last page as he spoke, until he saw the last item:
* Credit: Exceeding all expectations - $100,000.00.
* FINAL BALANCE: $0.00 | “You have to be shitting me guys?” Jacks bemused look was enough of a catalyst for his parents to issue a sterner warning.
“No son, we’re not”. Jacks father was a military man, and joking to him didn’t come easy. “Also, watch your mouth.” His Dad looked down from his spectacles, a look I imagine he gave to many a new trainee marine to intimidate without raising his voice. “Listen – we didn’t have it easy when we raised you. I was stationed all over the world and worked doggedly to provide the best upbringing for you I possibly could. We put every single penny we ever had spare into raising you to be the bright, articulate and thoughtful young man you are today. However Jack, all of these admirable character traits don’t pay the bills.”
Jacks mum sat in silence, nodding in agreement and ruffling a brow every few words just to ensure that Jack knew this was no joke.
“I want to retire now and enjoy the last few healthy years of my life, and your mother and I find it only suitable you help to repay the money we spent on bringing you up. You turned out great son, you really did, we know you won’t mind helping us out a bit now.”
“…but….this bill is for nearly 300 grand?..... I don’t have that kind of money!!!”. Jacks panic was setting in as he skim read the contract his parents had drawn up for him. Every part of the last 23 years itemised so that he knew he wasn’t being duped by them.
“Children are expensive Jack, why do you think we sold your sister?”
Jacks eyes skim read until the last paragraph.
“So, I have to start paying as soon as I earn over minimum wage?” Jack laughed nervously.
“That’s correct!” Jacks mum chimed in! “50% of your wages to start as soon as you hit minimum wage, and then an extra 10% for every 5k earned extra a year, until the debt is paid”
Jack looked up from the contract, his parents beaming brightly. “Mum........….Dad..........….remind me what I just spent the last 5 years studying?”
His parents looked at each other, until it finally dawned on them. “You…..you have been studying conceptual art, haven’t you?”…
Jack smiled as he quickly signed below where his parents had, and slid the contract back over to them. “Exactly!”
Jacks Dad looked at his wife as the realisation set in.
“Well honey – we’re fucked”.
| 2014-09-09T09:13:50 | 2014-09-09T07:51:26 | 56 | 31 |
[WP] The real reason why aliens haven't made contact with Earth yet is not that they don't exist or the vastness of space. It's because they are scared sh**less by the supernatural races that inhabit Earth (Vampires, Werewolves, Wizards, Etc...).
An alien race doesn't believe the rumors about the strength of these races and decides to attack Earth with the intent of enslaving humanity. But the supernaturals don't appreciate someone messing with their human herd. | For all the self-proclaimed endless knowledge possessed by the Eldararin, we could never have comprehended what the Earth had seemed to produce completely by accident.
Ancient. Impossibly powerful. Unbelievably dangerous when threatened.
We never learned who they were, and maybe it is better that way.
---------
HEAD RESOURCE ACQUISITION TECHNICIAN'S LOG:
| EARTH | FIRST-CONTACT |
Ghosting, we sat with low power mode enabled in a geostationary orbit over the area we had earlier determined was known as the Mediterranean Sea. We performed routine procedures for a new, life-inhabited planet discovery - atmospheric skimming, vegetation sampling, resource analysis, and most importantly, native lifeform threat assessment.
Our mistake came when we discovered the strange readings on our power source emission reports. Deep in the ocean, farther than should have been possible by our technology development estimations, we detected a faint and inexplicable energy source.
Standard procedure: we sent a cloaked mini-drone to bring back more accurate readings. As the drone came close to the strange readings, all contact failed. Further attempts to reconnect with it were of no use.
Deliberation among the higher processors determined that it was worth the risk of detection to use a high powered scanning beam to discover the fate of our equipment. As the ship hummed with the sheer electrical energy, we were able to create a 3D holographic model of the bottom of the ocean floor.
We had to check the reading twice to make sure that the entertainment programs didn't somehow corrupt the reconnaissance databanks. To our disbelief, there was what seemed to be an entire city down there complete with a shield protecting it from the crushing weight of the water. That brief look was all the information we ever gained, because our power levels dropped rapidly across the board as the lights in the bridge suddenly dimmed.
"Hello, my friend. Fine day, isn't it?", came a voice from a seemingly old and frail human shaped object on the bridge. Seeing the surprised and frankly terrified expressions of the crew, he added, "I assure you, I don't bite.", however moving his lips in a way that showed his yellow-white teeth quite clearly.
Shocked, I responded, "...Greetings...? We come in peace?" , as was my duty, remembering the cultural primer that was compiled, and to my own bewilderment, in my own language. My universal translator had not kicked in, which meant the human was speaking in my own language as well.
"I'm going to speak quickly", he said, quickly, "because I don't have a lot of time for this nonsense and I've plenty of better things to do than spend my time bandying around with the likes of you." He looked at me sharply with dark, piercing eyes. I could not speak. I moved the front of what I hoped he would compare to a head up and down, as I learned in the non-verbal language report to mean an affirmative response.
"I am very glad you understand." He leaned against the front viewscreen, seeming unvexed by the sight of his world in orbit behind him. "Firstly, you should know, you are not the first ones to come here. Nor do I suspect will you be the last." At this he looked around, taking everything in, with a detailed squint. "I suppose what I would like to impress upon you all, and particularly your leaders, is what a colossal and unequivocal mistake it would be for you try and do to this planet what you have done to countless others." He saw the confusion at his statement, and again he showed his teeth in the way he did, as if in amusement, "...And yes, we know. We know more about your supposedly powerful and terrible race than perhaps any other race in the cosmos."
"But we have a saying, on the planet that you would have been so ready to make barren and desolate." He stood up straight, towering over us like a star overshadows a dust-mote, glowing with a strange and unnatural light.
"Your actions speak so loudly, that I cannot hear a word that you say." A moment passed as time seemed to have stopped.
Code red. The alarms wailed. The lights flashed wildly, the bulkheads ignited. Emergency evacuation was mandatory. The human was no where to be seen. As the heat tore at my flesh, I entered an escape pod at the last possible moment. I streaked off into space, the debris of my former vessel clearly embroiled in flame behind me. I checked the scanners. I was the only survivor.
And so here I am. I have entered into this report the honest truth as I have seen it, as difficult as it may be to believe.
FINAL RECOMMENDATION OF HEAD RESOURCE ACQUISITION TECHNICIAN:
EARTH: NO FURTHER CONTACT
| A storm raged across the heavens. Thunder cracked and bellowed, lightning poured down upon the earth below as a torrent of light. There was Armageddon, there was Ragnarok, there was the Rapture. Pandemonium. Hell.
It was war.
> "Exarch Tiberius! Exarch! Do you comprehend?"
Gaea had changed. The prophecies and the scriptures that were meant to guide us to our lost provinces were obviously incomplete or outright false - *The Patrikos' forgive me* - seeing as they had never told us about *this*.
> "This is Strategos Julian of The Exalted Command; all souls in the field will diverge from the Primordial and regroup! Exarch Tiberius is still unaccounted for, so to all remaining pentarches; spread out and find him. The Patrikos' guide us all!"
It took a while, seconds turned to minutes for all the sensory organs to reboot and get to grips as he lay there motionless in his downed command pod. The console in his cockpit was in all sorts of alerts and warnings, the communication array spewing out all sorts of commands and orders from the Exalted Command.
With a swift kick the window of the cockpit was broken up enough for Exarch Tiberius of the Rhomaioi Theme to escape his ground-struck pod.
Gaea. Fabled, legendary Gaea. He stood upon it now as if a figure lost in time and space, breathing in the freshness of an air so pure and free of particle-cleaners and nano-recyclers. In the vista far ahead there was traces of the sun partly hidden by black clouds and storm that still roared above him. But for all the chaos above or the crash he suffered mere moments ago, he still felt oddly at bliss. A sort of meaningful quiet and calmness falling upon him.
"Are you... are you a God?"
The calmness ceased, a chill along his metal spine crawled out to his nerve-linings as he heard the voice of something very small. But this planet had already revealed to him that size was a poor descriptor of danger.
He turned around to the voice's origin and drew his xiphos - a holy weapon given only to high-ranking officers of the Exalted Tagmata - from his ornate baldric hanging down his side.
"I'm... I'm unarmed!!"
A desperate shriek, a foolish one, from the corner of a wrecked housing just by and with a quick turn he saw the origin of a voice and instantly relaxed. It was a human litter, a young offspring of age 4 or maybe 6, it was impossible to tell with accuracy as humans never lived that long in any case. It was definitely male, the pheromones of that was unmistakable. It was disgusting.
"A god, runt?" he scoffed and lowered his xiphos, feeling the energy inside the consecrated blade crackle in protest. "I may very well be that to you and your kind, for so many eons ago we were just that."
The boy nodded, its eyes were frantic with several emotions - and Tiberius could sense the hunger in it. At its present state it wasn't good stock for any labour, though he was in need of a new page-boy. He shook away the thought; more pressing matters were still at hand, looking towards the approaching storm.
"But these Primordials were not here then. They could not have been." he mused to himself, frowning.
"Pr-Primordials?" the young boy stuttered, interrupting the Exarch's thought. Not a very promising start for a servant-to-maybe-be.
"The monsters, the... things... that haunt your planet, boy. They are as if the very source of our nightmares and it is no wonder it has kept your kind so reduced during all these years in our absence. What sins you must have done to earn their devilish presence."
The boy stared, huge-eyed, at him in a way that made him feel annoyed, so much of a human's ghastly feature did. They were inferior, that in itself annoyed him and the creed of the Byzas was to never tolerate inferiority to be equal. But this wasn't the time for dogmas.
"Th-The monsters? They have-haven't been here be-before! D-didn't you bring them?"
Ignorant. It was even ignorant of *those things*, what sourcery allowed these Primordials such power?
> ^^"All ^^souls ^^in ^^sectora ^^A-4, ^^retreat ^^immediately! ^^It ^^is ^^coming! ^^It's ^^coming ^^straight ^^your ^^way!"
He barely heard the radio from outside the pod, but well enough to understand the warning. A-4, wasn't he in A-4? A pang of anxiety hit him as he started to look around frantically, the storm was almost right above him now.
"Child. If you have sanctuary. Hide." Was there sympathy for it? He didn't have time to assess his emotional peculiarities.
"I... there is nowhere... your ship destroyed my house, my fam-"
"Then we share this battle together."
Out of the storm IT came, as if carrying the entire storm - cloud and lightning - with IT. A thunderous roar hailed, fire spewing out its many mouths, scorching down upon the ground as it flew towards the Exarch.
Tiberius' eyes widen in shock, his hand reached down and grabbed the xiphos, holding it tightly in his metal-cast hand.
"And die, together." he added, as more a statement that came naturally after a realization.
IT began to descend down, all three heads of different animals had their eyes fixed on Tiberius, the devilish wings held it impossibly afloat straight above him.
"Chimera."
Their Gods have found them. It was the eschaton.
The end times.
| 2015-01-02T19:11:15 | 2015-01-02T18:10:37 | 52 | 39 |
[WP] The real reason why aliens haven't made contact with Earth yet is not that they don't exist or the vastness of space. It's because they are scared sh**less by the supernatural races that inhabit Earth (Vampires, Werewolves, Wizards, Etc...).
An alien race doesn't believe the rumors about the strength of these races and decides to attack Earth with the intent of enslaving humanity. But the supernaturals don't appreciate someone messing with their human herd. | For all the self-proclaimed endless knowledge possessed by the Eldararin, we could never have comprehended what the Earth had seemed to produce completely by accident.
Ancient. Impossibly powerful. Unbelievably dangerous when threatened.
We never learned who they were, and maybe it is better that way.
---------
HEAD RESOURCE ACQUISITION TECHNICIAN'S LOG:
| EARTH | FIRST-CONTACT |
Ghosting, we sat with low power mode enabled in a geostationary orbit over the area we had earlier determined was known as the Mediterranean Sea. We performed routine procedures for a new, life-inhabited planet discovery - atmospheric skimming, vegetation sampling, resource analysis, and most importantly, native lifeform threat assessment.
Our mistake came when we discovered the strange readings on our power source emission reports. Deep in the ocean, farther than should have been possible by our technology development estimations, we detected a faint and inexplicable energy source.
Standard procedure: we sent a cloaked mini-drone to bring back more accurate readings. As the drone came close to the strange readings, all contact failed. Further attempts to reconnect with it were of no use.
Deliberation among the higher processors determined that it was worth the risk of detection to use a high powered scanning beam to discover the fate of our equipment. As the ship hummed with the sheer electrical energy, we were able to create a 3D holographic model of the bottom of the ocean floor.
We had to check the reading twice to make sure that the entertainment programs didn't somehow corrupt the reconnaissance databanks. To our disbelief, there was what seemed to be an entire city down there complete with a shield protecting it from the crushing weight of the water. That brief look was all the information we ever gained, because our power levels dropped rapidly across the board as the lights in the bridge suddenly dimmed.
"Hello, my friend. Fine day, isn't it?", came a voice from a seemingly old and frail human shaped object on the bridge. Seeing the surprised and frankly terrified expressions of the crew, he added, "I assure you, I don't bite.", however moving his lips in a way that showed his yellow-white teeth quite clearly.
Shocked, I responded, "...Greetings...? We come in peace?" , as was my duty, remembering the cultural primer that was compiled, and to my own bewilderment, in my own language. My universal translator had not kicked in, which meant the human was speaking in my own language as well.
"I'm going to speak quickly", he said, quickly, "because I don't have a lot of time for this nonsense and I've plenty of better things to do than spend my time bandying around with the likes of you." He looked at me sharply with dark, piercing eyes. I could not speak. I moved the front of what I hoped he would compare to a head up and down, as I learned in the non-verbal language report to mean an affirmative response.
"I am very glad you understand." He leaned against the front viewscreen, seeming unvexed by the sight of his world in orbit behind him. "Firstly, you should know, you are not the first ones to come here. Nor do I suspect will you be the last." At this he looked around, taking everything in, with a detailed squint. "I suppose what I would like to impress upon you all, and particularly your leaders, is what a colossal and unequivocal mistake it would be for you try and do to this planet what you have done to countless others." He saw the confusion at his statement, and again he showed his teeth in the way he did, as if in amusement, "...And yes, we know. We know more about your supposedly powerful and terrible race than perhaps any other race in the cosmos."
"But we have a saying, on the planet that you would have been so ready to make barren and desolate." He stood up straight, towering over us like a star overshadows a dust-mote, glowing with a strange and unnatural light.
"Your actions speak so loudly, that I cannot hear a word that you say." A moment passed as time seemed to have stopped.
Code red. The alarms wailed. The lights flashed wildly, the bulkheads ignited. Emergency evacuation was mandatory. The human was no where to be seen. As the heat tore at my flesh, I entered an escape pod at the last possible moment. I streaked off into space, the debris of my former vessel clearly embroiled in flame behind me. I checked the scanners. I was the only survivor.
And so here I am. I have entered into this report the honest truth as I have seen it, as difficult as it may be to believe.
FINAL RECOMMENDATION OF HEAD RESOURCE ACQUISITION TECHNICIAN:
EARTH: NO FURTHER CONTACT
| Xcyztai watched the digital window of his quarters intently, his gaze focused on the small blue and green orb that hovered in the midst of a black void. The planet looked so harmless from up here, with it's gentle white swirls. But he knew the truth.
The corners of his window began to pulsates blue, and he promptly leapt out of his reclining position to answer the incoming call. His long, webbed fingers danced in an intricate pattern at his side, and a low musical sound filled the room like the sound of a violin. The digital window flickered to a video feed from the bridge, and General Zazyanbar came into focus.
"Good evening, General!" Xcyztai began, but the general quickly cut him off with a twitch from her emerald fingers.
"Yes yes, good evening, Officer," she said abruptly, "I need you up on the bridge immediately."
Xcyztai eyes flickering up to the clock in the corner of the screen in shock, but Zazyanbar pushed on. "Yes, Officer, it is late. I will see you in 5 minutes."
The screen flickered to black for a moment before returning to the previous image of the planet floating out in space. Xcyztai stood there a moment longer before flying into motion to find his uniform, dark wings nothing but a blur that knocked over the precariously stacked pile of books at his bedside.
4 minutes and 48 seconds later, he stood outside the bridge doors. As he straightened his collar, the doors opened and a nervous gryllidaen slipped out of the room.
"Oh! Thank goodness you're here, Xtai," he said, slipping out of the room.
"I came as quickly as I could," Xcyztai replied, " Rilli, What does she want?"
"No time to talk now," his friend said, pushing Xtai through the door. The General stood in the centre of the room pacing, her iridescent wings vibrating as she walked.
"Officer Xcyztai!" she called as he entered the room. "I hear you were the one responsible for this report." she gestured with the narrow data stick she held in one delicate hand. Xtai recognized it, it was the one he had submitted to his superior not six hours ago. The one detailing the local species that inhabited the planet they circled now. The spacious bridge suddenly felt much smaller.
"Uh, yes. Yes I wrote that," he said quickly. His fingers twitched subconsciously at this side, letting out tiny clicking noises. General Zazyanbar's black eyes passed over his hand, a small frown on her face, and his fingers froze in place.
"Please explain your findings then." Her words were cold and she watched him like a hawk as he began to speak.
"Yes um... Well, as you know, the planet is inhabited mostly by a sentient race known as humans. According to our research, these humans are largely inferior creatures, lacking our technology and being fairly clumsy in their actions."
"Yes, I know all of this. Move along," the general said with annoyance. Xtai nervously rubbed his fingers together as he continued.
"Well, as part of my research, I was tasked to translate several of the documents that our intelligence team procured off of their planetary network. There was a large quantity of content available, but what I managed to uncover was a network between several subspecies of human. I haven't managed a complete analysis of all the various species but many of them possess abilities far beyond our original assessment of the race."
"Yes, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You say you found a subspecies that possesses even faster reflexes and speeds than us?" The general waved the data stick in his face like a weapon. Xtai nervously took a step back.
"Yes Ma'am. They call themselves vampires. Further research shows they also possess abnormal strength and can manipulate their own pheromones to control those around them. They also appear to feed off the human race."
"But you've also stated they're weak to sunlight in your report."
Xtai hestitated before continuing. "Possibly. Other reports show that this weakness may be overstated, and their true nature is simply reveal in the sun."
Zazyanbar grunted. "And these other races? Werewolves and wizards?"
"The werewolves seem to be closely related to another species on the planet, the wolf. But unlike their cousins, the werewolf seems to be faster and stronger than both the human and the wolf."
"And wizards?" The general said, pushing even further. "Your report was lacking on this regard."
"My apologies, General," Xtai said, "I've been working on this report for weeks, and I've yet to find any reliable information on a wizard's strengths or weakness. By all reports, it seems they have the technology to do... Well, nearly anything they can imagine."
The general scoffed. "Well, that seems unlikely."
"I agree, Ma'am, which is why I'm requesting more time to investigate these races. Now that we've hacked into their network, it should be a simple matter to learn more before we go through with the attack."
The general humphed, staring at the data stick in her hand. Xtai knew that her mind was running over the details contained within, and the large list of races he'd only just begun to uncover.
"Very well, Officer. We will push back the invasion for now. But the Empress will not be happy to hear this," she said, pocketing the data stick as her fingers began to weave, producing a delicate string of commands for the deck's computers. "Remind me again, what was the name of the network you discovered?"
"Tumblr, Ma'am," Xcyztai said helpfully.
| 2015-01-02T19:11:15 | 2015-01-02T18:54:49 | 52 | 39 |
[WP] Take the concept of a metaphorical "war" (e.g.: The War on Tobacco/War on Poverty) and make it a literal war | This is Debbie Walters, reporting live from the field.
>"Alright Debbie, what can you tell us? How are our boys on the front?"
Well, as you can see Tim, every god-fearing man, woman and child is out here armed to the teeth. We won't give them an inch of ground, and as soon as midnight hits we'll be giving them all we've got.
>"What is their strategy?"
They'll be marching on us with their non-denominational greetings, but by the grace of the lord and guidance of our General Bill O'Reily, we'll be well braced.
>"What are our boys hitting them with, Deb?"
We've got the latest technology working for us, Tim, developed by no other than Jesus himself. Bauble bombs, tinsel TNT, gift grenades, and our secret weapon, *nativity napalm*!
The Liberals are gathering their forces, but we will prevail.
Tim, it's time to win the war on Christmas. | I punched one of the enemies in the stomach. She fell to her knees with a groan and a cry. I kicked her in the face and started to run.
The enemy overran our position. We were out of ammo and had already lost Jenkins to the horde. “Run,” I screamed. “Fall back and regroup.”
I had to protect these men and women. They were in my charge, but today I failed. I hoped that this battle would be a small footnote in the war.
Carpenter paused on a hill and fired into an oncoming group. “Die, motherfuckers. You ain’taking me tonight,” she screamed. “I beat you once when I was a teenage.” Another short burst. “I’ll beat you as an adult.”
I grabbed her by the arm. “We’ve got to go, Carpenter.” She kept firing until her clip was empty and reloaded another. “That’s an order, Carpenter.”
She killed the last few enemies who threatened us at that moment. “How could they do it, Captain? How could they send those girls at us?”
I looked back down at our overrun base. Young girls looted our old barracks. Others picked up our discarded weapons and began firing them in the air. The hoots and hollers drifted up to us. How could we win against an enemy who used children to do their fighting?
“We’ve got to go, Sarge.”
She shook her head as another group of teenager girls saw us. They began to lumber up the hill. “How can I keep doing this? How can I keep killing them? When I look into their eyes I see myself when I was that age.”
I tried to pull Carpenter away. She felt like dead weight and wouldn’t move. “I’m sorry, Carpenter.” I ran off and left her behind.
Carpenter’s screams drifted up to me just seconds later. I didn’t want to leave her. I knew that I couldn’t have saved her. If I tried to carry her or force her to come with me both of us would have died.
War is hell. I hoped Carpenter’s death would be worth it. I doubted it though. Such is life on the front lines of the War on Teenage Pregnancy.
____________
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this check out my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy.
| 2015-01-31T08:03:12 | 2015-01-31T07:55:36 | 96 | 53 |
[WP] Superman's belief that he is actually a superhuman is a delusion as he suffers from schizophrenia and kryptonite is actually haloperidol (an antipsychotic medication) | "Doctors, today in Mortality and Morbidity Reports I present the sad, short tale of Superman, who found rather quickly that he wasn't faster than a speeding bullet, but survived being shot, nor more powerful than a locomotive, but lived when he was bounced off the cattle catcher of a slow-moving CSX freight train, nor able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, except in a downward direction, which led to immediate death and a rather messy cleanup on the sidewalk below his office window." | *???*
Still weak. The serum they’ve created is not enough to kill me so they must be keeping me alive for some reason. Don’t know how they discovered my identity. Spent last night very afraid for Ma & Pa & Lois. Tried to overpower a nurse & make a break but too weak. Need new strategy. Been cooperative last few days, acting weaker than I feel. Today a different nurse gave me some crayons & a coloring book. Who are these people? What is their plan? Helps the boredom, at least.
*July 24th*
Well behaved last few weeks. Slowly gaining their trust. The injections have been reduced to one per day & I am very cooperative. Despite this exposure some of my strength is returning. Today they let me out of solitary & among the general pop. of the prison. Saw Barry Allen. Tried to communicate. He didn’t recognize me. What are they doing to us here?
*July 29th*
Stared at wall for three hours. Couldn’t see through it. Must be made of lead.
*Aug 2nd*
Every day I wait for rescue.
*Aug 5th*
The lights in this place appear florescent but they must have some red sun replicating technology. The injections have stopped almost completely but I am still weak. Still planning my escape. Must find a way to convince them to let me outside. Suspect “doctor” who speaks to me every day is employed by LL. Must stay vigilant. Caught sight of bald head down hallway but could not follow. Movements still restricted. Will kill LL if I see him. He's gone too far this time. | 2022-05-18T23:08:41 | 2015-02-19T10:39:49 | 45 | 12 |
[WP] You notice that a stranger is following you as you walk home. You pretend not to notice. The stranger follows you home and watches you go inside. Then when he leaves, you turn the tables and start to follow him.... | I'm confident he didn't see me exit my home. He strolled casually across the town without a care in the world. Follow ME will he? Ha. Two can play at that game.
He paused in the city park and looked around. Did he notice me? No. He got low to the ground near a bed of flowers and seemed to inhale deeply. Then he urinated on them. The bastard. I liked those flowers.
He took off again at a faster pace this time. I was determined now to learn more. Just who was he? There was only one way to be sure. I had to bide my time.
He ducked down an alleyway and I followed without hesitation. He was rummaging through a dumpster. Now was my chance.
I rushed up behind him and took a huge sniff of his butt. I had misjudged him. He was a kind soul who was simply making sure I got home okay.
Fast forward, we're now the proud parents of five beautiful puppies. My human isn't thrilled with it, but humans are rarely thrilled about anything. They really need to lighten up. | I shuddered. The night was still cold. This winter seemed to go on forever. I heard a door close far behind me. The night was quiet so you could hear almost anything. I tried to pick up my pace. As I turned a corner, I saw someone behind me. I saw him turn the same corner. I thought I saw a flash of metal near his belt. The fear crept in. Was he here to kill me? I shuddered at the thought. I walked quickly. He walked quickly. I turned right. He turned right. I tried to lose him in the twisted ally ways and streets. I saw my house. I would call the cops! So I walked quickly to my house. I fumbled with my keys. I noticed him in the corner of my eye. He had stopped near a neighbors house. He was near a street lamp but not close enough for me to see him. I opened my door and looked through a small crack in the window shades. I picked up the phone but as I was about to dial he started to walk away. I decided to follow him. Id see where he was going then call the cops.
I walked outside. It was still quiet and cold. My door closed. It wasn't very loud but I didn't want him to notice. He picked up his pace. I wasn't sure but I think he saw me. I tried to hold back a little. He turned a corner, and a slight tilt in his head suggested that he saw me. I walked under a street lamp and my belt buckle caught the light. I quickly covered it with my coat. I swear he saw it. I was wary of street lamps now. He quickened his pace. I quickened mine. He was making erratic turns. He was trying to lose me. But I knew this neighborhood, he wouldn't lose me that easy. He walked up to a house. I walked near a street lamp and avoided the light so that I wouldn't be seen. He was frantically trying to open his door. Was he afraid of me? I wasn't gonna stick around. I knew where he lived. If he tried anything, I could get him back. I started to walk home.
I shuddered. The night was still cold. This winter seemed to go on forever. | 2015-04-14T04:20:11 | 2015-04-14T04:20:05 | 87 | 32 |
[WP] A newly-hired bartender is slowly realizing that he's working at the bar from all of those "X walks into a bar" jokes. | "Alright Sam, just watch how it's done."
Sam looked attentively at Holly, her higher-up, as two men in lab coats walked in and sat in front of them. Holly smiled and said to them, "Chemists?"
"Yep."
"What'll y'all have?"
"I'll have H2O, please," said one.
The other followed, "I'll have H2O, too."
Holly motioned to Sam to get some water for the first chemist as she reached under the counter and pulled out a small brown bottle. She kept it out of view of the scientists as she blended the second man's drink. Curious, Sam went over to her and whispered, "Holly, what are you...?"
"Standard procedure. Customer said it's what he wants--and the customer is always right, Sam. Besides, this is a pretty common order; nothing to worry about."
Holly turned back to the customers with a glimmering grin and handed them their drinks, which they eagerly gulped down. Not long after finishing, chemist #2 collapsed and began writhing in pain. The other promptly called paramedics, and they left. Then, while Holly started to clean up after the men, Sam picked up the little bottle, which read: HYDROGEN PEROXIDE.
*What the fuck? Is this some kind of joke?* she thought. Her gut wrenched as realization hit her like an iron fist.
The bell jingled at the door, and she looked up. Some religious officials from different sects walked in, animals, celebrities, historical figures...they came in droves and seated themselves along the counter. Then, just as she thought the horde was done, to her horror, another pair of chemists stepped in.
*That's it, I'm out.* | Joe didn't really mind his new job, except on Mondays. No, this isn't one of the typical "Mondays, right?" situations. Joe's new job tending bar was very much unique, but on only Monday. At some point today, something crazy will happen.
*Mad Monday,* Joe thought to himself as he flipped back the covers and tossed his legs over the edge of the bed. He got ready as he does every other work day, and arrived at work 5 minutes before his scheduled shift as usual. Mad Monday was actually starting to grow on Joe. He didn't know when, and he didn't know what it would be, but *something* weird would happen today. Today, it was just after 5pm.
Joe heard the door chime and greeted, "Hello, good afternoon." When he looked up, he had to try to hide his astonishment. There, walking in the door, was a man and his son. However, the son was in a wheelchair and did not have arms or legs, and not much of a torso, either. Joe blinked to make sure he was seeing things correctly. The man sat his son on a stool at the bar, then took a seat next to him.
"Two beers please." The dad said. "Oh, and can I get a straw for my son, too?"
"Of course, sir. Right away, sir." Joe's brain was working overtime trying to wrap around what was going on. This was different today. Usually it's the "long face" horse, or the "blind guy walks into a bar" jokes that he sees. What joke was this? Handicapped kid and his dad? "Let me know if you need anything else." Joe said as he served the two beers, then dropped a straw into the second one for the son. He tried to casually watch while he wiped the farther end of the bar.
The dad took a long swig of his own beer, then held the other for his son. His son chugged this beer faster than Joe has seen anyone knock back any before. Even before Joe could be astonished at that feat, something amazing happened. From nowhere, an arm popped out of the son's small torso. Joe gasped.
"Oh, my-- Barkeep, another beer!" The dad exclaimed. Joe quickly obliged, slamming another beer on the bar top. The son grabbed this beer and drank it down. *POOF*, out popped another arm. "ANOTHER!" the dad yelled. Joe already had another beer in his hand and quickly handed it to the son. This one went down even faster than the others. *POOF*, out popped a leg.
"This is amazing." Joe said.
"How is this even possible?" The dad was ecstatic, with tears gleaming in his eyes. "Please, another beer!"
Joe dropped another beer on the bar, and watched in anticipation as the son slammed it back. This time was different, though. After just a moment, nothing happened. Suddenly, the son fell over, dead. Joe's jaw gaped open. Then, it hit him.
"Sir, you should have stopped while he was a head." | 2015-05-14T19:10:48 | 2015-05-14T16:24:59 | 87 | 38 |
[WP] You live in a world where humans actually do get 3 wishes, one when you're 5, one when you're 10, and one when you're 20. | I wonder.
I wonder how my life would've turned out if I had wished different wishes. I wonder how my life would turn out if I had a fourth wish. I've heard many people stating this. People, too immature at the time, wasting their precious wishes for nonsensical stuff that wasn't important to them anymore after a short period of time. Wasted opportunities. Regret, bigger than a person could ever manage to live with.
We had this guy at our school who wasted his 20 on getting back together with his ex. Their relationship stayed toxic though, and eventually they broke up again. Shortly after he took his own life.
Then we have the people who still wish for a lot of money, no matter how much the government invests in informing them on the consequences. Worthless currencies, they raise and fall like the seasons.
So many people who didn't think and wished for stupid things.
Not that I am much different - all of my wishes were spoken out of an impulse, but the difference was that I was lucky enough to be unlucky in specific ways.
I remember my own 20. I was one of the worst students in university, no matter how much I learned, I just never could make any sense of what the professors were saying. I was studying so hard that year, worried that I might not make it through the exams. I was so focused on studying, hoping that I would somehow manage one way or another that I completely forgot about my own birthday, and thus my uttered words of 'I wish I wasn't so bad at learning' were granted to me.
That's another good thing about the gods I guess - they are benevolent. I didn't get only a little bit better with learning, instead I got a large jump in my abilites, I suddenly was able to learn every topic simply by reading about it one or two times. I doubt that I could've made a better wish, even if I had consciously tried.
Yes, I've always been lucky. The 20 was definitely a major turning-point in my life, it gave me so many opportunities.
My 10 was a bit different as well. Unlike the majority of children I didn't go for the standard 'I wish to be cool/beautiful'-wish. Considering that your normal looks are pretty much beautiful anyway, due to thousands of years of wish-guided genetics, I don't have to complain in that department (even if some people do look even more beautiful - but at some point it's just not that important anymore). I also didn't wish for a special job, didn't wish to be rich or famous, no, I, again, wished for something by pure accident.
My mother had accidentally eaten a slice of pie with nuts in it, which she is allergic too. I said "I hope you get better." She got better, and of course, I first was really angry and disappointed about having 'wasted' my wish. But that changed the next time my mother was hospitalized. Turns out she had a large tumor in her brain, which - thanks to my wish - now started to fade away by itself.
I never complained about 'wasting' my wish again.
Yes, both my 10 and my 20 did have long-lasting effects on my life. And if I had a fourth wish it'd maybe have an even greater impact on me than those two did. But I don't have a fourth wish, and that's perfectly okay. Because when I was 5, I met you.
You were funny and you knew far cooler games than I did. You didn't fear the older kids in kindergarten and you helped me find other friends.
And that's why I wished we could stay friends forever.
You are the most important thing that ever happened to me, you are my most precious wish, you are what I never in my entire life want to lose.
And because of that, even on the chance of sounding greedy, even though I know that no gods will be helping me this time, there is still a wish I want to make:
Will you marry me? |
"**F**or _God's_ sake, Robert. You cannot be serious."
The Genie's voice was like nothing you had ever heard. Sharp like a whip. Deep like thunder. His huge blue body was adorned with golden jewelry, and his torso trailed away wispily into a small little lamp on the floor. Within his exasperated tones was the power to part an ocean, destroy a city. And yet, the almost omnipotent being hovered gently in the small room, his glittering eyes boring deep into the back of the thin man's skull.
"...What?" Said Rob indignantly.
"What do you mean, _what?_ I can _expect_ a 5 year old to waste their wish. I wouldn't be surprised if a 10 year old did it. But for God's sake, you're _twenty_ now."
"G, dude, I still don't see what you're getting at." Said Rob lazily. "Like, you gotta grant what I wish, right?"
Robert himself was a very thing and gangly young man. His hair was dirty and unkempt, and hung in great dreadlocks from his long face. He wore shorts and sandals, as well as a baggy T-shirt with the number '420' printed on it. And his eyes were suspiciously bloodshot.
"I told you to stop calling me that 8 years ago, you hippie," snapped the Genie, his skin flushing. "I've spent 20 damn years shackled to your stupid ass, and what do I have to show for it? You could have been great, Rob. You could be a billionaire right now, or a movie star. But _nooooo._"
"Nah, G, Nah. Never did like drama class." Giggled Rob. He sat down on a couch and lolled his head dreamily.
The Genie sighed, clearly exhausted. When he spoke, he shook the limp shoulders of Rob, who had taken to falling asleep on the chewed-up sofa.
"You've already wasted 2 out of your 3 wishes. So for the love of god, will you please _think_ about this one?"
Rob grunted and opened his red eyes a little wider, deeply affronted.
"Think? G, dude, I think about my wishes _very_ carefully."
The Genie folded his tree-sized arms and snorted. "Bullshit." He said. "Your fifth birthday. What did you wish for?"
Rob smiled at the memory. "C'mon, man. You gotta admit that was some fine-ass OJ."
"That's right. A glass of fuckin' orange juice." Muttered the Genie. "And your tenth?"
"G, dude. That bike made me the _coolest_ mofo on the cul-de-sac."
"A ***BIKE!***" Roared the Genie. "Look at me!" He demanded. His huge muscles flexed and bulged, and the very air around the hovering figure was distorted with pure power. "I can blow up a planet by clicking my fingers and you ask for a _bike!_"
Rob sat, completely unperturbed by the Genie's words. "Alright, alright. Let me think, man."
Rob closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. The Genie remained in an icy silence, still staring at the 20-something man.
"Bloody stoner. What did I do to deserve this? 20 years of parlay and I get called upon for glass of juice and a fucking _bike._" He muttered, mutinously.
Suddenly, Rob stood up, excitedly. "I've got it!" He cried.
The Genie eyed him suspiciously. "You better have something good, Robert. If I have to face another Genie after summoning a bike, some poxy juice, and a _spliff_, I might just cave your head in."
"Nah, G. I got something good. You ready?"
Rob paused for effect.
"Gimme a stuffed-crust pizza, man. Honest, G, I got munchies like you wouldn't _believe_.
The room almost exploded with the Genie's pure and unadulterated rage. His scream rang out as the chains binding him to this plane broke and he vanished in an ethereal puff of smoke.
Where the lamp had stood, was a pizza box. With many obscene and, quite frankly, disturbing things written on it.
"Aww yiss." Burbled Rob. He went over to the box, opened it, and frowned.
He looked at the blue mist which hung gently in the air. He could still hear the eternal rage of the misused genie.
"Dude. G." Said Rob. "You _know_ I take pepperoni, man. Hawaiian? Really?"
The scream grew a little stronger before vanishing entirely.
---
Thoughts? Criticisms? Let me know!
^/r/DunsparceWrites | 2015-09-26T13:06:16 | 2015-09-26T12:52:43 | 216 | 33 |
[WP] As a dragon of innumerable age you have guarded your gold horde for millennium. Many heroes have come with long speeches on how they will slay you, the great evil,none finish. However this one is odd.He throws a coin on your stash, looks you in the eyes and says "I have a proposition for you." | The dragon shifted on its pile of gold, scales innumerable, size immeasurable, and power unmatchable. Even the knight standing before him looked like he was just going to be a snack. The armour he had brought with him would do nothing against the fire of the great beast.
All of this made the fact that the knight was unarmed, very strange.
The knight tossed a single coin into the pile, it quickly slipped into the shifting coins, each moving beneath the dragon as it turned to face the knight. It did the closest thing a dragon could do to raising an eyebrow.
"I have a proposition for you," the knight said, looking somewhere for a chair in the massive cavern, "hear me out?"
Fire licked the dragons lips, and then his tongue did, "What if I don't listen?"
"Then I die," the knight said, dropping his search for the chair to look at the dragon, he shifted his stance twice, "but I needed to try this."
"Try what," the dragon moved closer to him, each scale radiating the heat of a funeral pyre, "and don't mistake my boredom for interest."
"Thanks," the knight sat down on the pile of coins, the sound of his armour scraping against them filled the cavern, "why this kingdom?"
"Becuase I live here," He said, rolling his golden draconic eyes.
"So you're in this cave because it's yours?"
"Exactly," he said, "but that was a question, not a proposition."
"Well," the knight shifted on the coins, nearly falling as they moved like water, "you need more gold don't you?"
"I don't need gold, I take it to prove a point, I'm surprised you had one to give."
"That was the one to give." the knight stood up, "we are going to war with a neighboring kingdom, one with stockpiles of gold."
"You want to take gold so I can just take it from you."
"We want the land," the knight said, "you take the gold."
"And why would you give it to me?"
"It's easier for you to take a castle than it is for us to." | The dragon's eyes narrowed, his long neck twisting downwards to better see the coin. It was unlike any he'd ever seen, and that was saying something. Small, perfectly round, made of a strange metal - it resembled copper, but pure, more pure than all the plates in the king's castle. Intrigued, the dragon turned his eyes again toward the strange knight, who had removed his helmet to reveal an aging face and wild, white hair.
"That, Anythlix, is a penny," the knight said, "a coin from the far future. I have brought it back through time to you from the year 1985 A.D. There is no other like it in the world."
Anythlix raised a scaly brow. "Why should I believe you? No wizard has skill enough to traverse the strands of time. That power lies with the gods alone."
The knight smirked. "I thought you might say that. Allow me to provide some evidence."
Suddenly, a swift wind, a bang and a flash of light blasted through the cave, shaking the stalactites, toppling coins from their stacks. Anythlix growled, shielding his eyes from the light. Then, as the light faded, he looked up again.
Two strange metal machines stood before him, one blue and covered in runes not even he recognized, and one sleek and oblong, with wheels like a cart, shedding layers of ice in a cold mist.
"What... what trickery is this, knave?" Anythlix asked suspiciously, eyeing the knight with a new sense of awe.
"Oh, no trickery," exclaimed a tall, brown-haired man in a matching coat emerging from the blue machine. "Simply wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff. I'm the Doctor, by the way; I knew you would ask."
"A demonstration of what we from the future can do," spoke the knight once more. "And please, call me Doc."
"So, if you truly are gods from the future..." Anythlix hissed warily, fire springing to his throat, "what need do you have for me?"
"Well, see, we have a bit of a problem in the future - throughout time and space, actually," the Doctor replied. " A certain knight of sorts thinks he's such a big shot, and he's establishing dominance through history. It's only a matter of time until he reaches you - your, ahem, vault contains many of the treasures he covets."
"A fool he is to try to steal my treasure!" Anythlix bellowed.
"Precisely," Doc added, "which is why we'd appreciate any help you may have in, er, destroying him."
"For which we are willing to pay. Have you ever dreamed of a planet made entirely of gold?" the Doctor asked. "It exists. I can take you there."
"So have we a deal?" Doc asked, both men extending their hands.
Anythlix had been taken the moment a planet of gold came up. The orb in his dreams, the one he'd spent a hundred lifetimes searching for... that was it.
"I... accept your proposition." Anythlix, trying to keep his composure, reached out with a giant claw, both men awkwardly shaking it.
"Well, I suppose we'd best be off!" the Doctor cheered. "No time like the present. Err, or would it be the past in this case?" | 2015-10-13T17:47:41 | 2015-10-13T17:45:50 | 60 | 16 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | How was he so behind in score? Jahweh sat gaping with disbelief at the icons floating in the top left of his screen, indicating that his rival, Jorgaxis, had just reached the highest tech level.
"Shouldn't have picked DNA as your genetic molecule, noob" the chat-window taunted. Jorgaxis was right, the higher rate of mutation gave him an edge in the early game, but that had been squandered after his setback with the dinosaurs. Now all it meant was that these damn humans were scared of nuclear power, and those dead dinosaurs were providing an easier, if less efficient means of power. If they didn't get their act together soon, cold-fusion was never going to be researched!
To make matters worse his faith points were dwindling; a few turns ago he overclicked the "new messiah" button and now had too many competing religions on his planet. Lack of a world religion was ruining his faith economy, preventing advancement. You'd think that after spending so many resources to flood the entire world that the one family of followers left alive would agree to worship him, but no. The game was not going well.
Sighing, he clicked to place a few images of himself on some toast, maybe that little push would be enough?
| "I still say it's cheating that you sent your son down there." Lord Lamux was noticeably worried that God's people would soon crack the human genome. He was in danger of being over taken by God during the inevitable exponential growth that would soon occur. His protests were well founded, the rules clearly stated that while they were allowed to send prophets and disciples that the deities themselves were not allowed to go to earth and far too many of his people agreed that Jesus was God.
"If I had to start over every time that someone claimed they were God I'd still be building arks over here." God was in no mood for complaints about fair play. He had already started over once when he smote the dinosaurs, then again when he had been hamstrung by a technicality when his own people started worshiping multiple Gods before him spiraling his score in reverse.
"This is what you get for giving them free will. See my Lamuxes? Working tirelessly, they stay right on a task until I move them to the next one." Lord Lamux was proud of his degree of control that his puppet people expressed. They worked and played as instructed and were happy about it as instructed. Everything went as planned.
"You mean unless you move them to the next one. They don't do a thing unless you tell them. I'm able to sit back and let them get to work on their own." Free will meant they did what they wanted, but at least they did something. Lamuxes were notorious for plateauing for hundreds of years with out progress.
"On their own? You've had this one meditating under a Bodhi tree for months now. What's he doing that so important?" Lord Lamux never saw the benefit of individuals and relied almost entirely on group efforts as formed his society. This had worked well as the group consistently created reliable results. But lately God's apes had a few breakthroughs. "And even when they do important things they do them for stupid reasons. Why the hell do they keep going back to Mars? Do they think they missed something? And they're accepting gay marriage for tax and health care purposes!"
"Let them do their thing and find their way." God knew that if they learned to come to terms with each other and their place that when they finally met Lord Lumoxes puppets in their travels that they would more easily learn to accept them... or enslave them.
| 2016-04-09T08:11:27 | 2016-04-09T08:09:07 | 30 | 17 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower based on the topography of where they were born (IE: Mountains, deserts, etc.). You are the first person to be born in space.
Think Avatar the Last Airbender but not so limited.
Edit: Wow this really blew up! I'm gonna be entertained for a while! | The Aquas are always so stuck up. Rich bastards who could afford to give birth on the ocean. You can tell that they just think they are God's gift, all because they can do cool shit at pool parties. Most people are just Terras. Not really useful in day to day life, but some great artists have benefited from their powers. It's pretty rare to come across a field that hasn't been messed with in some way, by some Terra or other.
There are rumors of Chernobyl babies. Every government tries to deny it, but that's just crazy enough for somebody to do. I can't imagine the super villain that would emerge from *that* vagina.
You have your various Sand-people. Nobody mentions them that much. Mostly because they couldn't think of a cooler name than Sand-people.
It's rumored that mountain folk are more powerful Terras than plain folk, but I think it's all just a bunch of B.S. Tourism nonsense most likely.
There are some Eskimos, but they mostly keep to themselves.
Then there's me.
I can't go a day without odd looks. It sounds like hippy nonsense that you can tell a person's power by their 'aura' or whatever, but it seems like people are always noticing me.
As I sit in this coffee shop, I can feel the prying eyes. *What's wrong with that dude?* I try to ignore it.
"Abysseues?" The inquiry rings through the shop. People snicker. I hate my parents. What the fuck am I supposed to shorten it to, Abby?
I stand up, and the snickering stops. All eyes are on me as I walk to the counter, and pick up my coffee. I turn back around. A group of Terras are behind me.
"Can I have your autograph?" one of them asks. I sigh.
"Sure. You got a pen?"
They fumble through their collective pockets. I tap my foot impatiently. They finally produce a pen. They hand it to me, and look expectantly.
"What do you want me to sign?" I ask, irritated.
They paw at themselves again. I sigh again.
"Listen, I've got to get to a wedding in 40 minutes." I lie.
They look a little disappointing at the lack of sign-able things. One of them visibly has an idea.
"Alright fine, but could you show us?" he asks excitedly.
I am tempted to sigh a third time.
"It's not really safe..." I trail off. They don't move. *What the hell?* I think. *Maybe this will get them to go away.*
I raise my hands. It is not necessary, but I am a showman. There is a shift in the air. A slight pull is felt by all. A small black hole has opened in the center of the room. I even cook in some special effects, to make sort of a light show around the room. I do like this part, but I'm not an idiot. The strain I show is not an act. I have to focus incredibly hard not to destroy the surrounding area. Hell, maybe even the world. Black holes aren't really something you should fuck with, believe me.
The group moves toward the hole, oohing and awing. The coffee shop is now in a state of total amazement, as the people who had been staring at me before finally realized who I was, and what was happening. Everyone crowds around the hole.
I can't take the strain anymore, and stop. I almost fall forwards. There is a round of applause. I collect myself, breathing more evenly. I look up. The crowd has moved forward to me. Some of them have small pieces of paper, and are jutting forward pens at me.
*Shit.* I think. I contemplate ending it all. Summoning a black hole that I make no effort to control. I would never do it, of course, but it feels good to think about.
I sigh a third time as I take the nearest pen.
___
/r/Periapoapsis | "Hey, look, it's the *astronaut*!"
"Ah yes, our savior with the powers of the cosmos!"
There were snickers from the posse Mark had around him, leaning against my locker. The guy was your stereotypical asshole. Ugly face, huge teeth, tall, well built, you know the like, the kind you would find in your local Bullies-R-Us. Normally I just ignored the "Camels" as they called themselves, but not today. Maybe it was the calculus exam I had just absolutely bombed, or maybe the pressure had built up for long enough and I had to burst. The why doesn't matter, really., what mattered is what I did.
I scowled and snapped, "Big talk coming from the guys who can make the air temperature increase." I waved my hands and said in a high pitched voice "Oh god save me, I'm sweating, those dastardly Camels!" Bold words from someone with absolutely no powers, but regardless, I shook my head and continued in my normal voice, "Fuck off, prick, I need to get my textbooks," and with that I *shoved* him out of the way. Shoved.
Me, the barely 100 pound 5 foot 6 guy, shoved Mark, the mountain.
I will say this though, the look on his face was priceless in that moment. He couldn't quite believe what had just happened. His lips were parted and his eyes were wide, he looked like something out of a cartoon.
This was funny for exactly 0.2 seconds. After which he punched me in the face.
One second, I was savoring the look on Mark's face, the next I was savoring the cold floor against my cheek. I held my hand against my mouth and it came away red with blood. I stared at it for a moment, my eyes wide, and then someone kicked my in the shin. I howled and curled into the fetal position on the ground.
"You, fucking nobody!" Mark said between kicks, "You *touch* me, you ain't fit to lick the soles of my feet, you pathetic shit!" He stopped kicking for a moment, and I looked up at him. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring with each breath.
"I-" I managed, before coughing up blood.
"Hmm," Mark said, grinning, "you got something to say?" He leaned in closer to hear me better.
"I- I didn-" I said before I started coughing again.
"Jeez, Leo, we ain't got all day, just apologize to Mark, and we'll be done with this," one of the Camels said.
"I didn't know-" I said.
Mark gestured for me to continue.
"That you could kick and talk at the same time," I finished.
There was some poorly suppressed laughter from the camels. But one look from Mark and they cut off immediately. Then he looked at me with pure murder in his eyes.
I closed my eyes. *You've fucking done it Leo, you and your big mouth,* I thought to myself.
There was a yell and suddenly a wave of heat washed over me, as if I were in an oven. The Camels were cooking me alive.
But it vanished as soon as it had come. There was the sound of running, and then one pair of footsteps. Someone, put their hands under me.
"Come on, you have to get up, we have to get you to the nurse," said a soft voice.
I finally found the strength to open my eyes, and all I could do was not to gape. An angel had saved me. An avenging angel with fire for hair. "...My Angel" I managed in my infinite charm.
She laughed. It was a pure, crystalline sound, "Just Lisa is fine," she said, as she helped me to my feet, as if I didn't know. Everyone in the world knew who Lisa was. She was a prodigy, one of the most powerful people in the world, because she was born in, wait for it, a volcano.
Yep. A fucking volcano.
"You used fire back there?" I asked as we walked through the hallways - though it was mostly Lisa doing the walking. Lisa, unlike the Camels, was a bonafide badass; she could control real fire, not just air temperature like the Camels, she could summon fire from thin air.
"Mnhm," she said, "you must have really pissed them off, Leo."
We'd never talked before, but I too was almost as famous as Lisa, the boy born in space, the one supposed to be born with cosmic powers. In fact, being born in space gave you jack shit. At least the camels would never freeze to death, I had absolutely nothing. No powers at all.
"Must've been my charm" I said, with a grin. Seeing the horrified look on her face I imagined how much of a bloody mess my teeth must be, I stopped.
But she just laughed. "Ah yes, I can see how that might have gotten them riled up."
And leaning against Lisa, joking with her, hearing her laugh, I figured maybe shoving Mark wasn't the worst decision of my life.
***
Check out my [sub](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) if you enjoyed!
| 2017-04-14T16:32:13 | 2017-04-14T16:01:20 | 457 | 229 |
[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute. | This one had been a long time coming - far longer than I ever thought possible.
We'd met on a battlefield millennia ago, both surprised to find out that our strikes did not harm the other. It was the first, and only, other immortal I'd ever encountered.
It was the start of a beautiful friendship.
Naturally, being immortals, we'd try to find new ways to amuse ourselves as the time went by. Our practical jokes seemed the perfect way to do this, and they started getting more elaborate as our friendship grew. The fall of Rome was one we took a bit too far, we both agreed.
But as I looked out the window and saw the rocky expanse below, I felt excitement I hadn't experienced in centuries.
For as long as I'd known him, he'd always wanted to be at the forefront of space travel. It made sense, really; he knew he'd have to be able to traverse the stars if he had any hope of truly enjoying being alive forever.
I remember sitting next to him while he eagerly watched the moon landing. He knew it would just be another century or so until we'd finally be able to visit Mars, and he looked at me with joy. Actual joy. That was a rare sight.
When the time finally came, me, being his best friend, naturally wanted to join him for the ride. We volunteered to be the first two on the 'suicide trip' there, and the world rejoiced. We'd generally hidden from the public spotlight, but he said that we couldn't avoid this one. This time, the whole world would be watching us.
Nearing our destination, I deviated from our landing spot. I hoped he wouldn't notice.
"Where are you going?" he asked, staring out of the window. His leg was shaking, like it did every time he was excited.
"Oh, come on," I replied with a smirk, "I'm letting you take the first steps on Mars, the least you can do is let me take a little detour."
I reached the site, carefully landing the spacecraft. He'd already unfastened his seat belts. I'd never seen him so eager.
The doors slowly opened, and he prepared himself to be the first man on Mars. He looked back at me, gave a thumbs-up, then took a step forward.
Then stopped.
He'd noticed a massive structure, looming over the spacecraft.
He stared at it. There was no denying it.
It was a statue of something.
Of some*one*.
I grinned, trying to suppress my laughter.
See, while we were both immortal - I'd been alive *far* longer than he ever was.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | In the beginning, we started small- pranks like flies in the mead, or sawing off swords at the hilt before a battle. My personal favorite was paying off the whores to shit under the sheets during the act, but that's another story for another day. And I have plenty of days left.
Once, one of us even played dead, though no one believed him, of course. We all knew we were immortal, with one stipulation, that any use of technology would strip us of the power.
That was the one rule, the one limitation- we inherited our immortality from the gods of old, and just as technology killed them, so too would it kill us. So we froze ourselves before the industrial revolution, confining ourselves away from the rest of society. Some of us left for deserted islands in the pacific, knowing that so much as a button press would send brother death a hint of our scent. Others departed deep into the Amazon, where even today they persist. But the rest of us, about fifteen in all, started a religion and convinced others to join us, mortals who built our society.
Together, we built the farms, we set our rules, and we created families. And together, we never progressed farther than the horse carriage. Gears were forbidden, electricity a near curse word, engines driven more by math than mathematics.
You may have heard of us, or even seen us as we drive our buggies along the road. And you probably know us by our simple name.
The Amish.
Confined forever to menial tasks, to the back of the scientific curve, forever.
And today, in 2017, I'd decided I'd finally had enough. Because today, Jebediah went too far with a prank.
"Cow pies in the churn!" He chuckled as I sliced into a brick of butter that appeared normal on the outside, but was marbled with manuer on the inside, "What's that, Jakob, the eightieth time? And you always fall for it! Wait til Gideon gets a load of this, last time he nearly choked on his milk! It was udderly hilarious!"
He wiped his tears away with his beard, letting the laughter flow easily, leaning against a barn wall we had erected only days before.
"It's so easy with you, Jakob!" He continued, as I grit my teeth, listening to the same speech I had heard hundreds of times throughout the last century alone, one that had finally started to wear away even my thick skin, "So gullible, you think you one of your pranks would be successful! But last time I checked, you were pretty far behind!"
He laughed again, and turned to walk away. And I snapped- even I couldn't take another minute of it, of living without plumbing, of walking when we could drive, of dealing with the hard way of doing things. I'd held it together all these years, but now it was time to put an end to it.
"Hey, Jebediah!" I called after him, "About being pretty far behind on pranks. I have a confession- five hundred years ago I lied about something, planting the idea in all our heads, after you pulled this *very same* butter prank, because it was just as stupid back then as it is now. Technology has no impact on us- we can live perfectly fine with it."
Jebediah rolled his eyes, and waved a hand to dismiss the thought. So I reached into my pocket for the Rolls Royce key I had sewed into the lining, walked to my "garage barn" that was my private house, and laid on the horn as I carved a path into his corn field.
And completed the greatest prank in, well, living memory.
********
By Leo
[For more of my work, check out my story about a starship stranded in deep space](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4uuvir/wp_after_almost_1000_years_the_population_of_a/d5t4uu1/) | 2017-06-22T19:56:41 | 2017-06-22T19:24:49 | 5,933 | 4,256 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | "What the fuck" I thought to myself. This job was supposed to be boring, given my... powers. This wasn't supposed to happen.
See, I was a bouncer at a bar. I wasn't the most imposing person but I had a unique trait. I could tell anyone's age without seeing a license. The numbers just kind of floated above their heads. I realized I was special at a young age when I asked my fourth grade teacher, mrs. Jimenez, why the new boy was three years older than all of us. We had to have a special meeting with the counselor and my parents. It freaked them out pretty bad when I was able to tell the counselor that I knew she was seven years older than she said (looking back I think she was trying to start a relationship with one of the younger teachers). It took a couple of years to learn to not notice and just live life but I managed to find a way to use it to my advantage when I got this job.
I streamlined the front door, no wasting time carding people, usually I just stood next to Big Jake (he was a left tackle at the local college and an absolute mountain of a man) and told the underage kids to leave before they wasted our time.
Tonight was terrifying though. We expected a rough crowd once a month when we hosted fight night. It was common practice in rural Midwestern towns, usually one or two bars would set up a ring and let local fighters put on the nights entertainment. Typically fight night made us sell out of pbr and bud light, with exactly the crowd you'd expect. We always had to break up two or three extra curricular fights but it was no big deal to me, I never did the dirty work, I protected our liquor license.
This man terrified me though, four digits were hovering over his head. I leaned into Jake and whispered "something's wrong, ask that guy for I.d." The man didn't look strange, except his hair was straight out of the 80's, mutton chop sideburns and all. He wore a leather jacket over jeans.
The expression on Jakes face was pure confusion. He asked the man and he pulled out a Canadian passport, which was strange. It said he was in his 50s, which was also strange because he didn't look a day over 32. I didn't know what to do so we let him in.
He caused no problems, he came to fight and ended up winning two matches and pocketed 200 bucks, drank two beers and left. He barely said a word. The next day I tried to put him out of my mind. By a week later I had gotten past the shock of it and tried to move on, but the next day life got really strange.
I was home for dinner with my parents when the doorbell rang. They answered and several minutes later my mother shouted for me to come into the sitting room. An old man in a wheelchair was sitting there and behind him stood five people, on of whom was the 1000 year old fighter. I was shaken as the old man began to speak, "hello James, my name is Charles Xavier. I believe you've already met my companion Logan..." | I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
If you enjoyed, consider subscribing to my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/ChocolateChipWp/)! Critiques and suggestions are appreciated as well!
| 2022-05-25T21:41:20 | 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 1,321 | 223 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits. | One knows when they're in the presence of something ancient. A turn of phrase, the way their gaze meets yours, the way the air around them hangs, as though to communicate an unspoken form of reverence. Or fear. Simple folk like to trade their wives tales, attempts at justifying the things that exist just outside their conceptions. Makes them feel better.
I wonder what they'd say about me.
But my gift, a paltry glimpse into the age of those who cross my path, is nothing compared to the man- er, woman? Hard to tell after so many years. Anyway. Is nothing compared to the figure who comes, every eight months like clockwork, to visit our humble distillery. The first time I met them I thought, sure. Someone's slipped me something. Just because I can see the age of things doesn't make me immune to tampering. And I've been at this for a few decades.
All this to say, the first time I met the man (at the time) who saved my life, I had difficulty believing he was nearly four-thousand years old.
"Been around a while, then?"
"Oh, I dread to think."
"What brings you 'round the Juicy Jailer then?"
"It really wasn't my decision. Just passing through, I suppose."
"Not much inside worth your time, I'd think."
"Well. You'd be surprised what I find when I'm not looking."
Turned out he was right, as later that evening we learned the distillery had been housing an underground warehouse what took people and stuffed 'em into tin suits. Sy-buh whatitsorsomething' he called them. Made this dreadful, monotonous speech about "upgrading" everyone. But quick as a flash, this man had done them in and cleared out just as quickly as he'd come. I asked for his name, but he gave me his vocation instead. Weird bloke.
But you never can tell with Time Lords, can you?
| 2021-11-13T01:48:11 | 2017-09-01T23:22:02 | 585 | 62 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | It's gotta be....
It's a vampire.
I looked right into the eyes of the 4 digit freaked, took a step back into the doorway and said
"You, you are not allowed inside this building, or my home."
He said something quietly to his friends and they started calling me names but I didn't care.
A week later I thought it was a bad dream, something that didn't happen, I didn't want to think of it.
A month later I was convinced it was a dream.
Four years later I saw the same man when I left a bar on a Saturday night.
That was 68 years ago, my number just hit triple digits. | She looked thin, an average girl, she shifted her weight as her high heel strap dug uncomfortably into the back of her ankle. She bent down to readjust the strap. My mind was racing and I could feel my body become aware of that I knew nothing about the situation about to enfold between us. Thin soft curls covered her eyes as she rose to meet my widened stare. She instantly knew I could tell she was different, our eyes locked and I felt every fear and trepidation pass from me. She smiled, her face softening as she seemed to download every thing I've ever felt seen or heard. "Danny," she whispered, although I don't remember her mouth moving, "I'm tired, I've been on a century shift and I just want to have some fun." I let her pass through. Honestly something about her absolutely terrified me even though I felt a calm blanket surrounding my physical body. She made me feel like I was standing in front of the biggest mountain or tree Id ever seen. A small part of me wanted to fall to my knees and pray to her to spare me from whatever she was capable of if pushed to wrath. I didn't though, I just numbly went through the rest of the night. Anxiously peeking in to see if I could tell what she was doing. At closing time she walked out following a regular I'd seen many times. A tall guy that brought many girls to the club and none of them looked to happy to be leaving with him after. Id heard he was a bad guy, a date raper, machismo bully and so on. This time her stride was confident, her eyes locked on the back of his head as she trailed him like a coyote. She winked at me as she strode by. "Bonus" she whispered. As they walked away my guts twisted into knots as I observed the guys number start to tick down. | 2021-11-13T01:48:11 | 2017-09-02T00:03:35 | 585 | 10 |
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