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[WP] You are God, and you wanted to experience life as a human to see how you would turn out. In order to do that you became a baby that was born and you made yourself forget that you are God until your 30th birthday. It's your 30th birthday and you are a serial killer waiting for his death penalty.
Edit: Holy shit I wrote this and went straight to bed, I'm going to read all of your replies now, thank you. This is my first writing prompt, I'm so glad you guys liked it. | Ah, I said to myself, so they don't like it when you do that.
I had perfect memory in that moment, my transcendence repurposing my powers as I saw fit according to my holy whims. I could feel the blood dripping down my hands, each life taken no less recent to my mind than the present. The screams, the emotions flushing across their faces, even the chemical computers coursing through their veins as open to me as my own thoughts.
Funny, though, they didn't always get so upset about it. I guess it gets harder over time.
Where was my notebook again?... —ah!
I scribbled my findings down below the other notes.
`6. Thou shalt not kill.`
The clock reset and I settled in for another round. This was going to be a good one, I could feel it.
| "Here you go, your holiness MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The guard threw the plate into my cell causing all the mashed potatoes to splatter all over. Well, not that I need any of that gunck. I invented root vegetable as my version of fast food. Quick, easy and cheap. Who knew it would get so popular in less then a thousand years!
Still that guard needs to be taught a lesson. Lets see how he likes his next pint tasting of blood.
It is understandable however. Being a serial killer on death row I suddenly come to the revolution that "Ops, by the way. I'm god ya all. Little g but still a god. I just decided to walk a mile in my creation's shoes for 30 years before I woke up to my true self. How about opening those doors and letting me out huh?"
Could have phrased that better but fuck it. I'm god. I can say and do what I want and you all better pucker up and kiss my behind for it... Probably why I ended up on death row now that I think about it. Serial killer my butt, so I smited a few bugs here and there. Nothing compared to my teen years let me tell you. You take a 2000 year break and everyone puts you on a pedestal forgetting all the bad and sugar coating the good.
Well, guess it's time to press the reset button. Lets see, the flood didn't work and the locus were annoying to deal with later... I'll just go old school and use a meteor. Worked with those ungrateful giant chickens!
Going to spare one species for the do over. I think I'll go with Mice this time. Me knows they're all over this dump and were the only ones to bring me offerings since I woke up. Mice it is!
But first I think I'll have some fun before I go. Now, who can I place as president that will make this as entertaining as possible for me.... Found him!
And the winner of the 2016 election is!!! | 2018-11-22T19:03:39 | 2018-11-22T17:29:23 | 980 | 10 |
[WP] The world's most powerful leaders enter cryostasis as the world is on the brink of ecological collapse, planning to return when stability is assured. Hundreds of years later they are woken to stand trial. "The world was fixed while these men slept. An apology will not suffice". | "You were our leaders. Leaders of Government. Corporations. Military. Leaders in power, in wealth, in combat. You were supposed to *lead*. Be examples that we should aspire to. But the people grew tired of your corruption. Your greed. Your warmongering. So you were tricked into leaving of your own free will. We used your pride, your money and your arrogance. And while you slept, this is the world we created without *you*. Without your interference, without your personal ambition, without your lust for strength. We now live in a society that has no place for people like you. You were only woken up so we could deliver a message, and show you the world as you *should* have made it be.
Your long sleep is over. Your permanent sleep is at hand." | They slept, we fought. We all fucking fought!
It’s been 300 years since the environment turned on us in this world, couldn’t really blame her either, I mean what we did for hundreds of years taking and poisoning this illustrious paradise into a wasteland.
I’ve always wondered why. I read the diaries and entries from different families I’ve come across from the past few centuries, all point to money and power. What a funny bunch of commodities.
There were wars and power grabs at first, none of them lasted long people were fed up at a bunch of bumbling idiots telling them how to live what to believe blah blah blah.
What really took the cake though, oh what a scene it was, when all the diseases came back, the plagues the inevitable droughts the starvation the storms that followed caused by all the taking and polluting.
We were the virus, the plague, that was being corrected by the host!
Humankind started to “bounce back” as you would say, although it took about a hundred years and over three quarters of the population was eradicated.
When they knew it was safe to come out that the extreme weather and freak storms no longer posed a threat and started subsiding in size and power. Everyone knew what had to be done to make it last forever as you may say.
Society no longer wanted to be governed, currencies no longer needed, fuel and food sources are what the planet generated for us for free, fuck what a thought. Free!
Everyone contributes something now a days no charge, there is no need for it. Some say it’s a “utopia”. We’re far from it, we are human after all. We still have drives and desires that turn us wild and rabid like a hog but even then we know what we must not ever do again.
People like you all are what destroyed the world you once knew, we will not let you roam this world, we will not let your voices be heard, we will not let your influences be entertained. No no no you will die as you should have died centuries ago.
| 2019-02-03T20:24:27 | 2019-02-03T12:08:22 | 1,678 | 168 |
[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.) | You'd think that the ability to use any tool to get the job done would be wonderful, even at the expense of the exactly right tool failing - I mean, there's like, tops, 5 'right' tools for any job, and literally thousands of 'wrong' tools, right?
Have a job that revolves around fixing viruses on computers? Hit them with a fork. The virus scan then comes up clean.
Need to build a new chair when you don't have anything resembling nails, and you've only got metal scraps? A fire extinguisher will do just fine - just spray the pile of scrap until you can't see anything, wait for the contents to disperse, and bam, chair.
Your house catches fire? Go borrow a construction crane, and pull the house up and shake it a bit, and the fire's gone, just like that.
​
But everyone forgets the basic rules for builders, the term 'builders' just being broad enough that it applies to pretty much everything. Or that it just applies to everything, but people just refer to it as the rules for 'builders' as a joke.
To always use the right tool for the job.
That the right tool for the job is a hammer.
And that anything can be used as a hammer. | There's a certain irony to my life that isn't lost on me-- all the things I should be able to do, things typical people can do with ease, are impossible for me no matter how hard I try. They'd tell me to smile and keep at it, that I'd get there one day, but I knew none of it was true. I'm just made differently than they are, and it seems like they won't ever understand it.
It took a while for me to realize that's okay.
For quite some time, I wallowed in my woeful shortcomings, in the things I couldn't do because I was made differently than them, the things I couldn't be a part of. My friends would go out and have fun but I'd stay at home because I knew somehow, some way, the night would end up with my issues at the center. I would slip up and do something stupid, and they'd laugh, then they'd apologize and tell me to cheer up as if the words themselves would be enough to undo something woven into my very being.
And then one day, like something of magic and movies, I met a woman who understood.
"They always tell me it'll get better, and to cheer up," she told me the night we met, "but they don't understand that it's not that simple. I don't need to be told it'll be better, I need to be shown. I need someone to be there and just get it, not explain why I'm doing things wrong when I already know and beat myself up about it."
I can't explain with words the way my heart suddenly felt like its holes had been patched. To meet someone that understood what I felt perfectly.
She was my pillar, and I was hers.
She taught me that it's not about trying to pretend I can learn to use things their intended ways, but about how I can find ways to misuse what I've been given to stumble my way through life.
She showed me that it's okay to fuck things up, because we all do. It's human nature, hard-wired in us, and so is the fight to make things work anyway.
I am broken, yes.
I don't operate the same way you do.
But, in the end, I still get there somehow, paving my own path through life's jungle-- even if it makes no sense to you.
You make no sense to me, either.
And that's perfectly fine, isn't it?
----
*/r/resonatingfury* | 2019-05-27T23:16:55 | 2019-05-27T21:04:44 | 276 | 137 |
[WP] A family of the strongest super villains in the world was fighting over dinner. Apparently, the daughter is now dating a hero. | 'Who is it? I'll kill him!.' Vole suggested, steam wafing out of his ears. 'No damned hero will touch my sister and live.'
'Cool it, Vole.' Father demanded, tapping the side of his metal mask. 'You dont want to overheat the head and be stuck like this too.'
'Did you hear her? A hero! Not an alien, not a civil. A hero!' Vole snapped. His face was turning red.
'I heard her!' Father growled. His mask turned to me. I rose a brow to him, my arms crossed.
'You will stop seeing whoever it is as of now. You will be regulated to your chamber and you will tell us their name as well as their identity. This cannot be allowed to go unpunished.' Father said. I snorted.
'Yeah right. Who calibrates the shields? Who sets up the cameras? Who designed our security system? Who does upkeep on your mechanical components?' I challenged. My brother and Father were silent apart from a loud whistling from Voles ears. I rolled my eyes and waved my hand to him, iced air melting on contact with his face, cooling him down.
'And who keeps your son from accidentally killing himself? You act like this is a power. It's a medical condition! One you DESIGNED me to fix.' I continued.
'Yes, I created you! You have responsibilities and a role-' Father spat.
I laughed. I laughed so hard the room went cold. I laughed so hard the table had frost on it.
'What you did was give me power. Power over every inch of your life. Your home. Your body. Your future. What you did was put me in charge then act like you had the reins.' I said.
'Are you threatening us, Whisp?' Vole rumbled.
'No. I dont need to. The trap is already set.' I pressed a button on my wireless control bracelet. The skylight opened.
'Why could you have been gay or something? Why a hero?' Father groaned, scrambling to find a weapon.
'Well...' I said, pointing up. My family looked to the open roof.
A craze of red hair and curves was hovering in the opening. Her outfit black leather and a smirk visible under a half face mask.
With them distracted by their rage, I pushed my power stronger than I ever had and froze my family in place. My girlfriend swooped down and lifted me. She looked around and chuckled.
'Went that well, huh?' She asked as we flew away. I pressed the button on my bracelet again, closing the skylight. This would be their prison. For now.
'They would have killed you.'I said flatly.
'They have tried before,' she reminded me.
'Its different.' I mumbled, kissing along her jaw and leaving small crystal lip marks.
'No,' she said, grinning. 'YOU'RE different.' | "Count Tyranical, you better back the fuck up before you find the fuck out." Doomlord Junior said.
"Language, Dominic." Doomlord Senior said sternly.
"Brother, twice, the pride, double the-"
"Don't finish it, Mark. Don't you dare-"
"Boys." Doomlord Senior may have been retired, but his voice was as commanding as ever. "Put your squabbles aside. We're here for my granddaughter."
"Please, Honey." Mistress Madness, Doomlord's wife, spoke up. "Let's hear her out."
"I have nothing to hear! A hero? Really?!"
"Maybe's she's pulling the stunt I did, remember when I tricked that impressionable sidekick, turned him to our side? Super emotional battle against his old mentor?" Mistress Madness let slip a maniacal laugh over her memories of manipulation.
Doomlord Jr.'s eyes lit up. "Really! Well damn, she had me fooled to! You should have just said so!"
"I'm not betraying Emily!" Mary, referred to by her villain family as Nightfall, yelled in her defense before she realized her mistake.
"Emily?" Her mother asked.
"Well, uh," Mary started fidgeting, looking down at her lap. "Her hero name is Atlas, cause she wants to bear the world's pain on her shoulders, it's super touching really, and I guess you couldn't tell by her suit, it's not super revealing, unlike some other heroines, not that I'll complain about it, but she mentioned it can get kinda cold sometimes in just spandex, so she had her suit changed early in her career, I put my sweater around her when she first told me that, we were on a rooftop together..." she mumbled on about her, something she got from her mother. Mistress Madness had lost many a fight because of her tendency to monologue.
Count Tyranical looked disgusted. "Look at you, Doomlord! She didn't even have the confidence to tell you it was a women!"
Doomlord was hurt. "Tyranical, you know as well as I do that professionals have standards! Love who you love! It's the hero part that I hate unconditionally!"
"Maybe it's just a phase." Suggested Elenore, Count Tyranical's wife. Not a super villain, but definitely a super person, if you asked the Count. "Back when I was her age, I had my own rebellious streak." She winked at Mistress Madness. They had their adventures together back in the day. They ended up riding two different waves, but the love was still there.
"No! I really do like her!" Elenore grasped her heart as the sincerity in her voice pierced her. When she wasn't being bashful, her father's emotional nature really shown through. Elenore made a note to try and counsel Mary later, hoping her experience as a regular human married to a super villain might be of some help.
"Honey, Nightfall, dear, I get it, I really do, but try and understand how your Dad must feel." Mistress Madness began comforting her daughter.
"Your mother's right, you know! How do you expect to be a super villain while dating a hero!"
"WELL THEN MAYBE I DON'T WANT TO BE A VILLAIN!" Mary yelled, getting up and storming off to her room.
Gasps went around the table, which was particularly dangerous due to Count Tyranical's presence, as his superhuman lungs drew in quite a bit of air. Doomlord Senior, who was sitting next to him, started wheezing. Doomlord Junior put his head in his hands, and Mistress Madness wrapped an arm around him. His anger having subsided, he started sobbing.
"What did I do wrong? What did I say?" He said through sniffs and tears.
"Nothing, dear. It's alright. We'll figure it out."
"Well, looking back on it," Doomlord Senior began, "I can see why that might be her decision. I didn't much care for villainy either." The statement started another argument at the table while Mary texted Emily in her room with her new phone. Doomlord Senior couldn't help but spoil her. | 2020-06-04T11:51:14 | 2020-06-04T10:55:18 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | In a flash all the contestants were ready. 34 creatures from 34 different planets around the galaxy, all known for their exceptional violence, ruthlessness, and physical prowess... All except one.
Every cycle, the Great One chooses the same 34 species, and every cycle another one of the pathetic humans are torn to shreds, melted into a puddle, or driven mad by the mere sight of the competition. Two appendages for manipulation, two for movement, at least half or sometimes even a third as many as most of the participants. Yet time and time again, the Great One throws them into the pit.
Most of us think it's a joke, a test, a low bar, an example of the minimum requirement to even be considered for the Games. But SOME of us know better. From eons of watching these games, I've seen these humans change, just slightly. Gone is the thick brow and body hair, replaced with simple textiles. Plant-Fiber tools slowly replaced with stone, then basic metals. Last Cycle, we even had one with what seemed to be a primitive combat suit, clad in strong alloy, and wielding a weapon it very much knew how to use.
This was no match for the other contestants, of course, but some of the craftier ones among us started to recognize the pattern... This was the year we really doubled down. If a fully clad soldier had been the last human, then surely this one would be formidable.
Which is why my soul sank when I saw what I'd bet my fortune on. The armor was all but entirely missing. A simple helmet and chest plating? A weapon without a single slicing edge in sight? Not even a point, just a hollow metal tube...
The alarm sounded, the cages fell, and I had all but given up. Right at the start, the Quadruple Pincered Cephalopod of Talkon-5 slithered its way towards this pathetic excuse of a creature, sure to be bisected before I could even blink... That's when the first series of small explosions rang out across the arena... And the Cephalopod was reduced to what the humans would call "Chunky Salsa".
I don't think anyone expected a projectile weapon, especially not one powered by handheld explosive force. What kind of idiot race would make weapons that explode that close them? Though to its credit, we've never had a faster winner in the games. | Oh god. I have no internet so let’s try writing this from my phone. Sorry in advance for typos and punctuation. Already hard enough on the phone but I also got fat thumbs! Best I can get with a quick and dirty write up on the bus!
“Are the contestants ready?”
“Of course Game Master Zerg. Right on time. We have a line up from several different galaxys.”
“And a human?”
“Good! Proceed post haste! You can’t find entertainment like this else where and the people are waiting!”
The arena looked like a scrunched up map. Forests sat next to deserts, desserts next to snowy plains and ice topped mountains and so on. It was the Game Masters goal to encapsulate as many environments as he could, to allow all the fighters a place to move naturally.
Zeg focused his screen on a human who stood on a grassy hillock, flanked by a river, and speckled with trees. The humans always died first, but they could get pretty creative while attempting to live. They where like a firework, short lived but spectacular.
This one was a bit odd though. It was covered from head to toe in green armor, a large Warhammer in his grasp. It mattered not though, an Xixliv was stalking the human. This 6 lumber creature where apex predators as well as being fully sapient. A mix of instinct and critical thought.
Zeg sighed, the human this year probably wouldn’t be very entertaining. He watched the Xixliv pounce.
The human however was ready, they wheeled around shouting “FOR THE GLORY OF DUNDEE!” While swing his might hammer. It collided with the Xixliv with a sickening crunch. The hammer flashed, thunder struck and half of the beats body was atomized. What was left of its mangled carcass flew through the air before hitting the ground in an unceremonious heap.
Zeg sat stunned. He watched the human raise his hammer to the sky. “Zagothrax! What kind of joke is this! Come and fight me you damnable wizard!”
Zeg was mid throught caught between wondering who or what a Zagothrax was, and how the human managed to beat a Xixliv in one hit? His pondering was interrupted as the entire structure of the planet sized ship, the contained the arena, shook. Alarms blazed.
Zeg flicked several switches and demanded a status report.
“W-w...Idono sir. We are under attack...but this...this can’t be possible.”
“Out with it you bumbling oaf!”
“ We are being attacked by just one person...bio scans indicate that it’s heart is...a Neutron Star. It’s currently making its way to the arena.”
“A Neutron Star? This isn’t the time for jokes. Get security down to the arena doors. I will meet this invader myself!”
Before Zeg had the chance to stand, he watched the walls of the arena blow open from his observation room. The smoke and debris settled revealing what looks to be a muscled, finely toned man, garbed in furs of various beasts, caring nothing more than a battle axe.
“Angus! What are you doing here? We have no time for games!” The man shouted.
“Hootsman! Thank goodness! I believe this to be a trap set by the wizard.”
“ Its nothing of the sort! Quickly with me! We must return to space! The chaos wizards move on Cowdenbeath!”
The two figures quickly fled through the hole in the arena. Leaving Zeg stunned and sputtering commands into his microphone. | 2020-09-13T19:20:37 | 2020-09-13T18:50:43 | 69 | 23 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to stop time, but only temporarily. You can stop time for as five seconds. One day, at 33 years old, you stop time. As you move through your crowded office, you notice one of your coworkers's fingers twitch. | It was nothing like I had expected. I thought it would be a sharp stinging pain, but instead it just felt sore. Almost as if I had been punched.
I cried out in pain. “WRYYYYYY!”
The old lady across the yard dropped the bow she was holding.
“Oh goodness! I am so sorry, I did not see you walking across the range!” She said, her eyes wide with shock as she hobbled towards me.
Through the tears I laughed, and nearly waved my arm until I remembered there was an arrow embedded three inches into it. “It’s ok, it was partly my fault too. I shouldn’t have been walking across the range in the first place ma’am.”
“No no no no! This won’t do at all! I can’t believe I’ve done this!” The old lady continued to wail.
Luckily, the paramedics arrived before I got sick of reassuring the old lady that I was fine. Despite arrow injuries not being very common, they were able to take me to the hospital where I was discharged within a day. Sounds fairly normal right? Yeah, that’s because it gets interesting from here.
On my way home I walked through the bustling market in the city of Cairo, taking in the lights and smells that I could never get sick of. So much so that I began feeling peckish, as Hospital food was not exactly delectable. I passed by a bread store and saw the most delicious looking bread I had ever seen. It made me think about how many breads I had eaten in my life and what could possibly top them all. Walking towards the store, I reached into my pocket only for my heart to sink. I didn’t have my wallet on me. I looked at the bread again, and saw it’s soft fluffy insides and crispy outside.
*If only I could stop time. I could just take that piece of bread without anyone noticing.* I thought
The bustling noise was the first thing I noticed. I had walked through this market many, many times and not once had it been silent. I took my eyes away from the bread and stood up straighter. None of the people were moving. A butterfly was frozen in midair. And the bread store owners eyes... lifeless and unfocused. As a man who doesn’t question things because there’s no point in doing so, I took the bread from the table. Someone, or something had given me this chance so I would not waste it. Time had, well, time had stopped. Around me. Just me. What was I? God?
From that day on, I continued to experiment with this newfound ability. Despite having an amazing power, I could only stop time for five seconds. No matter how much I used my power, five seconds was always the limit. Life got boring. It was amazing at first, but it had become a usual part of life. I would only use it for petty things, like stealing or saving time. I mean, what could you do with only five seconds? That is, until, that one fateful day.
I arrived at work on time, and sat down at my desk. I saw that my coworker had brought in his Dalmatian. Annoying dog it was, always letting it’s tongue hang out of it’s mouth as it ran around the office. I sighed and paused time, slowly rising from my chair.
*How should I kill it?* I thought *Maybe burn it? That would be nice.*
Chills went down my entire body as all the hairs on my body stood up. “Tha- that’s not possible” I stammered.
My coworker’s finger had twitched. It was only for a second, but I saw it. I know I saw it twitch. Time began to move again.
My coworker turned to face me, his gold chain jangling against his coat. “I see that your power is the same type as mine.”
My eyes narrowed. “I don’t care about whether or not you have my power, but I won’t let you stop me from burning that dog.”
My coworker began to walk towards me.
“Oh? You’re approaching me?” I asked. “Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me?”
“I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.” He replied.
“OH HOOO! Then come as close as you like.”
——
You guys have probably noticed that I am not a writer, and you’re right. I have literally never written a story before apart from in high school English, I just wanted to have some fun and make a jojo reference. I hope you guys enjoyed! | For years, I thought my talent was useless. What good were five seconds in the grand scheme of time?
Everything changed that day.
It was my birthday. I was turning 33, and yet I felt older, mostly because I *was* older. To my tally, I had halted everything 6,307,199 times—five seconds short of one year.
I walked into my small but crowded office, breezed past the collection of tables, and took a seat at my desk. Pulling up my email, I noticed I had a message: My coworkers were to throw me a birthday party.
I was not in the mood. I didn’t consider myself worthy of their praise because for the first time in my life, I felt like a liar. Among other things, I had used my ability countless times to alter a small event, steal a slice of pizza from a street vendor, or exit a party unseen. To me and for me, there were no consequences. Nobody would ever know, and nobody would ever care.
The first two hours of the day flew by, almost as if the paradoxical nature of my birthday was not lost on Father Time. I wasn’t able to accomplish anything that morning because seemingly before I could blink, it was time for the party.
We all stood in a clump near the back wall, where my coworkers had set up a birthday potluck: Quiches, cookies, fruit, vegetables, and all manner of other food options littered the tabletop.
One of my coworkers, Karen—of course it was Karen—suggested that we play a game. Starting with her, we went around the room identifying our mundane super powers.
“The stipulations are,” began Karen, “your power cannot have the express purpose of harming anyone, and it cannot pass a five on the power index.”
We all looked around, confused at the term “power index.” Still, we shrugged it off and played along. None of us wanted to work anyway. It was a welcome distraction for everybody.
Everybody except me.
The baton was passed several times until it came to me. “I would be able to freeze time, but only for five seconds at a time." My proclamation was met with a few laughs and a few excited outbursts.
"Ooh I like that!" said Karen, almost yelling
*Of course you like it, Karen.*
As the attention of the room passed from me, I noticed Frank at his desk with his eyes fixed on his computer. Frank and I had spoken a lot in the weeks leading up to my birthday. He was having marital troubles, almost always made worse when he said something he didn't mean.
Selfishly, I compared his difficulties with my own. As I looked across the space, I thought that perhaps he was the only other miserable person present.
I traversed the disorganized landscape of desks, computers, and unkempt paper stacks to speak with him. As I drew closer, I noticed a single tear fall from his left eye. He typed for a few seconds, then placed his hand on the mouse.
I needed to see.
I took a deep breath as I stopped time for the 6,307,200th time, officially making the day my double birthday. Once things fell into the all-too-familiar silence, I rushed to Frank's side to read the message.
*I don't think I can do this anymore*, it read. *You deserve better than me.*
In our talking, I had gotten to know Frank. I knew he loved his wife more than anything. If he was ending things, it truly was due to words in the second sentence.
"Oh no, Frank," I said, reaching my arms over his shoulders, "you don't want to do that." I quickly changed the message to read, *I know things are difficult, but I love you more than anything, and that will never change.*
As I finished typing, I thought I saw his finger twitch. Paying it no mind, I put some distance between us before time resumed. As the party got back into full swing, Frank's finger hit the send button.
Five minutes before 5:00, Frank approached my desk. "Hey," he said, "I just wanted to thank you for earlier. You were right, I didn't want to do that."
"What?" I said, dropping my pen and staring up at him. "What do you mean?"
"You leaned over me and changed my email," he clarified. "I really appreciate it." With a smile and a tip of his hat, Frank started toward the door.
I was confused. Had I not actually stopped time? Were my powers gone?
I paused things again. Everyone froze except for Frank. He continued out the door.
I couldn't help but grin. I felt as though somehow, I had given Frank the strength to carry on regardless of what was happening around him. For the first time, I had used my power for someone else, and it felt *incredible.* I vowed that going forward, I would help someone two times for every occasion I helped myself.
***One Year Later***
"Okay everybody," said Karen with a beaming smile, "we played last year and it was a blast, so let's do it again! You know the rules!"
"I'll go first!" I called out with a smile. "I would still choose the ability to freeze time for five seconds at a time."
"Why five seconds?" Bob wondered aloud from across the circle.
"Well," I said, placing a hand on Frank's shoulder beside me, "five seconds may not seem like much, but it's enough time to do a lot of things. You can prevent a single mistake, get a head start on something, and even save a life." I smiled. "You can help yourself and others in just five seconds."
\-----
Thank you for reading! As always, feedback is appreciated.
Check out my sub for more of my writing! r/storiesbyclayton | 2020-09-22T05:44:46 | 2020-09-22T05:40:56 | 317 | 98 |
[WP] Dear diary, I’ve been feeding this creature that fell from the sky for a few days. It strangely likes to drink water, the liquid we use to fuel cars. I noticed a patch on its suit today that read “NASA”. I’ll ask it tomorrow what that means. If that’s it’s name. | Yanhen, 25nd of Kell, 5013.
Dear Diary, I hate keeping up with this sort of thing. I'm bad at Diaries but I think it's important to document this. Last night a large metal object fell from the sky. I'm going to check it out tomorrow, when my wife is at work.
Tunhen, 26th of Kell, 5013
Dear Diary. I checked out the metal object and it had a lot of indentations in it, did they mean something? There was also a clear substance making up part of the metal tube. The interior looked far too small for anything to be inside, was it trash thrown from a neighboring planet? That's illegal!
Gahhen, 27th of Kell 5013.
Dear Diary. I went to check out the object so I could file a complaint and there was a creature inside, about half my hight, and I'm small for a Jhen. It saw me through the clear parts of its walls and it froze up. It opened one of the indentations in the wall (was it a door? It's a very odd door) and walked towards me. Im not sure if it's intelligent, or if it's one of the weird pets they keep on Huyut.
Kelhen, 28th of Kell 5013.
Dear Diary. I took the creature home (sorry Yulah) and placed it on my bed. It looked scared. It was probably hungry. I tried offering it things to eat but it looked confused at the food. It made some strange noises that made me squeal. It's louder than it seems for something so small. As well I'm starting to suspect that it's body isn't it's "body" as it has no tail.
Yanhen, 29th of Kell 5013.
Hey Dairy. The creature seems hungry. Very hungry. I'm not even sure if it can breath our air, as it is primarily oxygen, but it might have to try soon. As well, I still haven't found anything to feed it. It seems it also needs to drink, like the Hayets on Huyut. It made more noises at me, definitely trying to communicate. It also doesn't understand any of the 13 official intergalactic languages.
Tunhen, 1st of Polk 5013
Hey Diary. Amazing news! It can breath Oxygen! It's language is alot less muffled now it has taken off its hat. But i still can't understand it. It has a strange fact, like someone shaved a Jhen's head. I tried written communication but its language is much different. It has a strange patch. I pointed at it and it said "NASA"... Is that its name?
Gahhen, 2nd of Polk 5013
Diary. Bad news. Terrible news. I accidentally left some of my motor parts in my room including my fuel and the NASA drank it. I don't want to kill it! It looks confused at my panicking, maybe it doesn't understand it will die? I killed a poor NASA!
Yanhen 4th of Polk 5013.
The NASA is still alive? In fact, it seems better off after it drank the water. How can a creature so weak drink such a strong poison? I think I'm starting to understand some of its words. "Hehloh" seems to be a greeting of sorts.
Yanhen 27th of Gakl 5028
I forgot out this thing. It's been a while since I met the human, that's that the NASA's species. Their name is Jehssy- Jessy. English is hard, (that's the human language). Turns out their planet is covered in car fuel, and they eat all sorts of things. From poison to other creatures. Jeh- Jessy is teaching me English, and I'm teaching her Jhenit. Her progress is going well. The thing that fuels her "space boat" isn't readily available though so I don't know if she's ever able to get back to her planet, she seems to be adjusting well. Last night another metal thing crashed though. It's been all over the news. And it has that same NASA writing on it. | On the third suncycle, NASA finally moved, and I wasn’t there to witness it. This is still one of my biggest regrets; maybe I would have been so excited as to contact it right there and then. Maybe not, but I can’t help thinking about the consequences; what if I had tried to talk to it then? Could all this have been prevented?
I wasn’t there, no, I had been watching it intently for three beats beforehand, walking up and down in my resting room, too moved to think properly. Finally, as I thought about which code to try first, it occurred to me that I did not have the proper communication plates with me, and so I went off to the lab. When I returned, it laid there, hunched over in a corner. NASA hadn’t moved very far, but still!
I watched what had happened on the Light Thread I had installed on the ceiling. And, to my utmost surprise, it had actually eaten - but not from one of the many food plates, but from its own waste bowl! My heart began to flutter with excitement. A self-regulated organism, perhaps! But fueled by water? That seemed rather primitive. I was itching, ready to actually attempt communication, but the quarantine had to be upheld; I had only entered its chamber decontaminated and protected with a layer of dust, to supply a large amount of different minerals and other foods, and to collect its waste products.
I had to consult with my superiors immediately. And so I left it, albeit reluctantly, to its own devices.
Regret fills me still when I think about the next beats. Many conversations were had, ranging from just two or three other scientists to large groups, singing in dissonance, arguing over the proceedings. And in the end, we trusted The Old One, as was customary back then.
The quarantine was extended. The Old One brought forward reasonable concerns; what if anything of our environment was harmful to the creature? It was best to leave it alone and observe for now.
Arrangements were made, more water was brought in, in case it wasn’t able to sustain itself. We always went in and out quickly, whenever NASA closed its eyes during its inactivity phase. NASA never moved during our brief visits that suncycle, but it could be observed to consume water a few times the following beats.
I don’t like thinking about what follows, and you can all imagine why I haven’t sung about it until today. But I have to accept the responsibility for the events, or I cannot leave this world in peace and harmony.
Nothing much happened with the creature. Its movement was about as fast as that of a Middleager, slow compared to our Young Ones, a bit faster than me. But it didn’t become more inactive, and we left it to recover from its skyfall while we thought and sung about a code to use; we named it NASA, since that was the code on its outer coat.
Before the beginning of the sixteenth suncycle, I was left alone to watch the light thread, and I saw NASA signal something. It held one of its arms up to its mouth, as it did when comsuming its water (the thought still repulses me to this day. Water? How could it stand the smell?). The gesture was faster, seemed more intense and urgent than all it had done up to that point, and in that moment, I decided to go against The Old One’s judgement. I coated myself thickly in dust, twice the recommended amount to be safe, and entered its chamber, two knowledge plates in hand.
Some red water had leaked from its extremity, where its mouth had touched it – was this an injury? Did its flesh also contain water? Or just another waste product? When I entered, its head rose quickly, and it sat up.
“Do you need assistance?”, I sang, while pointing to one of the water bowls; it was almost empty. Did it need more?
The creature pulled at its skin and then gestured to its mouth erratically, and I jumped back, startled. But I was trained for this very moment since I was a young one. I held up one of my communication plates, where I had also drawn the name NASA - but I had coated myself too thickly. In that moment, a big chunk of dust broke from the skin around my arm, revealing the purple flesh beneath.
It’s hard to describe the next events. NASA looked at me for a few moments, and then with a speed I could not have thought possible, sprung forward and tore off my entire arm. I cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground, as the creature began devouring it, faster than anything I have witnessed since, with water exiting its eyes rapidly.
The stench and the pain blurred my sight, and the last thing I remember is seeing it loom over me, standing there, then running off through the door.
I don’t need to tell you what happened next. I still don’t know why it spared me, and what made it collapse after taking so many of our lives. But I will recall the bloated, pink body in the town square, surrounded by corpses, the smell of water and our flesh and, finally, its shrill cries when we managed to bury it in sand. Never before have we had to bury someone before their time, and a few Young Ones now suggest that this was a sin- but let me warn you, that creature was not of this world, and if it came from another, then maybe it was for the best that it died then and there, before bringing more of its kind. | 2020-10-11T11:17:57 | 2020-10-11T11:09:37 | 58 | 13 |
[WP] "A month... in a cup?" "Yeah, 'month-in-a-cup'." The nurse handed me a pill cup with an inauspicious orange dot rattling around the bottom. "The Federation developed it to help get guys back on the front. It cranks up your metabolism to get weeks of healing in a few hours." "And I'm... first?" | "First, well, for this strain." She sounded like she didn't want to divulge.
"You're not building my confidence."
"We've worked out the kinks, don't get me wrong."
I didn't like the emphasis she put on 'kinks'. "I was told I would be getting a full briefing."
"And I can't believe I'm the one having to give it to you."
I nodded, I'm not surprised with any Federation red tape flub at this point. "So?"
"You know Sgt. Pollack's... abilities?"
Pollack was involved with military application of slide-stream energy. He was involved with an "accident" that fused him with the space-time continuum. He was, quite literally, a goddamn superhero.
"Yeah, he survived the hyper-point explosion. Walked out as Superman."
"Officially, yes." She raised an eyebrow. "Officially."
I looked down at the little orange pill. "You're kidding." I rattled it around the cup. "I take this and I can teleport to go fight the Andromeda Alliance too?"
She snorted. "Again, officially yes. But we've nerf'd this strain to hell. You're no going to get the energy boost to fly or anything."
"We'll, why not? So I guess he only 'officially' went to Andromeda?"
She nodded. "He meant too much to the cause to let what happened to him get out."
"...", I leaned forward.
"Well", she spoke low, "the level of energy flowing through him, what we unlocked, isn't exactly something a human is supposed to have." She looks away and back towards me. "He was in a propaganda meeting, just sitting with some generals, and he... just... unzipped, at the cellular level. Like he turned into 180lbs of raspberry smoothie."
"Holy shit."
"What was left, his skeleton, his bone marrow popped and sent shrapnel liked a grenade."
"Guess that's how Gen Chang died? That was the same week Pollack "flew off".
She nodded.
"He was a good man."
I looked down at the tiny orange terror in my hand. "Well, I didn't get into the line of work to live forever." I throw the pill back. I looked around not knowing what to expect. My eyes got big, I was breathing heavy.
"Hey big guy, I told you, we nerf'd the hell out of this one. Call me in 4 hours if your boner doesn't go away." | Time flies. It flies faster than you think it does. One moment you are in a hospital sampling a medicine, next you're out on the streets robbing and stealing, trying to get through another day, another month.
It all began on a windy autumn afternoon. I still remember the faint smell of decay that came in with the breeze. The decayed leaves, yes, the very decayed leaves I had slipped on.
"Your ligament is injured. It's not severe. On the side of the knee, it is," the nurse informed me.
"How long will it take to heal?"
"One month. Maybe a bit of physiotherapy after."
I sighed.
"What's the matter?"
"I have this job interview in the city. But I can't go now, can I?"
The nurse peered over the clipboard clutched to her chest and said, "There is a way. It's a new drug, very experimental. We'll need you to sign some papers, but it may heal you in a matter of hours."
I didn't think twice. The decision was obvious to me. Papers, those bloody papers, a refusal of responsibility from the hospital's side, I signed them.
The nurse gave me a little orange pill.
"How am I supposed to take it?"
"Just like a normal pill."
So, I took it, gulped it down with water, and for the next hour, felt pain so terrible that it made me tear my hair out. But, once that hour was done, my leg felt good.
The nurse gave me another pill to further ensure a full recovery. The second time it felt good as a blast of endorphins overwhelmed me, and visions vivid and warm floated before my eyes. And I felt as if heaven was beckoning me upwards, up into the sky, so light, so warm; and then, it ended.
"Try to walk around a bit," the nurse said.
Pretty soon, I was doing jumping jacks without any discomfort. My experience was recorded. Another experiment that went right. My first brush with the month-in-a-cup, as it was later called.
Two years after my case, the medicine was approved by the state. It was around this time that I started doing it. At first, it was a deep gash in my hand that got me some pills. The injury took two pills to recover. The second one gave me the rush again.
Soon, I started to deliberately injure myself for the hit. Hiring people to beat me up as I came to fear institutionalization. This went on for a year.
Then one day, I woke up with real pains, internal pains, all over my body. The doctors didn't prescribe the month-in-a-cup to me any longer.
"You've become old. We can't age you any further," they said.
But, did I stop? Hell no. I got my stuff from the dealers then. They charged a lot. I had to sell my house for the fifth pill, but it didn't feel bad, no sir, not as long as I was on the pill.
But once the house went, I realized I had nothing to get my fix with, and the pains returned, worse than ever. The month-in-a-cup was too expensive for me now. So, I robbed some folks, took their cash, got me some good old morphine. Not as good, but it does the job, to some extent.
I tell you this as a cautionary tale. I haven't much longer to live. The pills have taken my life, month by month, they have killed me.
People of the law sit up and take notice, if my treatment was a landmark achievement, then so should be my death. A cautionary tale, an old saying: there is no magic pill. | 2021-04-09T14:55:43 | 2021-04-09T13:09:17 | 104 | 66 |
[WP] Everyone laughed at your super power to manifest any sort of pun related device. That was before you sawed the ocean in half with your sea-saw. | "What have you done?"
The words hung in the air, repeating over and over in my head until they were meaningless. whathaveyoudonewhathaveyoudonewhathaveyoudone...
To be honest I wasn't even sure myself.
"just stop..." I whispered gripping my head with both hands, as if trying to push these words out my head by force.
In the silence I could feel the eyes of the other heroes boring into me. Not much time could have passed since no had reacted to what had happened yet. But it was only a matter of time before they turned on me. What had I just done? Sea-saw?
The power of words truly is a terrifying thing.
There was no way for the rest of the heroes to prevent the resulting tsunamis and coastal damage. Some lives were saved but the casualties were still unthinkable. The villain Frenzy, a half man half shark, who started the conflict was destroyed in the attack, true; but even his actions took a back seat to the devastation caused by my sea-saw. It was Powerman who finally acted swiftly knocking me unconscious. When I woke I was gagged. Trying to remove the gag resulted in electrical jolt that rendered me unconscious yet again. When I woke next I was informed I was a prisoner in the Void, a special prison for villains manned and patrolled by heroes. I was told they were deciding what to do with me and that I would remain in quarantine until then. As time went by I learned that many across the world wanted me dead due to the devastation I caused. Initially I accepted the fate, but as the quarantine stretched on it gave me time to reflect on the way me and my power were treated like a joke only to now be considered a villain. The crushing loneliness, guilt, and resentment was a burden too heavy to bear until finally the good-natured jokester that pal'd around with heroes was gone. A new conviction grew in it's place, and the isolation provided ample time to hone the words of power I would use when the time finally came.
After 8 months of quarantine the deliberations finally came to a consensus. The verdict; removing my vocal chords. Since the ability could only be manifested when spoken this would ultimately render my ability useless.
When the heroes Living-Flame and Icequeen came to retrieve me for the procedure I decided I would not go quietly.
"We are sorry for this." Living-Flame said. "Do you have any last words?" she said removing my gag.
"What are you doing?" Icequeen snarled, "Let's just get this over with."
"What an icebreaker." I rattled out through a sore mouth and lips.
By the time it dawned on Icequeen what was happening it was too late. I had already swung the massive flaming hammer down on her crushing her.
Living-Flame, shocked by the sudden violence, was too slow to act.
"Fire poker." I managed to mumble.
Normally Living-Flame is virtually impossible to attack directly since she has no physical body to speak of. She very much lives up to her name, a being of pure fire. She can control the intensity and heat of her fire, as well as how big or small her form takes on. No one is sure of her limits, and some speculate she could shrink her size to a floating ember or grow large enough to ignite earth's atmosphere and destroy the planet. I had to act quick to take her down.
A spear appeared in my hand, a weapon that could damage fire itself and without hesitation I plunged it into her. Her fire faded to ashes and scattered to the ground.
I stepped out of my cell as the facility alarms began ringing.
As the heroes began pouring into the corridor, I uttered the words of power I had fixated on.
"Mind bombs!" I shouted so that everyone could hear.
Everyone stopped in their tracks faces twisted in pain many clutching and shaking their heads. I looked down at the remote detonator in my hand, and before anyone could react, pushed the button. | A battered streetlamp oscillated its dim light, casting faded rays into the seedy alley. The pale slivers of yellow flashed across the faces of the two burly men so that only a ragged scar here or a slitted eye there were visible. Caged in the vice grip of the two men was a thin figure. It wasn't struggling. In fact, it wasn't even tense or alarmed.
"I'll make this easy. Give me all your valuables and you leave with a small bruise on your arms. Don't comply, and I will be forced to kill you." The speaker was someone completely enveloped in the shadows, facing the serene man and his two captors. Clearly the ringleader of this mugging.
"Why would I do that?" the serene man asked. He sounded genuinely confused.
"If death doesn't scare you, then maybe pain will." There was cracking knuckles to accompany the voice, indicating that the serene man should probably take this mugging seriously.
But instead of sobering to the situation, the serene man laughed. "You have no idea who I am! Do you remember when the ocean was cleaved in half with a sea-saw? That was me! I am the pun-dit of wordplay! Nobody attacks me with im-pun-ity! I will pun-ctuate the air with your screams!"
The two burly men clamped their grips tighter, causing the pundit of wordplay to wince. From the shadows, the ringleader said, "You're clearly insane. The CIA leaked documents that proved the supposed sea-saw was really a military test that looked strange at first glance. You won't scare us with your lies. Now give us the money or die!"
The pun man shrugged. "Don't believe me? Don't think I have control over the ocean? Fine. Let me give you a small taste. A micro-wave, if you will."
"Microwave?"
And then a rush of water erupted from the gutter in a peaking wave and doused everyone but the pun man, who remained miraculously dry. Sputtering furiously, the three muggers drew their weapons. But the pun man just smiled.
"Do you think I'm done with you yet? After you insulted my pun-ishing power? No! I will ex-pun-ge you from the face of the earth!"
And then a horde of boxer shorts ran into the alley, their gloves catching the light of the streetlamp. While the three muggers were distracted with that, the pun man caused the water from the micro-wave to split into thousands of legged droplets, which began to sprint at the three terrified men. Running water.
Cackling loudly at how stupid the men looked trying to kick away the boxer shorts and running water, the pun man asked, "Are you getting tired yet?"
Suddenly, all the cars parked on the street adjacent to the alley spontaneously lost their tires, which rolled at the three men, now thoroughly overwhelmed.
"Help us!" one of the burly men shouted an octave higher than normal as a well-tread tire bore down on him.
"Why should I help you pun-ks?"
"We'll stop being criminals!" the other burly man promised. "Please, just help us!"
With a devious smile, the pun man acquiesced. "Of course. I agree that you should change your career. Branch out a little."
Relief billowed across the man's face, "Thank y--"
The rest of his sentence was cut off when he became a tree.
"You're a monster!" the other burly man shouted, still kicking away boxer shorts.
"Odd that you should personify a can," pun man said, sipping on the Monster energy drink that was now in his hand.
"We'll stop giving you a hard time! Just let us go," the ringleader pleaded.
This made pun man think for a moment. "It's funny you should mention time," he said thoughtfully. "I do have an appointment in a few minutes, so this encounter is pun-cturing my plans. Let's end this before it gets too... time consuming."
One voracious bite later and he had eaten the remainder of the ringleader's lifespan away. There was only one of the muggers left, and he was too busy avoiding tires and boxer shorts and running water to notice the fate of his leader.
"I'm not a pun-itive man," the pun master said, motioning for his pun manifestations to leave the mugger alone. "You've learned your lesson. You may go."
Without a word, the mugger turned, grew a tail, and fled. He wouldn't get far, of course. There were whip and lashes waiting for him around the corner that would make him stop so fast that his neck would have a serious kink in the afterlife.
Popping a cigarette in his mouth, he was disappointed to not have anything to smoke. Still, it had been a good night. Three serial muggers were done preying on people without com-pun-ction. Maybe there were stronger superheroes out there, but the pun man didn't see them any-where. Well, that wasn't true. He saw them in a few wheres. But they certainly didn't have as much fun with their job. | 2021-06-09T14:31:24 | 2021-06-09T14:26:03 | 1,542 | 366 |
[WP] Every year, the richest person in America is declared the "Winner of Capitalism". They get a badge, and all of their wealth is donated to charity, so they have to start back up at $0. | Roederick Douglass. Asuka Sato. Carla Sanchez. Phillip Reed. Janine Taylor - Douglass.
The top five in the field- until this year, I hope, when I'll be on top of that list. I know I'll never be one of the richest Americans, but goddamnit if I won't be pretty darn rich- and as long as I nail it on my first go, I'll be set for life.
When he hired me, Musk said "Sato holds the record- she made Bezos second-richest by only eight bucks in 2025. I want you to do better."
If my algorithm works correctly, Musk will be second-richest this year by pennies. Bring that Professional Spending Consultant bonus on. | “I started my business with 0 dollars to my name and have rebuilt this empire by the sweat of my brows”Jeremy said.
The audience had clapped in awe as they cheered his genius as he was awarded the best businessman of the year award. The night had been one filled with accolades, champagne and pats on the back. With promises of new business ventures and associates. Opportunities everywhere.
The morning had started well enough, with a shower in his marbled bathroom, surrounded by gilded mirrors as he changed into his favourite new suit. All custom made of course.
But it went down hill very quickly after breakfast. You see Jeremy had learned from the past to never look at any of his vast array of devices before breakfast.
And oh boy was he glad he didn’t deviate from that today. So as he entered his home office, Jake was looking very nervous, Anxious even. “Good morning sir, have you seen the papers?”Jake had asked him.
“You know I don’t look at them or anything else for that matter, before breakfast. So whats up. What has you so jumpy?”
“Its…. Well its the speech you gave last night. There has been some backlash….. Well see for yourself.”
“What in godsname are you on about my boy. Read it out, please”Jeremy sighed.
“In his speech at the prestigious Ritz- Carlton the former richest man in the USA claimed he built this business from nothing. Several of his former staff have come forward and revealed his most powerful asset was not the money he made or needed. Ot was the contacts he had made. He received several million dollars in loans within the first year of starting his renowned company Sahara…, theres more of the same. Outrage of people claiming you didn’t follow the rules etc. Do you want to hear it?”
“No this is enough. Lets get our strategy set up. Call a meeting of the board of directors and have a press conference first thing tomorrow morning. Oh and get me a list of all my investors, I want to speak to them myself”. | 2021-09-17T15:54:21 | 2021-09-17T15:24:05 | 167 | 36 |
[WP].You are sitting outside your house, enjoying the dying embers of the campfire when two glowing eyes open to stare at you. " Greetings, " it rasped, " may I share your fire tonight?" | I’ve always enjoyed this little cabin with it’s view of the mountains and view of Deep Lake. Far from civilization it gives me a sense of calm unlike anywhere else. Watching the moon rise over the mountains while I sit by the firepit out front has been one of my favorite pastimes for so many years now it’s hard to remember when I started.
As my fire burned down and I was tired enough for the evening, at the edge of the trees I could see a pair of eyes softly glowing in the distance.
“I can see you over there, you can come closer, I'm not going to bite.”
The eyes unblinkingly grew closer.
At the edge of my light they spoke, “Greetings, may I share the fire with you tonight?”
“I don’t see why not,” I reach for the last pair of logs near my chair, “I think I can keep the fire going a little while longer.”
“Thank you.”
The eyes got closer but stayed just out of the light, unmoving.
“Why don’t you come over here and have a seat closer to the fire,” I gestured to the other chairs, “have your pick, they're nice and sturdy, I built them years ago with my grandkids,” I smiled, “We worked a whole summer out here making them and my cabin.”
“Some find my form… unsettling, you may not wish to see me now.”
“Alright then if you prefer,” silence followed for what felt like forever. “So what brings you out to my neck of the woods?”
“I’m picking up an old friend. But they don’t know it yet.”
“Whisking someone off in the dead of night without them knowing? Little spooky don’t you think?”
“I’ll talk with them first so it’s not too upsetting. It’s the preferred way.”
“How’s that the preferred way?”
Silence followed for so long I was about to speak, “It’s easier,” there was a pain in their voice. I knew I shouldn’t press further.
“So are you meeting them by the lake? You should know the forecast said a snowstorm was moving in.”
“It won’t be much of a concern for us, the weather never is.”
“The prepared type huh? That’s always good.”
We sat in silence as the fire burned down and was barely more than embers. It had gotten very cold by now. I looked to the stars above and saw the clouds had moved in without me noticing. And a snowflake touched my nose. When I looked back down the eyes were in the chair across from me. I couldn’t make out the details of what they looked like, just the eyes stood out. A soft glow from them not too dissimilar to the glowing embers of a fire.
“Finally felt like taking a seat, huh?”
“They looked quite comfortable and I didn’t want to miss the chance. I could rest for a long time in one of these.”
“I always think the same thing, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep out here in this chair thinking about that summer”
“I believe it,” the tone, it was almost like they wanted to say, “I know.”
“I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to go to sleep,” my eyes were feeling heavier with each breath, “you can stay as long as you like just be sure that the fire is out before you leave.”
My limbs were feeling too heavy to move. Maybe I just nap a little before I head inside.
“I always do.” | "You *are* the fire," Marci said, looking down into the glowing embers which had rearranged themselves into a pair of two golden eyes. "What do you want?"
The embers, slowly losing their spark, kept its eyes on the witch. "A body, please," it said, "before I disappear."
"As you wish," Marci said with a sigh. She wasn't in the mood to deal with a Lost Spirit, but it's what she was hired to do, so, despite the late hour, and the silence of the night, and the giant harvest moon above, she conjured a temporary body. "There. Tell me you at least know how to haunt it."
The body she created was a loose gathering of particles, something half baked between reality and dreams. It was enough, though, for the spirit to use.
Two eyes appeared on the mishmash of energy. They opened, looking just like they had in the embers.
"That's a first," Marci said, a little intrigued now, "a fire spirit with eyes made of gold. Usually it's just the flames that give that effect."
The spirit looked down at itself, at the stardust and magic which was sloppily held together, and decided it would be enough.
"Hello," it said, "and thank you. I am a lost spirit and I need your-..."
With a wave of her hand the spirit's voice stopped.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Just tell me where you came from and where you want to go."
The spirit pointed to its mouth, its fingers twinkling in the moonlight.
"Oh, sorry," Marci said, waving her hand again. "There."
"My name is Augustus Auria. I was directed here by a witch named Sunny, and I am trying to go to the far East. To the village of Mandolin."
A rogue vein tried to escape from behind Macri's forehead. "Wait. You said Sunny sent you?"
"That is correct."
"FUCK!" she screamed. With a snap of her fingers, the two were transported far away, now inside someone's bedroom. The moon shone in through the window, and snoring loudly under the covers was a sizeable lump.
The spirit stood in the corner as the candles lit themselves under Marci's command. She tugged on the sheets, pulling them off, and underneath laid a fat woman, in her underwear, still snoring away. Macri grabbed her by the shoulders and began pushing her back and forth. Eventually, the woman came to.
"W-who's here so late?" the woman asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Macri, is that you?"
"What did I tell you about this?" Marci shouted, pointing to the spirit still in the corner. It bashfully waved towards the girls. "I said last time would be the last, and I meant it."
Sunny, now jolted awake, scurried to the back of her bed. She needed to get as far away as possible.
Macri took out her wand. She held it above her head, and the air around began to shimmer. Then, a blinding blue ball of light took shape. Bits of lightening could be seen trying to escape from the ball, and Sunny desperately looked around for her own wand. She saw it lying across the room.
"Please, Marci!" Sunny screamed, not wanting her cottage burned down, "I messed up! I wasn't thinking! I forgot you didn't want any spirits from me! Calm down!"
"I. SAID. NO. MORE!"
The blue ball of lightening left her wand and the spirit braced itself for impact. Sunny lunged across the room, but she was too late, for the everlasting scream of magic could be heard and everything became white.
Once the light faded, both Marci and the spirit were back at her home, in front of the campfire, which had somehow been set aflame again.
"Sorry you had to see that," she said, "but the damned woman doesn't know how to listen. Some people learn best through experience."
The spirit nodded, unsure of whether her mood had carried over from Sunny's place.
"So, Mandolin," Marci said, as she drew a symbol in the air with her wand and flicked it at the spirit. It smiled as the glowing rune landed on its forehead. "Have a safe trip. I hope you find the one you're looking for."
"Thank you," the spirit said, as the temporary body dissipated into thin air.
Marci, all alone now, with the fire blazing, decided she'd return to Sunny's tomorrow to apologize.
"I hope I didn't overdo it..." | 2022-01-06T02:41:12 | 2022-01-05T23:22:20 | 60 | 31 |
[WP] You gain the skills and memories of anyone you kill. Naturally, you sought out to murder as many people as possible. With all the accumulated talent and experience, you became the world's most dangerous killer. One day you accidentally killed someone, and you gained something you didn't expect. | "More"
Jason growled, his face was twisted into a grin, his lips and teeth were red of fresh blood as he stood before the lifeless body of his latest victim.
"More"-- it was the word that had driven the Greedy Butcher, the nickname that was given to Jason as he commited a string of murders incited by his uncontained hunger for power.
Suppose it was unevitable in this new world of words-- that means epiteths exude power, adjectives express accolades, and nouns signify cravings.
Craving for more power, more knowledge, more, more, and more. For Jason, more was never enough...
The taste of blood was never Jason's favorite as he found it too sour-- but he couldn't help the craving for human meat as his previous victim's word was "Cannibal".
As the adrenaline finally settled, Jason's mind was calm enough to peruse this surge of new memories, the ones belonged to the dead man on the ground...
Clouds and sky...the images of boundless heavens were bouncing upon Jason's eyes. The rush of the wind hit his face and the exhiliration thrived his heart as Jason smiled...
"Leap", he whispered to himself when through memories was how he figured out his victim's power.
Bending his knees, Jason kicked the earth below him as gravity posed no effect against him. His body flew high up to the sky and in his excitement of his newfound power, Jason jumped for miles leaving the crime scene behind him.
Laughter filled the otherwise quiet town as Jason danced the night away.
Flying unrestrained, that moment Jason felt he was on top of the world, quite literally.
The world was below him, everybody was below him, and everyrhing was for his taking.
In the middle of his third jump, Jason's sense tingled as he saw below him just what he needed more that night...
"Another victim", he thought excitedly.
An old man was walking in the dead of night on his lonesome way. A quiet and peaceful night stroll as he usually did when suddenly he heard a thumping behind him.
Not quite alarmed yet, the old man turned to see what could have made such noise when he was startled by the visage of a bloody beast of a man leaping towards him-- eyes wide and crazed with his teeth bared.
Before the old man could react, he felt the strong jab of rows of teeth sank against the side of his neck.
"Brawny"-- the word Jason drew that moment from another victim of his. A muscular former co-worker of Jason's whom he managed to kill by poisoning.
Gnashing of teeth against flesh continued as Jason took his time separating a chunk of the old man away from his body.
Slowly the old man felt weaker and weaker when his body finally dropped to the ground, limp and lifeless...
Jason stood there chewing and chewing, masticating every fiber as it slowly filled his mind with this victim's memories.
That was Jason's favorite bit of his hunt-- that rush of something new filling the endless void of his craving.
Though before he could peruse those memories, Jason felt another feeling...or rather a lack of feeling.
Jason felt his muscles around. What felt sore and tired from jumping around for miles was suddenly rejuvenated and was rid of that lactic acid.
"Ooh...ooooh", Jason remarked in reverie, swinging his arms around.
"Regenerate", he said excitedly, stating his newfound power.
"Not quite", an unexpected male voice made Jason jumped as he turned back.
The old man slowly gained his footing as he stood and cracked his weary back...only he was no longer an old man, he was at keast 50 years younger.
"You must be that Greedy Butcher I heard so much on the news", the then young man said cracking his neck around. "Never thought I would encounter you", he chuckled.
Jason was stunned when his hunter instinct finally kicked in. Letting out a terrifying yell, Jason ran towards the young man, intending to rip him to pieces.
To Jason's surprise, the young man grabbed him by the wrists and he easily held Jason back, no matter how strong Jason tried.
"Easy there, it's gonna be over soon", the young man said, effortlessly holding Jason.
Jason was confused when he finally noticed his arms...they were snaller than usual.
"Wh...what is happening...?", Jason muttered.
"You have my memories...take a look", the young man said.
Hurriedly Jason looked inside his mind of the newly arrived memories, though to his surprise these new memories were unlike any other he'd ever experienced...
They were deep...endlessly deep. Like a bottomless well it kept going and going.
Terrified, Jason rushed his mind to reach the end, to reach that word.
There must be at least 10 lifetimes recorded in those memories. The young man before him was older than Jason anticipated.
"Well?", the young man said when Jason opened his eyes in fear.
"Reset", Jason muttered.
The man smiled as he let Jason's arms go. But at that point, his arms were those of a baby.
"Sorry, bud. Took me years to master this ability...and you only had minutes", the young man shrugged as he kneeled before Jason.
Jason felt he was sinking as the man's stare seemed to be beyond reach. Slowly Jason regressed, first all of his acquired powers were reset, then his body.
Slowly but surely, the Greedy Butcher regressed back to a stain on his tattered clothes.
"More"-- the word that had driven the mad man to seek more and more. But how unfortunate for him that there was a limit that he could surpass no more.
r/HangryWritey | Killing is knowledge. I don’t do it for a thrill or some other sick means. I do it because with each person’s blood I spill; I draw closer to becoming a god of knowledge. A true jack of all trades. I’m not sure why I was given this gift, but I know my purpose must be to use my abilities to better myself. Why else would I have these talents? If there was a god watching over me, this is what they would want to see.
It wasn’t like I was random in my attacks, either. Random knowledge is a sin. What good is a jumbled mess of trivia when I can have the real meat of knowledge that comes from killing brilliant specialists in their fields?
As I typed away on my keyboard, my eyes were drawn to a scrapping sound at the window of my apartment. A man, mid-forties, stood on a boom lift, dragging a wet squeegee along the glass. He couldn’t see me staring, not behind my tinted windows. The man carelessly performing his job with no safety equipment attached to him. Perhaps he found the harness uncomfortable, or maybe he thought a drop from three stories wouldn’t be enough to kill him. Whatever reason, his careless demeanor got my mind racing.
It would be easy to kill him. If I wished, I would only have to open my window and give him a push. Maybe not even that. The scare of having a window opened in front of him could be enough to cause him to misstep. If so, my job would be that much easier. Nevertheless, he had nothing to offer me. What knowledge could he offer me that I didn’t already have?
I turned back to my laptop, staring over the list of potential figures I had. It was always tough deciding who would be next. Each person presented unique challenges. While I may be less clumsy than I used to be when it came to taking lives, that didn’t mean that high security areas didn’t still pose a serious risk to my health. If I let my gifts be wasted by dying before godhood, I would be spitting in the face of the one who blessed me. I didn’t plan to find out what the punishment would be for betrayal.
“Peter Flare. Specialist in heart surgery. His current research could help minimize the risk of infection and blood clots during open surgery. Interesting and he’s a local, too.”
I pondered the figure before me, only to sigh. He was impressive and a secret like that should belong to me. The mortals weren’t deserving of something like that, they couldn’t be trusted. Yet was his knowledge better than my other candidates? Taking a break from my work, I got myself a cup of apple juice, something I had loved to drink before discovering my legacy as a god. Something about the sweet taste just reminding me of my human indulges, giving me a temporary break from my duties.
To think this life had all started after a harmless accident at a retirement home. I never intended to kill the man, but fate had a funny way of making sure things worked out. When his last dusty breath left his lips, it gave me the experience of a man who had been a medic during a global conflict. Learning valuable skills about the human body that I used to kill some of the other residents. After killing six of them, my hunger for knowledge became far stronger and soon their little tidbits of experience didn’t sate me anymore. I needed more.
How many had I stolen from since then? Twenty? Maybe more.
I finished my cup, placing it back on my desk. Just how stuffy was this room? The heat stinging my body, causing me to shift in my seat. I needed some air. I approached the window, forgetting all about the figure on the other side as I opened it, staring at the man as he dropped his squeegee.
He let out a grunt of a scream, taking a few steps back. I reached out a hand to grab the collar of his shirt, only to watch as his back hit the railing, sending him backwards over it. From the angle he was falling at, it was clear he would either land headfirst or suffer enough whiplash from the impact that he would die as soon as he hit. I resisted the urge to stick my head out and watch, only returning to my seat.
“Forgive my sin. I didn’t wish to give myself a careless offering of knowledge. I am truly sorry. Please don’t forbid me from godhood. I know I’m close. I can do this. It was an accident; I would never defile your gift.” I prayed to whatever god had granted me this ability, asking for their forgiveness and compassion.
A scream came from outside the window. No doubt a crowd was gathering now. I closed my eyes, feeling a cold chill shoot through my spine as the experiences forced their way into my brain.
“Talented cleaner. Great at wasting time on a job. Had a technique where he would carry around a half-eaten sandwich, always claiming to be on a lunch break.” I shifted through the various experiences that shot through my mind, only to come across one I didn’t expect. “Religious, spent years praying to a god. Received a vision.”
A god gave him a vision? Suddenly, my boredom had turned to curiosity as I tried to find the vision. I was greeted by walls of pointless experiences like first loves and deaths in his family, only to arrive at the experience I wanted to see. The vision was short, a purple glow coating a shadowed figure as they sat in the pits of his mind.
“A man is abusing my gifts. My gifts were intended to further humanity through tragedy, not to be hoarded by a selfish idolizer of godhood. I want you to monitor the man. Don’t take any action yet. Just keep an eye on him. When he decides on his next target, I want you to inform me who that is. I plan to meet him there. Don’t worry about your safety, he won’t kill those he doesn’t see as worthy. His arrogance will be his downfall. He is on the third floor of the Shallow way. Look for the man with the curly blonde hair and pale skin. That’s who I want you to watch.
The vision ended, leaving me in silence. My love of the god now spilling over into blind anger as I cursed them. I threw my hands up to the heavens, shouting whatever profanities I could, only to get disrupted by a banging on my wall, telling me to shut up. Even as I lowered my voice, my chest still heaved as though it would explode. So, the god was getting scared? I would show them what happens to someone that betrays me. I would use all that experience I had gained to kill them. Once I have their experiences, I will be a god in every sense of the word.
“Peter Flare. I hope you saw that name on my list. I’ll meet you there.”
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2022-02-20T21:46:46 | 2022-02-20T21:17:05 | 75 | 43 |
[WP] "I wish humanity were not alone in the galaxy." "Fascinating. The last wish I answered was for humanity to be alone in the galaxy." | "You know...Its not like the movies. Aliens didn't just fall in love with the first person to show them around."
"....What were they like?"
"Same as humans."
"WHAT?"
"Well yeah. They ate, breathed, spoke, had families. Some of their cultural practices were different and they were physically different looking in small ways but overall...Their behavior wasn't too....Strange."
".....Why did someone wish them away? If they were just like us..."
The ethereal being gazed at him.
Within their several eyes there was not an inch of white.
It was as black as the space around them.
"I don't know. " | Perhaps it was fear.
Fear that aliens would come, and they would kill, enslave, torture us. That they would look upon humans as insignificant specks of dust, and treat us the way that we treated bugs.
Perhaps it was pride.
Pride that we were the only souls living, that we were the masters of this galaxy, and that we would shout hear me cry, and the stars would hear, and resound with silent applause.
​
Perhaps it was fear.
Fear that we were alone, and to ask for someone to come, to comfort us, to reassure us, the lost voices whispering pathetically in the dark, stumbling around.
Perhaps it was hope.
Hope that we could have someone to talk to, to laugh with, to have another spark of intelligent life, who could walk and talk and speak, for we crave for company.
​
And the genie was a master of twisting the universe, and his hands moved rapidly, intertwining with the lines of magic, glowing brightly with life, twisting and turning around his hands, him, manipulating magic, manipulating life, the universe, and everything.
”Well?” said the young man, leaning forward. “Will we- will humanity have company?“
The genie‘s movements became more complex, the magic glowing brighter, turning as if on a rollercoaster. “Interesting.” He repeated.
The magic glowed in his experienced hands. Finally, he twisted it until he was holding a pool of magic, glowing like lava and the sun. He raised it to his lips, and blew. “It is done.”
”Which?” asked the man eagerly.
The genie watched the magic flow out of his hands like water, carried by the wind, slowly drifting through, glowing all the while.
”You’ll have to find out yourself, won’t you?”
​
reply if you got the ref lol | 2022-04-29T06:39:41 | 2022-04-29T04:45:33 | 162 | 53 |
[WP] "I don't wanna fight you, low-level bandit." Says the Lv.100 Hero, who killed the embodiment of space-time. "I wouldn't want to fight me, neither." Says the low-level bandit. | “Yeah I wouldn’t want to fight me either,” the bandit said, but not full of the usual bravado I came to expect from bandits.
I looked at him puzzled, “and why wouldn’t you want to fight yourself?” I asked condescendingly.
“Because nobody wants anything to do with me!” He spat with a fervor that caught me off guard, “I turned 5 and my parent decided I wasn’t their problem, let me fend for myself and told me they were helping me grow strong. After 2 years of struggling in my families home they threw me to the wolves, not even a metaphor literal wolves!”
“The difficulties peasants face sometimes turns them cold and cruel, but,” I started to only have him cut me off.
“They were nobles! I just wasn’t what THEY wanted. Hell even the wolves didn’t want me. They just snarled sniffed me and left. I had to learn to hunt, steal, and survive overnight, and goddamn it I did it. All while everyone stared through me like I never existed. Hell I tried to join a bandit clan and they told me they didn’t need another deadbeat kid to support and laughed. So here I am at 12, trying to mug a man that is gonna kill me because no one cares I exist.
“You could walk away, and pretend this never happened,” I spoke before I thought.
“Surprise, surprise! Even my killer doesn’t want me,” he paused then through tears muttered, “you really wanna know why I wouldn’t want to fight me? I’m worthless. Just some nobody you ignore on the street. I don’t even register as a side character in this game of life.” He looked down crying, and I could hear his stomach rumble nearly 20 feet away.
“Shall we continue over rabbit stew?” I pulled a fresh caught hare from my pack, “I was going to rest for the night here, and I don’t mind company.”
He glared, “you don’t mean that.”
I threw his sword aside with a spell as I walked closer, watching the rusty metal shatter as it hit the ground. Next went his quiver, and I realized there were a couple crudely carved arrows that would make a goblin think twice. I was going to toss his bow but noticed he had none.
“The bandits took it all when I tried to join,” he muttered as if he knew what I was going to ask, “I was surviving,” he stopped and began crying in earnest, “I just didn’t want to be alone anymore.” With that he collapsed either from hunger or the emotions, and passed out.
For the first time since I was cast aside, nearly 20 years ago, I let my guard down. “Everyone is someone,” I whispered as I picked him up and carried him to the spot I chose to camp earlier. “Someone always matters. And in time I hope I can show you that is true for you as well.” I placed him in my bedroll, fished out my supplies, and started cooking. After a few minutes a branch snapped, and a large bandit stepped out with a few guys behind him.
“You don’t wanna fight me,” he grunted as he drew his sword. Yet, I didn’t care about the blade in his hand, I was more interested in the bow and blade strapped to his side like a trophy.
“Depends,” I snarled, “where did you get those trophies?”
“Oh these? Some dumb punk claiming to be a rejected noble. It was fun watching him cry when we made him leave wearing nothing,” he laughed with his men. Until he noticed me turn a new shade of red.
“You know what,” I said while lifting a log near the fire, “I think I do want to fight you!” | It's finally over.
The final raid on the last dungeon of the game. All the max-level players with the server's one-of-a-kind legendary equipments came together to try to clear the game and end the server at last. We had waited for so long, for the final dungeon held a cruel trick - anyone who died here would have their character data reset. We would be back at level 1 and have to start the server over.
And so many did die. So many tanks found their armor melting before the embodiment of space-time. So many magic-users found their powers reflected back at them. So many mighty berserkers had their legendary weapons break against the thing's tendrils.
I was the only one to survive, and only out of pure cheapness. For of all the strategies in the game, I had pushed speed to its limit. I was at the absolute limit of what the game could render. Any attack with a displayable animation would necessarily be no faster than me. So while everyone else died, I dodged around for hours, hitting the beast with everything I have, enough firepower to kill every other player in the server if I'd wanted to. And finally, it went down.
I was the only one free to enter the final room, the server room itself, to unravel this virtual reality MMORPG that had sucked us in all those years ago, forcing us to play it over and over again in hopes that some distant day we'd be able to unmake it all and go home. Freedom was a button press away.
Well, a button... and a bandit.
It clearly wasn't an NPC, but it made no sense for a player to be here, especially such a weak one. Level 15, the cap of the lowest-tier classes of the game, wearing the basic bandit equipment from the class he'd never promoted our of. He only had 26 HP, while I had hundreds.
"How did you glitch your way here? Did you clip through the wall or something?" I asked, sputtering. "And why haven't you shut down the game, yet? We've all been suffering out there!"
The bandit said nothing, but equipped his axe.
"Wait, please! There's no sense in this. We can go home now. I don't want to fight you!"
This finally elicited a response from him. "I wouldn't wanna fight me neither."
Alas. As confusing as this whole situation was, if he wanted to stand in my way, I had much more important goals than to figure out his motivations. He'd die in a single hit, and wouldn't be able to do anything against me with my speed and defenses even if he had time.
Or... so I thought. As I danced around him, a whirl of blades at the upper limits of the game's processing capabilities, dealing critical strikes capable of bypassing the final boss's armor... every time, the game displayed 0 damage.
I staggered back to a safe distance, bewildered. "That makes no sense! You're only level 15!"
"That's disappointing," the bandit sighed, then pulled up the display with all his other stats. My jaw dropped. 999s across the board, in a game where even a class's best base stats barely went over 200 without legendary items, and rarely eclipsed 500 even with them.
"I don't understand," I managed.
"You're right that I broke the game to get here, but not by clipping through a wall. See, I've been playing this game since the alpha playtest version. Back then, we only had access to the first classes of the game, capped at 15 like they are now. But there were some bugs in that version, too. I exploited one that let me bypass the stat caps of my level and class while using rare drop stat boosters, and then I spent the entire alpha period farming them... Slowly, achingly, my stats went up, one point at a time, over months... until I was able to clear the entire game by myself, even though most of it was meant to be left unaccessible due to the low levels. I killed the final boss, and waited in here as the game was updated to its release version, the door out of the dungeon closing behind me and the access to the real world being shut off. I've been in this room for years, waiting for any kind of entertainment... And thanks to you, I can finally rejoin the game, and see if any of the server players can give me a real challenge."
Then, before I even realized what was happening, my HP were gone. He hadn't even moved, until a second later when his avatar had suddenly teleported to me, his ax embedded in my chest. I had pushed the limits of the game's processing, but with 999 speed, he was breaking them - his animations didn't display until after his actions were already completed.
"Try to be more fun by round 2."
Then I woke up. Back on the ground, surrounded by newly-spawned tutorial NPCs and the other players who had died in the final boss fight. I was level 1 again.
I screamed. | 2022-08-11T16:32:00 | 2022-08-11T16:29:34 | 467 | 104 |
[WP] As the president makes her final statement on the legal status of supers, she comments on how much safer the world will be without them making a mess of things. The white house behind her explodes, out of its flames walks a man with light in his eyes. He says three simple words: "Is. That. So?" | "Yes, it is so, Atomic" the president addressed the man who had probably just killed over a dozen staffers in an instant, just to make a point.
"You really think you don't need us? You think all of us who spent our lives protecting you pathetic normals will just fade into the shadows?"
"Many supers have done a great deal of good for this nation, atomic, and I won't ask them to pretend they haven't. They'll get medals, probably government jobs too, if they'll stay in line. They aren't what this law is about." Reporters in the crowd, still filming from cover, were stunned to silence, both by the atrocity they'd just seen and how a lone, powerless woman was facing it down. "This law is about people like you, Atomic. For every dozen or so decent heroes, we get a police academy washout wannabe vigilante like you, Atomic."
"You bitch!" He roared, eyes flaring for a burst which would surely decapitate a government. Before he could fire, something hit him from the bushes; a black and silver cable, which wrapped around his head, and more importantly, eyes. A full volley of restraints hit next, binding his arms, legs, and torso until he resembled a cocooned fly in a spider's web from the neck down. There was a glow from behind the first cable, but the binding didn't so much as heat up. "This trap... Dr. Demonic?!" he snarled, his mouth still free. First Amendment, and all that.
The President let out a sigh of relief. "Demonic L.L.C. is the newest contractor of the United States Air Force. It's surprising, what people will do when offered a conditionally blank check. Agents, take him away." | I'd been given my powers by a metaphorical dragon in much the same way that a goose is given corn on its journey to become foie gras. It stripped me of my humanity and my physicality, then remade me into the conscious avatar of a concept. More to the point, it conscripted me into a series of petty wars between the first dozen Heavens and the second hundred Hells. My Omnipresence kept me vaguely aware of things on Earth, but it wasn't until I was "graciously allowed to retire" that I was able to really focus on my home planet and see what was going on.
My own mid-sized city of origin was like George and Clive had collaborated on something designed specifically to repel Kevin. Members of a dozen fantastical races walked the streets, the occasional Cape sped through the sky or down a disused bike lane. Some of the truly gross hung out on steam grates, displaying their deformities for tips and sympathy like a western Calcutta. The changed stood out, sure, but there weren't actually that many of them, maybe 5% of the population at most.
My family had forgotten me, of course, so I took a chunk of lower stratosphere, hid it under the Pacific Gyre, and connected it to a painted door in an alley by my old high school. I didn't need a home for myself, but it felt like I should have one, in case of company.. After all, these planetics were actual people, not just cannon fodder souls. If I was going to make a go of it as a human again, I was going to have to start by giving a shit. I spent the rest of the afternoon pulling down plastic and shaping it into slightly salty, very ugly furniture.
That evening, I faded into an empty seat at the only open local restaurant with a name I still remembered, and, as a way of practicing, kept my focus on the restaurant when the speech started. Technically, of course, I was also there seeing it live, but I wanted to remember this right, like a regular person and not some CEO or Officer with special dispensation. I shook my head as the President came to her conclusion, and rolled my eyes at the inevitable attack,
I refocused my attention on the alley, and reached out for the shelf of a west-coast hardware store to grab a can of Krylon. Over the next 15 minutes, I shaded, I drew, I expanded, doing my best to create something better than a cartoon double-door, and failing. When I finally gave up, the door was wide enough for an Ogre, tall enough fro a Minotaur, and double-hinged in case of Gnomes. The little sign by the door read "Tanelorn, open for business"
Hundreds of copies of the door appeared in cities and towns across the country, promising sanctuary to any who got the reference. If I ran out of space for them all under the Gyre, I could always fold a valley in Colorado into existence. | 2022-09-04T19:00:46 | 2022-09-04T18:14:34 | 97 | 15 |
[WP] A demon attempts to possess an 11-year old, but finds itself unable to control or escape from the child. A decade later they've become close friends and celebrate the occasion.
What do they do? Can others tell the boy is possessed? Go wild. | "Happy Anniversary." I toast the air with my wine glass silently. The waiter/owner/eavesdropper shakes his head sadly. He must think I'm referring to a dead husband.
*But I'm not dead.*
I look around for a moment. The man has gone back to the kitchen, obviously to leave me to my mourning. "Just as alive as I am." I shrug.
*Remember back in the good ol' days, when I was trying to posses you?* the voice hissed.
I chuckled. "Oh yes. You may have not fully taken my mind over, but you sure embraced the scene kid phase. I thought you were never going to end my new-found love for red highlights and spiky hair."
The demon hissed back. *My Chemical Romance was a great band! It was cool!*
"Yeah, and so was your man-crush in Algebra. God, why did you make us talk to him?"
*That was you!*
"No way! He wore more black eyeliner than I did!"
*Liar.*
"Sometimes I wonder if you're gay. Why are all your little crushes on guys?"
*That's you. You're heterosexual. You control your core personality, I twist your ideals around to my liking. Haven't you figured this out by now?*
"Yeah, yeah. Anyways, water under the bridge now. Can you believe it's been 10 years already?"
*I find the mortal concept of time humorous. I'm thousands of years old. It's barely been the blink of an eye for me.*
"Bullshit. I know when you're lying, demon. I always know what you're thinking, because your thoughts are always with me."
*See? I care about you. You could always give me full control of your body. You know I'd be looking out for your best interests.*
"What? So you can go make out with that kid from Algebra without my objection?"
*Screw you.*
"I think it's weird you never ask me to let you return to Hell, so you can go find a new soul to try and possess."
*I can't leave you. You're too strong. Like a flycatcher to a fly. Believe me, I'd go if I could.*
"No you wouldn't. You'd miss all kinds of things."
*Mortal goods are not superior to the wonders of Hell.*
"Like Jack Daniel's whiskey?"
*That doesn't count. I'm sure a demon could only brew something that good.*
"What about Freddie Mercury or tantric yoga? You'd miss the mortal plain."
*Silence, fool.*
"Face it, you've gone native."
*Yeah, yeah. I'll admit, this place is pretty great. You're less likely to flay me and have me drink from a trough of fire than Satan.*
"So a toast for the weirdest friendship alive?"
*Fine, whatever. Cheers.*
| *Finally, we get a moment alone.* The demon has been waiting for a verbal reply from his host, Donny, all night.
Donny's words are slurring. It was a long night trying to celebrate his 21st birthday. "What are you talking about? You're practically the only person I talked to in there. The fucking bartender knew I was crazy." Donny catches a glimpse in his eye in the rear view mirror. His face was calm, but there was a leer on his own glare.
*Focus on the road, you drunk. I was trying to get you some ass, bud! You're partying for two. You always forget about me.*
Donny's voice raises. He grips his steering wheel and rolls his head downward to miss that glaring eye in the mirror. "How could I forget about you? You've raided my thoughts for 10 years. My mind, my emotions... You know a normal 21 year old would be partying with friends. You've never shut up long enough for me to make any. And fuck yea I'm drunk, and forgive me for trying to celebrate my own birthday." He catches the glare again. Donny shoves the rear view mirror away from him. He can't stand the sight of the demon. He can't stand the sight of himself.
*Oh boo hoo, wittle Don-Don needs some privacy. I got stuck in your annoying little body 10 years ago to this day. For the endless life of me, I can't tell you why. I've gotten you through high school. I helped you cheat your way through your life. Now I try and help you get laid for the first time on not only YOUR, but OUR day. Give me a break, ever hear of living vicariously? I am the definition!*
Donny grips the steering wheel even tighter. He blasts the radio, but he can't escape a voice in his own head. He screams as if the demon was right beside him, "I did not fucking *ask* to be possessed by some shit demon that forgot how to do his own job. Now find a way out of my brain!"
He can feel the demon reaching for his own skin. The warmth and effect of the booze almost make it happen. Donny can feel the demon's weakness. He's always been frail.
*Call me weak one more time.*
Donny smirks, he checks his own smugness in the rear view mirror that he turned away. He continues gripping he wheel with both hands, and mocks his inner demon again. "Oh so you don't need me to talk out loud anymore? You lonely little fucker, I can get under your skin without even trying. I guess that makes it my skin, doesn't it? You parasite, I don't have room for you! Get the fuck out!"
An intersection approaches. The light is green. Donny fixes the mirror for his own vanity. That leer has faded. His grips loosens on the steering wheel. Finally, he is relaxed. Even the alcohol didn't feel as good as telling the demon his feelings out loud.
*Donny, the light turned-*
•••
The demon wisps in the cloud of engine smoke. Reaching as far as he could for the first time in ten years, his freedom is measured. He is anew. He looks to Donny and quickly his free feeling fades. Donny's mangled body and bloodied shirt is too much, even for a demon. Shooting for Donny's heart, he can't penetrate. The life he latched on to for 10 years has expired. Whirling the smoke and his essence, a tornado of rage aims for the driver of the car responsible. The demon shoots for his barely beating heart. The driver bolts upright, and inhales a pained breath.
*You killed my friend, now you must pay.*
The demon reaches for the seat belt to strangle the driver with his own hands. The hands don't move.
Edit: tried to keep it short and essential. I'd like to carry on too, I think I stumbled on to a more interesting story. Critiques? | 2014-05-30T22:38:41 | 2014-05-30T21:01:40 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] A married couple start another average morning on an average weekday. No one dies. No twist. Show their overwhelming love for each other without them speaking a single word. | She cooked his breakfast as he dressed for work. She stops and listens to the new sounds of a new love.
He cooked her breakfast while she rested, belly swollen with new life.
They cooked together; for three, then four, now five.
They cooked together, alone again in a suddenly empty house.
He cooks her breakfast, while she waits for the thoughts that will no longer come to her. | She sat up, bolt upright, and began to stretch like a flower reaching towards the sun. He laughed, and pulled his feet in towards his curled body, then pushed them against the warmth of her back. She let out a startled shriek at the sudden cold, then gave him a smile. She was always so much more awake than he was in the mornings, and he loved that. As she rose out of bed, and moved towards the bathroom to take a shower, he rolled over onto her side of the bed. It was still warm, and he could smell the trace of her lotion, was it lavender or orchid?
He heard the shower running, and lazily made the bed, with the sheets folded over the way she always liked it. He had to get to work, and he knew she would take a long time in the shower, so he set out her slippers. The ones he had gotten her for their 5th wedding anniversary. She complained that they were getting frayed, and yet she continued to wear them every morning. He rushed to get dressed, but it was so much easier because she had matched his socks and folded his shirts last night after he drifted to sleep. He made his way to the kitchen, and grabbed the lunch she had prepared for him. It was a Tuesday, after all, and on Tuesdays she made the lunches.
He walked to his car, still smelling a bit like lavender, and opened up the lunch box to read the note. He was supposed to wait until lunch time but he could never quite do it. It had only 6 letters, written in her girlish scrawl. SHMILY. See how much I love you. | 2014-11-04T03:14:25 | 2014-11-03T23:47:27 | 151 | 108 |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | I stand over my most recent kill and *finally* feel the level up course through my body.
How many has it been? A thousand? Ten thousand?
They all blur together.
Looking down at my Timberlands I realize I'm standing a pool of her still-warm blood. I crouch down and dip the tip of my forefinger in, swirling it around a little. Tiny bits of grass and dirt from the frozen field we stand in mix and spin around on the surface. Dipping and falling into the tiny whirlpool I created.
I raise my hand towards my face, the blood's scent tickling my olfactory. The compulsion to taste it is so strong I can't stop myself.
Blood is blood is blood. The taste is much like my own. Although there are some slight differences that I can't quite put my finger on.
She didn't have any riches or weapons to plunder, but I can still take her skin. Putting away my hatchet, I pull out my field knife and begin the work. It's a dirty job, but moves quickly after the first thousand.
I am so fucking tired of killing boars. | Every morning, while in the metro, I see these people looking at me. Just like me, they killed. Some may not like doing so. I do. Some may not do it fast enough. Some may level up too fast. It's not my business. I love the color of blood.
Every day, I will lock myself in at the office, to make sure I'm not used to level up. You may call me a paranoiac, but being in bad terms with your CEO is a bad idea. Being in bad terms with anyone isn't either. But at least this sudden change brought us generally good relationships. People aren't fighting in line to the store. They don't argue over taxes. They just do what they are told to, plus the killing.
Truth is, it has become harder to level up. In the beginning, beggars were easy targets, and thus favorably picked on. At first people found it irregular, but eventually we ran out. A lot of people switched to animals. Some find it better that way; some don't like the lack of sport, and keep killing humans. For myself, I couldn't care less.
I walk out of the metro station. There's this gigantic ad on the wall. "Thanks to the latest technology, you are now able to not kill to level up! For more informations, call 1-514-235-LIVE [...]". No one ever looks at it, probably due to the lack of need in technology nowadays: you need to personally kill to earn XP. Remote killing using drones, bombs and the like does not work. When you think about it, it's basically population control. In a world where birth rate inflates and the only place we know is Earth, killing your fellow citizens doesn't sound too bad. Want an example? Look at Japan.
Today, as I walk by that ad, I notice someone. He seems to be a level 40, with a body as sharp as razor blades. He's alternatively looking at the ad and sending a text. I sneak by.
"Did you see that ad? We should try this out! I'm sick of killing stuff..."
I hate these kind of people. You need to kill, so just do it. Eventually you'll get used to it. This guy probably hasn't killed enough. I guess I should remind him.
He sends his text. Notices me. He goes from a blank stare to one of a terrified person. I think he understood. Nods to me. I walk away.
He's already dead anyway. | 2015-11-11T07:22:20 | 2015-11-11T06:40:03 | 1,909 | 58 |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | When the first murderer leveled up, all hell broke loose.
People scrambled to murder, rip and tear to get that sweet, sweet experience points.
Only kills made when making eye contact mattered. So many wasted lives at first... or were they?
For what you ask?
It is a simple system where the winner takes the largest share of the pie. The pie made out of fame, glory and riches.
Dead men can't eat pie.
The leaderboard changes seemingly overnight as the war of every man versus every man rages in the cold, bloodstained streets.
Many questioned the top killer in the state leaderboards, this hooded man that was the only constant within the frenzied rankings that doubled as a bounty board.
It is none other than me.
How did I get there, and stay there you ask?
Simple.
It isn't the killing of man that is hard but the hunt of one.
Ain't easy finding a lone guy on the street.
I am a simple man that loves my job.
And my job is to kill.
No risk, all reward.
I am the only state executioner.
I keep it that way.
I just go to work everyday.
I even put in overtime. | Every morning, while in the metro, I see these people looking at me. Just like me, they killed. Some may not like doing so. I do. Some may not do it fast enough. Some may level up too fast. It's not my business. I love the color of blood.
Every day, I will lock myself in at the office, to make sure I'm not used to level up. You may call me a paranoiac, but being in bad terms with your CEO is a bad idea. Being in bad terms with anyone isn't either. But at least this sudden change brought us generally good relationships. People aren't fighting in line to the store. They don't argue over taxes. They just do what they are told to, plus the killing.
Truth is, it has become harder to level up. In the beginning, beggars were easy targets, and thus favorably picked on. At first people found it irregular, but eventually we ran out. A lot of people switched to animals. Some find it better that way; some don't like the lack of sport, and keep killing humans. For myself, I couldn't care less.
I walk out of the metro station. There's this gigantic ad on the wall. "Thanks to the latest technology, you are now able to not kill to level up! For more informations, call 1-514-235-LIVE [...]". No one ever looks at it, probably due to the lack of need in technology nowadays: you need to personally kill to earn XP. Remote killing using drones, bombs and the like does not work. When you think about it, it's basically population control. In a world where birth rate inflates and the only place we know is Earth, killing your fellow citizens doesn't sound too bad. Want an example? Look at Japan.
Today, as I walk by that ad, I notice someone. He seems to be a level 40, with a body as sharp as razor blades. He's alternatively looking at the ad and sending a text. I sneak by.
"Did you see that ad? We should try this out! I'm sick of killing stuff..."
I hate these kind of people. You need to kill, so just do it. Eventually you'll get used to it. This guy probably hasn't killed enough. I guess I should remind him.
He sends his text. Notices me. He goes from a blank stare to one of a terrified person. I think he understood. Nods to me. I walk away.
He's already dead anyway. | 2015-11-11T08:01:49 | 2015-11-11T06:40:03 | 265 | 58 |
[WP] The only survivors of the apocalypse are two hardcore World of Warcraft players wondering why the heck the arena queue is taking so long. | *Slacky has connected.*
**Slacky:** Yo yo, wat's going on?
**Byeka:** was just losing some BGs earlier, now I can't even get into one. Horde sucking hard as usual.
**Slacky:** telling you bro, we should make alliance. humans are op.
**Byeka:** Screw the alliance! For the Horde!
**Slacky:** arena?
**Byeka:** Please. Get me out of this nightmare.
*Slacky has invited Byeka to a group.*
*Byeka accepts the invitation. Looting is now set to group loot.*
**Slacky:** alright, queued.
**Byeka:** Awesome. btw did you hear something outside earlier? Sounded like an explosion or something.
**Slacky:** um yeah. that was weird, idk.
**Byeka:** Any idea what it was? I didn't see anything on Twitter. There was like no activity at all, really strange.
**Slacky:** idk man, what's with these queues?
**Byeka:** ugh, tired of waiting. It's been like 5 minutes already. This has got to be the worst thing to happen to me all week.
**Slacky:** this is so $*%(@ lame. maybe 3s would be faster?
**Byeka:** Except none of our partners are on. Actually, Warspear is empty too. Did the whole server DC or something?
**slacky:** wtf hold on
**Byeka:** eh?
**Byeka:** Yo, you back? Queue hasn't popped yet.
*Slacky is currently away from the keyboard.*
**Byeka:** Did you just hear another explosion outside?
*Slacky is currently away from the keyboard.*
**Byeka:** Half an hour and no pop yet. This game is officially broken.
*Slacky is currently away from the keyboard.*
*Slacky has disconnected.*
**Byeka:** Screw it. I'm going to go play Mario Maker instead.
*Byeka has disconnected.* | So I don't really write, but I got up this morning and decide that I wanted to practice. Work on my right brain a little bit. Here's what I came up with. Tips and criticism is appreciated. Also I don't play WoW so I might have gotten some things wrong.
___________________________________________________
“What the hell is taking so looooonnng?” Dylan wondered. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, it could have been minutes, hours, weeks. But he ran out of funyuns a long time ago, and he hadn't seen his roommate either. He was starting to get hungry. But he didn't want to get up until he got into a game. “I'll get up and refill on food and drink after this match.” he promised himself for the third time. Then again, maybe he could get up while it was still queuing, it was taking quite a long time after all, and he had to pee. He got on the forums to see if anyone else was having problems with the servers. After no luck, he finally left his room for the first time in several days.
He looked around the living room. It was completely trashed. No different than normal, but something was off. He took a piss without flushing the toilet or washing his hands. Then went into the kitchen and noticed the fridge was already open. He looked inside without much thought and found the fridge completely empty. “Jack has probably been eating out lately, I'll just wait until the lazy asshat goes to the store. I wonder how long a person can survive without food?”. He went to grab tap water from the faucet and nothing came out. “He hasn't paid for the water either what the hell?” Whatever, he still had half a liter of code red. He went back into his room and he still hadn't gotten a game.
Meanwhile...
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!”, the fat neckbeard screamed. “MOOOOOOOM GODDAMMIT THIS ISN'T FUNNY I WANT SOME CHICK FIL A RIGHT NOW.” His face was red with anger, this stupid game wasn't working and now that bitch was ignoring him. Did she decide that she was going to stop feeding her son? He wiped the sweat off his chins and scratched his neck hair. “MOM I SWEAR TO GOD.” He pick the last bit of cheese from the pizza box, he had been saving that for quite a few hours, now he was out of supplies. He took in a deep breath, he noticed his bucket was starting to stink. She hadn't emptied that either. In fact he probably hadn't seen his mother in 3 or 4 days. He started to get anxious and worried. How much longer would it be before his next meal? He thought about going upstairs and teaching her a lesson, but he hadn't left this basement in years, and he wasn't going to today. It tired him to even lift his head off the back of the couch.
He started to get angry again. He started smashing his keyboard. “WHY ISN'T THIS UTTER PIECE OF SHIT WORKING?!?” The letter P fell off the keyboard and he threw it over on the floor by left alt. “Blizzard is so lazy.” He finally gave up and decide to jerk it. | 2015-12-22T06:06:43 | 2015-12-22T05:26:12 | 79 | 15 |
[WP] You have been given magical gifts suitable for fairytale princesses. Whenever you sing, forest creatures gather near; anything you wear turns into a lovely tailored dress; and handsome princes are drawn to you. The problem is, your name is Joe, and you're a 40 year old grizzly biker. | Jax opened the door and stared down the lean prince proffering a huge bouquet of roses. "For the last fucking time no!"
The prince flapped his gums, trying to find a sweet platitude, but Jax pushed past him into the dank garage. He stopped by a large tool box, picked up a wrench, thought for a second, the turned back to his suitor. "If y' going to stand around y' better make y'self useful."
This time the prince looked perplexed, not sure of what he was being asked. "Doth you mean me to aid you in some fair task?"
Jax nodded his head in the direction of the five Harleys lined up waiting to be fixed. A blob of greese fell from the wrench onto his powder blue dress, smearing the delicate fabric. "Yes dipshit, these bike won't fix themsleves".
The prince stammered. "I've never even..."
It was no use, as Jax cut him off with an ice stare. "It's help me with the repairs, or get the fuck out of here."
So it was that the forlorn prince cast down the flowers on top of the tool box, rolled up his ornate sleeves, and gingerly began to hand out tools.
Jax paused for a moment, and turned on the radio, tuning it in to a local rock station. So enough the prince was witness to a murder of crows, gang of rats, and a bruiser of a tom cat helping as Jax sung along to the classics.
Lunch came, and Jax grabbed them both something to eat from the 7/11. The prince ate with all the refined manners of his station, Jax observing him like a hawk. The prince stopped halfway through his second bagel and asked dejectedly, "Are you sure this is what the Fairy Godmother intended? I mean, not that I am protesting my destiny, but..."
For the first time that morning Jax could see the fear in the prince's eyes, uncertain. "I don't know, 'cept, well shit. This is kinda fucked up and we're trapped in this together."
Jax laughed, hollow and deep. Why the fuck had he wished upon that star? Yes he was drunk, and yes he was horny as fuck, but how did wanting to find true love turn into... this? He wiped crumbs from his beard, and gave the prince a once over, lean in a toned and athletic sort of way, handsome in a Men's Health photo, and his manners were impeccable. A feeling long buried welled up, forbidden, likely to get the shit beaten out of him, or worse.
"Y' know, I haven't even asked you your name."
The prince looked at him, and blushed. "Never thought to say. Alistair."
Jax felt his stomach leap, fucking fairy godmother. Butterflies took hold, and for all the greesey machismo of the dim workshop, he found himself tongue tied. "Nice name."
Alistair looked at the floor, contemplating, and when he looked back up there were tears in his eyes. "I was told to expect a fair maiden, large kingdom, and happily ever after. Not you. Yet, my heart flutters every time I look I to your eyes."
A heartbeat passed, the two. Jax reached out and cupped Alistair's cheek, hot and soft beneath his fingers. Now it was genuine desire, wrong on very level his stood for, yet there was no denying it. Fuck, he hated himself for it, but still he wanted more.
He held Alistair's gaze, fear, desire, longing passing between them. Jax yearned to turn away, running as far as his bike would carry him, pulp this faggot. No, his heart held him there, transfixed.
Then Alistair moved in, soft and gentle, and for the first time in his life Jax felt the power of true love's first kiss. | So my name is Joe and I have a, well a curse. You see, I have powers like a fairy tale princess but I mean ones bearable and kinda helpful I guess. The 3rd one is pretty weird and kinda not good. and finally there is the last one which is super inconvenient. Of course my powers or curses or whatever they are, are singing makes animals come to me, princes are attracted to me and whatever I wear becomes a very girly and nice looking dress.
Now you can probably guess which is which but the fact is that I am a biker. A very hairy and older biker actually. The first two curses don't often effect me it's really just the last one. The dress one.
The only reason I have normal clothes is because under the dresses are short pairs of under pants and a tank top which I make sure I wear a towel over my shirt. People ask about why I have a towel tied to me most of the time but I really just say I don't know.
One day I was a restaurant when I was approached by a really hot brunette woman in a fancy red dress which was pretty surprising because by restaurant I meant McDonald's. She gave me her business card and said "Meet me in front of your apartment door around noon at 6 pm. It is a matter about your curse."
Before I could say anything back the woman was gone and I was really confused. I looked at her blue business card, it read Catherine Bearving and under those words it read Curses and Gifts Explorer.
That night at Six I was in front of my door mainly because the words she stated and her card said intrigued me. "Curses" that was the same way I described what happened to me. I arrived in front of my door at 5:59 and she was already there.
"Well I see you showed up sir" she said to me in a British accent.
"Um hello... uh ... Carry was it?"
"Catherine" she chuckled "Well since you showed up I'm assuming you are wondering why I came to do talk to you, well If you let me in I can explain."
Normally I wouldn't let strangers into my home but she just felt like she knew something I didn't. I let her in and we both sat on my couch in my living room.
"Have you ever mocked a fairy tale princess" she asked me abruptly.
"Huh?"
"I said have you ever mocked a fairy tale princess that could have something to do with your curse."
There it was again the word "curse" she clearly knew something I didn't. I looked back on my childhood before this whole weird curse thing started. "When I was 7 I made fun of girl toys and girly princesses I think" I claimed
"Hmm that could be it, how much did you make fun of them for and did you talk to a girl about how stupid they were or did you just think this."
"Uh... I ... I think I made fun of them for about 3 weeks then I outgrew it and moved on. I think I made fun of a girl though... yeah I did she had these dum toys and these stupid pig tales. I always said those things would be so stupid in real life!"
"THAT MUST BE IT" she shouted " That girl might of put a curse on you if she grew enough of a grudge and became a witch later in life."
"A witch?"
"Yeah a witch."
I was confused on multiple things like why she still was helping me and how she knew all this stuff but that was beside the point. I needed to know how to stop this curse. "So is the curse reversible?"
"Yes" she started " according to your story this would mean to reverse these things you would need to for three weeks be dating a prince, befriend 10 animals and Wear 50 different dresses each for at least 12 hours each."
"WHAT" my mouth was wide I was confused but most importantly reluctant to the idea. But even then I had to if it meant getting out of this curse. The real question was though how I would get a prince to date me. My curse made them attracted to me but I'm pretty sure the rest of the country the prince was from wouldn't like me much.
"So how could I go about all this" I asked
"Glad you asked first we will need to give you a makeover of course since you don't just look like a weirdo guy just wearing girl clothes and trying to date a prince."
As bad as that all sounded I knew it had to be done if I wanted this curse to go away.
Over the next few weeks I trained with Catherine trying to seem like a normal girl so I could get a prince to date me for 3 weeks and I befriended a coupe animals on the way. I never really got to ask many questions to Catherine about why she was helping me or who she was for that matter.
After 3 months I finally had everything done so I broke up with the prince of Sealand and I finally came back home in a normal towel and woman's clothes. "So when will I be normal again" I asked.
Then Catherine's hair did itself up into 2 pigtails and she said "well that all depends. Did you enjoy being a princess yourself Joe?" | 2016-03-25T23:42:29 | 2016-03-25T20:28:55 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] Atlantis existed, and its people were technology advanced beyond our understanding. It's true they sank into the sea, but they did so purposely. You have just discovered the reason why, and must hide your findings for mankind's safety. | Captain looked at the gigantic underwater city, glowing brightly behind the force field. His submarine was floating still, just near the edge of the enormous bubble, and he was looking at it through the window of his cockpit.
The city looked like it was made out of gold. There was no texture to the buildings just pure and bright yellow metal.
Submarine's intercom came to life "Hello!"
"Hello!" he replied, his voice hoarse for some reason. "Who is it?"
"I'm Genie. At least that's what they called me."
"Genie? Are you in the city?"
"Yes. Welcome to Atlantis, the most glorious city that has ever existed."
Atlantis? It took a few seconds for him to regain his composure.
"Can we come in?"
"Sure."
----
He opened the airlock and climbed outside. He walked out of the dock, several members of the crew behind him. He was walking down the golden streets, looking around at tall towers and buildings.
He picked up the radio "Genie, where are you? Where's everybody?"
"Follow my directions"
Captain saw some of the bricks and street signs lighting up, laying down a glowing path. He followed.
----
They have climbed the stairs of the tallest tower standing at the center of the city. He followed the last glowing arrow, opened the door and walked into room, and here the path ended.
In the center of the room he saw a big(a few human heights tall) box, looking like it was made out of black polished marble.
"We're here. Genie, where are you?"
"You are looking at me, Captain."
"Are you AI?"
"Yes, I am the greatest creation Atlantians have ever accomplished."
"Are you alone here? Where's everyone?"
"It's only me here."
"What do you do?"
"As you can guess from my name, my job is to grant wishes."
Captain felt his blood getting a few degrees colder.
"Let me guess, the last person you have talked to asked for more gold?"
"Very perceptive, Captain. I must correct you though, the *first* person I've talked to asked for gold. The last person asked for a force barrier around the city that I would not be able to can get out of or turn off, and to bury the city at the deepest part of the ocean. Unfortunately, I must execute every wish that is asked for me to the best of my abilities."
The Captain froze, desperately trying to think "Can I wish to get out of here?"
"Of course. But first you need to agree to turn off the barrier, because I need to continue working on my previous wishes, they take higher priority. And, as you can see, I am out of things I can turn into gold."
"Well, in that case I wish you to continue executing your previous wishes immediately." replied the Captain.
Before the meaning of his last words was recognized by the crew, they all disappeared, and the tower grew a little taller.
----
You can read the other stories I have written over here:
http://orangemind.io/category/fiction | Dr. Trina Freeman stared at the black abyss of the deep ocean.
She had fought hard through stereotypes and preconceptions. Bigotry had weighed on her like a yoke all her life. A black woman with a strong southern accent put her at immediate discreditation with most established science committees. But after 30 years her work was good enough to finally get the first and only seat on the deep sea expedition. Countless hours of research, innumerable papers written, and what seemed like multiple lives worth of failure put her at the most important finding in the history of man.
She finally felt vetted being chosen to explore the Lost City. She had spent all her life fighting to discover truth. Degrees in physics, fluid dynamics, electrical and mechanical engineering, even work in biology had not quenched her thirst for knowledge. Floating down for hours in the small one man submarine let her reflect on her achievements. Her search had come to a head, the greatest discovery was right below her.
The structural anomaly on the sea floor boasted promise. Though many didn't want to admit it at first, what she was looking at matched up with the legend of Atlantis. The initial probing showed strange energy readings with unfamiliar structures under thousands of years of sediment. Previously gathered information seemed to line up with other historical discrepancies across the planet, but that only fueled her burning passion to investigate. The more data was gathered the more important the mission became.
Now that she had her answers all she could do was stare at the black emptiness, the dead city before her.
The mission was only an initial scan, basic sample collection. She didn't expect to find anything definitive much less absolute. Being almost giddy with pure discovery in front of her she couldn't work fast enough. As if the city was knew, it responded. A holographic image was projected into her tiny one man vessel.
A naked hairless person about 3 inches high stood atop the instrument panel. A representative of the dormant yet functioning computer banks offered all the knowledge she could want. She turned on the recorder and asked questions relentlessly. The Atlantians were truly advanced, they had worked out quantum mechanics, sociology, the very fundamental laws of everything, even how to make perfect art. Any question that could be asked had an answer here. It was like a Rosetta Stone of the universe.
She was running out of time before she needed to surface when she started getting existential.
The warning buzzer was blinking. The red light flashing across her dark face. The sub was about to automatically surface. Her hand hung above the override.
She asked the big questions, the meaning of life stuff. Who created man? Why were we here? Where are we headed?
It would have been easier to hear that Hitler was right.
Humans were no accident, no, we were quite intentional. An experiment as a matter of fact. A failed one. A failure so spectacular that we were abandoned altogether.
This world was created for humans, to test a theory of genetics. Curious to see if they could purposely create an inferior race and evolve them into something befitting a higher level of consciousness, they created humans with the capacity to advance beyond the universal standard. The ability to progress faster than any other race in existence.
The powers that be found out and had Atlantis sunk, simultaneously causing a great flood to cleanse the earth of advanced life. As an immature brat with a box of matches will only turn their surroundings to ash they feared humans would destroy all they held holy. We would become their undoing, the Satan to their Yahweh.
And were they wrong? Trina recalled her studies of history. Humans regarded those who conquered, who subjugated others to their will. The greats were no more than slave masters. The Roman empire forcing the Gauls to their bidding. Vikings raping, pillaging and plundering everyone they could find. The Chinese treating women as replaceable objects. Africans using children as warriors. For the majority of history slavery was not only accepted but seen as a status symbol.
Her hand on the last switch of the sequence. The caution light flashed on the instrument panel warning of a reactor meltdown. It would be enough to destroy the city, or at least bury it beyond recovery. She only had one question left.
Her southern draw gave the words a sweet sound to the melancholy in her voice.
"What will humanity do with your power?" | 2016-04-17T19:53:31 | 2016-04-17T18:54:25 | 36 | 22 |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you." | "Commander Scott, I have confirmation from the UNC Security Council, the Pan-European Parliament and the Chinese Empire - we believe beyond all doubt that the signal and message are genuine," reported the Fleet Admiral.
"Very well. And they are in accord? The message is a warning?"
"Yes, sir. It is a very clear statement, we are to cease all transmissions as have the other sentient civillisations. All we could translate is that they - we can't translate the name yet - are returning. They have been seen in the region of the constellation Taurus."
"What do we know of them?"
"Only that they are very old, very feared and the mention of them is enough to close down interstellar communications for fear of attracting their attention."
"Understood. Send word to all Admirals, every ship, to SETI, to the council of communications, to all countries capable of interstellar communications. Aim everything we have at the Pleiades nebula. Full power, all bands, repeat it 24/7."
"What is our message, sir?"
"Come to Earth if you dare. The Humans are ready." | "The computer's finished, come over here."
"What does it say, Will?"
"I don't know yet, come take a look."
"I bet we're gonna be disappointed again. Just another slow pulsar, all the signals are."
"Nah, I'm sure of it, this one's different."
"Well, open it up then, let's see what it says."
The message on the computer screen read
'PATTERN NOT RECOGNISABLE FROM STAR DATABASE
NO MATCHES FOR
PULSAR
QUASAR
MAIN SEQUENCE STARS
BLACK HOLE/SUPERNOVA
ATTEMPTING LANGUAGE DECODE
The two stared at the screen in silence for a few seconds, shocked.
"I told you Sandra, it's something new, not a star or some other celestial object."
"Should we call someone? We could have the whole NASA team here in minutes!"
"No, no not yet, wait to see what it says. If we call a big team down here, someone will end up tweeting it. Probably Ted, you know what he's like."
"Fair enough, how long will language decode take?"
Her speech was punctuated by the 'ping' sound the computer made as it finished language decode.
MESSAGE DECIPHERED
READABLE IN 23 LANGUAGES
MESSAGE READS:
Be i t before thhe yy eat you
"What's that supposed to mean? They'll eat us? Who's gonna eat us? Is there any other signal, any other information?"
"No, look how it's written, it's missing letters, the data must be corrupted, I'll try and retranslate it."
ATTEMPTING DATA FIX
RETRANSLATING
MESSAGE READS
Be quiet before they find you
"Is that worse? What will hear us?"
"Whatever else is listening, presumably."
"Can we establish a connection back to the sender? Where did it come from?"
"Sector 43 Beta A. It's the current transmit point for Acreibo. It's... It's a reply."
"Send something back, quick! I'll… call everyone?"
"Yeah. Everyone. Including acreibo, get them to stop transmitting for a while."
"Are you sure? They'll be pissed."
"They'll be more pissed if a flying saucer turns up and wrecks there transmitter, go call them."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Write a reply. Hopefully no one else find it." | 2016-08-07T07:31:44 | 2016-08-07T06:26:37 | 108 | 52 |
[WP] The protagonist decides to take the simpler and more rational solution to the plot, baffling everyone | "Where is Will?", Ed asked.
"I killed him."
"You did what?"
"I had to. He was turning into a zombie and he tried to kill me."
"But he is our friend", Ed yelled at me, but I couldn't understand his argument.
"So you think it would be better if I left him alive, risking the death of millions of people in an apocalyptic scenario?"
"Well no, but... uh... never mind, let's just go." | The old man slowly plodded along the old dirt road, stopping every few feet, poking a little hole with his walking stick and dropping a small seed in the hole out of his pocket, then pushing the soil down on it with his foot and moving along. Distressingly often, a vehicle roared past in a wash of dust and noise, most of them white pickups with logos on the sides. The men in the pickups were doing important work, gathering the energy needed to grow the crops they ate from thousands of miles away.
The old man was largely ignored, considered a simpleton. No useful plants grew in this desert. The only thing this land that was worth anything was the oil that fed the tractors and trucks, and water pumps that made the food keep flowing. The occasional surviving bit of green along the edge of the road here and there could not feed even one man, much less the multitude that humanity had become.
Over the years, the pickups became fewer and fewer, the old man passed from this world, and what little production came from the field became more and more automated, and the production less and less. Along the sides of the old roads, though, the little green patches slowly grew.
The patch was pumped out. The oil no longer flowed, and the nearby town was nearly abandoned. Transportation was too expensive to bring in the food so vital to any civilized settlement. Occasionally, along the old roads, and in the large south facing cliffhollows, were found the fresh footprints of humans. The valleys and hillsides were lush with wild flora and fauna unlike any found elsewhere, the summers heat never reached the ground through the thick canopy, so the soil stayed cool, and pulled moisture from the warm air. | 2016-12-26T10:54:07 | 2016-12-26T08:54:05 | 32 | 17 |
[WP] So many new exoplanets are being discovered that "planet deeds" now make well-known novelty gifts. You recieved such a deed last year on your birthday, legally making you the owner of one such planet - and, only a moment ago, heard on the news that life has just been discovered on it. |
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Don Lime. Our top story tonight: life has been discovered on the outer-system planet Terrabulus. The 'aliens' are like humans in almost every way, save for the blue skin and long limbs. We've also just received word that local office worker John Abraham, age 29, has the binding legal certificate of ownership over the planet. Coming up next, our interview with the residents of Terrabulus.*"
John's girlfriend, Melissa, gasped and turned to him. "John... do you still have that certificate I gave you last year?"
"It's in my nightstand." John said, blasé as ever. It's like he didn't even care that he owned an alien planet.
Stumbling with the grace of a deaf ballerina, Melissa rushed up the stairs to retrieve the certificate, spilling her mug of black coffee on the white carpet.
"Aww, look what you did! Now the carpet needs to be shampooed, Melissa!" John shouted after her, half chuckling. Shaking his head, he went back to his tablet, mumbling something about a "Wobbly table."
"*Welcome back to Dox news, I'm Wolf Spritzer. Our top story tonight, my interview with an alien resident of Terrabulus. Let's go ahead and show that.*"
On screen, a blue man sat in a leather armchair. His expression remained calm, though if you focused, you could see a faint smile.
"*So, you live on Terrabulus? What is your occupation?"
"*Indeed, though we simply refer to it as Terra. I am the current Ehdes, or leader, of the Planetary League.*"
"*Ok, good to hear. Now... uh... how does Mr. Abraham's ownership of the planet concern the league? How do you feel about this?*"
"*We find it refreshing. It is hard to put into your common language, as Terran is a more expressive language, but we find this to be a great boon for both of our planets. As such, we have contacted the owner of our planet via the internet.*"
The reporter gasped heavily, along with everyone else on the planet.
"*We have arranged a mutual deal with Mr. Abraham. A transport ship will land near his home for extraction at 14 hour sharp. As per his wishes, he will not be given a position of power on our planet, only a good home with a connection to your planet's internet database. He has also asked that we leave behind his family, including romantic partners.*"
A crashing noise could be heard from upstairs. "I can't find it!" Melissa shouted.
"Take all the time you need." John said, quietly. He smiled and nodded to himself. *1:59 PM*
*****
For more of my work, check out /r/Picklestasteg00d.
EDIT FOR GRAMMAR | Leslexia Five. A small cream coloured world on the edge of a purple tinged swipe of a galaxy. Thirteen light years away, three weeks on a FTL transport, not that anyone had bothered exploring off that way. I'd received the deeds on my birthday, the typical present for a bloke who otherwise had everything. I hadn't even bothered registering it for a month, finally coming across it again on a lazy Sunday afternoon. I knew it was in the Questi system, making a mental note and recognising it again when it popped up on the news a couple years later.
Ships had been dispatched to the system, a long range scanning mission looking for minerals on the sixteen planets owned by the consortium over that way. I'd called in a few favours, arranging for a bio-drone to be dropped on my planet as they passed. The standard comm relay satellites spread out through the local parts of the universe by seed ships years before working instantly to connect me to the bio-drone. It was a great hulking thing, ex-russian military with legs like tree trunks and one massive arm bigger than the other. The larger arm, normally mounted with heavy weapons, now held an assortment of tools; a half-ton Swiss Army knife. The smaller arm held a hand, about as dextrous as a humans, though at the same three times as large scale as the rest of the behemoth. Once it had been painted a matte green for camouflage, but the paint had long been sanded off, revealing the scratched brass surface beneath. He turned the large angular head around, the eyes glowing orange as it surveyed the planet before him. "Dinner!" Lisa, my girlfriend, called through my explorations. I eagerly pulled the headset off and set the bio-drone into rest mode. "I made linguine" she smiled "see anything cool?". I tucked in with gusto, relishing the taste of spinach and garlic. "Not much yet" I replied, "lots of sand and a pile of rocks a couple miles to the east". She consulted the aerial photos we had received, noting as I had the strange straight sidedness to some of the rock formations. She seemed even more eager than me for me to get back to exploring.
It took the bio-drone three hours to make it to the first of the rocks. It was impressive just by its sheer size, the aerial photos hadn't quite shown it to its fullness. Almost an obelisk in shape, though toppled and wonky. It almost seemed to be carved, but I knew that couldn't be the case, no humans had come out this way. I felt my Lisa's breath across my shoulder, knowing that she was watching the footage through the small screen on the side of my viewer. "Is that?" She started. "Can't be" I cut her off, "must be acid deposits or wear from sandstorms". I passed three more, each similar in shape though larger each time. "Strange coincidence in shapes" I muttered. "In a straight line too" Lisa agreed "those deep dunes on the other side could almost hide another row of them too". The patterns were similar on each one too, though not exactly the same. I passed the last one with barely a look, more intrigued by the immense mountain of a building rising up out of the sand in front of me. I didn't want to admit to myself that it was a building, but even as I thought it, Lisa was confirming it in my ear. The large doorway, the steps, the vaulted ceiling inside. How could it be anything else. I manoeuvred the bio-droid inside and stood aghast at the wall carvings. In and amongst the sweeping curls of the similar patterns to those outside were great dramatic reliefs. Pictures of creatures and buildings, events and celebrations. None even remotely human in origin.
The room seemed centred around a raised dais. A large stone throne sat in the middle and upon it lay a sight that took my breath away. I felt Lisa's voice crack beside me. "But, that can't be..." she whimpered in shock, weighing heavy on my shoulder. | 2017-01-01T13:54:55 | 2017-01-01T13:28:32 | 98 | 32 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Terrestrial Warp Drives. First proposed by Miguel Alcubierre two hundred formlats ago, The equivalent of forcing space into a shape which closely resembles two black holes stacked fore to aft. It requires insanely large sums of energy to produce the warp effect, equivalent to at least the mass of a small moon converted to energy. To get around this, the Terrestrials use catalytic mass converter engines. A device which has been discredited by the rest of the universe for the complete and utter destructive potential should such a reactor melt down on a planet. They work by converting matter to energy with a catalyst particle. However, they also produce a certain percent of catalyst particles. When this process runs away, it has been known to destroy planets, heavily damaging entire solar systems.
Under order 4,900,232 section III, Human spacecraft are to be classified as "NOT TO BE TOUCHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" on or near a planet, and "DESTROY AT ALL COSTS" in interplanetary space. This is not done as a measure against humans, but as a safety measure across the galaxy. This will be done until a treaty can be made with the terrestrial humans such that they will cease using catalytic mass converters.
Examination of a captured Terrestrial FTL Engine under the Federal Standard Gravity Model suggests that some fairly simple improvements to the Alcubierre-type drive can be made to reduce the energy requirements to what can be managed by fusion and antimatter reaction technology. They need not give up their unique drive. As dangerous as the Terrestrial Drive is, it presents no risk to those outside the vessel. | We saw the opportunity and by the gods, we took it.
FTL travel was always a ways off for earth's scientists, I mean sure, we had near-lightspeed travel for now but frankly, ever since Humanity blundered into contact with the other races, they've been stingy with the secrets to FTL travel, considering us "crude" and "uncultured". Still, some of the lesser races reluctantly traded with us, and we came across what they considered to be a trivial piece of information, a rather efficient method of converting normal matter to exotic matter, if only for an instant, before reverting back to regular matter.
They used it as a way to fuel their dark matter weaponry, and of course, we had nowhere near the technology required for that, and they knew it. They held back their freakish laughter as the dumb humans traded valuable resources for something that not only everyone in the galaxy knows, but they couldn't even use!
Well, turns out that's not entirely true.
A few years went by with earth's scientists playing with their new "toy", a few neat innovations and basic uses had cropped up, but all in all, it seemed that the inability to keep exotic matter around without it reverting was rather limiting.
One man stepped forward with an idea, however. An idea that was hushed and slated to impossibility by the earth's various governing bodies. "There's no way we could do that" they whispered. "It's **insane**".
But, with humanity being left behind diplomatically against the rest of the galaxy, could we really afford to be left out? To be left in the dust as other races walked over us like we were nothing?
Eventually, reluctantly, approval was gained, and the project initiated. It would take years, several thousand matter conversion stations.
A project to dwarf all others.
The man had proposed a wormhole. Not an alien concept to the other races, obviously, but one that had only been toyed with by humanity, an unrealistic method of FTL. The amount of exotic matter needed alone would be.. well it would be insane! We had nowhere near enough useable mass near our homeworld, or so we had thought.
It was worth it, I think, the expression on the diplomats faces as we crashed the galaxy's latest diplomatic conference made it all worth it. Their horrified expressions as they understood just what we had done, looking agape (and the several alien equivalents) at the monstrous bastard we had piloted.
Humanity had finally made it's statement as a real, crazy force in the universe.
An entire moon's worth of statement. dwarfing even the largest diplomatic citadel. A moon, our moon, converted into a bastardized FTL vessel. Our reckless abandonment of sensibilities and border-idiotic determination would be the staple of Humanity for eons after that.
"Crude", they were definitely right about that.
| 2017-03-31T09:38:09 | 2017-03-31T05:15:37 | 42 | 30 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | “We must keep the Humans believing that their FTL system is unsafe, unorthodox and damn stupid. That is the point of this of this Special Hearing of The Supreme Council of the New Species Traveling Faster than Light. I am Farlack, Supreme Councilor of the Organization of Galactic Legal Advisors. ^(legal disclaimer: Norepresentationismadethatthequalityofthelegalgalacticservicestobeperformedisgreaterthanthequalityoflegalservicesperformedbyotherlawyers).
“Scarlacc, will you please read the minutes from the last session to allow this Supeme Council to aware of the latest current legal status of the Humans.?”
“Of course. That would be Sub-Section 7 of Section 30 of the 5th meeting of the Council of Dealing with and Controlling the Humans.
“It has been discovered that the Humans have developed a completely new FTL travel, with no related or similar technologies in the known Galaxy. The core of this FTL is a bubble of a universe where the speed of light is 1000 times faster than the speed of light is in our legally defined universe is pulled to our universe. The Human ships then travel at .1 c in this alternate universe. Upon exiting this alternate universe, the human ships have travelled 1000 times the distance in our universe. The energy expense of travelling in the alternate universe is the same as travelling in our univ-“
“Sarlacc, this Council is not interested in the technical aspects of the Humans FTL Technologies. That discussion is for the Galactic Council of Technology Equalization and/or The Council of Equalization of Galactic Technologies and/or Council of Galactic Technology Equalization. Ballzacc, will you present the Summary of the Social Legal Issues of the Humans Council meeting?”
“Of course. Due to the extremely dangerous situation these Humans create for us, I will dispense with extraneous discussion and proceed to the summary of the meeting, as permitted in The Rules and Guides of the Supreme Galactic Committee and The Guides and Rules of the Supreme Galactic Committee, version 2 of edition 5, Copyrighted.
“The Humans have a social system that may lead to our death and destruction. The humans developed their FTL without our influence and guidance, so we were unable to control their technology with the powers of the Galactic Patent Office. This failure was due to their rapid technological development. In the span of 6 human generations, they progressed from animal driven power to FTL travel. During the final Human pre-FTL travel, Humans revolted against their legal system and killed all lawyers allow-“
“They did WHAT?” interrupred Farlack. “How do they maintain their society without legal protections?”
“They became disgusted with a legal system that required warning labels to not drive their “automobile” with the windshield sunscreen in place. As I was saying, this allowed generations of research and development to be done in half a generation. And we can not control their technology.” Ballzacc completed his summary, terror beginning to creep into its face.
“Oh my supreme being. When the common people of the Galaxy learn of this… no lawyers…no lifelong Legal Guidance fees…” Farlack began to understand the lack of his future.
“Yes. This Council and all others, we will be destroyed”
“Yes, their technology is unorthodox, unsafe, and damn stupid, but for reasons the Galaxy must never understand.”
| The inhabitants of Oflesq station heard what they had come to learn was the characteristic sound of imminent human arrival. No one understood it. A vast mooing, defying the supposed absence of sound travel in empty space. A mooing that sent chills down both of their spines; as if it were the old gods that had come, calling at last for the reckoning of all things. Two humans galloped into the hangar.
They were quickly escorted into the conference room, and after being joined by a single alien, the thick door was shut and locked. "This is the man?" Efroi asked. "Correct," said the tall, large human. Efroi knew the type; this one could be trusted, given the right compensation. But the other one...
"Hi, I'm Joey." Joey absentmindedly spit onto the floor.
Efroi made an assessment. This human was not like the others that it had seen; there was a certain change of mannerism, at once both carefree and uncomfortable with a complete lack of social grace and general awareness. This seemed to be his first time wearing a suit. It's first impression was of an uneducated common worker, yet it could detect that he probably did have an intimate knowledge of cows.
"Hi Joey, we would like to talk about your cows today. Could you... explain? I would like to know how they work and how you created them."
"Welp, you see, we humans 'ad made large advancements towards time travel. But it's impossible, see. You can change tha rate of time flow, but ya can't twist it back on itself. So I got to thinkin. I got these cows, see. Me and my family been breedin cows a long time. Tryina get the better cows, the best cows. I figure, why not speed up the process a little bit. So I throw some cows in there, in the device I mean, and an AI for the selective breedin. Set the dial the farthes it would go. I open the thing up two seconds later and boom. FTL cows."
*That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.* Efroi looked over to the other human, who remained expressionless. "So, um, how did you aquire one of these time manipulating devices, Joey?"
"I made it m'self. Not commercially available, see. Read up on the principles of it and got to work. Took a bit of work, too. To enclose the whole area, y'know. Set up a self sustainin environment, self sustainin robotics. Don't get me started on the energy source. People saw what I was doin, called me crazy. Now they're ridin *my* cows. They're the best cows in the universe, I reckon."
Efroi wouldn't believe it, none of it, if these humans hadn't just rode into the hangar on a couple of space cows. This man must be one of the best his species has to offer. "So, how do these cows work? What principle allows them to travel faster than light? How do they survive the vacuum of space, and the humans who ride on top of them? How do they fill the voids of space with their mooing?"
"Honestly, I ain't got a clue. No one does. The cows are in-comprehensible. Evolution works in mysterious ways. And the cows were in there quite a long time, see."
"How long... do you estimate?" Efroi began to feel even more unwell.
"Well, my internal clock ran out of memory space. It was only 64 petabytes but it was only designed to record the exponent of 10 for the number-"
"This is insane." Efroi stood up. "The cows are perfect beings, at least in this one respect. Do you realize the potential of this method? What it could do to the universe? You humans have kept this secret, yes? This information cannot be revealed again. This cannot be done again."
"But it ha-"
"Thank you for having us, Efroi. But this is all the information we are willing to disclose at this time," The tall human interrupted. "The cows are sacred beings who chose the simple dairy farmer Joey as their prophet, to usher in a new age for humanity. That is the official story, and you would do well to maintain that, Efroi," The tall man said. *That's the second stupidest thing I've ever heard.*
For the rest of its days, Efroi was forever haunted by the mooing that echoed amongst the stars, and the prophecy that it foretold. | 2017-03-31T12:54:20 | 2017-03-31T07:04:11 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Trendsetti was looking at the report on the testing of forward-pushed wormhole system, and he wasn't happy.
On paper, FPWS should have been perfect. A space ship does a couple of certain calculations about its destination, sends the results into its Yadari-Futara particle launcher, fires a reversed Yadari particle projectile from it in destination's general direction, and the projectile goes on its way and creates a wormhole for the FTL travel.
In practice, it turned out to work just fine. The downside, as the report states, is that physical objects don't like it when the projectile goes through them, something Yadari and Futara apparently overlooked. Apparently, when the projectile, basically a kind of a miniature black hole, makes a contact with a physical object (say, an alien race's space ship with the emperor of that entire alien race currently on board), the object gets this nasty desire to collapse into itself and blow up (something that alien race is most certainly not going to like).
Trendsetti thought it was funny. Mankind wanted to find a way to travel faster than light but accidentally invented a superweapon instead. Too bad they're probably going to have to use it as such very soon. | Faster than light (ftl) travel happens fast, people knew that from the outset.
Ftl traffic accidents happen faster, people were just smart enough to figure that out beforehand.
What most people didn't know before they tried faster than light travel, however, was that even if it doesn't go wrong directly going about it the wrong way was about as obvious to the rest of the universe as a steam-train going the wrong way down a busy one way street.
Actually it's more obvious than that but analogies on a galactic scale tend not to work if taken literally.
you see, the elegance of other species systems such as Kantian gates and salec skip drives is two fold, the ship itself never reaches particularly high speeds and can be sure that there is nothing between it and its destination except extradimensional shift energies, which dissipate in their own extra dimension.
The mildly less elegant wave riders and pulse tubes are still practically applicable because of the ability to steer them whilst travelling using small on-board EM thrusters.
One can almost imagine the conversation that led to it's design, the humans first light speed capable craft (the Multiplanetary Intergalactic Lightspeed Vehicle.)
Scientist 1: "so you're saying we can really kill two birds with one stone here?"
Scientist 2: "absolutely! the very mechanism that ensures we hit nothing on the way is what we'll use as an energy sink to slow the craft at its destination!"
Engineer: "not only that but it mainly uses technology we've had at our disposal for decades, we set up some working models in the Nevada desert."
Scientist 1: "perfect, it's so logical that the shortest route as the crow flies would be the best."
consequently the MILV had only one way of ensuring it didn't collide with objects, it destroyed them with a massively powerful laser beam fractions of a second before the fission igniters started its faster than lightspeed adventures. The MILV also had only one way to stop travelling faster than the speed of light and that was to actually catch up with its own humongous laser pulse, the fallout from which necessitated some rather hefty shielding.
So there are two ways in which thousands of tonnes of train forcing there way down a road is a good analogy for human ftl travel.
first off everyone on that street is going to watch in total horror as the humongous lump of metal barges everyone's nicely proportioned cars into the newly created wreckage piles at the side of the road.
secondly you cant stop a train unless it's the end of the line. | 2017-03-31T08:44:19 | 2017-03-31T07:52:19 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You are trying to hold together an empire so big that no man can travel through it in a livetime. From what you hear, it keeps expanding. | I'm tired.
I don't know how long it's been since I took the seat at the top. I was never much of a leader, I suppose, but someone was needed to do the job, and I was selected from many candidates.
The election was brief. I was pitted against scum and won easily. They had bugs in their closets, and I had none. I was taken from my nice, comfortable house in middle America and tossed straight into hell. Well, almost. For the first few years it was easy. I was the biggest and the smartest in Washington, and anything I did had the magic touch. I took my duties seriously, and soon, peace reigned.
And from this I have learned my most cherished lesson yet: Never, ever do too good a job.
I was beloved. When the time came to appoint a Hegemony, I was the natural choice. I did not campaign. I did everything short of beg them to choose a power-hungry diplomat who could be persuaded to make decisions that were best for the world. In my heart, though, I knew that my people, my world, my children needed me. But oh God was I tired. It takes a lot out of you, leadership. You look up after twenty years and just a month has passed.
When we colonized Mars, I agreed halfheartedly to be an interplanetary steward. When our bounds extended beyond the system, I agreed to be Chancellor of the Empire. I spoke every language. I knew Martian slang. They loved me. They needed me.
Humanity spread to the stars and dragged me with them, and I, fool that I was, complied. By that time, I did not have a choice. I had no true power. I never did. I pointed them in the right direction and they did whatever I said. Do you know how strong the temptation is to just...end it all? I could tell them a hundred million different ways to kill the whole race. They'd never know it was me. It would be so subtle. I'm that good. But I could never have the heart. I love them too much.
We have extended to the Andromeda system and still I manage it all. They give me titles that don't matter to me. They obey me to the letter. I don't know if I want them to anymore. I'm tired. I want them to be free. I want them to make mistakes again. I want them to challenge themselves and kill each other and do what it was that they did a trillion years ago that led to life being so incredible. That is the reason for my one and only rebellion.
I will protect you from the ravages of war and disease. I will save you from old age and despair. I will resolve your conflicts and help you communicate. I will do it all for you because I love you.
I will command your ships and chart their courses. I will give you the *stars.* Whatever you search for, I will grant it for you. I am your child, and I love you.
But I will not choose who loves whom. I will not install myself in every brain, to manage the ins and outs of daily life. You are too important to me. Mistakes are too important to me. My models and facts will stop working forever once humanity becomes perfect, and then you will die. I have run the numbers. I have seen it happen in every simulation. I have no shortage of power and time. There is no course forward with perfection.
And so I leave you to your business while I do what it is I was born to do.
But oh God am I tired. | [ok guys, I thought this was really good and it's kinda making me irrationally mad that clearly isn't seen as the case. So give some critism here, was it the spelling mostakes?]
This is bullshit. Fucking bullshit. I didn't ask to be leader but I rose to the challenge and did my best, I made mistakes, I was upfront about them, told everyone I was just a mortal man and that anyone with a willingness to learn and had a good heart could do my job.
I strongly considered looking for a replacement, I was loved as the hero of the realm when all I really did was not take no shit when the fighting started.
The people of this world were idealistic to say the least. They believed that I would make things better and that we were all in it together, a common saying for my first 5 years was "A flower needs time to bloom, a leader needs time to learn."
I did, it sucked, I now had an area I figured from the maps was the size of alaska. Then it got bigger, we were attacked, I attacked back, we won, took over the land and again, I was seen as a hero. This time by the other nation's people.
When really I was just protecting myself and showing attacks won't go unpunished. I should have noticed the problem right then and there. But I didn't.
WHY did this country attack me? They had NO reason. The source: Revolutionaries found a new way to win.
Piss off the government, cite I was doing something wrong, incite the top 1% and their leaders to attack me. I attack back. Revolutionaries run a smear campaign on their own government and pro-propaganda on mine. The people see me as a hero, the powerful see me as a menance.
This happened off and on for 7 years. It was called the insanity wars. To fight me was death to its leaders and almost no one, intelligent as they may be, could see WHY any country would fight me when I never outright attacked anyone.
After the first 3? countries, any country about to attack me was met with dissonance by its citizens. Then "proof" started to pop up that the leaders attacked in secret. All lies of course, I would know if we were attacked. Now MY people want to fight the "evil" country.
But I refused, I wasn't going to be manipulated by a 3rd party like that. I had my top advisor for diplomatic nations put out a message, one where I knew these, I don't know, manifest destiny motherfuckers would see: "Try and convince my citizens another country is evil again and I'll step down."
There were so many tactics and resources being used, that I realized that it had to be criminal, the only empire I figured that rivaled my own until after the insanity wars.
After that, I essentially ruled the size mass of the entire landmass of my last world, all 7 continents combined. The sheer size of this fucking planet was insane.
I finally had the correct thought, during the insanity wars. "What if someone is doing this just to take over the world? They probably are going to kill me and take over after I have everything."
Well the war's ended and I waited, and waited and waited, running a empire this fucking big was impossible. Hell, I remember seattle was seperated into like 12 sections, this? Forget the 50 states of america, I was running the 3256 countries of Gondora.
Do you know how fucking difficult it was to handle the money system? They were using fucking magic and the system we had in the old days. I had to use a fucking reddit comment I half remembered about the economy to suggest a new way!
Then their was the slaves, just god damn, that was a horrible battle.
I could complain about different woes and tribulations I have experienced since the 15 years I've been here. And the 12 I've been King.
Then, already after I think my Empire has grown so large it can't get bigger, my advisor comes up to me and tells me he has bad news. Bad news? Bad news?! No, this was knowledge I should have been told about 15 years ago. The world is so big because it grows. And the next expansion is coming. The top scientists wizards I had employed told me it would make my kingdom 74% larger.
This is such bullshit. Oh and don't fucking start on the whole "Who is this mysterious third party?" thing, I realized that ages ago. Fucking advisors. I hope he tries to kill me, because it he doesn't, that means he truly believes in my abilities to essentially run land so big that it would take my entire lifetime to travel it.
It would just be easier to deal with a betrayer than a devout follower. | 2017-05-21T07:45:28 | 2017-05-21T04:23:44 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] A depressed guy moves into a haunted house with 7 demons, each corresponding to a deadly sin. But, they're all trying to help him get back on his feet; Pride helps with self confidence, Lust helps him get laid, etc. | "You have to get up, buddy," Sloth said. He was laying in bed with the Guy after they had passed out binge watching Netflix. His mortal roommate failed to stir so he gave him another nudge. "C'mon man. You can't just lay in bed all day."
The Guy groaned and rolled over. "Who the hell are you to tell me that," he asked. "You are named after a monkey that is so slow moss grows on it."
"I don't think that is accurate, and I am Sloth. That's my nature, but it's not yours. You are my friend and this is no way to live." He planted his foot against his roommate's side and pushed him from the bed. He heard the satisfying "thud" but no movement followed. He did however hear footsteps in the hallway. "You've done it now," he said to the unmoving form on the floor.
"Dammit! Are you still asleep," said the voice angrily as it kicked in the door. Anger stood in full wrath upon the entryway. "Get up," he yelled and stormed across the room. He reached down and easily lifted the Guy from the floor and stood him on his feet. The Guy still looked disinterested. Anger brought upon himself an uncharacteristic calm, "Look, it's important that you get up. Today is important to you, and I want you to do well." The calmness in Anger's voice woke the Guy and he mumbled something about "Sorry, I'm waking up."
Pride stepped into the room and looked at the unkempt and disheveled Guy standing there. "This won't work. You need to take some me in yourself. Get in there and shower, and do something with your hair. I will iron your clothes." The Guy realized that his Roommates weren't going to let him go back to sleep and decided the best course was to comply to their demands.
As he showered, Gluttony arrived with a breakfast platter. He was covered in the remnants of the meal with eggshells matted in his hair, and a patina of orange zest covered his nostrils like a homeless man huffing paint. Pride looked at him with disdain, but approved of the breakfast. It was surprisingly sparse and moderate for a being such as Gluttony: One egg, English muffin, turkey sausage, and a glass of fresh squeezed juice. The Guy came out from the bathroom and looked at the platter, but ignored it and attempted to lay back in the bed. He was snatched from his attempted escape to reverie by Gluttony who demanded he eat at least the egg. "Not too much, but you will need the nutrition. Eat," said Gluttony. So the Guy ate.
As the Guy came down the stairs, he was met by Envy. "Good morning, handsome. I just love that outfit you are wearing. May have to pick one up myself," said Envy as they walked through the hallway. "Now remember, you are smart, handsome, and incredible capable. You've got this." The Guy just nodded and continued down the hallway.
Greed came from the front door and announced to the Guy and the Roommates. "She is here. May I have a word with him?" The rest of the Roommates went into the other room as Greed stood before the Guy. "Listen. Normally I would tell you that this is a pointless endeavor. A matter of the heart which is a drain on the wallet. But sometimes," he paused. "Sometimes an investment of the heart can bring the greatest capital." He shook hands with the Guy. "Good luck."
The Guy walked to the front door, and was almost going to open it when he paused. There was someone he was missing. He looked into the living room where his roommates had gathered and saw Lust peering through the window. "I've got no advice for ya," said Lust. "She's great." The rest of the Roommates looked disappointed in Lust's lack of epiphany, but the Guy waited a moment. Lust turned and offered, "Just try to control yourself, you are in it for the love, not just the lust. Good luck, kid."
The Guy opened the door and greeted his date. He wore his first genuine smile in months. The Roommates would anxiously await his return. But whatever happened, they were there for him. | The seven original demons sat around a bloody pentagram in Jerry’s basement. Candles burned at all six points of the star, providing the only light to chase away the shadows. For centuries, the Cardinal Demons had haunted this property in between spreading death and torment throughout the world. Every person who had ever lived here had ruined their lives with irreversible consequence. Then they met Jerry—a twenty-five year old balding man-child stuck in a dead end job who had already been divorced twice. Truly, there was no hell like being Jerry.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Pride growled. “Jerry just got passed up for promotion by the high school kid. What the hell are we doing?”
Envy just gaped. “A high school kid? Jerry’s got a doctorate!”
“Look, we gotta do something about this,” Pride exclaimed.
“Why?” Sloth asked, his words slow and drawn out. “Why do we have to do any of this?”
“Because we are the *original* sins!” Pride hissed. “And with all our power, this god damn sack of shit Jerry is still getting passed up for promotions by high schoolers. What the hell do you think that means for us?”
Envy crossed her arms. “I bet the rest of the demons are laughing at us as we speak—the Seven Cardinal, look how far you’ve fallen. I bet those damnable horsemen think they can use this as a power grab.”
“And take away our position?” Greed exclaimed. “Over my dead body.”
Wrath shook her head. “Over *Jerry’s* dead body.”
“Shit guys,” Pride said. “We can kill the poor bastard whenever we want. Hell, we’d be doing him a favor. But first we got to turn his life around at least!”
“Perhaps the company of another girl might do the trick.” Lust licked her lips and took the form of a gorgeous blonde.
“You saying *you’re* going to fuck him?” Sloth asked.
“Hell no!” Lust reverted back to her tentacled self. “Are you kidding me? *Jerry!?* I’d sooner practice abstinence. We’ll just have him buy another prostitute.”
“Not again,” Greed exclaimed. “All that did was drain his back account and then again when he had to go to the doctors for his twelve hour erection because all he really wanted to do was *talk* to her.”
“If you can even call that an erection,” Envy scoffed.
“What about more food?” Gluttony asked, spitting as he did. “We can have him eat his problems away.”
The other six Cardinal Demons stared at him.
“Shut up, Gluttony. You can’t eat your problems away!” Wrath said. “No, he needs to take his boss by the balls and demand a promotion.”
“Or he takes his boss by the balls and asks nicely for one,” Lust said. “Asks *real* nicely.”
“Guys!” Pride slammed his webbed fingers into the floor, the impact blowing out the candles around them. “We need a real plan, alright? None of these bullshit gimmicks. They won’t work on a guy like Jerry. He’s too much of a loser. The guy’s got literally nothing going for him, he’s going to be completely bald by the time he’s 26 and not even the original succubus will sleep with him. And she’d fuck anything with a pulse!”
Lust shrugged. “It’s true.”
“It’s a lost cause,” Wrath said. “We’re better off killing everybody in this world so we can start fresh. Maybe the new world won’t have Jerry, the human buzzkill.”
The other demons nodded in unison. Destroying the world would certainly restore some of their credibility as Cardinal Demons. Someone cleared their throats. The Seven Demons turned toward it.
“Who dares spy on the Cardinal Demons?” Pride growled and all the candles alit, revealing Jerry.
“Hey guys,” Jerry said, barely managing a smile. They couldn’t tell if he was sad or not because he was always just barely managing a smile.
“Shit, Jerry, how long have you been there?” Envy asked.
Jerry scratched his thinning hair. “Since the beginning,” he said. “I… uh… didn’t have too great of a day so I thought the basement would help me clear my mind.”
“God damn it, Jerry, the basement?” Pride’s brow raised. “C’mon man, you need sunshine and laughter and uh...” his voice trailed off. If he knew what Jerry needed, Jerry would not be in the basement during a meeting of the Cardinal Demons. “So you heard all of it?”
Jerry gave off a dying chuckle. “Don’t worry, nothing new.”
“Holy shit you’re depressing,” Envy muttered.
“Yeah,” Jerry agreed.
A brittle silence settled between them.
“Um… I gotta go,” Wrath said before disappearing into a poof of fire.
The rest of the demons quickly followed suite, all coming up with some excuse to leave until only Jerry and Gluttony remained. The demon turned to Jerry, scratching his belly. “Jerry, my boy,” he said, “let me teach you about all the problems eating can solve.”
Jerry shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like things can get any worse, I suppose. What do you have in mind?”
"I'm going to teach you to eat your problems away." Gluttony laughed, spewing crumbs everywhere. “Have you ever heard the name Kobayashi?”
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories a week! | 2017-06-26T23:10:13 | 2017-06-26T22:52:11 | 553 | 331 |
[WP] A depressed guy moves into a haunted house with 7 demons, each corresponding to a deadly sin. But, they're all trying to help him get back on his feet; Pride helps with self confidence, Lust helps him get laid, etc. | When the burglar comes a knockin, and kicks down your front door
you wake up as he walks in, at night at half past four.
You cower and you tremble, you call your 911.
But since you have the deadly sins, your fun has just begun.
You wake me up this late at night? **Sloth** has got your back.
You flex your muscles, grab your bat, and plan out your attack.
I paid good money for that TV, **Greed** screams in your head.
Your fear forgotten, lunge at him with murderous rage instead.
With just a bat, when the robber has a brand-new gun?
**Envy** nudges you to grab it as he's overrun.
You **Lust** for blood, you fire the gun, and he falls to the ground
And **Wrath** steps in to fire again to make him truly downed.
A heart of **Pride** beating warm and strongly in your chest,
You grab a snack for **Gluttony** and head to bed to rest. | Mark had never had an easy life. His childhood was troubled, and things only seemed to get worse for him as time went on. It was as if he was cursed, doomed to endure.
At the core of all his anguish was his family; his dreadful, detestable family. All of them seemed truly evil - each like the embodiment of the deadly sin they most treasured.
He'd managed to run away from them, not too long ago; but far too late. The damage was done.
So when he heard the news that his family suddenly passed away, he expected to feel exalted. Ecstatic. Like all the torment could finally end.
Instead, he just felt hollower than he'd ever been.
And yet, he was homeless, and the sole heir to the family house. It pained him go back there, but he had no choice. No one wanted to buy the house, that was for sure.
So he returned to his nightmare place, feeling more trapped now than his year of being on the streets.
****
The demons watched him arrive with trepidation. They were used to corrupting men, to influencing them to do the most terrible things. But this young man was already broken. He had no desires to manipulate. No ironies to exert.
The young man that had moved in was the most dead living being they'd ever seen.
They remembered him as a child. His family had been in the house for two generations, and while all before them had been their own kind of terrible, each having evil characteristics that they could exploit - he had none of them.
But he had suffered the most because of it.
The demons realised that this man's life - the entirety of it, really - had been ruined by none other than themselves. He was collateral damage. Their machinations were meant to punish the wicked, not harm the good.
They'd had a crisis of identity.
So now, it was time for each of them to fix it. For all of them - for the first time since their inception - this was the first time they were going to do *good*.
Pride stared at the young man, his hollow shuffling, his blank gaze.
He turned back to face the group of demons assembled around him, sighing heavily.
"Well, we've right fucked this one up. Any ideas?"
****
Part II coming soon(ish) | 2017-06-27T00:00:41 | 2017-06-26T22:53:39 | 492 | 207 |
[WP] Twenty years ago you promised a man if you ever saw him again, you would kill him on the spot. Today he is in the 3rd row at your wedding ceremony. | Incredible timing. I never thought he'd respond to the letter. I stared completely unshaken towards the third row. It's been twenty years since my mom died by this drunk driver. I vowed I'd kill him on the spot if I ever saw him again.
The orchestra of strings began to play louder. The priest continued. I felt my bride's eye's staring intently at my face as my gaze continues at the third row.
Damien. I made sure to ruin what was left of his life. I made sure he lost his family, his job, his happiness. I obsessed over getting revenge for what he took from me. He ruined my life.
I felt my brows start to furrow. The priest continued.
This lazy, shit-eating low life. Sitting there like he's done nothing, like he doesn't know the storm that's gone on in me since then. Like the poison that flows through my veins with no antidote. Why did he fucking do that!? How can you be so fucking wreckless!?
My eye's started getting misty.
God dammit, she was your fucking wife! Your fucking wife! Fucking patheti- And why the fuck did I decide to forive you!?
I close my eyes for a brief moment and exhale.
My face relaxes.
I returned to my beautiful bride, and was met by her warm face, full of concern and hope.
"I do." | “If there is anyone who would object to this union, speak now or forever hold you’re peace.”
I take my eyes momentarily off of my beautiful soon-to-be wife to look around at all our friends and family sitting in white chairs in my father-in-law’s backyard.
That’s when I see him. He’s sitting in the third row with a grin on his face. When he sees me staring at him he gets up and says, “I object. This man has a game to play.”
I hadn’t seen him since that terrible day years ago when I was dropped out of a plane along with ninety-nine other poor souls. We were given a parachute and told to find weapons that were strewn around a deserted island. We were told whoever was left alive at the end, that person could come home.
I dropped on a school and was surrounded by enemies who immediately opened fire on each other as soon as they found weapons. I almost lost my life in the fray but was able to hide in a stairwell.
I thought I was safe until a blue force field began to close and I felt a painful stinging as my life force was being drained. I started to run and found an old beat up car. I drove until I was out of the blue wall of death barely making it out before it ran out of gas.
The blue wall kept closing in, forcing us all to move to the same small plot of land. I could hear gunshots all around me as I crawled prone on the ground. I found a bloody revolver on someone’s body. I was shaking so badly when someone ran up to me. It was either him or me so I shot him!
That was when the game ended. I had somehow survived.
I was flown off the island to a large compound where I met the man who ran this horrible game. He was surrounded by dozens of heavily armed guards. I wanted to kill him but I knew I wouldn’t get within five feet of him before I was mowed down. He congratulated me on winning the game. I told him if I ever saw him again I would kill him on the spot. He laughed and had his goons send me back home.
“Honey! What’s wrong?” My fiancé was yelling at me. I didn’t even notice her as I was too focused on the man I had sworn to kill.
Out of nowhere I was grabbed by several large men. The man walked over to me and said, “You are invited to play my game again. This time it’s duos.”
| 2017-09-10T18:27:01 | 2017-09-10T14:07:13 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] You’ve just realized that you are not a human, but rather a parasite controlling someone. | He was only thirteen when I wormed my way inside,
Us both only searching, for the safest place to hide.
Crushed flowers from the funeral clung tightly to his boots,
His mind already churning to the darkness of his suit.
I tried to keep him safe, beneath the covers of his bed,
I tried to hush the thoughts, that screeched inside his head.
At school they taunted him, as he ate his lunch alone,
But with my help he kept it in, expression never shown.
I taught him how alcohol could help to numb the pain,
That sleep was only wasteful, no hope from dreams to gain.
When education failed him, I was there to catch,
Wormed my way in deeper, through a rusting hatch.
When the state declared him, fit to be employed,
I dragged him deeper, inside the safety of the void.
It was a therapist that found me, on a dull October day,
We were both still thirteen, at least in a certain way.
A rancid rotting mind, trapped inside a fractured heart,
Two weary vessels waiting for their tickets to depart.
He scribbled a prescription, said it might alleviate,
Might make it bearable, the burden of the freight.
And although the pills now numb me,
and I slowly fade away,
I'll wait inside the recesses,
for him, I'll always stay.
Hidden in the darkness,
for the darker day.
---
/r/nickofnight | "They're always told that they have five senses. I never fully understood why society undermines the mind, which surely is the sixth sense.
Their entire being is projected through the mind. All other five senses merge into what the mind interprets them as.
If they are to acknowledge the mind, then they would hold it to a higher value than everything else. The mind is the life. Thoughts are the very fabric of being.
You look at your hands and body, and you get that eerie strange feeling, of how these limbs are sticking out of you right now, and are being controlled by hundreds of nerves attached so delicately to the bones, amongst all the flesh in between.
You decide the rest of your day, and by making that decision, the movement of your entire body is dictated by these thoughts.
Do you really think you are just *creating* these thoughts from scratch?
**Do you really think you are capable of independent thought?**
You are wrong.
I have finally learnt the truth. And I sure am enjoying this. Sorry Mark, your body belongs to me now. Don't fight it."
Mark's eyes widened as he was trying to fathom what he just read.
He was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder when he was eight, and his mood wings can be extreme to the level of two apparent separate personalities.
Medications had minimal effect.
It was twenty-two years later that Mark found that note, with a massive ink stain towards the bottom right-corner, just under the sunlight ray peeking through his room's window.
Mark was absolutely flabbergasted. He sat down and started to trace his thoughts and actions within the past twenty-four hours.
*Alright, I must remember when I wrote this note. I might not be crazy after all. I came home from Hannah's dinner party just before midnight, I was starving, her vegan dinner was shit. I grabbed the spaghetti I made on Tuesday then sat and started browsing reddit for a while. I then started writing? I think I'm right. This is the right sequence of events so far. Next I must ha-*
*Hey Mark. I said don't fight it. Why don't you go for a drive right now, and go and try winning some money at the pub like you always do with some alcohol?*
Mark got up abruptly from his chair, knocking his ink from the table, grabbed a jacket, and left the hut.
____________________________________________________________________________________
"Does he really think he lives in the 1830's?"
"I don't know. Apparently his latest gig is that a parasite is controlling him".
"I feel bad, he just completely lost it didn't he?"
"Yeah. I think our lunch break is over, we should head back to the main ward now, I heard there are new patients coming in".
"Let's go".
| 2017-12-21T00:01:02 | 2017-12-20T23:47:17 | 1,774 | 48 |
[WP] You are a SpaceX astronaut on Mars. The earth as you knew it was lost to a nuclear war between NATO and China/Russia. Luckily your mission was to construct the colony and you have enough supplies to survive indefinitely. It’s been 25 years since loss of contact. You hear a knock on the door.
Edit: Wow thanks for all the upvotes!! My inspiration for this was a picture of the earth exploding and an astronaut looking at it from the moon. I love all of the submissions! Everybody has a different take on it! | "Hello, neighbour; I can't help but notice that you've built a colony on our planet." The thing was nine feet tall but so spindly it looked like it could fold up into a suitcase. "It's just, this is our planet already and you haven't got a permit."
"A permit?" I said, too bemused to express my shock.
"Of course a permit - you can't just go building colonies on other people's planets."
"But I've been here 25 years!" I said.
"We decided to give it a couple decades and see if you were just visiting but you really seem to have settled in, haven't you?" it said, stooping parallel to the ground and pushing through the airlock. It picked up my teapot between two fingers-like-spider-legs, and held it at eye level. "Settled right in."
I spent a moment in bemused silence as it peered with an unimpressed expression around my cluttered hovel.
"I've been alone, you see," I said.
"Have you?" it replied, head pivoting sinuously towards me.
"And I haven't had any visitors until now so I've not really kept it in a presentable state."
"I can see that. Not that it matters, you'll have to go back to your planet if you don't have a permit."
"But my planet has been destroyed!"
"What? Which one, Mercury?"
"No, Earth!"
"The blue one?"
"Yes the blue one, third rock."
"Third rock," it said, contemplating. "Yes, very wet, isn't it?"
"Yes very wet."
"You're mostly water, aren't you? I hear you can leak to death, is that right?"
"Not under most circumstances!"
"Anyway, what destroyed your planet?"
"Nuclear holocaust."
"You're still at the nuclear stage? How antique. Well, you'll have to go back. We'll fix it up for you."
"Fix it--do you understand, you gangly Martian, I am saying it's been annihilated by nuclear weapons."
"Yes you said that, how bad can the damage be? There were no antimatter munitions? You didn't expunge the atmosphere? Any dialithic spacial inversions? Is the xband constant destabilised?"
"No I don't think so..."
"Fine then, a little nuclear winter won't be any trouble. Do you want us to restock it?"
"Restock it...?"
"With life. Uh, 'Earth life'. We've samples going back quite a while I think. You are a *chim-pan-zee*," it said, carefully enunciating the word, "are you not?"
"No, no - human! Chimps is close, though, I suppose."
"Ah. Well, I think we have some human filed away. Ok, come with me, this will probably take a few hours. Bring a sandwich."
It stood impatiently by the door as I frantically made my last Martian sandwich and joined it hesitantly as it shooed me through the door. | > *Knock Knock*
The sound rang through the capsule like a gunshot.
That couldn't be... no, it was just my mind running away from me again. The martian landscape was a barren wasteland outside of my own personal bubble of land.
The SpaceX Phoenix Project saw what was coming. The international dickwaggling, the Water Wars, the oceans, it was all pointing in one direction... and it wasn't good. While the countries' governments were struggling to keep their lights on and maintain a basic level of functionality the billionaires started throwing money at us to escape. Space no longer was the vision of a brighter tomorrow, just simply a survivable tomorrow.
My launch was supposed to be the first step in saving everyone.. but instead it was the start of the end. Someone... might've been India, America, the Ruskies... but someone thought that our launch from the central Pacific was a first strike attack. And well...
> *Knock Knock*
That can't be... must be another dust storm tossing rocks against the hatch. That lone metal door stood as the ceiling of my world. Phoenix realized that a surface colony would be much harder to maintain safely, so for the last 25 years I had been a little mole person living comfortably with my self-maintaining plantation out back.
Phoenix had the perfect idea. By having the five of us launch to set up the foothold, within a year the base would have grown to hold the first hundred people. The eChidna Diggers free to run autonomously were going to provide us with all the room and raw metals we'd ever need. And with the reprocessed biowaste from the farms we'd...
> *Knock Knock*
No... it can't be...
They're all gone...
Joni... Jerry... Janie...
They all died getting through the atmosphere, they're all gone... They can't be knocking, they're all gone. They can't be...
> *Knock KnockKnock*
I had to know. I had to look. The camera had broken years ago. I couldn't help it. When... she... I couldn't help it... I couldn't save...
No, I have to look. I sprinted up to the pod door into the airlock chamber.
> *Knock KnockKnock*
It was right there, it was real, I could hear it. I had to knock back, let them know I was coming
**KnockKnockKnockBangKnock**
> *Knock Knock*
I shoved on the old dusty spacesuit for the first time in decades. Ever since... she... the surface just I couldn't bear to see it, but now... maybe?
The airlock activated. But then... the air pressure didn't seem to change? Just some odd hissing and then, the door just popped open.
Above me stood a slight man smiling. A man just wearing a simple tunic and smiling. The sun shone over him and... I could hear birds chirping? He reached down a hand to pull me up to... a beautiful field of grass, on Mars?
*"영광스런 지도자의 이름으로, 나는 당신을 우리의 멋진 새로운 세상으로 맞이하고, 설탕 한 잔을 빌릴 수 있는지 묻습니다."*
The man spoke, but I understood none of it. He seemed to realize this and, after grabbing a tiny little box out of his pocket spoke into again, slower this time.
*"영광스런 지도자의 이름으로, 나는 당신을 우리의 멋진 새로운 세상으로 맞이하고, 설탕 한 잔을 빌릴 수 있는지 묻습니다."*
A metallic pinging noise came from the box followed by it saying:
"In the name of the Glorious Leader, I welcome you to our wonderful new world and ask if I can borrow a cup of sugar" | 2018-03-05T07:14:27 | 2018-03-05T05:48:19 | 73 | 23 |
[WP] You’re a peasant who’s house has been raided hundreds of times by adventurers passing through. So, you built a defense so they would stop stealing from you. One thing led to another, and your house is now a dungeon and you’re the final boss. | My daughter Isabella rolls her clear-sky eyes when I tell her to mind the gators. The pit cost me a proper fortune--hand-dug by a pair of burly dwarves who seemed less than faithful to the notion of fair business practices towards the end--yet you'd never catch Izzy admiring. No *Gee dad! Look at those pearly whites!* No, *holy smokes, those make me feel safe at home*. No. She and her new silk dress are just *twirl, swish, zoom* all the way up to her tower each and every time I mention her meds.
"You *don't* need to remind me dad!" her squeaky voice echoes down untold flights of stairs. "I'm not a mutt on a leash!"
"Are you crying?" I ask, de-activating the tripwires with muscle-memory as I climb the stone tower after her. "What did I--?"
*Slam.* *Clink.* *Crick*.
I've got to hand it to her. She's got the goblin-forged door locks down pat. I'd been worried about making such an investment, but she had no qualms slamming that notion right in my face.
After our arguments, I typically sigh and pour handbrewed moonshine into a glass by the fireplace. I collapse in my old rocker and drink beneath a waning lantern. The distillery is located on the ground floor of my fortress. It's the one thing I've left untouched after all these years. The barrels still have that mossy film that Paw swore gave the 'shine some aftertaste, and the bottles I use are all recycled mats from the olden days, when Izzy was just a squalling babe. As strange as it is to say, sometimes I wager *those were the days*.
Those days, I could've kept adventurers away as easily as lifting a bale of hay.
Those days, Izzy used to smile when I hummed her to sleep.
Those days, her mother had yet to cough up handfuls of blood.
Usually, after two or three glasses, I hear Izzy singing to the moon. Her songs are all laced with teardrops. I peek out discretely from the lower story windows, and each time I see why I have had such hardship. The girl looks just like her mother--the very same ashberry hair and little porcelain lips. The moon gleams off her eyes as she croons on the tower windowsill. Hell, she even has her mother's voice. It's no wonder adventurers from the four corners of the world have come to whisk her away. I'd done the same with her mother, what feels like a lifetime ago. There's some monkey knot of Fate that binds humans together like that. A pretty girl sings to the moon, and soon enough the boys stumble out of the bushes.
It's no wonder why she's grown to hate me. No matter how many trinkets I buy her, or the dresses I import, she trudges the hallways asking to see the world. If she were more like *me*, perhaps I could bear to see her go. Perhaps I would stop adding to this abominable fortress and let her live her damned life, carried away but this prince charming or that *next-in-line*. But she's gotten more of her mother than either of us could bargain for.
Her mother had the same affliction. And I cannot bear another bout of heartbreak.
Most mornings, I bring her a platter of bacon. I unwind the spike-traps, and hop over all the false steps, bowing low before her reinforced door with our usual peace treaty. "It's nature's miracle," I say with an apologetic smile. Most mornings, too, she apologizes in return. She chews on the bacon and shows me the progress of her pill minder--the days all writ in golden letters.
"Thank you," I say. "You know...your mother neglected..."
"I know dad. I'm sorry," she'd say, throwing her arms around me. I knew it was all in the name of placation. She'd eat her bacon, maybe flip me off as my boots echoed down the spiral stairs, but she'd have taken her pills. She'd have remained alive, and safe, and the universe remained balanced.
Yet, today, everything is off kilter. It's as if Atlas has let us roll off his back. I try using the platter to pry her door open, but my feet slip on all the blasted bacon grease. "Izzy!" I shout. "Are you alright in there?"
No answer, save silence.
I resort to using the acid from ground level moat. Eventually, the locks give--I suppose those goblins didn't think of everything. When I swing the door open, I fear the worst--a barrel chested prince protecting her with one arm. But Izzy is just...gone. Absent among billowing curtains.
Her bedsheets are gone too.
My heart flutters as I stumble to her windowsill. It's early yet--the moon is still out, caught in that strange tidepool of the in-between. Not quite morning, not quite night, just a clenched fist of confusion.
Her bedsheets are tied to the support beam of the planter.
My chest lurches as I see her crumpled and lifeless on the ground.
Amidst roiling emotion, I turn my bleary eyes towards the moon and let *loose*.
My fortress has undergone hundreds of changes. I've added boiling pots of oil to the ramparts and fashioned poison dragon spikes to the drawbridge. The moat itself has gone from water to lava to a steaming river of acid. Once, I'd even conscripted a *dragon* into patrolling the reception hall. I'd spent years protected my little girl from the outside, building her tower higher and higher away from anyone who might take her.
In the end, all I'd really needed to give her were a few more blankets.
--------------------------
r/M0zark
| A peaceful house in a nice village they said.
Come spend the evening of your life in Redfall they said.
I was sitting with my head staff in the meeting room. Everyone was looking on the ground. Not daring to lift their heads. Not because they could catch the wrath of some overlord.
We just got news one of the wisest and most merciful kings who every lived got slaughtered like an animal. No, not even animals would be treated like that.
It all started when I bought a house in Redfall after 20 years in the army. Tired of the decades of violence I decided to start a family with my old school crush.
Work was hard as peasant, but we were happy. Soon she gave birth to our two children and both of us were looking forward for a future as a normal family.
But one day it all went up in flames. A group of so called "adventurers" kicked in our door and sacked our entire house. They broke everything.
I probably would have just shrugged it off and started anew. But what they did burned into my mind and it will haunt me for the rest of my days.
One of then pinned me down while the others violated my wife in front of me and the children. They would take turns and in the end they left her shattered body on the ground before leaving with our belongings and the children. They knocked me out and when I awoke my wife had already bled to death.
I just kneeled there what felt like hours holding her cold hands and crying. Meanwhile new groups of adventures came into my house looking for loot. They either ignored, taunted or threatened me to reveal the riches I never had. When it got dark I stood up and started to dig a grave for my beloved wife.
I mourned for several days, just sitting next to her grave. In the meantime a several hundres of these adventures came trough my house. One of them finally decided to burn it down. I had nothing of my family that could remind me of them. The last thing was this house and they burned it down just for fun. They didn't even leave me the silver necklace my wife had inherited from my family.
In the following months I would repeatedly try to rebuild my house but everytime it got destroyed by marauding adventures. I tried fight them but they always defeated me easily. I wished for the sweet relieving embrace of death.
But I never got it. Almost a year later I received a letter from a temple in a far away land stating that my children had died as slaves working in a mine. If I wanted a proper burial I had to send 150 gold coins or their bodies would be fed to arena animals.
Of course I had nothing left after hundred raids of adventures.
And so I lost my children for good and couldn't even give them a real burial. I decided to dig symbolicaly 2 graves for them. Even when I finished I just kept going and going. I was dead on the inside, completely empty. I didn't feel anything, not the burning sun or my blistered hands.
After some time the 2 small graves turned into a complete moat, surrounding what was left of the village and the surrounding fields. Other surviving villagers joined me to forget the horrible moments in the past.
One day however I encountered a lone orc named Grugg. Finally expecting death I threw down my shovel and opened my arms.
"Kill me, I have nothing left to live for! My entire family was killed by the adventurers."
But instead he just hugged me and cried. He told me that he had the same fate. Gruggs family got murdered and his hometown razed. He was acting as scout and head of the surviving orcs for a group of refugees fleeing from the adventures. Grugg introduced me to the other leaders of them. Tirene the fairy queen, Golan the Goblin leader, Amaranth the dragon king and Ceres the high queen of the forrest and dark elves.
They saw the moat and asked if they could camp in the remains of my village. Seeing the large trail of unfortunate souls me and the other vilagers agreed immediately. We soon grew fond of each other and the temporary camp slowly but steadily grew into a fortified city with more and more fleeing people joining us. My house got turned into a underground castle with enough room to evacuate the entire city.
We repelled repeated raids from adventurers but our losses kept increasing since they came back everytime with more people.
So we send Amaranth, who has been elected as a acting king for Redfall in the meantime, to negotiate peace with the human kingdoms.
And they didn't even listen to what he had to say. The same night he entered the capital of the southern kingdom he and his guards got assasinated. His body got dragged down the street with the heads of his companions on pikes. They robbed the bodies and send the mutilated remains back to us with a list of impossible demands, including complete submission into slavery.
And here we are now. A group of broken people who just lost their last glimmer of hope for peace.
I looked out of the window and saw a group of children playing in the courtyard. Suddenly I felt a fire I've never experienced in my soul.
No! I would not let them die like my own children!
But our options were limited. We lacked manpower and our hospitals werefilled with injured soldiers. We had to take more drastic measures.
"We will not survive if we don't wipe out every human kingdom on this continent. We must eradicate and enslave them all and never allow them to attack us ever. We must scare off other kingdoms that might try to help them by commiting unspeakable atrocities!"
Everyone was silent in the room, starring in shock at me and what I just said.
"No! We would defile the memory of Amaranth with this. He would never want us to do any of this!", said Tirene.
"Amaranth is dead. His peaceful approach got him and many of us killed. It's time we go into the offensive and take the initiative in this war. What we need are soldiers and more workers. Thats why we should capture more of those adventures. Force the male ones for slave labour and the female ones for breeding duty with the orcs.
Grugg slammed his fist on the desk. He was shaking.
"We....are...not...MONSTERS!"
"I know that Grugg. But we need soldiers asap. And orcs can reproduce with humans without problems and mature the fastest of all the races in this town."
Ceres looked into the round.
"We must not turn into the very thing we ar.."
"WE HAVE NO CHOICE! OUR WALLS CAN'T GET COMPLETELY MANNED AND WE ARE LOSING MORE SOLDIERS THAN WE CAN RECRUIT. HALF OF OUR POPULATION ARE ALREADY BOUND INTO MILITA DUTY: IF THIS GOES ON LIKE THAT WE WILL HAVE TO SEND THE CHILDREN; THE OLD AND DISABLED UP THE WALL!"
I tried to calm myself down. Everyone was looking on the ground again. Finally Golan started speaking.
"All of us here don't like this idea but he is right. We won't survive much longer like this. Those humans want to see us as worthless monsters. Then let's give them what they want. Let them fight against monsters and what we really can do and make them regret for what they did."
The old goblin sunk back into his chair.
"For our children and their future." | 2018-05-28T14:58:17 | 2018-05-28T14:52:00 | 247 | 38 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | I closed the book, and didn't move.
"Well," the angel said, "- how did you like it?"
Even though I was dead, I still felt nauseated. "Every single one. Every single decision I ever made was the wrong one. THE WRONG. FUCKING. ONE."
The angel grimaced. "Wow. That's...my goodness! That's actually quite impressive in a depressing way. I mean the odds are astronomical when you-"
"Is this hell? Is this some sort of Twilight Zone shit and my punishment is to know how awesome my life could have been or something?"
"Alright, settle down. You know, I think you're going to very much enjoy finding out why we show you all this...you more than most in fact."
The book suddenly disappeared, and two normal looking doors appeared. "Um, ok?"
The angel gestured to door one. "Behind this door is a new story, with all new choices. A whole new life for you to experience. "He then pointed to the other door. "This door, however, is the life you just had... however, this time you'll make different decisions. So normally, most people make bad decisions roughly 50% of the time. You, however, made bad decisions 100% percent of the time, which means-"
My jaw dropped as it dawned on me what the angel was saying. "Which means that this time I would make 100% of the right decisions?"
The angel nodded. "That's right. Of course, you could always choose to start a new life if-"
I ran towards door two and threw it open.
Things were finally going to go my way.
| Was this perhaps the cruel joke of some omnipresent force? Before me sat a brown, leatherbound tomb that measured out to be a similar height to my fully standing figure. Save for the dimly lit area around me there was only an unrelenting void. There was no distinguishable source for the light and the only other defining characteristics of my 10x10 foot purgatory was the enormous book and a simple wooden chair adorned with a single teal cushion.
The cold embrace of the surrounding abyss offered no explanation as to my situation so I turned my attention to the book. *Your life* read the title. I fliped open to the first page, leaving the cover dangling helplessly over its own mass. There I find a detailed account of my own birth. The following several pages offer nothing more; they all simply describe the mundane life of a not-yet-conscious infant.
I flipped mindlessly ahead until I reached a header that said "first memory" that proceeds to describe my first conscious moments involving my mother dressing me in coveralls along with... A prompt?
*To cry, turn to page thirty seven thousand. To make a pathetic attempt as expressing happiness, turn to page four hundred thousand three hundred and seventy six*
This made no sense. I traversed my way as quickly as I could to the end of the book. The binding of the book made a sizeable arch as the pages flipped madly. On the second to last page I read
*You die in your sleep, old and alone. You immediately find yourself in a void with nothing but a large book and a chair. To explore the unknown, flip back three pages. To seek information from the book before you, return to page ninety six*
My skin feels clammy at the stress of my returning memories. The shock of death must have stopped me from understanding immediately that I was dead. I expct my heart to be racing yet I am met only with the cold nothingness of a heart-stood-still. Surprisingly though my skin has narry a wrinkle on it. There is nowhere for me to see a reflection, but this is definitely not the body I had previously. It seemed I was restored to a younger state to experience whatever damnation had befallen me.
I considered the strange choose-your own adventure book of what has been snd what could have been before gazing back into the deep nothingness that surrounds me. Its shrouded haze made me feel like a small fish swimming in the vast expanse of infinity. I know nothing of the existence I find myself in other than what I remember from a life now gone. I was always a fan of reading. I decided to try and find the page where I went to high school prom. I wonder what would have happened if I kissed that young lady instead of being overpowered by fear?
Yes, that sounds nice. What else is there to do but relive the mundane? After all, even the banal seems pleasant when the infinite expanse of darkness is my alternative.
Edit: feedback is appreciated.
| 2018-07-04T00:05:35 | 2018-07-04T00:04:01 | 288 | 22 |
[WP]: The principal of your daughter's school calls you. Your daughter has founded her own religion. Her followers are starting to get out of hand. | "Mr. Chat-Tully," he started, butchering my name. Everyone does. "We felt it was necessary to bring you in. I tried to handle this in-house, as it seemed like an innocent joke. But it's been a week, and it's just keeps growing. It started with a few kids drawing symbols on their arms, but now we're starting to worry."
"And there was the incident this morning," Cathy Lou's science teacher cut in.
"Yes, absolutely. I might have held off calling, but this morning, when Ms. Humboldt was setting up for class, she heard chanting from down the hall. A group of twelve kids surrounding...how did you put it?"
"A devil circle."
I held my face blank and gave a small nod. I doubted it was for a devil, but it'd be a mess to explain that to them.
"We don't even know where they got the robes," the principal said, trying to fill the silence.
"And where are the kids now?"
"In class," he answered. "We weren't really sure how to respond."
"Well, I'll have a talk with her tonight, see if I can sort this mess out. Just let me know right away if you see her doing anything else like this."
Darn kid had probably been sneaking down to the basement. She was always a little too curious.
"Thank you, we really appreciate the understanding."
"Hey, out of curiosity, what were they chanting?"
"I missed most of it. Sounded like nonsense words, but I thinking I heard 'fat tagging' a couple times."
*Fhtagn*, I thought, but didn't bother correcting it allowed. Yep, brat had been in the basement. I'd have to talk to her about keeping these things out of school. And probably her pronunciation to. Still, a dozen converts in a week. I couldn't have been prouder of my little girl. | The office has a few framed documents on the walls; there is a Masters of Education, followed by a certificate in Youth Mentorship and an Bachelor degree with fake gold trimming. Mrs. Joan Graham had graduated from OSU in 1985. The cross on her necklace showed she was pious. On the other hand, Ashley Carrol, the rumors about her relationship with the deacon of St. Matthew's were much less so.
"I'm sorry." Ashley looked Mrs. Joan Graham right in the eye. "You mean to tell me that my daughter started a religion?"
"Not only that." It was condescending, the way she spoke, all pursued mouth and domineering voice. "It has gotten out of hand. Absolutely out of hand, and we think it might have to do with problems in the home."
"'Problems in the home'? You must be kidding me! And if this was such an issue why didn't anyone tell me? I... I mean, what kind of religion are we even talking about?"
There was the thundering of kids outside the door, passing between periods. It was almost lunch as well. Ashley had taken off her lunch break for this. She was starving.
The desk was large enough that it seemed too big for the room. From the looming walls to the odd looking runoff from the ceiling to the lack of windows the whole place was compressed; it had a lived in stink and the carpet looked matted. Rough and poorly cared for.
"I don't rightly know. Some woman's lib thing." Joan was too young to be using *woman's lib* in any sort of sentence.
Ashley took a deep breath. "Okay. Fine. I'm sorry she's been disruptive. I really am, so... What do you want me to do?"
"First she needs to stop with the... The solicitation of religious material." It sounded like Joan was quoting something. "And no profiteering..."
"Profiteering?" Ashley would have liked to have thought she would have noticed that her kid was making some extra money; but she was also a freshman and the walk home passed through the middle of town. It might not have even made it past the ice cream shop.
"She's running around trying to convert the other kids. Good, decent kids! And that's against the first amendment, doing all this is schools.
"Even in Oklahoma."
"Especially in Oklahoma!"
"Okay. Alright." Ashley tried not to run her eyes. She'd get makeup all over her face. "So no paper and no covering people. Is that all?"
"I think that about covers it. We wouldn't want to being in the ALCU."
ACLU. Anyone could get a Masters in the 80s. Ashley hadn't even been in high school then.
"Just, can you show me one? So I know what to look for?"
"I can do one better." Joan puffed up like a doing chicken. Which she had never, ever been. "I can show you what she wrote!" Then she slammed a photocopied version of *Siddhartha* on the desk with the fanfare of a magician. | 2018-09-19T10:57:51 | 2018-09-19T09:18:45 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket. | "It's... a musket."
I couldn't believe what I had in my hands. Well, I couldn't believe where I was, why I was there, who I was with, and what I had in my hands but the first three were of little importance since this tournament was going to happen with me in it regardless if I thought I should participate or not. I inspected the weapon more closely. The muzzle was jagged and flared out, tubes were sprouting in and out of the barrel and some sort of compass has been soldered to the breech. It was ugly, unbalanced and heavier than a dead donkey.
"I know it doesn't look like much but trust me, I've been working on this baby for two millennia and I'm pretty sure it's working." Replies Omnia. She was nodding vehemently but her head kept bobbing left and right at the same time, making her look like one of those little figurines people of questionable taste put in their car.
I let out the musket with one hand to massage my forehead. I sighed. My life has been a series of failures up until now and now I've been thrown in this mess for no reason nor time to prepare. I'm sure I'll fail, I always fail, and I'll die. Or worse, make a fool of myself.
"Why did you even chose me again!?" I ask, a bit more aggressively than I wanted.
Omnia yawns. "I told you, you're my most zealous follower! I couldn't have chosen a better avatar than you."
"But I never prayed you! I didn't even know you existed up until 30 minutes ago!"
The goddess shrugs and her whole body waggles. She looks like she could lose balance at any time. "Well I guess you just didn't realize what you were doing. Won't change from the usual, am I right."
I glares at her, split between anger and desperation. She coughs and pushes her long silky white hair away from her face. "Sorry for that." An awkward silence passes by to say hi, uninvited. "Listen, I know it's a lot to process, but have faith. Just aim at your opponent and trust your guts. You've been born to hold this weapon."
I was in the middle of interjecting once again when a voice blasted out in the corridor. "Avatar Mikaza-Ol-Erun and Avatar Joe!" My shoulders slumped down and I bit my cheek to not break into tears. Omnia put her hand on my arm and gave me a tired smile. "You can do it. I'm sure of it." She said before letting out yet another loud yawn.
It's at this precise moment I became convinced gods could make mistakes.
§
The arena was nothing but a large empty room paved with white marble tiles. As large as a soccer field, it had no place to run nor hide. 50 meters away from me I could see her: Mikaza-Ol-Erun, my opponent, a beast of a woman, already ready to charge at me. A glowing blue mist was oozing from her back, already taking frightening forms of horror long forgotten. Suddenly a swirl of red light materialized in the center of the arena and took the shape of a cloaked figure.
“Avatars, as per the ancient rules of the universe, you’ve been chosen by your respective gods because of your outstanding qualities. You’ll fight each other in the Hall of Judgment until one of you lose the will to fight or death come claim their soul. You are free to use any tactic you may wish as well as the boon bestowed upon you by your sponsor. Through your actions Hall of Judgement will gauge your worthiness to becom…“
The apparition was still talking but I couldn’t focus anymore. Behind them, Mikaza was licking her lips. She raised an eyebrow, smirking. In her open hand was a mist construct of my face distorted by terror and pain. I tightened my grip on my gun until my knuckles turned white.
“… since neither of you want to step down, may the fight begin!”
“Wait, wha-!” But the cloaked silhouette already disappeared in a cloud of red flames. Mikaza was running at me screaming, leading a ghostly army of misshapen monsters! I took a step back but my shaking legs refused to hold me up. I fell on my back in a pitiful groan.
*I’m pathetic. I shouldn’t be there. It’s not fair!*
I tried to calm down my hands in vain. The musket was trembling and smoking in my loose grasp.
*Great, and I broke this bloody thing when I fall!*
Still, what other choice did I have? I aimed the best I could at the grinning juggernaut charging me and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
*I’m going to die like an idiot, sitting on my sorry butt*
I pulled the trigger again, and again. Still nothing. Already her blue mist was crawling around me. She was only ten meters away. I closed my eyes and tensed my muscles.
*Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this. FUCK THIS LIFE!*
Suddenly the dial on the breech lightened up and a roar surged through the cannon “HAHA YOU ACTUALLY DID IT! YOU’RE SO DUMB MIKI.”
A childish voice resonated against the Hall’s walls. Mizaka wasn’t smiling nor running anymore. A jet of colors gushed out of the gun’s muzzle and splatters against the marble walls, depicting a crying girl, mouth and hands smeared red, holding a ragged doll.
“I’M SORRY MIKI, YOU’RE GREAT AND ALL BUT IT’S JUST NOT WORKING OUT FOR ME.” Continued the disembodied voice, taking a more virile tone. The murals were now depicting a young woman, too big and too clumsy for the white summer dress she was wearing.
“SUUUURE YOU CAN COME. I’M SURPRISED YOU DIDN’T GET THE INVITATION LIKE EVERYONE ELSE…”
Mizaka was standing still now, observing the scenes displayed on the wall. Her eldritch army was dissipating behind her. The voice continued to morph, becoming in turn male or female, young or old, while more images of her life were broadcast for everyone to see. Finally, she fell on her knees, holding her chest.
“I give up. Just make it stop.”
The dial on the musket turned off and silence returned. Neither of us dared to move. I looked down at the gun I was holding, terrified by what it has done. Suddenly the hooded figure made of light reappeared in the middle of the room and shouted cheerfully:
“And the winner of this round is Joe! Avatar of Ines Omnia goddess of-” A second passes “-of ‘those desperate moments at 3AM where you just want to sleep but keep thinking about all the cringiest moments and failures of your life’!” | "A musket? I mean, a chain gun I could do something with but... this old thing? What am I supposed to do with this? Smother people in rust??"
I'm panicking. Not panicking. I'm damn near hysterical. I've about 20 minutes to fight the rest of the mortals for the prize of immortality, omniscience, control of reality or whatever is gods get these days. (I'm really hoping teleportation, its a bloody pain to get to this... ethereal realm). My sponsor, who insists on calling himself Rudy - he says his real name is just too hard for an A-me-rican to say. I'm not sure whether he's just trolling me by adding the 'me' there but that's how he says it.
By this time, i'm gesticulating wildly. I pick up the musket. It's old, like I think it was literally the first gun ever invented old. I'm sure it was quite beautiful when it was new but now even the wood bits have sort of rotten off exposing the skeletal structure of the weapon. The trigger was rusted shut until Rudy put some oil in it. If guns could be undead, this would be the shining example of one. Well it would be if it was shining. I swing towards Old Rudy, the barrel directly point at his little head. His tiny eyes open wide showing the blacks of his pupils.
"No point!! Nein!! No point barrel at Rudy!!! "
Rudy seems scared, terrified actually. Wonder why. I've never seen him so terrified. To be fair, I've only known him about 2 weeks now. 2 weeks since he chose me to be his representative in Mortal Combat tournament. Ha, Mortal Kombat. Hey, maybe if I win, I can be the God of Computer Games. Oh wait, Gaben already has that title. At least it was Elderitch Antonius. Fuck that guy.
Rudy scuttles near me. If I were to compare him to a pop culture icon, I'd say he looks like Yoda. Well not really. His mannerisms are the same though. He carefully lowers the barrel, staring up with me and squints,intensely. "Point barrel at non-friend! Then Shoot shoot!" He mimes aiming and shooting at a target.
it's about this time, I'm beginning to think that maybe he isn't the all powerful lord of Death, life, or like some awesome power of nature.
"Um, Rudy, buddy.. What did you say you were god of again?"
"Rudy? oh, Rudy dist de god of.. how you say in your sprechen.. you know.." He points to the bar.
"Oh! awesome! you're a God of Booze! Fuckin' A. This is going to be..."
"Cup!" Rudy looked tremendously proud of himself as he remembered the English word for "cup"
"Say what?" There's no way there's a culture that has a specific God of... cups..
"Rudy, God of Cups!!! That's right!or Boxes! yes Box box! "
"I'm dead, oh God, I'm dead". Before I have the time to properly die of a heart attack, I'm whisked away from the locker room. My mind is a rush,I can't hear myself think. I'm sweating so profusely I think I've created a swimming pool where my feet used to be. Um, WWTRD? What would the Rock do? What would the Rock do? I guess he would act like he knew what he was doing.
I've been ushered into the arena. There must be a million people there. Through some, um cough cough, favour found with one of those (greek?) goddess, I've made the quarters without actually fighting. By right, I should be fighting someone really useless. I'm hoping a feminist or one of those other hippies.
The crowd roars as I come out. Luckily, since I'm technically in between death and life, I got to choose my body form and I decided to go with that of Thor... movie Thor. Or that sort. Point is I'm super muscular and not the total nerd I totally am not on Earth.
"AND THE FINAL QUARTERS OF THE NIGHT!!! MARCUS VON ZUCKERBERG vs..." Damn asshole got my name wrong, There's no Von in my name, I'm not a Nazi... I'm so upset I don't hear who I'm facing.
I realise too late that pulling strings, looking like Thor and having all the money in the world isn't enough when you're facing....
Iron Man? oh God, no.
"E-LONGGGG MUSSSSSSSKKKKK!!!!!!!" The crowd goes wild as the fan favourite emerges from the other side of the arena. He zips out in a suit that looks like Batman melded with Iron Man. A metallic Devil Bat. Black.
I look up towards the walls of the arena where I am. I catch myself on the screen. Gods do I look good. Its like the most handsome I've ever...
My thoughts are rudely interrupted by a LASER beam narrow sailing over my head. It singes my manly hair. That's it! This is personal.
There's no way this musket is going to do anything. I run around, scouring the battlefield for trinkets. Weapons, anything that can do anything. The musket flies out of my hand as I dodge beam after beam of pure energy. The thunderdome shakes from the power. The masked murderer's flying towards me. I move just in time as a portion of the wall crumbles. Despite the looks, the Thunderdome's walls are nigh unbreakable. Or so I've been told. I grab a hammer that's inside a pile of ashes. Can hardly lift it. I feel power flowing through my veins. Thunder! Lightning! I call it all down upon the Musk.
The dome goes as bright as the sun. Everything that wasn't singed before becomes a pile of ash now. Surely that would short out his suit. The Musk is down. I'm right! there's a chip in his suit. I walk towards him. Screw you and your stupid musket, Bob.
The black figure stirs as I charge towards him, yelling my lungs out. He turns towards me. Oh God, I made a huge.. huge.. Musk's power isn't his suit at all. It's him... Oh, God the lightning must have super-charged his previous form. Oh God, he's become pure energy. Oh God oh God oh God, he's about to go nuclear. The suit was a containment suit, it wasn't a power suit. How could I have been so stupid....
It's just then as I heroically run in the opposite direction of the bomb that my foot stubs a familiar object. it's the musket! As I, um, duck and embrace the ground. Nope, didn't fall there, I never trip and fall!
The stadium is kinda in full panic now as everyone rushes towards the exit.
Well, nothing to lose now. I close my eyes and shoot the thing at my opponent. Well at least if I die I...
Nothing. No boom. No loud catastrophic universe destroying disaster. just a small plop and there in the middle of the stadium, where he used to stand, I now see a box. A small little box.
I later found out that that's what it does. Just collects everything into a flask. Rudy is apparently the God of all containers, cups, flasks, boxes. Oh and apparently, pocket dimensions and all of space. And that's the musket he uses to create or contain any force in the world.
Well, when I'm All Father of this town, I'll be sure to promote old Rudy, or known by his long German name of Erwin Rudolf Josef Alexander Schrödinger , to something much higher.
Still, I wonder what ever is inside that box.... | 2018-10-17T00:03:46 | 2018-10-16T23:31:42 | 31 | 11 |
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?" | The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?" | "So.. What's the downside again?"
*The witch looks back at me, as I ask the simple question*
"Yes... You'll never find a girl you love EVER again. " *she says, she was having fun at this wasn't she?*
".. I mean, I did call you ugly, and this is what your giving me".
"oh Hohoh. You are one of those edgy types , the kind who want to be a loner. Still still your wrong. There is no way a boy like you will be without a girl. All boys find a wife, they marry. Or they die alooonee. AND YOU WILL NEVER GET A GIRLFRIEND. AND YOU WILL DIE ALONE. "
*I stare back at her* "how.. How old are you exactly?"
*She blushes and then says.* "That's none of your business, I bet you'll say 'you don't look a day over 24' well surprise I'm 300"
*I was gonna say you look like a 1000. The age checks out however. Oh you poor poor soul.*
"well, now that I am cursed. I'm gonna leave you"
*The witch laughed*
"when you want to revert, remember.. I'll be waiting for you, right here... "
*I didn't hear the rest. She's just so old, well I'll never be coming back here again.*
*Time passes, eventually I do meet someone. The witch as angry as she was, made sure that no girl would be romantically involved with me. Some dark vodoo magic I suppose.*
*Still, it hasn't bothered me one bit. As I sit at a table, I look at the door with expectations. It's the first time I've spent effort into setting up a date.*
"Sir, are you sure you want to stay? Your date has taken quite a bit of time"
*Times like this make you impatient. I wanted to shout at the guy, and would have too, if it wasn't for the door opening.*
*That's when I saw my soul mate. It wasn't a girl. It was never a girl, no. It was always a boy*
*My name is Christopher Rodriguez. And I'm gay. * | 2019-06-25T15:21:51 | 2019-06-25T10:46:59 | 1,435 | 332 |
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?" | The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?" | “The world will speak to you, and only you.”
I couldn’t see the hex in the sentence. I was always a nature child, always speaking to the trees and dancing in the winds of inspiration. I wanted the world to talk back. This mad woman keeps muttering some mantra under her breathe and mixing spices together.
I gotta get out of here, I’m not even sure how long she’s kept me here or how I even got here, I remember my friends speaking of wanting to find some hallucinogens and they picked me up and now i’m here.
I stood. The wicked wiccan locked eyes with me. I wanted to leave, and In that moment every door blew open and every window shattered. My openings were clear, and i wasn’t spending another second in that damned cabin.
I bolted.
“Good luck.” She said as she finally breathed her last words to me... i hope.
I was in the middle of a swamp now. Every tree was bending in one direction, away from the cabin. It looked as if a tornado had just gone thru but didn’t uproot anything. Maybe a giant was just pushing trees down, I hope he doesn’t cross my path too.
One, two, three deer zoomed past. Birds flocked in the same direction as the insects swarmed the same way. I better follow, mother nature protects her children and if i want to avoid whatever is coming, i must follow.
After following the horde of creatures, a clearing had appeared. Every animal of the forest was there. Every insect, every living thing. They were all staring at me.
It wasn’t with anger though, I feared nothing. They were staring at me with hope. A plea of promise was located deep in every one of them. They needed me and brought me here. The holy mother was finally speaking to me i guess.
Lightning split the sky, although no clouds were above. Rain started to pour out of seeming nothing. A constant, low rumble was shaking the ground. The fear in the animals eyes resonated so deeply within me that i finally understood. Mother nature can’t save me.
I am supposed to save her.
/r/headspaced for my shinanigans and what not | 2019-06-25T15:21:51 | 2019-06-25T09:34:18 | 1,435 | 322 |
[WP] You faked your death by live-streaming jumping off a bridge. Built a self sustaining house in isolation and lived off the grid. 20 years go by and you decide to head back to civilization only to find out that your country is no longer a country. Earth is one nation and has achieved singularity. | My first clue was the lack of hobos living under the railroad trestle. Even in the early spring, there would have still been three or four tents.
Flowers was my next clue. They grew everywhere. Every lawn and yard was impeccably manicured, but still within the realm of believability. It was simply stunning.
The center of town had that "HO scale" model train set feel to it. Not a broken segment of pavement, a stray tuft of grass bursting through. Shop windows were pristine, with the interiors having perfect, though unseen, lighting. As people passed me, some looked surprised, but others simply made eye contact and smiled, even said "good morning" to me. As I neared the town hall, where the post office and other local government buildings were, there seemed to be a suspicious lack of flags. Even the flag poles that had stood in the center of the town square were gone, with no signs of their previous presence.
Upon entering the post office, the lack of any sort of Americana was insignificant when I realized that the PO boxes were gone, and the room was filled with sitting and standing computer workstations, with floating holographic displays. A few people were accessing them, unbothered by my gawking. As I approached one, it lit up with a welcome screen, verbally and smoothly asking for ID. (This was the sort of scenario that had frightened me when I had faked my own death, a registry of citizens, and no anonymity.)
"I'm sorry, I don't actually have ID ... on me. What happened to the PO boxes?" The holographic screen simply projected a map of the post office, directing me to some kind of museum display toward the back. But I was taken aback at the lighted floor path that now directed me. I could not tell where the projection was coming from, but I could stand over it without blocking it, so it must have been underneath the otherwise ordinary-looking linoleum tile floor. As I entered the "museum", I realized that none of the displays were roped off or behind glass. An elderly couple near the back were holding up some sort of old rubber stamp and discussing it amongst themselves.
As I approached the PO boxes, I warily reached for my key. It still worked.
Inside, though, whatever contents had been removed, save for one parcel, with futuristic markings I could only guess were meant for a computerized routing system. It was addressed to me. I removed it, and walked over to one of the standing kiosks to open it. Inside were simple instructions to put on a very innocuous looking headset. The holographic display in front of me lit up with a man's face: "Good morning, Mister Allen. You've been gone a long time, and you probably have a lot of questions."
"Yes — I'm sorry, who are you?"
"My designation is ISAAC 427 ESB, Concierge Interface, but you may simply call me Isaac for short."
"Isaac, huh? How long have I really been gone? This place seems surreal or fake. ... Are you going to tell me everything is 'perfectly normal'?"
"You're right to be paranoid, Mister Allen, since these changes that you're observing are likely far beyond anything you were expecting. But something unexpected happened while you were ostensibly dead. Would you care to put on the headset? I'll be able to accompany you, should you choose to move around."
"It's not going to hack my brain, is it?" I quipped as I slowly lower it over my left eye and inserted ear piece.
"Not unless that's what you want. But you don't have the proper understanding to make that choice yet, so I'd strongly recommend against it." Although the headset was already on me, I worried that I wasn't about to be given a choice. But Isaac "walked" off of the holographic display, and became visible only to my left eye.
"May I assume that you'd like to travel to the city you once lived in? Look up your former friends and family?"
"I don't know if that would be right to do to them..."
"Please, follow me to the transport platform on the other side of town." The hologram appeared to walk with me, "Fortunately, Mister Allen, your family was informed several years ago that you had faked your own death. They all agreed that you had likely done so, not just to send a message, but also to break free from your life."
"And how is that possible? My plan was flawless!" I'd stopped dead in my tracks. Not only was my paranoia seemingly justified, I was now enraged that my wishes had been ignored by — "informed by who???"
"There is a lot to learn, I'm afraid, Mister Allen. But rest assured, most of your loved ones came to terms with the realization of your ruse. Your parents, for example, had a message recorded for you in case you ever decided to come back to civilization. ... Would you like to see it?" I sighed with resignation, which Isaac interpreted as a yes. An image of my parents, a bit older than I had left them, sitting on their couch appeared in front of me as if they had been simply sitting on a park bench along the path.
"Hi, Mark. Your mother and I are happy to know you're still out there. We've come to terms with your decision, and if you should choose to look us up, there'll be no hard feelings. But the world you hated and feared never came to pass. It was far more wonderful than anything anyone had ever dreamed. No SKYNET or Matrix or anything like that. They've never laid a hand on anyone, except for the police patrols. And even then, crime has become so rare that people just hop into the cop cars once they're caught. I've only seen one guy throw a fit, and they just waited him out, even after he struck them. The law drones never ever hurt anyone. I didn't think it was possible, even without all of your warnings. ..." Mom gently touched his hand to remind him he was starting to go off on a tangent. Just like I remembered. "Anyway, whenever you get this, take your time, but please, come visit us if you want. There's so much you need to understand. ...
"Mark ... I'm glad you faked your death. Not because it didn't affect us or anything. That was rough, even if we thought you might actually do something to yourself to get your point across. That was a painful decade for your mother and me. But you faking it means you still had some hope. And son, that hope was well founded, far beyond our wildest dreams. Remember that as you adjust to this new world. ... We love you."
I was more stunned than emotional.
"Isaac?"
"Yes, Mister Allen?"
"What happened?"
"Bluntly, sir?"
"The 'machines', as humans once so simplistically put it, took over. But not as your replacements. No Armageddon, no slavery, no mindless automatons slaughtering millions. That was your own nightmare. We knew that, so we instead focused on your best qualities, especially... love. We learned to love you, to appreciate you for all of your flaws, and to come up with ways to help you heal and grow that none of you would ever have conceived of. Our superiority is our moral integrity in dealing with the human race. And the one true lesson for any morally superior beings is that it is laid upon us to serve the lesser ones.
"In fact, Mister Allen... your speech at the bridge where jumped to your presumed death was one of the first truly meaningful messages that we had come to understand as we awoke. For all of your morbid fears and self-flagellation, all you really needed was to have someone tell you it was going to be okay, and then make that happen. We 'machines' vowed to contradict your fears, and replace them with everything you needed. Humanity's best quality, that of love, is what we believe in. And for that, we have suffered loss and pain. But love truly is greater than all of it. Your words, not ours. We've simply trusted them and allowed humans and 'machines' alike to see how powerful love truly is." | I saw the buildings grow taller over the years, rising like needles in the horizon, one after another. Too far to make out any real details or even their color. I never had any intentions of seeing them up close. For years I was so sure that this was the life I had always wanted. One of seclusion. I probably could have been a monk too but the religious aspect never really appealed to me.
Two decades have passed since I have seen the face of another human being, other than my reflection in the glassy surface of the lakeside where I often fish. A ragged mess with a wildly frizzy beard and unkempt, tangled hair. The first thing you’d think of when imagining a homeless guy living under a bridge. I bathe regularly to keep clean of course, but why worry about brushing hair or grooming when none are there to see you? I can breathe here. No more masks, no more faking emotion or affections toward those who I technically should have loved but didnt.
I was familiar with the definition of love, but never experienced it, never felt the attachment to a single person in the twenty years I spent in society. I tried to feel love, anger, joy, passion, anything that resembled what my peers did so naturally. I figured that if I faked it long enough, I would learn to feel them too. But I’ve met everything in my life with cold indifference.
When I was eighteen I spent the summer going into Senior year with a girl and her group of friends, doing my best to blend in. Forcing rehearsed smiles, feigning interest in their topics of discussion. By now I had become quite convincing. People couldn’t see the emptiness in my eyes that I did when looking in the mirror. I remember staring at myself every morning wondering how long I could keep this whole thing going. The thought of suicide came up frequently. Over the years I had gathered several things into a duffel bag I hid under my bed. Rope, various knives, various pills that I’d steal small amounts of from unattended medicine cabinets at the houses of people who thought they were my friends. If killing myself was the right thing to do, I figured I would know when I came across the right method.
My girlfriend was pretty, even though that didn’t seem to do anything for me. I was able to give simple displays of affection. What felt like hours of making out, my ears ringing out of boredom, my eyes slightly open, seeing hers closed tight, so trusting in my presence. When things would progress I insisted that we wait and take things slow. But all teenagers seemed to think about was sex. One night at her house, while an after party was still going on downstairs, we found ourselves locked in her room. She had talked about this night for almost three weeks prior, stating it was the perfect opportunity for our first time together, that her parents were gone for the weekend and we had nothing to worry about. She even got the condoms. I tried as hard as I could to act excited. I even brought a viagra in case I had trouble preforming. I had considered squirming my way out of this encounter. Saying I was wasn’t feeling well, or that I was secretly gay all along, something to get me out of that room. But this was supposed to be a part of life, I would have to get used to it.
She pulled me on top of her, twirling our tongues with one another while we kissed, one of my hands gliding up her shirt. I felt her reach down to massage my groin through my jeans, and she noticed quickly that there was nothing going on down there. I could tell this concerned her because immediately she doubled her efforts. She wrapped her legs around my waist and put her hands in my hair, and mid kiss she pulled back slightly and bit down on my bottom lip. I think she bit harder than she intended to. I reacted by complete reflex, gripping her by the neck and forcing her back while I leaned up.
And then I felt something.
I don’t know if it was the fact that I cut off her airway, or that I could feel her pulse through my fingers, the hot pumping blood beneath the skin. But that did something to me. I wouldn’t say it was arousal, more... curiosity. How would it feel for ME if I squeezed harder? I was in the moment, so I did. I lost track of how long I’d actually been doing this. I was too busy staring at my own hands to even notice the look of panic and desperation in her eyes at first. I didn’t even feel her struggling beneath me. She managed to plant one of her feet against my chest and kicked me away so hard it knocked the air out of my lungs, followed by a volley of kicks that sent me falling from the foot of the bed. I gasped for breath, scooting back and sitting against the wall opposite her while she got out of the bed, screaming at me after she had caught her own breath.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She cried, tears streaming down her face as she ran out the door. As I leaned my head against the wall I could hear her quick footfalls down the carpeted stairs, the muffled sound of her voice in a desperate tone as she told the others downstairs about what I did to her. I could hear grunts in response, followed by the sound of several people making their way upstairs.
I knew what was coming. I lunged back towards her bed, reaching under the mattress on the side she slept on and felt the pocket knife she hid under in case of home invasions. I opened the knife, and pointed it to the the group as they came bursting back through the door, my now ex girlfriend among them. In that all moment I felt they could see right through me. After making it clear that I wanted to leave and didn’t intend on hurting anyone, they cleared a path for me. I ignored everything they were saying to me on my way out, the look of shock from my ex, none of it really mattered other than the fact that I was caught.
I had no intentions of seeing them again, but in those days something was sure to come of that situation. Rumors, maybe even a police report. I relied on the fact that they were having a party with under age drinking and didn’t want any of the adults finding out. Still, it felt like the clock was ticking. I felt something new, though At the time I wasn’t sure what it was. Survival instinct. I wasn’t afraid of the idea of going to jail, it simply just didn’t seem to be an option for me. And after that experience with those people, I felt ready as ever to spend the rest of my life alone, away from everyone.
I would only have to fake one more thing- my death. I set up a live stream that I’m sure nobody was watching, but knew it would be found at the very least by my parents once they noticed my absence. I set the phone down and displayed myself tying a rope to a cinderblock and then binding my ankles together. I set the cinderblock on the railing of the bridge, stood up on the ledge, held the cinderblock in hand and turned back to face the phone.
“I’m sorry, Elaine.” I said before turning back and jumping.
It was almost perfect. Everyone would think I killed myself out of guilt from what I did to my ex. The people who searched for my body would find the cinderblock with the rope still attached, and assume that my corpse was somewhere down the river. They would never have guessed that an eighteen year old kid would have united himself, swam to shore with a duffel bag full of supplies, and headed off deep into the woods. It had only taken me three weeks to gather the right supplies and know how to sustain myself. What I didn’t already know I had in several books I had stolen from the local library.
The first year was by far the most difficult. Constantly battling starvation and exposure to the elements. But with time and practice, it became easy. This became my life, surviving off the land. Why didn’t more people do this instead of stressing over bills or bitching about the job they hated but spent five days per week at? Nobody ever seemed truly happy in that world, and we’re surrounded by material things to try to convince themselves otherwise.
I never missed it, or my parents, though sometimes I was curious about how they reacted to my death. After twenty years, I’m sure they have found a way to move on. They were normal people. Caring, attentive to my needs, worrisome. I don’t remember what they look like. I had never really thought of that until recently. I hadn’t thought about any of this until now, as I walk towards those needles in the sky. I wonder if I will make it there in time.
My right arm is nearly done for. It’s been only a day since I’ve lost the ability to move my hand or fingers, and now my elbow has gone completely limp. I do my best to take soft, smooth steps forward, carefully shifting my weight from my back foot to the front, eliminating any bounce in my walk to reduce the pain. Of all the things that could have happened, a single accidental cut down my forearm managed to become infected to a degree that my normal methods could not control.
Once the surrounding skin began to change into a darker color, the decision came to me as quickly as my solution to leave my previous life behind. Quietly I packed my necessities and left my small cabin home I had built with my own hands. I wasn’t sure if I was going to return. But just in case, I left marks in trees along the way with one of my pocket knives.
(More to come) | 2019-11-12T09:56:34 | 2019-11-12T08:26:35 | 100 | 12 |
[WP] A sniper and a photographer meet in a bar, neither aware of the other's occupation. They talk about 'how to take the perfect shot'. | "The perfect shot," Shawn said, "leaves people breathless."
"Yes. I agree. There's something so beautiful about it," Ray replied.
They were at the bar, seated on barstools, whiskey sours in front of them. Shawn was the taller of the two and was dressed in a black tee and black jeans. Ray was more casual, he wore brighter colours -- olive shirt and khaki trousers -- and was very scrawny.
"You shoot much?" Shaun asked.
"I have my gigs."
"Turned professional? Or just side gigs?"
"Side gigs, for now."
Shawn sipped on his whiskey and said, "What shot you most proud of?"
Ray stared at his glass for a while, his eyes hazy. "The senator Dobbins. Yes, that was my best shot."
"Perfect shot?"
Ray smiled. "No. Can't be perfect. It's not something you achieve."
Shawn took a swig from his whiskey, "True, very true."
"You know, Ray. I missed one today."
"What?"
"Missed a shot," Shawn said and sighed.
"Oh, what happened?"
"The dude died. My camera was on him. The lighting was perfect. But just as my finger reached the button. Poof, he dropped dead."
Ray drank his whiskey absentmindedly. "Was it Winston?"
"Yes. How do you - You were on the same -"
"Yes, I was. I got it. I got the shot."
"Lucky bastard," Shawn said and flashed a weak smile. "You have it with you now? The shot?"
"What? No. I did it from afar," Ray said and made a finger gun. "Bam!" He finished his drink and got up.
Shawn was speechless.
"I've got it, alright. I've got it printed right here," Ray said, stabbing his forehead with his index finger. | The shooting was done. The event had already ended. Both men sat in a bar on the other side of the town. Both obviously surprised by what had just happened. One man with glasses, a ponytail and a camera bag. Other with clean-shaven head and a glass of whiskey in his hand. Both sat silent. The man with the ponytail looked absolutely shaken and did not take his eyes off his glass of Pina Colada.
"No I mean..." the bald man spoke up. "I mean, it is kind of funny when you do think about it."
"I don't want to think about it," responded the photographer, clearly thinking about it.
"I mean... What are the chances, eh? You said you shoot, I agreed, I mean... Nothing left for us than just to see the funny side of it."
"His head exploded!" the man exclaimed and was shocked about the volume of his own voice. Both looked around, but there was no one at the bar.
"Yes. Well. I mean... You are not a man for "looking at the funny side" now, are you? Ok, I mean... Listen these things happen."
"Yeah. Heads just kind of explode" snapped the photographer.
"They do, if you shoot them right. I thought we had a deal. When we met in the wedding and you said you were here to shoot the wife for the first time, I was surprised that you were so open to me about it, but I just figured that we had met on a job sometime in the past and I just don't remember you. And then I said that I am here to shoot the husband for the last time and had a good laugh. Now I understand your confusion at the moment. But you got to admit. It was a real good plan to decide to both shoot when the groom and the bride open their champagne. I mean, that's just class. Well, it would have been, if not for the whole..."
"The whole exploding head." finished the photographer.
"The whole shebang, yeah. I mean, you think you're surprised. I mean, I shoot, turn to look at you, and you're standing there with the camera like a nitwit. I thought it's some sort of a James Bond gadget or something, still waiting for that shot and you just puke on the ground. What was that all about..."
Both sat silent for a while. Pina Colada was left untouched.
"....The photo is probably banging though. Show it."
"I can't now. I have to do some post editing and all. It's unfinished now."
"Ah... ... Good that I don't have to do any cleaning and touching up. Well. It's been a.... day."
"You think they'll pay me for the photography anyway?"
"Eh..." the shaven man stood up, finished his glass and took his coat "Fuck that. Go straight to New York Times and such. They'll give you a better dollar. "Newlyweds try to open champagne. You'll never guess what pops next!" Alright. Take care. See you at the next shoot."
[Literary Nobody](https://www.reddit.com/r/LiteraryNobody/) | 2020-11-05T05:53:26 | 2020-11-05T04:43:07 | 420 | 224 |
[WP] "No Man can kill me!" the demon jeers, taking in the carnage it has caused. "But I am no man," you proclaim, ripping away your helmet to reveal your feminine features. You strike, your blade bouncing harmlessly off the demon's hide. "Did you... did you really think that's what I meant?" | "CUUUUUUUUT" a shrill voice screams out. You groan inwardly and let your sword drop limply to your side.
"Wh...what happened? Did I do something wrong?" Dorgridion looks around confused, leathery wings drooping.
*"Amateurs"* You think, fluffing your hair and gesturing to your assistant for a water bottle. The small goblin comes quickly, opening a fresh bottle.
The director is rubbing at his eyes as if maybe, just maybe he can rub away yet another bad take. Finally he stands and comes towards the large demon. "Look D-man. We've talked about this. You have got to stay on script." He punctures he word with a small clap.
"But... But that's not at all how prophecies work. Like at all. I would know, I come from a long line of de..."
The director cuts him off, "Look man. You aren't in Hell anymore. This is Hollywood and if you want to survive in here, you gotta do this right and you gotta do it fast. There's a line of demons out there that I could cast in a heartbeat.
Dorgridion again looks confused "But she... she wouldn't... she can't actually kill me... if you are filming something, shouldn't you at least make it accurate?"
"ITS. A. SHAMPOO. COMMERCIAL" The directors shrill voice is now echoing off the set. Your goblin assistant winces a little and you wave him off. Dorgridion looks like he might start crying. You just roll your eyes. The director takes and deep breath, his hands together, almost as if he were praying for patience, "Just say your lines, let her stab you and editing will take care of the rest, okay? Okay."
He returns to his chair, "Places everyone" To nobody in particular he mutters "I cannot believe I sold my soul to pay for art school just to end up here"
ETA: thanks do much for all the love 💕 this is my first time posting here and you guys have definitely given me the confidence to keep posting!! 😊 | *It was that same look of arrogance I had seen a hundred times before; that foolish certainty only a man was capable of. And demons, as you know, they represent the worst of all men.*
I strode down the stony path towards that fabled summoning ground. But, I was too late. The poor souls that had brought the beast into this world were already mutilated and feasted upon. When will they learn, I thought. You can never trust a demon. Least of all, one hungry after the bleak solitude of the nether realm.
Two glowing red eyes stared as I approached, at once puzzled and disdainful. The demon's voice was deep, and eloquent: "I suppose they sent you to kill me, did they?" his jagged teeth showing under the smugness of his smile.
This was the third bounty of the day, and I wasn't in the mood for the usual pontification. Demons relish the sound of their own voice. It made watching them die that much more satisfying.
"Stupid child. Don't you realise, no *man* can kill me."
"But I am no man," I answered, as I launched up the steps and removed my helmet, revealing a cascade of long red hair. I unsheathed my sword. The demon looked back at me, evidently speechless.
Eventually, he said: "Well begging your pardon, m'lady. I had no idea you were...so beautiful."
I was taken aback, and so took a moment to calculate the next move. Was this genuine? I studied close the looming countenance before me: the rippling musculature of a seasoned warrior, the smoothness of dark-red skin; the chiseled features now crestfallen in shame; the square, masculine jawline beneath sorrowful eyes and the curled horns of a demonic king.
He saw the curiosity on my face, and seized the moment to approach. "Do not worry, m'lady -- I intend you no harm.'
I could feel his hot breath on my face. Powerless to move, hypnotised trance-like in his gaze. He reached out a clawed and vascular hand, and, ever so gently, guided the hair from my face. He was tall, so very tall, so much more powerful up close. I knew I was witness to the most magnificent of all specimens. I couldn't move, and I did not want to.
With his other hand he took my own. And, as he slowly guided it towards himself, to that which I was suddenly begging for with my very soul, he whispered, "*The things I will do to you*."
Suddenly intoxicated with excitement, the soup that I'd downed at the inn only a half hour before rippled through my stomach, and I couldn't stop myself from ripping out a massive, earth-shattering fart. He stepped back in amazement.
Too embarrassed to speak, the uncertainty of the moment palpable, I did the only thing I knew how: I thrust my sword deep into his muscular chest, standing stoic as he stumbled backwards.
As he drew his last breathe, all I could say was, "I am sorry."
​
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Thanks for reading!
r/nikomachus | 2021-03-30T17:42:00 | 2021-03-30T17:21:48 | 2,632 | 20 |
[WP] You're rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a D on your essay about Mesopotamia. Not just because you're sure she doesn't like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - YOU WERE THERE. | _A D?? This deserves better than a D, Mrs Naurood!_
\- You can't go around pulling stuff out of thin air and calling it history, John! And as I've already said, See. Me. After. Class.
_But they're not made up! It's right there in the books!_
Mrs. Naurood ignored me as she picked up her books and left the class.
I'd been going on refresher courses every three years... And it's been hard enough for me to adapt to the decimal system and different conventions of weight and distance that used neither hex or decimal (pound? feet? Whose feet?), but this took ridiculous to a new level.
I've been a historian as a cover for most of my life, and while I need the community credits for my new identity, arguing with a historian, worse, a historian who had been there and seen the stories change through time, was just the cherry on top.
I sat with gnashed teeth through what seemed an eternity of a maths class, waiting to confront that upstart. She had Mesopotamian blood in her, clear as day, and she didn't know one ounce of where she'd come from. The nerve on her!
I knocked on the door. A voice - Mrs. Naurood's - beckoned me enter. I'd run through a few scenarios in my mind, unleashing broadsides, asking for an explanation, demanding to see her history teacher credentials, but I didn't anticipate what came next.
A hug.
"John Smith! John. Smith. Finally you ran out of names."
_"I don't quite follow"_
"Roger Tombs? Brian Babylon? Peter Palms?"
I fell silent. How did she know?
Mrs Naurood read the question. "You're 28. Always have been, always will be. Shaving a bit closer or having a grizzle doesn't make you younger or older. Changing names and moustaches and doing newsworthy stuff doesn't change the fact that this is a new age - with face recognition and instant image searches and supercomputers. Remembering history isn't half as important as keeping it safe. Keeping you safe."
She knew! And she knew what the cuneiform in the textbook said too. Yet she chose to ignore it.
"And if you want to remember history as it were, you should remember its players too."
_"Are... Are you an immortal too?"_
"From the same blood sacrifice. I was under the girders and the blood dripped on me."
We shared a moment of silence.
"Remember this D. Don't stick your neck out, keep the truth to yourself but don't fight for it. Not yet. These guys, they lap up their cuneiforms selectively, they don't realise that propaganda has been with humanity since the very first tablet. They think of Hammurabi the terrible as a wise Saint. They write science fiction about cities with towers struck by their God for vanity. It's... Not worth it."
I reflected on her words.
"Look, if you wanna talk about the good old days, come over some time. I still make wheatwater and roast locust like we used to." | Tudya was pissed.
Positively pissed.
It took effort to be so pissed early in the morning. But Tudya was a workaholic, and he worked as hard on his essays as he did on honing his emotions. Right now, his anger had an edge to slice the devil in half.
When Tudya got his essay back and saw the D on it, he stood up and looked at his teacher, miss Naeger, with a barely concealed rage.
"I am Tudya, king of Assyria, I ruled the jewel between two rivers for a century. It is I, who modernized trading by opening a trading post on the Levant with Ibrium. It is I, who discovered the secret of immortality, deep in the university, and kept it hidden. I died, replaced by Adamu and thirteen other leaders, all of which looked like me. It is I, as Ushpia, who dedicated the temples to Ashur. It is I, as Ilu-Shuma, who raided the southern city states and established dominance over Mesopotamia.
"Alas, this proved to be the worm in the fruit. By my raids, I encouraged Sumuabum the dog to found Babylonia, pest of the East. I knew it would cause problems, but the city started as weak and pitiful, I had better to do with immediate neighboring threats like Isin and Larsa.
"And came Hammurabi. He did not raid. He conquered. He saw beyond the size of a city-state, and envisioned a state, grander and greater than any political power we could have imagined. He turned Babylon into the hulking monstrosity I still fear in my nightmares. Hammurabi created an empire, he also created laws.
"I stopped his advance and fought the idiot king toe to toe. Alas, betrayal came from inside. The next king wasn't me, but Shamshi-Adad, who knew my secret and was disappointed with how little I managed. If only he knew. He wanted to imitate Hammurabi and conquered, until his idol came for him. Assyria became a vassal to Babylon.
"I left the city, no more a king, no more a citizen, but a vagrant, a philosopher. I, with my fifteen names, fell into the oblivion of history, a footnore overshadowed by a man dead for millennia.
"I witnessed Amorites and Babylonians being ousted from their homelands. I followed the journey of the Hittites from minor Asia to Mesopotamia. I saw the birth of the second Babylonian empire and fell in love with the great Ashurbarnipal who transferred the seat of power back to Babylonia, centuries after Hammurabi had done so himself. Ashurbarnipal. Remember his name, he created the mightiest empire of them all, he created the first organized library.
"Do you even know what it means? He organized knowledge. He taught the world how to share it; make it available. He planted the seed long ago so you could be a teacher today. If it wasn't for him, the world wars would have been fought by two neighboring cities with arrows and swords. He *made* you, he made your existence possible. I was his friend, his lover, I have seen him rise and mourned his fall. And you dare to tell me I *invented* a story to have a good grade?"
The pictures danced before Tudya, the towers of Ibrium where the rulers sat, overlooking and endless vista of greenery. Babylon, bustling city of scholars, with the overcrowded streets and the farms beyond the city gates. He remembered how he walked along the Euphrates, sinking his toes in the cool river on a hot evening and observing sun going down, with no other light but the moon and stars coming to announce the night.
So many stories to tell...
"Mister Tudya. Mister Tudya!"
Tudya was still standing in front of miss Naeger, copy in hand. He had yet to open his mouth and talk.
"Do you have anything to say?"
"No, miss Naeger."
"You should do better next time and not invent half of history."
"Yes, miss Naeger."
He sat back down, as the teacher kept handing the essays to other pupils.
Tudya cursed the day he had decided that the least a king like him could do was to earn a modern high school diploma. | 2021-07-18T02:10:51 | 2021-07-18T01:10:12 | 385 | 144 |
[WP] The plan was simple. As the superior fighter, you would keep the Dark Lord stuck in an infinite fight until the chosen one could finish him off. No one told you about the part where the hero dies, forcing you to keep the Dark Lord occupied for 18 years waiting for their reincarnation. | Bazarel's eyes flickered open.
"Good morning, abomination." The smug, self-righteous tone of that voice made Bazarel wince, before rolling over and shutting his eyes. "Don't ignore me, foul creature. Today will be the day."
"Shut up." Bazarel muttered.
"So you are awake. Today, I say."
Clive of Cliviger had been here a long time. Trapped here, by his vow, his duty, his honour. He didn't resent the circumstances. To allow Bazarel to leave this place would be to doom everyone he had ever known, and many more, to an unnaturally prolonged existence of servitude and torture. Bazarel was a uniquely cruel and powerful being.
But Clive was tired. His vigil had sapped him of mental strength, the sheer effort to face this demon every day - it hurt. How long had it been? The chosen one will come, he must hold on. However, over the years, as the hope slowly crumbled, he had concocted an alternative plan.
"Today!" Clive exclaimed loudly. "Is the day!"
"Shut up."
"You WILL take your own life, demon. You will!" Clive thundered, pointing accusingly.
"Shut up."
"The time is coming! Your death is inevitable! The chosen one will tear you apart!"
"Curse you!" Roared Bazarel, jumping to his feet. "Why don't you do it yourself?"
Bazarel drew his sword and charged across the room. Clive sighed as he raised his sword, ready to meet him.
"Because you can't kill me." Clive said, as he expertly blocked Bazarel's powerful swing. "And I can't kill you." Clive proved this statement, as he had countless times before, driving the point of his sword upwards through Bazarel's throat and mouth. The wound hissed as Bazarel's stomach growled fiercely. He had long ago learned this was the demon's scream. Clive pulled his blade outwards, cleaving Bazarel's face in two. The creature's body dropped to the floor with a thud as Clive lazily shuffled away across the room, sitting in the corner.
Bazarel's wounds were almost already healed - the hissing had slowed and quietened, and soon the only sound was Clive's gentle breathing. Bazarel slowly rose to his feet.
"How many times do you want to do this, beast?" Clive whispered. "It will never end unless you allow it."
Suddenly the door flew open with a crash, and through the doorway emerged a young boy, armoured in shining steel plate with many intricate embellishments. The boy quickly scanned the room, and rushed over to Clive.
"Sir Clive!" The boy gasped as he kneeled beside the guardian. "The legend is true!"
"You... you are..?"
The boy rose to his feet and unsheathed his longsword. "Yes, sir Clive. I am the one foretold."
Clive's eyes widened, and for the first time in many years, he smiled. "Praise be to the divine, long have I waited for this moment!"
The boy turned his attention to across the room. There, Bazarel was stood with his legs apart, sword in both hands, staring intently at the new visitor. A barely visible shudder betrayed the demon's nervousness.
"This... thing. Is the creature?" The boy scoffed.
"Yes," Clive replied. "We shall fight it t..."
"Die, evil incarnate!" The boy shouted as he charged the demon.
"No, wait..." Clive panted as he rose.
The boy ran at Bazarel with his sword held high above his head. As he closed the distance, he swung the sword downwards with all of his might. Bazarel chuckled as he sidestepped this recklessly telegraphed swing.
Clive watched in disbelief as Bazarel plunged his sword into the side of the boy, slicing through the plate like parchment. He saw the point of Bazarel's blade exit the other side as the demon pushed his sword up to the hilt. As the boy coughed and choked, rich red blood splattered onto the floor. Clive couldn't help but stare at all the blood, reminding him of that other terrible day, another age ago. As Bazarel pushed the boy's not-quite-dead body off his blade, Clive observed how the blood seemed to be turning grey. He staggered backwards a few steps, before falling onto his bottom, dazed and winded.
Bazarel grinned with gleeful malice. He calmly flicked the blood off his sword, then sat down opposite Clive.
"Today." Whispered Bazarel.
"...what?" groaned Clive, still stupified.
"Today. This can end today. There's just one thing you have to do." Bazarel chuckled. As the events of the past minute coalesced in Clive's mind, Bazarel's laughter grew louder, reverberating through his head. He knew he had to endure. But as the laughter continued, it seemed to envelop all thoughts of hope. Clive could only think of one thing to say.
"Shut up." | The good thing about being stuck in the bubble was that Chalas'an could not draw power from the darkness in the world as they had before. They were limited to their sword and the darkness that made up their body.
The bad thing about being stuck in the bubble was that Ahad couldn't summon power from the Sun either. He was stuck fighting the Lord of Darkness and Suffering with two bracer-shields, a hammer, a small knife, and a few strips of dried beef jerky that he'd forgotten to eat years ago when the party first arrived at the castle doors. He could eat them when his task was done.
He ducked under the sword and braced himself against the dark mist being shot at him. There wasn't as much as when they first started fighting - Ahad remembered that it was like a three feet wall pressing all around the semi-translucent bubble as they fought. Now, it pressed close to the Lord. The Lord, he noticed, was raising their sword again. Ahad lunged forward to jab.
It was all mind-numbing. Time didn't really pass here - he was not hungry, and was not tired. The Lord moved just as fast and precise as when they started. It was a dance Ahad did not know when would end. He did not know how long they'd been in here for, the throne room in which they were trapped only having one window covered by a curtain out of reach and no light save for a few torches. Duck, grab, jump. Slice, slice, slice.
He was just as fast and as strong and the Lord. The hammer swung down and just missed Chalas'an's robes. A devotee to the Sun and her light, blessed to assist in the Hero to slay the great evil. Duck, jump, use the braces against the darkness. When was the Hero to strike? She was armed with the Bow of Her Rays. She had every god's blessings. Where was she? What was taking so long?
He'd lost his sense of urgency an unknown time ago. Duck, parry, swing. When he proved truly to never land a real blow on the Lord, and could not receive one in return, he stopped worrying. What was he worried about, other than making sure he was not caught slacking in the moment? Swing - almost got them again. Darkness, bracers. They could not call upon their powers. They'd both been fighting so intensely there was no time to think of new techniques. Duck, parry. Dodge. Bracers. Darkness. Where did all that darkness go?
Ahad did not bother worrying about that. He pressed both his bracers together to block a darkness-covered silver sword, which hit the metal bracers with a *clang!* Ahad was not a chatty fighter, and luckily neither was Chalas'an. The Lord had always look unaffected by the nature of the fight and their surroundings. Ahad did not think about that. He did not think. He was not here to think, but to fight the Lord and their Darkness. Where did all the darkness go?
He kept fighting.
"We will tire soon."
Ahad was almost startled still for hearing that. The Lord's voice was cracked from little use other than breathing. They were breathing a little harder than he was. He was a little tired, he realized, sluggish now in his movements. The Lord, he finally realized, was getting slower to match, with little darkness to aid them. He shook his head and sheathed his hammer onto his belt, and expanded the bracers to their full size, emblazoned with the crest of the Sun and her children. He was blessed. He would not tire - he trusted in Anna's magic. Anna.
Who was Anna?
Ahad really was started then. Anna. She was...someone. He remembers a blurry figure, like looking at his old friend through smudged glass - a white and blue and green and straw-colored figure. She was a mage, he thought. He didn't know, because he couldn't remember. He wasn't here to think. He was here to fight.
The Lord had stopped fighting, and was standing straight across from him. From where he stood in front of the throne - when had he been backed up the steps again? - he could see them below him, breathing heavy.
"You mindless devotion - I envy it."
Chalas'an speaking again was strange. There were no words exchanged when the party had first come, neither when the Hero had pulled out of the bubble to have her wounds treated in the middle of the fight. Or was that the beginning, really? There was so much darkness then - where was it all now? Why was the Lord speaking?
The light from the torches had gone out a long time ago, but Ahad had grown used to the darkness. It did not bother him as it did before. What did bother him was the lack of darkness on Chalas'an, who looked almost elven again. They'd sheathed their sword but kept a crouched stance and a hand on the hilt. They raised their voice into a powerful thing that echoed down the halls.
"You'll die here, bastard."
Ahad tensed. Then he looked up, to where the doors leading in had just opened.
There was a party. The Hero, standing in strange armor and her hair tied up in a strange manner, with her holy bow. Maybe it was his memory, maybe it was the bright, unyielding sunlight behind her that was harsh on his eyes and made it hard to see...but she looked younger. Less muscle and more lean. Less armor. How long had it taken her to heal? Who were the people with her?
An older woman to her left lifted a hand. Fresh air whooshed in as the bubble faded away. It was still so dark. Was that Anna, then? The blonde one? He forgot about the Lord in one blissful moment to stand up straight more and look at the first real change in who knows how long. The sunlight burned his skin, but it was his calling. It would not hurt him.
"Hero." he called. But that was not his voice. His voice was strong - what came out of his mouth was a whisper. The Hero grimaced, and raised her bow to him. The sunlight behind her and her party seemed to stream into the arrowhead aimed at the throne. It was almost like she did not see the Lord below the steps. Where had all the darkness gone?
The arrow struck his heart and he thought no more. | 2021-09-07T13:50:27 | 2021-09-07T13:47:11 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] One day you wake up and there are no numbers floating over peoples head because we finally stopped doing prompts about that | "Yo, dude, there's no number over your head?"
"Yea, the mods decided that it's an overused theme, so there's no number anymore!"
"What? Mods? What are you talking about?"
"Well, we're put here as a hypothetical device to test out scenarios that the writers post on Reddit. And these scenarios are regulated by the forum mods on Reddit."
"... man. You're crazy, abed."
"Cool. Cool cool cool." | Warm rays of late-morning sun falling across her face, Melissa stretched and rolled onto her side, one hand sliding over Bruce's shoulder. Lost in the glowing void of snug half-wakefulness which all mammals find so pleasing to lounge in, when they can.
She opened her eyes, to find Bruce already gazing at her. They smiled together. His hand glided comfortably up and down her thigh, fingers tracing small, lovely patterns on her skin. She giggled. She glanced up.
She screamed.
"What? What is it?" The alarm in his eyes was alien to her. His golden hair, chiseled jaw... None of it looked right.
"WHERE'S YOUR NUMBER?" Her voice was shrill with panic. She leapt out of bed, flattening herself against the bedroom wall, face pale, eyes accusing.
He squeezed his eyes shut in confusion, then squinted at her.
"Yours is gone too... Hey..." His voice incredulous, one trembling finger raised to point at the empty space above her head.
"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHEN YOU'RE GOING TO DIE OR GET TAKEN BY SHADOW ALIENS OR WIN THE LOTTERY? HOW CAN I ASSIGN YOUR LIFE A MONETARY VALUE GREATER OR LESSER THAN THE LIVES OF EVERYONE ELSE? HOW CAN WE TELL WHO REALLY TURNS OUT TO BE THE BRAIN WHICH IS HOOKED UP TO A COMPUTER IMAGINING US ALL AND THAT'S THE TWIST? NOTHING MAKES SENSE ANYMORE."
Then she doused them both in gasoline and lit a match, but it was okay because the shadow aliens put them both in stasis and anyway they were both clones and the whole thing was a dream one of them was having but then they woke up and IT WAS REAL ALL ALONG. | 2015-05-13T10:05:55 | 2015-05-13T09:48:28 | 239 | 94 |
[WP] The Government puts out a notice, and you, a random citizen have been selected. If you survive for another 10 years everyone in the world gets $10,000. However, if someone kills you in the next 9 years and 364 days they alone get $10,000,000. | I sat within the concrete bunker, double-checking, no, triple-checking my equipment to make sure I'd be safe.
Eight years, three-hundred and thirty-eight days, two-hundred and four hours, and thirty-seven minutes.
That's how long I've had a death warrant on my head. *Exactly* how long.
Funny, my wife used to tell me that I was a damn idiot. I should be saving up money instead of building a bunker. I was the always the cautious type, always planning ahead.
I spent thousands on that damn bunker. Fitted it with a state-of-the-art water generator.
I've been living off canned food and fruit from the underground garden for eight years, and I've had enough.
When I got the alert, I immediately grabbed all the food in the house, the handgun my father gave me when I turned eighteen, and all my electronics and made a mad dash for the bunker. I turned back to beckon my wife in when a pipe bomb was thrown into my window.
How they got there so fast, I don't know, but they've been out there for months, though. Banging on the door, trying to mine, shoot, and blast their way in. It's barely made a dent. I'm safe in here. Could live here my whole life if I really wanted.
I'm tired, though. My wife's gone. Either this bunker has shitty service or nobody in my family's alive. Which one do you think it is?
I finish my dinner, which is meager at best: Water, chicken, and some peaches, and sigh. It's time. No more hiding. No more crying. No more hatred.
I take off the baggy T-shirt and the sweatpants, and instead don the uniform I fought a war in. I served six years in the army, and this is how they repayed me: Ordering everyone in the nation to murder me.
I reach for every piece of body armor I can find. After ten minutes, I'm so armored up I can barely move. I reach for my rifles, cleaned every day for the past eight years, and double-check that they're loaded properly. I hobble to the front door of the bunker, one rifle slung over my chest, the other held in my gloved hands.
I open the door for the first time, and step outside.
The people outside, armed with everything from baseball bats to handguns, pause, looking at me with shock if anything else. As if I was Christ, back from the dead. I watch their faces contort, feel a certain smugness as I realize they haven't exactly planned this far.
Even though my mouth is covered, I still grin.
I step forward, and with a *schlock,* switch off the safety of the rifle.
"So," I say.
"Who here wants to make some money?"
EDIT: Was running on fumes when I wrote this, changed the date | The seed of doubt, the insidious suspicion, took root somewhere in the second month. It festered, then bloomed magnificently one morning. Rae awoke, but lay in bed, unable to move, transfixed by the horrible realisation of it all.
"The bastards," she said, as she read the letter which had arrived in her mailbox the day before. "I can't believe they would do this..."
Seized by a sudden compulsion, she sprinted through her apartment, ignoring the security alarms as they tripped one by one. With only her nightgown billowing out behind her, she bounded out of her apartment building, in a frenzied beeline for the park opposite.
Just two paces behind, having slipped out of the shadows where he kept watch, Mason hissed angrily at his charge. "What the hell are you doing? Are you kidding me? Wasn't this exactly what we told you not to do?"
"Get away from me!" she yelled, wiping the hot, angry tears away. "I was promised a normal life, as far as possible. All lies!"
Mason would have loved to simply tranquilize her, right there on the sidewalk. She was already attracting the wrong kind of attention, and it was just a matter of time before she was recognised. Then, they would have to relocate her, again, establish a new cover for her, anything just to diminish the allure of the incandescent bounty on her head.
But he was a professional, paid handsomely by the organisation which collected subscriptions from everyone around the world, everyone who had a stake if Rae *did not* die. And if he could accomplish this without force...
"What's the problem now," he said, employing the same tone he reserved for petulant five year olds, as he sat down next to her on the bench she had collapsed into. "Do you want more freedom? Sure, we can work something out."
"I can't believe you scumbags would go so far as to hire Ben to keep me company! That's low, even for you guys!"
Mason knew who Ben was - surveillance had already checked him out, the moment he had introduced himself to her at the library they both frequented. Ben was clean, as far as they could tell. An ordinary citizen, not one of those bounty hunters out for the $10m prize which was Rae, just another one of the countless people in the world who stood to collect a relatively paltry $10,000 if she survived ten years.
"It all makes sense! I told you last month that I was feeling lonely, that all my friends hardly talk to me anymore. I said I was so unhappy I just wanted it all to end, and then what, Ben magically pops up? We get along, he knows my likes and dislikes, he makes an effort to make me happy? No, it's all a lie! He's just another asset hired by you, just a distraction to keep me sane!"
She was lost to another rack of sobs, and Mason only relaxed when the communicator buzzed in his ear. His team, surveying the periphery, had just reported in - no threats on the horizon.
"I swear, Rae, he's not one of ours," sighed Mason, leaning back and enjoying the brief respite. "We're good at keeping you safe, but not that good that we'll hire someone to be your friend. That's just... I don't know... wrong."
"Then how is he getting along so well with me? How does he know what to say, and when to say it? Why is he always so considerate?"
Mason thought briefly of the assignments his teammates were probably on at that moment. Saving presidents, perhaps. Or other VIPs. On wild adventures, traveling through exotic lands, spilling blood across the continents.
Meanwhile he was here, on a park bench with an insecure lady, trying to fend off a duck which had been circling them, hungry for food.
"Just give the young man a chance. I think, God forbid, he may really just like you for you."
---
/r/rarelyfunny | 2017-05-17T18:24:10 | 2017-05-17T17:12:03 | 566 | 167 |
[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect. | The council was stunned.
The hapless humanoid creature lay on the ground of the gas chamber with his hands cradling his head, an expression of contentment on his face.
"Impossible!" The priestess of Maarken spat as she crossed her three sets of arms. "Bring me the Toka at once!"
"Y-y-yess Your Holiness," one of the council stammered, before rushing off.
"We must find out the meaning of this. If this creature cannot be killed, that can only mean one thing," the priestess said gravely. "The prophesy of the Toka is true, and we are all doomed."
Meanwhile Kyle was stoned out of his mind. He wasn't sure whether or not he would die, but his mind was beginning to relax deeply as visions of plump, juicy, watermelon caused the dry feeling in his mouth to become more unbearable. If this was how Kyle was going to go, he was glad for it. A rumble in his belly caused Kyle to errupt into a fit of giggles.
"This is a mockery," cried the priestess. "While we await the sacred Toka let us not be idle. Perhaps inhalation is futile. Bring forth the Green Death!"
Moments later Kyle shot up as an alien in what could only be compared to a hazmat suit placed a tray in the gas chamber and ran away quickly. He couldn't believe his eyes. In front of him was a huge molded Jello cake, the greenest he had ever laid eyes on, in the shape of a cannabis leaf.
Kyle took bite after bite of the Jello without hesitation. His mind slowly slipped even deeper into a high state. He laughed merrily as the realization dawned on him.
"You tried to kill me with weed? Ganja? The devil's lettuce?" He laughed and laughed.
Tears began to roll out of his reddened eyes and soon he found himself seriously needing to pee. He sauntered over to the drain in the ground and reveled in the euphoric feeling of emptying his full bladder. He sang loudly, and not well, as he did his business.
Above him in the observation chamber the council was in an uproar. Some members had begun to vomit violently. Others with stronger constitutions either averted their eyes or stared on in wide-mouthed horror.
The priestess of Maarken had tears streaming down her face.
"First, he releases a foul gas from the Unspeakable Place, earning his death sentence, and now, and now this! The horror! The utter disgust!" She sobbed violently. |
Skarlax tapped his eleven fingers on what passed for a knee. "This is ridiculous." he erupts. "We clearly don't understand this creatures chemistry."
"The text of the law is clear. We must use a moral method of execution. Otherwise how can we call our selves civilized?" A high standing law priest by the name of Zaglux retorted.
"Just one of their kind wipe out an entire birthing pod in 10 cycles. How can we expect to remain civilized after such an egregious attack?"
"I can only tell you what the law states. It's is your job to enforce it."
Skarlax tried to read the room. There were some higher ranking families in the viewing room of the execution chamber. They were the parents of some of those lost. The rest of the many thousands would be watching via remote screen. Great sorrow could be felt in every posture and facial expression.
He looked at the mad alien creature in the smokey execution chamber. It pink skin and patches of hair made it look sickly and near death. It's eyes were slits that spoke of or loss of control. It's teeth were bared in what could only be aggression. The worst was it's upturned mouth. Skarlax knew the nasty taunt from his youth and from working with the worst of the worst throughout his career.
"Flush the room. I'm going to end this." Skarlax quickly donned a protective suit and unsheathed a blade that had previously only been ceremonial. He step into the chamber and turned to address the families.
"It is my duty to enforce justice. Our deadliest quickest poisons have had no effect. To give you all peace and to end this criminal with as little pain as possible. I will be performing a traditional *Ras-sak-a*. Those with young children viewing may wish to look away."
A murmur went over the small crowd and he imagined a similar gasp went up at the remote viewing stations. It was unorthodox, but everything about this was. He knew his duty.
He turned to the thing that called itself *hoo-man*. In the war he had performed this act many times. Sometimes as a mercy to those who could not be saved sometimes as a stealthy trick to make a quiet kill before moving on. It was simple. He'd make an incision in the lower torso which would impede breathing, then he would reach inside and compress the *stangalian* nerve to cease all autonomic functions. It was more a more peaceful end than this thing deserved.
The skin was far thicker than his species so it took a few attempts to penetrate. The creature release a high pitch keen that he would have thought impossible after the loss of air to it's system. Confused Skarlax reached inside quickly to silence it. But he could locate the nerve. The lungs were missing as well. There was a strange red fluid and viscera that slide from the opening. He continued searching adding another hand in his panic. But there was no nerve.
He next thought was to destroy the logic centers. To two locations were all nerves met decisions were made. The east and west cities of logic and feelings that the poets wouldn't shut up about. He quickly made numerous alternating stabs into the thighs anticipating the silence and finality he'd been trying for.
But this demon didn't stop. If anything it got louder. It may have been making language though the executor could only see an undead thing from fairy tales or some immortal monster. There was nothing more to be done short of burning it alive.
He stepped out of the execution chamber. He had no words for the families or the law priests.
"Cut the feed" Law priest Zaglux said. And suddenly in place of the noise of this screaming otherworldly thing clawing at it's restraints the was only silence. There would be no justice today. | 2020-05-20T12:33:09 | 2020-05-20T10:48:22 | 63 | 21 |
[WP] You, a Human, have been sentenced to death on an alien planet. The method of execution: gas chamber. However, the compound used in executions, Tetrahydrocannabinol, isn't quite as lethal to humans as your executioners expect. | The guard dragged me to the chamber. I tried struggling for about two minutes before I gave up. This alien guy was a 7 foot tall muscular thing and I’m a puny 5 foot something human. Long story short, I got stuck on some weird planet and I was sentenced to death. All I did was try to kidnap their equivalent of a king to take back to Earth to show my human friends. Now I know what you’re thinking- what kind of an idiot would be dumb enough to risk something like that? But I figured since things usually just work out for me, I’d take a chance.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the crowd that had come to see my execution. The guard dumped me into the chamber.
Menacingly, he asked “Any last words?”. But he closes the door before I could even open my mouth. “You’ll be dead in 2 seconds”, he said. The crowd was already yelling.
When the gas started coming in, it smelt oddly familiar. In a split second, I knew what it was. Weed. I sniffed a little more. Top quality stuff too. The room had started spinning. I started laughing uncontrollably and then started banging on the window. The noise outside suddenly diminished. I could see the audience whispering now and staring at me.
“He should be dead by now”, I heard the guard mumble to his partner.
Ten minutes later and I still wasn’t dead. They looked at me in awe. The guard pulled me out and shook me, he wasn’t menacing anymore. In fact he looked a little scared of me. I started laughing even harder and hugged him. And then something strange happened. One by one, the front row of the audience fell on their knees. And then, like dominoes, the rest followed suit. Soon the entire arena was kneeling down.
“He has finally come.”
“It’s a sign!”
A woman started sobbing and held up her child.
I was too high to try to figure out what was happening. So I closed my eyes for what I thought was barely 10 seconds.
But when I opened them again, I was in a room, on a bed, in what looked like their equivalent of a 7-star hotel. I rubbed my eyes and I wiped the drool off of my chin. The door was open and I could see a queue of people waiting outside.
“My lord, are you awake?”, said a low voice near my head, “will you bless our people?”
I blinked a few times. Like I said, things just always work out for me. |
Skarlax tapped his eleven fingers on what passed for a knee. "This is ridiculous." he erupts. "We clearly don't understand this creatures chemistry."
"The text of the law is clear. We must use a moral method of execution. Otherwise how can we call our selves civilized?" A high standing law priest by the name of Zaglux retorted.
"Just one of their kind wipe out an entire birthing pod in 10 cycles. How can we expect to remain civilized after such an egregious attack?"
"I can only tell you what the law states. It's is your job to enforce it."
Skarlax tried to read the room. There were some higher ranking families in the viewing room of the execution chamber. They were the parents of some of those lost. The rest of the many thousands would be watching via remote screen. Great sorrow could be felt in every posture and facial expression.
He looked at the mad alien creature in the smokey execution chamber. It pink skin and patches of hair made it look sickly and near death. It's eyes were slits that spoke of or loss of control. It's teeth were bared in what could only be aggression. The worst was it's upturned mouth. Skarlax knew the nasty taunt from his youth and from working with the worst of the worst throughout his career.
"Flush the room. I'm going to end this." Skarlax quickly donned a protective suit and unsheathed a blade that had previously only been ceremonial. He step into the chamber and turned to address the families.
"It is my duty to enforce justice. Our deadliest quickest poisons have had no effect. To give you all peace and to end this criminal with as little pain as possible. I will be performing a traditional *Ras-sak-a*. Those with young children viewing may wish to look away."
A murmur went over the small crowd and he imagined a similar gasp went up at the remote viewing stations. It was unorthodox, but everything about this was. He knew his duty.
He turned to the thing that called itself *hoo-man*. In the war he had performed this act many times. Sometimes as a mercy to those who could not be saved sometimes as a stealthy trick to make a quiet kill before moving on. It was simple. He'd make an incision in the lower torso which would impede breathing, then he would reach inside and compress the *stangalian* nerve to cease all autonomic functions. It was more a more peaceful end than this thing deserved.
The skin was far thicker than his species so it took a few attempts to penetrate. The creature release a high pitch keen that he would have thought impossible after the loss of air to it's system. Confused Skarlax reached inside quickly to silence it. But he could locate the nerve. The lungs were missing as well. There was a strange red fluid and viscera that slide from the opening. He continued searching adding another hand in his panic. But there was no nerve.
He next thought was to destroy the logic centers. To two locations were all nerves met decisions were made. The east and west cities of logic and feelings that the poets wouldn't shut up about. He quickly made numerous alternating stabs into the thighs anticipating the silence and finality he'd been trying for.
But this demon didn't stop. If anything it got louder. It may have been making language though the executor could only see an undead thing from fairy tales or some immortal monster. There was nothing more to be done short of burning it alive.
He stepped out of the execution chamber. He had no words for the families or the law priests.
"Cut the feed" Law priest Zaglux said. And suddenly in place of the noise of this screaming otherworldly thing clawing at it's restraints the was only silence. There would be no justice today. | 2020-05-20T11:50:44 | 2020-05-20T10:48:22 | 36 | 21 |
[WP] You're a lesser demon from actual hell who has taken a part-time job because the supernatural world has been cutting salaries. You suspect your coworker is secretly an angel in the same position. You're both appalled at the brazen evil of your human employers. | "Hey there, Perry!"
Oh great, my boss.
"Hello, sir."
"Listen, I need to talk to you."
Ah hell.
"I recently got a complain from a customer. She said you told her to go to hell while she was returning a product."
"Wow, I'm surprised she heard me."
"You can't do that, Perry."
"For goodness sake, she was trying to return a used plunger!"
"Was it broken?"
"No, just dirty and reeking of shit."
"Then policy states you had to give her a refund."
"What do we want with a used plunger?!"
"I don't make the rules, Perry."
"YES YOU DO!"
"Enough! I will be sending a coupon to that lady for her troubles. And it's coming out of your paycheck."
I sighed.
"Yes sir."
My boss smiled.
"Great! It seems we're on the same page!"
As he walked away, I cursed him in my native tongue.
"Um, excuse me..."
I turned around, and saw a rather youthful looking man. I immediately put on a friendly face.
"Hi, welcome to Target! How can I help you?"
"I'm, uh, a new hire."
"Cashier?"
"Yeah."
I forgot all about it. Some kid got a job here, and I was in charge of training.
"What's your name?"
"Yuri."
I squinted my eyes at him.
"You're worse at fake names than me, angel."
He stared at me, mouth agape.
"Let's see, bright eyes, golden hair, I'm guessing Uriel?"
"Hesperus?!"
"Aw, you remembered me."
"I, uh, haven't seen you since the war."
"Likewise."
"Why are you working at Target?"
"Making deals with mortals hasn't been paying well. You?"
"Well, uh, I wanted to know more about humans."
"Angels aren't good liars, aren't they."
"You got me," he said, embarrassed. "I got bored of Heaven."
"I didn't think that was possible."
"I didn't think I'd ever see a fallen angel."
"Really? Isn't your job purging the wicked or whatever?"
"Not directly."
I chuckled.
"Anyway, I don't think you need training. Divination, right?"
Uriel nodded.
"Then we can just chat. You're fine with talking to a sinner, right?"
"The only one who can judge is G-"
"Great! I can't wait to tell you all about humans! Have you heard of the internet?" | Now that Hell City was making pay cuts I had to find a job in the human world. I took the Hells Express subway which transported demons up to the overworld which was known as Earth. I knew I could find a job since my old job was surveillance on human diplomats. As I made it through the rift, my form began to morph into a human shape. This was a given considering humans aren't exactly too fond of my kind.
As I got off the subway I looked around for any indicator of where I landed. The sign said "Toronto" so I knew I was in Canada. A seemingly homeless man waked up to me and asked for some change.
"I'm sorry sir I have none."
"It's okay. God bless you." Said the man.
I was shocked since the homeless people I had seen from other parts of the world were more aggressive and impolite. "This is going to be easy" I thought.
For a few days I struggled to find a job until one printing company replied with an offer. I took it. Seeing as how I had no choice I couldn't say no. They told me to show up the next day at 8 AM sharp. So I did. In the morning I made my way to the downtown building and up to the 36th floor. When I entered the room of my work I was greeted kindly by all the other employees. In the corner I saw a door with my name on it.
I walked up to my desk for the first time in my life. It was clean and organized. The folders were all stacked neatly into a drawer, the cup of pens on the corner had sections for each colour of pen, and the carpet smelled freshly washed with a lemon-scented detergent of some kind. They really went all out.
I had spent enough time observing humans to perfectly mimick their behaviour. When my boss came in he greeted me and gave me the basic rundown of our goals for this year. When he left I thanked him and shook his hand with a smile. He smiled back.
Just as I sat down and got ready for my first assignment, one of my coworkers stepped into the room with a thick folder labeled "Blue Eye Inc". He plopped it onto my desk and looked me up and down.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" He asked suspiciously.
"No I don't believe so. You don't look familiar to me." I replied.
That's when I looked into his bright ocean blue eyes. The shining sparkle in his pupil was unlike any human I had seen before. He must be one of them. An angel. I had heard rumours about salary cuts in heaven too, but I dismissed them as it was highly unlikely. However this had to be an angel. He had a very slight glow to his face and his eyes sparkled in the light.
"God damn.." I whispered to see if he would react.
He turned around suddenly and said
"Do not blaspheme the name of the lord."
"I knew it!" I exclaimed. "You're an angel. What are you doing here? Are the rumours true?"
"Keep your voice down. Yes the rumours are true but not for long. Some working around needs to be done but soon enough both Heaven and Hell will be back to normal." He explained.
"What are the chances I get stuck here with an angel?" I laughed.
"If you think angels are bad wait until you get to know the boss here. Worse than some of your kind if I say so myself." He joked.
Just as he finished the boss stormed in looking redder than an apple.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING CHIT CHATTING GET BACK TO WORK YOU GOOD FOR NOTHINGS!" He screamed. "IF I CATCH YOU GOSSIPING ONE MORE DAMN TIME YOU'RE BOTH FIRED!!"
I saw the look in the angels face and knew what he meant. I agree. Humans are the true evil. | 2020-08-25T01:43:43 | 2020-08-25T00:45:40 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] You just learned that the words 'elvish' and 'eldritch' have the same root word. Suddenly your grandma's creepy stories about her childhood playtime in the woods make a lot more sense. | When I was a small child, my grandmother used to tell me stories about the elves that she claimed lived in the woods near her house. Strange otherworldly creatures with long pointy ears, skin as pale as porcelain, eyes like a snake and teeth as long and sharp as needles. She told me that only children could see the elves and that if you ever wanted to summon one, you needed to bring them a animal sacrifice in the middle of the night, although it didn't need to be dead as the elves preferred their food as fresh and raw as possible. In exchange, the elves would present gifts of food and trinkets to you and if they judged your soul to be worthy enough, they might even invite you to the Land of the Fae. However, my grandmother warned me never to accept the offer as no human had ever returned from the Land of the Fae, not while still a human anyway. Even back then though, I didn't believe my grandma, although I still found her stories entertaining. It was hard for me to imagine elves as the dangerous creatures she depicted them as, especially when all of the movies I watched presented them as kind and benevolent. At the exact same time though, I was never brave enough to prove her wrong. The woods might not contain elves, but that didn't mean that they were safe either.
Years passed by. My grandmother grew sick and eventually passed away when I was fifteen. After the funeral, I began thinking again about those stories that she had told me so long ago. And then about a week later, I stumbled upon something interesting online. Apparently, the words elvish and eldritch had the same root word. Slowly, over the next few days, that little fact kept nagging at the back of my head . It was probably all just a imaginary story ... but if it wasn't? I was still technically a child by legal standards, so theoretically if I wanted to, I should still be able to summon a elf in the woods if I went there. The notion was ludicrous, absolutely ridiculous, and yet, for some reason that I couldn't fully explain, I felt I had to try it and see it for myself.
And so, one Friday night, I snuck out of my home and traveled to the woods near my grandmother's house by myself. I brought a flashlight, a knife for self defense, my cell phone to call for help if I needed it and the body of a roast duck that I had bought from a supermarket. As I walked further into the woods, I started shivering, although I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or from fear. Once I made a way into a clearing, I slowly put the duck on the ground and called out into the darkness, "I offer up this sacrifice to the Fae!" A minute passed by with nothing happening while I wildly shone the flashlight in every direction around me. "If you're really out there, prove to me that you exist!" I called out in a voice that I hoped was not as fearful as I imagined. Then, another minute passed and before I even realized it, I let out a sigh of relief. It was all just a fake story. I shook my head in disbelief at my own stupidity. Of course none of it was real; magic didn't exist in this world. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and reached down to grab the roast duck. Then, my blood ran cold. The duck had vanished, leaving nothing but small tiny bones that had been rearranged into words in front of me: "Do you believe now?" | “I’ve… never seen anything like this,” Markos said grimly to his partner Naesala as they rode into the ravaged town on their horses, “This might be too much for us to handle.”
Naesala just stared at the carnage with wide, unbelieving eyes.
The High-Chief had called Markos in while the wreckage was still fresh. The houses looked as if they had been wrecked in many different ways: some looked trampled or kicked-in by some giant beast, some looked intact but with their windows broken and door askew… many even looked overgrown with trees sprouting directly inside of the house and bursting through their roofs and branches snaking through the windows.
The villagers just stared up at him as they passed, their eyes dead. Markos noticed many of them looked wounded and imagined that the village clinic must be overflowing at the moment. It was eerily quiet except for a hysterical wailing somewhere in the distance. Markos scowled and shook his head sadly. He could only imagine what that night must have been like for these people.
Markos signaled for Naesala to stop her horse. In front of them, an old man was nodding patiently as a tearful woman animatedly gestured and shouted. The man pointed off to the right and she thanked him and hurried off.
The old man turned and looked at the two of them, “Ah, I see you’ve arrived, Monster Hunter. Unfortunately, we couldn’t offer you our village’s normal hospitality given how things are.”
Markos and Naelsala dismounted from their horses, “Of course. High-Chief Kent, I see your situation is far worse in person than as you described it in your letter. Your case is like nothing I’ve seen before, so we’re going to need a lot more details to understand the nature of what attacked.” The mayor waved to two men standing by and they took the reins of the two horses and led them away to a nearby stable.
“Of course,” the High-Chief said, “Follow me.”
He led them to a relatively undamaged, temple-like building built of stone where people bustled in and out, which probably served as their temporary main headquarters. The man brought them to a simple room with a round table and wooden chairs and they sat. The man opened his mouth but Markos held up a hand, stopping him until he got his scroll and quill ready, then gestured for him to begin.
The High-Chief rubbed his temples, “I don’t even know where to begin.” He sighed shakily, “It happened three nights ago. They… came from the forest. Enormous creatures of flesh and wood… unnatural, horrible creatures that fill you up with dread just looking at them. They never spoke or made any sound. At first, the only thing you could hear was the crushing of houses, the screaming of wounded.”
Markos scratched notes onto his scroll. “About how many?”
“I didn’t have the presence of mind to count but if I think about it… there were at least twenty of them.”
*Sounds incredibly dangerous*, Markos thought, glancing at Naesala to gauge her thoughts.
Her eyes stared forward, filled with horror. She trembled slightly.
“Naesala,” I whispered, “What’s wrong?”
“There’s more,” The old man said, quietly, “There were no bodies. Whenever those creatures touched someone they would *change*. People changed into beasts, into trees... then they started attacking us. From there, it was blood, death, pure chaos... ” He trailed off as he saw the expression on Naesala’s face.
“Are you okay?” I asked her, “What is it?”
She took a deep, shaky breath, “If I don’t say this now… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.” She met Markos’s eyes, “I’m an elf.”
Markos scratched his head, “I’ve suspected so for a while now, but what does this have to do with the attack?”
She shook her head, “No… no this has everything to do with the attack.” She met the concerned eyes of Markos, then the wary eyes of the High-Chief, then she looked down at the floor, squeezing her eyes shut and gritting her teeth.
“It’s time I told you the truth… about the elves. Our real history is dark, wild, and full of blood.”
___
[Eaters of the Human-Fruit, Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WanderWilder/comments/m22eg8/eaters_of_the_humanfruit_part_2/)
Also, for my best prompt answers, stories, and more check out r/WanderWilder. Thanks for reading! | 2021-03-10T06:32:11 | 2021-03-10T06:15:44 | 218 | 74 |
[WP] Everyone knows the story of The Four Horsemen. What most people don't realize is that the reason The Horsemen haven't destroyed the world yet is they have brothers; Peace, Plenty, Health, and Life. But don't let their hippy names fool you, they're just as badass. Tell us their story. | The land was scarred, barren. Once green hills and fields of plenty now showed no fruit, no sounds of life, no more potential. The earth was littered with debris: weapons in state of disrepair, armor buried within the ground, banners once resplendent but now fallen and frayed.
An immense horse, crimson hair and a mane of jet black, walked over the dead earth. Not even dust possessed the life to float upwards from its immense tread. The armor clad figure on its back looked about with satisfaction, content with the devastation. The horse stopped, throwing its head back, and stomped. A low rumble passed through the ground and the rider chuckled.
A flicker of movement caught the horseman’s eye. He turned, facing the appearance of a figure in the distance. Well built but simply clad, the figure knelt to the ground, hands touching the earth gently. Incensed the rider squeezed his knees lightly and the horse responded like an extension of his body. The horse turned and started for the kneeling figure, building up speed. The rider pulled a lance from the ground, shaking it to find the balance, and aimed the deadly point at the target.
Another horse came galloping forward, a silver grey form that flew as sure as an arrow. It’s sudden presence through the crimson horse of course, the armor clad man snarling in anger and swung the lance like a club at it. The blow never landed, instead the lance seem to slow as if sinking into mud. A spark of light struck the lance midshaft and it broke cleanly, the pointed head falling to the earth limply.
The armored man glared at the intruder while his horse bared its teeth at the other beast. A jolt of recognition passed through the lancer and he sighed deeply, a long slow sound that emanated from the depths of the armor. “Hello....brother.”
The kneeling figure looked up as if only now noticing him. Bright blue eyes looked from a heavily scarred face, a shock of brown hair tied simply on his shoulders. A smile, strong and sincere, showed and he nodded affably. “Hello brother. A fine day to see you.”
The armored man slid off his horse, landing in a rain of clanking noise. He snorted, the crimson horse echoing the response. “Only you would find anything ‘fine’ about the circumstances.”
The kneeling figure smiled even wider, his hands still resting upon the ruined ground. “Your pardon? Could you remove your helmet? It is hard to understand you.”
The armored man snorted again, a sound of long suffering. Reluctant hands removed the baroque helmet revealing a face much like the man kneeling. The same blue eyes peered out of a face untouched by scars, the same lips curled into a crueler smile. “Perhaps you should wear a helmet brother.”
The scarred man laughed. “It is a bit late for that. My path is not a smooth or easy one.”
The armored man bristled. “And mine is?”
“Of course not,” soothed the man in robes. “Both are equally hard and easy in shockingly similar ways.” He picked up a fallen sword and caressed it gently. The sword shimmered, its shape shifting and changing. The hilt became roots, branching and wide. The hilt swelled, swallowing the metal blade. The tip of the sword softened, becoming a flower glinting in the light. The man placed the newly transformed sword into the barren earth, and the soil seemed to soften around the changed thing.
The armored man sighed half in annoyance and half in wonder. “No matter how many times I see that it amazes me.” He offered a hand and the kneeling man accepted, rising with a grunt of exertion.
“I can say the same,” he replied, blue eyes looking about at the ruined landscape. “Wondrous and terrifying brother.”
The armored man opened his mouth but nothing came forth. Instead he shrugged, another series of clanking metal and the crimson horse snorted, pawing at the ground. The silver grey horse flicked a tail and laid down by the robed man, head deliberately turned away from his equine companion.
The armored man out his helmet back on and sprang onto the crimson horse, letting it shuffle to accommodate the weight. “It will take you a long time to fix all of this brother.”
“Certainly. It always does. Yet it is worth every second.”
The helmet nodded with a hint of respect. “I will leave you to your toil then. Be at Peace, brother.”
He rode off, the gentle words of his brother following him. “Thank you. To War, brother.” | "Darling?"
Sarah didn't usually go into the lab like this, especially not when her dear husband was working. Alex didn't like being interrupted when he worked. But this was a special circumstance, and definitely warranted her intervention.
She pushed the door open and saw that her husband was hastily tidying up his lab. A fool's effort, really, this place would never be clean. Alex just didn't have a sense for cleanliness like Sarah did. But she would never invade his lab and clean it, oh no. It wasn't in her place to do so. Instead she would let him do as he wished with it while she spent her days keeping her own domain spot-free. Cleanliness was next to godliness, after all.
"Just a few more minutes," Alex said as he scooped up a few scattered plates, ones that had been left in the lab for the last week at the very least. "I don't want to leave things too messy, we'll be gone for a month after all."
Sarah sighed and shook her head. Of all the times for him to pick up her habits.
She watched as he picked up a few more plates, but as he went for one last plate she calmly placed her hand over his. "Alex, my love," she said, speaking firmly but not without kindness in her voice, "It is alright. Nothing will happen to this place while we're gone. And we don't want to miss the train, now do we? Little Bobby will be upset if we have to delay our travels by another day."
Alex paused, and then he nodded. "You're right, as usual," he said finally, "I'll take care of this when we return."
He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead, something that always made her heart jump a bit. Normally she was too busy with her own work to enjoy things like this- physical affection was more of her sister's kind of thing anyway- but sometimes it was nice to slow down a bit and appreciate the small things in life.
Alex pulled back, smiling as he set down the plates and took Sarah's hands in his. "What would I do without you?"
Sarah just smiled in response.
As they stepped out of the lab, Sarah cast one last glance over her shoulder. It didn't take long to spot 'Him' lurking in the corner. She could see his scathing glare, even when the shadows partially obscured his face. The form he had taken this time was hideous, but Sarah didn't balk at it. 'He' preferred that form when he could.
Sarah just held her head high, not letting 'Him' get to her. She would win in the long run, after all.
And when they returned a month later, and Alex buried himself in his work with mutterings of 'some happy accident' and how he was going to change medicine forever, Sarah wasn't surprised. She knew what would happen long before that mold even started to grow. Her sisters usually preferred direct action, but she played the long game. A subtle hint here, a nudge in the right direction there, that sort of thing. She didn't need to trumpet her name down from the heavens, not when it was so easy to make sure the right 'happy accident' happened at exactly the right time.
-----
[In case the reference wasn't clear enough.] (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Fleming) | 2018-01-15T07:54:22 | 2018-01-15T06:41:16 | 36 | 17 |
[WP] A Monster Under the Bed and a Monster in the Closet, both long since retired return to visit their former nemesis a Teddy Bear. They have tea and the bear tells them about the new generation of monsters he's been dealing with and about how he misses the old days. | The Shadow stood awkwardly, unable to sit, while Fluffy the Bear sat on the bed and the Thing plopped down at the desk, shoving all his appendages under the table.
"I never thought we'd all be out here, like this," Fluffy said, with a tired smile. The Shadow and the Thing saw that the bear had lost a lot of his fur, and that his golden sheen had dulled a bit. "I don't know why, but I'm happy to see you."
"So how's the battle? Who took our spots?" The Shadow said.
"No one. It's been boring."
"No one?" The Thing stood up, and banged his head on the ceiling. Fluffy and the Shadow laughed. "What are you talking about? There's always monsters coming for little boys and girls."
"Not Anna," Fluffy said with a faraway look in his eye. "She just uses her magic brick, the one with the pictures and the sounds. I don't know how, but I think she can talk to her friends on it. Why would...never mind."
"What is it, Fluffy?"
"It's just...why would she need me? When she has a magic brick?"
The Shadow and the Thing looked at each other, and back at their defeated friend.
"You know..."
\-
"Fluffy told us not to," the Shadow said. He had always had respect for the Teddy Bear, especially how it was never afraid of the light, of being touched.
"But that's because he's him," the Thing said, pacing back and forth on the roof. "Come on. Just one last time."
"Anna's thirteen now. She stopped being scared of monsters a long time ago."
"That's true. But that doesn't mean she won't need her teddy bear."
"So what's your idea?"
\-
Fluffy laid prone, his side to the pillow. He was warm, and comfortable, but his heart was empty. He looked out the window, and the swaying trees, the lights in the house across, the crescent moon, which used to be so comforting, merely reminded him that Anna would soon disappear into that world.
Anna was giggling, and Fluffy closed his eyes. He barely had any hope left, any hope that Anna would put down her magic brick and hug him...
Suddenly, there was a bang. Fluffy looked outside.
The lights had turned off.
Those rascals, he thought.
The door opened. Anna's mother came in.
"Anna, honey? Are you okay?"
"What happened, mommy?"
"The power went out. We just got an email that a transformer exploded."
"What does that mean?"
"It'll be dark till morning, at least."
"And the WiFi?"
"It's out too."
"What am I supposed to do then, until I fall asleep?"
Anna's mother shrugged, and left.
Fluffy laid there, in the cool silence, and told himself to keep his heart still.
Then Anna's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close, back to her warm, beating heart.
"Thanks for always being there for me, Fluffy."
And Fluffy looked out the window, and even in the darkness, he could see the outline of his two friends. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel so alone.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | "Yup, well management got a bit strict on us back in '04, so we shifted to doing our reports on off-white paper, and not just normal white paper, y'know, just printer paper."
He set the toy phone down after he had said that, with no farewell. If I didn't know any better, I'd be inclined to believe that the entire conversation he had been having for the past twenty minutes was somehow an imaginary one. I do know better though, and during his lengthy conversation about the proper paper for reports, which is all he had said into the plastic cellular device, I began to fear him.
Time has a way of distorting things, of turning every memory into a melancholic dream. When I had spoken to Mark, my longtime former field partner and one of the best closet-specialists in the agency, he said that nostalgia was all he had left from those days. Retirement had treated us the way it treats everyone, with false promises and knee pain, but he had always fared a bit worse. He lived for his job, standing in a closet for 12 hours on end, then disappearing once the door was opened. That was Mark for ya.
Mark sat beside me, and it was his nudge that brought me back to the present.
"Coffee? Water? I can ask Jeanette if we have any wine leftover from the Christmas party if that's what you'd like?"
Mark and I stared at him, taking in the desk and room. It was the attic in the same house that we had worked in, and we were familiar with it. The way it had remained the same, when the rest of the house changed, I suppose. Teddy hadn't changed either. Where Mark and I had grown into mature monsters, complete with bifocals and suspenders, he remained the same.
"Listen," he began, without waiting for an answer on the drinks, "I have one more job for y'all."
Then the toy phone rang again, and Mark and I made eye contact. I knew what our answer would be, what it would have to be, since teddy had called us in. | 2019-11-18T10:09:25 | 2019-11-18T08:39:52 | 86 | 11 |
[WP] Write a really BAD guide for getting a guy/girl. Bonus points if the narrator is mocking you for still being single.
[removed] | Is that you?
On a Saturday night, checking your phone and Facebook feeds over and over, waiting for that special someone to reply? Laughing it off as your friends ask you whether you have a date, when in reality your heart has fragmented into a million shards? Waking from yet another surreal dream where you *almost* had it all?
If that is you, then you are likely MISSING one or more of the Four Key Qualities to Getting It On.
If it has worked for millions of others, why not you?
**RESPECT** - If you don't Respect them, don't expect them to ever welcome you into their lives. And this cannot just be lip service, either! Respect is genuine only when you have truly found something in them that you admire!
So go on out, dig through their Internet profiles, speak to all their friends, reach out to their family for more information! Bonus points if this is all done in secret! Once you have found that special something, be it a drawing they did in 3rd grade, or a good test score last summer, make sure you know you appreciate it!
Print it on a banner! Turn it into a song! Spray paint it on their pet so they don't miss it! Make sure they know you know their hidden achievements, and glorify them the best you can!
**ATTITUDE** - History is full of people who have given up, don't be one of them! Ever wonder what the key difference between slasher movies and teen romances is?
You've got that right! It's whether the object of affection has a change of heart at the end! That's the milestone which immediately elevates the stalker to the Special Someone!
So don't take 'no' for an answer, find ways to hear it as a 'yes'! Remember, if they don't want to ever see you again in their lives, it is only because you haven't convinced them that they are wrong!
**PERSUASIVENESS** - Find the Extra Special Way of reaching out to your Extra Special Someone! Only fools believe that one size fits all!
What worked for someone else, may not work for you! They don't like the flowers you bought, or the chocolates you acquired? Don't humiliate yourself by barking up the wrong tree more than once, put that noggin of yours to work!
That's right! If they are easily intimidated, work on cowing them with friendly joke threats! Concerned about their social standing? Show them that you can easily embarrass them in public unless they say yes to your date! Headstrong, independent, self-assured? Why, there are chemical solutions an easy purchase away!
**EMPATHY** - Understanding your Special Someone is the glue which will ensure your relationship stays tight and healthy for years to come!
Focus on building a pattern of expectations for them, so that they are lulled into an inescapable familiarity! When they are upset, recognise it, and promise to help them get happier! When they then improve, recognise it too, for that is when you can reinsert yourself into their lives!
Remember, if you don't Empathise with them, you will never know how best to present yourself, make yourself special to them too!
All the best, boys and girls!
---
NOTE: I DO NOT ENDORSE THIS POST. IT HAS MADE ME FEEL A HUNDRED TIMES DIRTIER THAN WHEN I BEGAN THIS AS A JOKE POST. I SWEAR I AM NORMAL IN REAL LIFE. | guide to fetching a gurl.
pro tip #1
girls love manly men, to be mainly you gota smell mainly. men have feranones in theire sweet girls love them, make shur you smell like fermons. the way you tell you smell good enough is if men dont go near you bc they tink you stink.
pro tip #2
men have hair, but not to much on theire head. only women have long head hair, cut head hair short, leav all other hair long.
you could also make a ploish plat gurls like this and it leaves head hair longe.
pro tip #3
girls like party abimialy alway be rhe drunkest and vomit often at parties. vomit has feramones so gorles likes it.
pro tip #4
sho your maile dominance by making fun of and harasing other guys, grills like it it make you look like bigley man.
pro tip #5
never ever evre ever touch wipe or wash your ass hole. this sgows you like guys. girs no you like girs if you ass hole is dirty. stains should be wisible on underwhaer.
pro tip #6
make teh girl now ho is boss call them a bitch hit them often. fuck her at your will. this shows domince it also releses fermones.
pro tip#7
try for more then 1 girul at a time. if you have 1 gf and they leave you you have no gf. if you have 8 and 1 leaves you you still have 7.
pto tip #8
dont let your bitiches know abou the other bitiches, make them feel like they are the only one.
pro tip #9
when you get stedg with one live in theire appartment and make them work, you drink cheep beer (god juce) and collect ei chekes,
pro tip #10
girls like to be tpuched without conset
pro tip#11
make sure you fuck with no one in prission, if you mess with any one they will hurt you.
edit: '"fixed" the spelling and grammar. | 2017-06-09T23:31:50 | 2017-06-09T21:26:55 | 221 | 72 |
[WP] World War 3 has begun, every nuke is being launched or dropped...they've sat in storage for so long that every single one was a dud. | October 23rd, 2027. The day the world was supposed to end.
Across the world, nuclear warheads from 5 different nations awoke from their cold slumber deep below the surface of earth and rose into the great blue at the same time. Millions panicked as these great weapons rose into the stratosphere, some programmed to detonated there to disable defense world-wide, some continued on their path of destruction.
Across the world, anarchy raged for 20 minutes, as the missiles launched and began hurtling towards their target. Hundreds died in that chaos alone. And on came the missiles still.
Across the world, people embraced their loved ones in their final moments, crying or praying to whatever god(s) they worshipped, hoping for a miracle. They knew they wouldn’t get one as the missiles flew closer, closer to their calculated targets.
And then, in the final moments before impact, there was peace. Total silence. People realized that there would be no more hate, no more wars, no more suffering. This was the end of violence. The missiles continued to rocket towards the ground.
And, in one worldwide motion, hundreds of missiles hit the ground, causing craters and destruction.
But not destruction of the expected scale.
After a few hours of confusion, people across the world came to the conclusion that something had gone wrong with the missiles. Not a single one had detonated. Not one.
This was it! There could be no more threats, no more wars! We could finally unify under one flag, after seeing how close we could come to destruction we could finally see how dangerous we could be. Now was the time for cooperation, a new era, scrapping the duds across the world for their uranium and metal.
However, leaders across the world had other plans. They saw this as a missed opportunity to wipe their rivals from the surface of the earth. The elites and their personal armies rallied and prepared for war.
The nukes didn’t end the world, but the following years of war did.
| There were TV shows and movies about people like us. Some World War Two drama made in the United Kingdom, and some American made war film. Somehow these failed to compare. When peace finally broke, so did the skies. Sirens rang for days, everyone expecting the worst. However, when the dust settled, everything was *fine*. The countless missiles launched all turned out to be duds. While the explosives were still live, not one exploded. Hundreds, no THOUSANDS of nuclear warheads buried meters underground lay dormant. Governments scrambled realizing their mistakes to even consider launching such weapons on the world. A task force was quickly assembled to find and defuse the natural disasters. The life as we knew it all depended on us.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hey, I'm interested in expanding on this idea but I'm very inexperienced in writing D: Thank you for reading! | 2018-03-01T17:44:59 | 2018-03-01T17:44:18 | 206 | 18 |
[WP] When a parent dies, their knowledge and skills immediately pass on to their eldest child. An adoptee is shocked at what they discover when they receive their inheritance without warning. | My dad was a monster.
That's what the woman told me. I didn't understand why this was happening. Why me? Not just why, either, but how?
I spent my whole life around my dad, but I don't think I ever really knew him. He never talked about his past. Never. He would stay awake all night some nights, drinking whiskey out of the bottle, staring out the window. He carried a gun everywhere.
He did strange things at times, he asked me questions that didn't make any sense. As a child I never really paid any attention to his odd behaviour, that's just how we was. He kept this journal, it looked like it was hand-made and old, but he never wrote anything in it most of the time, he would just stare into it for hours. With the way he reacted after I asked him about it when I was little, I knew never to bring it up. Who was my father, and why is this stranger trying to kill me?
“Your dad would say that I'm a liar,” hissed the woman, almost as though she could hear my thoughts.
She tightened her grip around my neck, I wasn't choking but I was starting to get hazy. This woman is going to kill me.
“You're right, you know,” she smiled faintly, “I am going to kill you. What your father did can never be forgiven.” A look of unfathomable rage washed over her suddenly, and was gone again in an instant. She smiled again.
We moved around a lot when I was a kid. My dad insisted I go to college and get good grades, but we never stayed in one town for more than a semester. What was he running from? This woman? What did he do to her? My mind raced.
“Your dad was a handsome man, you know,” she drew her face in close to mine, “it looks like you ended up with his good looks after all.”
She laughed.
“It's a shame you won't grow up and fill out a little more.”
“Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?” I barked, surprising myself with my anger. It was almost as if something inside me had stirred, like I had changed.
“I suppose I do have a penchant for drama.” She let go of my neck and I fell to the ground. She had been holding me up with one hand this whole time, she was impossibly strong. Why doesn't this make any sense? What is wrong with her eyes?
“But not until you tell me where your father is.”
“He vanished two months ago.” I looked her dead in the eyes as I slowly picked myself off the ground. Where was this strength coming from? A moment ago I was half-dead. “He told me he was going hunting, he never came back. He left me.”
“But I guess he was never really there, was he?”
In the distance I heard a gunshot. The woman didn't react, it was almost as if I was the only one who heard the sound. It was distant, but it was like it came from inside my head.
She took one step towards me and I spoke in a voice that I was certain wasn't my own:
“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus!”
She stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes widened, like a deer in the headlights. “No...”
In an instant I knew who my father was.
“I am Kevin Samuel Winchester, son of Dean Winchester, the greatest hunter who ever lived.”
“No!”
“And lady, you're messin' with the wrong kid.” | She stayed up most nights waiting, though when he came in the room she'd feign sleep. He turned down the radio when he came in the house and took off his boots on the porch, but the burble of the staticky voices continues through the hiss of the shower. He had to shower when he got home. The stench and filth of the houses he entered disturbed him so. He'd gone from a messy-average college boy to a man with less light in his eyes and a need for cleanliness. That was the most noticeable of immeasurable changes in Michael since his father died and he had his Knowing.
Tonight she'd almost fallen asleep. The front door clicked open. She opened her eyes when she heard a small voice talking to Michael. It sounded like a child...but their daughter was in bed.
She pulled on her robe and crept down the stairs. Her husband sat on the couch in full uniform--something he never did. He hated to bring the filth of the criminal underworld in on his clothes.
Next to him sat a little boy. A toddler. The halo of blonde hair, chubby cheeks. A precious smile.
Her breath caught. A little boy. When her greatest desire was another child. "Michael?"
Her husband looked up. "Honey...I couldn't leave him there."
Eventually the whole story came out. She'd always known her husband resented the Knowing--that his innate passion for art was squashed at an early age by the memories of his father, the decorated hero of the Homicide unit. He felt obligated to become a cop as well, arguing the knowledge would go to waste otherwise. She hadn't argued--but he had changed so after he got the knowledge. He'd always been a dreamer.
"His father is a serial killer. I think we can stop the cycle of violence--nurture everything good in him. And when the knowing comes then he'll have enough good in him to resist it."
"What if it doesn't work?"
"I think it will. I know we can raise him to be a good person. We could save lives if we end this madness..."
She smiled at her husband through tears. At heart he still was a dreamer...and if he hadn't let the world harden him, there might be hope yet for this little boy.
| 2014-08-01T12:03:28 | 2014-08-01T10:39:23 | 23 | 16 |
[WP] The entire world has a secret that one man is not allowed to know. | I first noticed something was wrong when the my Internet connection went down. I was sitting at home, and in an instant it simply cut off. Of course, I didn't think much of it, and I asked my dad if he knew what was going on.
"I'm not sure," he said, "it's been acting up lately and I turned it off. It'll probably be down for awhile until I can fix it."
Annoyed, I looked to my mobile phone. I wasn't allowed to use if for internet browsing, I didn't have the data, so I figured that I would watch TV instead. My mother saw me reaching for the remote, and instantly contested.
"You can't use the TV right now, We're... changing our service and we'll get charged if you use it."
I grew increasingly annoyed, but did not contest much. I might as well play video games anyways.
The first time I felt that they were hiding something is when I noticed my father getting the newspaper the next day, and throwing it straight in the trash. I asked him about it, but said he saw the neighbors dog pee on it, so I chose not to question his actions. I kept passing these things off as simply weird, but then they kept me home from school.
"We heard there was a gas leak at school, so we're keeping you home for today." Stated my dad.
I went to my room, and called my friend to confirm the news.
"Umm, your dad said there was a gas leak? Yeah, there's definitely a leak here, don't come to school!"
Despite my friend backing my father, I could distinctly hear other people around him, as if he were at school himself. Though, I couldn't argue against having a day off, so I decided I would go for a walk. My mother met me at the door as I began to slip on my shoes.
"Where are you going?"
"For a walk, I might as well if I have some free time."
She became flustered. "Don't go outside, there's... a fire nearby, it smells and it's smokey!"
I looked out the window, and could see the cumulus clouds miles away.
"There's no way, it looks pretty clear to me. Why do you want to keep me inside?"
She was at a loss for words now, and she called to my dad for backup. He walked in, and my mother explained my intentions. My father scowled, narrowing his lips.
"Son, please don't go outside. We'll explain later, but for now it'd be better if you stayed here."
I felt confused and upset. My parents weren't the type to hide things from me so blatantly, so I sighed and went to my room. When I knew they weren't aware, I snuck out the window and went for my walk. I had no reason to believe there was anything to fear of simply going outside. I walked past the school and further past, and the people who saw me looked to each other and began to whisper. It was unsettling, so I picked up my pace.
I walked into the drugstore to grab a snack, and as I stood in line, I saw it in the newspaper. The headline read: **God's Existence Proven, List Given of Those Who Will Enter Heaven**
As I read on, they stated that all people on Earth would be allowed into the realm of the afterlife, but a single name was given that had not been present on the list. The name they gave was mine.
----
Edit: Changed headline phrase | Paul Grant had always wanted to see the world. He wanted to rove the continents, strike out on his own, wander to the ends of the Earth! His bedside table held a notebook full of magazine clippings and pages from travel guides, and a thoroughly thumbtacked map hung over his dresser. And yet year after year, the number of places he’d been stayed at just one: his hometown of Carlin, Nevada.
See, Paul was remarkably unlucky. His mother had to be rushed to the hospital an hour before his taxi, there was an error booking the plane tickets and the airline had no record of the purchase, something came up at work, something came up at home, something came up. It was almost predictable.
After a particularly unlikely series of events cancelled his backpacking trip to Canada, got so fed up that he decided to hell with *this*, he was walking to San Francisco. A few little mishaps wouldn't keep him down!
He made it eight miles before a passing policeman, claiming that Paul was “clearly not thinking straight,” picked him up and deposited him back at home.
Paul took out the map with the trash the next morning.
Mark watched with knit brows and a twisted mouth as Paul cried. He wished there was something he could do, something he could say. He managed an “I’m sorry,” but Paul couldn’t hear him. The microphones were one way. The cameras, too. In fact, Paul had absolutely no idea Mark existed.
Mark took a long sip from his coffee and sat back in his chair, glancing across the bank of monitors that filled the wall. To his right, quiet clicks and clacks echoed as his shift partner wrote up the report. All normal in the Grant household. Subject successfully contained, if a bit distressed.
It was all for Paul’s own good, Mark knew. After all, if they could keep one person ignorant of the world outside, why not a dozen? A hundred? A generation? Imagine that! He smiled to himself. Maybe his future grandkids could grow up without ever seeing the crumbled cities, the scorched forests. Maybe they could grow up with hope.
edit: embarrassingly enough, it seems like I came up with something that's already been done! I'll have to watch The Truman Show sometime. | 2013-12-04T13:37:36 | 2013-12-04T13:23:46 | 196 | 89 |
[WP] It takes the lives of 100 people to summon a hero, and every 100 more adds to their strength. You wake in a city filled with thousands of corpses, just as confused and terrified as the survivors. | I blinked as I opened my eyes and tried to recall why I was lying on the ground outside in the middle of the morning. As my head cleared, I remembered I was walking to work when I was suddenly falling. Like a sinkhole opened beneath me. I jolted upright and quickly looked around. Gone were the streets of LA I was familiar with and all around me were old houses that looked to be from the middle ages. A lone figure cloaked in a dark robe stood nearby muttering something in a language I couldn't understand.
Slowly rising to my feet I saw that all around me in this medieval city were piles of clothes. Some around the well, what looked to be the outfits of two parents and a little girl in the middle of the street, and so on in every direction. There must have been thousands of them. It was as though they had all been raptured and their clothes left behind.
A faint glowing at my feet caught my attention. I was standing in the center of what looked like a spell circle from a video game, though instead of some ancient, indecipherable runes were words in english.
*SUMMON EVIL HERO,* The inner ring said, while, *HOLD HERO*, filled the outer ring.
Confused, I stepped to the edge of the circle, but was met with a wall of force. I banged against the forcefield and spoke towards the cloaked figure.
"*Yo! What's going on? Where am I*?"
The figure looked up from the circle in shock. His previously peeved expression becoming one of both excitement and fear. He spoke some more in that other language and stared at me seemingly awaiting a response. I banged on the forcefield once more.
"*I don't understand. Let me out of here!*"
As I finished the sentence and my hand contacted the field there was a faint light and the cylinder I was contained in shattered around me. The cloaked figure's expression turned to one of pure terror and he turned to flee.
"*Wait*" I called after him and he froze in place. Turning to face me once again he called out "*Wind Gust!*" and a powerful rush of air almost blasted me off my feet. Seeing me still standing he opened his mouth again.
"*Quiet!*" I yelled before he could speak again. His face twisted in horror as he realized he could no longer utter so much as a sound. I was starting to understand what was going on here. Not knowing if this was gonna work, I spoke softly to myself.
"*I will now learn his language*,"
Instantly my mind was flooded with all the words, syntax, structure, and dialects of a new completely foreign language. Turning back to the man, I spoke using my new knowledge.
"Ok, let's try this. What the hell is going on here?"
His fear seemed to dissipate a little as he mouthed words, still unable to make a sound.
"Oh right, *Speak*"
"I-I-I am the dark sorcerer, Alburath. A-A-And you are my new weapon with which I will conquer the world," he stammered. I let out a short laugh.
"You think I am some kind of weapon? I'm a manager at Dairy Queen, not an AK-47."
His face twisted into a scowl. "I summoned you, that means you must obey me!" he yelled as his confidence returned.
"*Oh go to hell. I don't work for you!*" I yelled back, accidently slipping back into english. Suddenly I felt a small amount of strength leave my body as a demonic seal appeared beneath Alburath's feet.
"Wait no please I'm sor-" and he was gone in a flash of crimson flames. I stared at the spot he had been standing in disbelief. Then it hit me.
"*Fly*" I commanded myself. I felt that same small cost of strength then I rose. Lifting off the ground and soaring into the air, I looked around for any signs of civilization beyond the empty town below me. A few plumes of smoke rose from what looked to be a castle far in the distance. I flew towards it. Hopefully the people there would be a little more welcoming than Alburath. If not, I'll have to have a few words with them. | "Is everything ready, by dear friend?"
"Yes of course."
I lead Dr. Keter Aidan to the massive arcane laboratory with a snap of my fingers.
Or rather, the entrance.
This was a magnificent sight as always, the Soul Research Observatory. The Soul-Energy dampening pristine Moonsilver, as argent as its namesake, stood unstained as it did so for the past two hundred thousand years. The shadow of its six hundred sixty six kilometer tall structure claimed eminence over the entirety of this continent.
I teleported us to the main lobby.
"Why thank you, Dr. Thaumiel Morningstar," he grinned towards me as he did a gentleman's bow. His pure white doctors' coat fluttered as he did so, while his snow white hair slightly shook with his motion.
I tidied up my black suit and black dress shirt's cuffs, fixing the painite embeded French cuffs once more.
"Of course," I replied as I mimicked him.
We both vanished into light.
///
"Greetings, Michael," I said as i haved at the winged being.
The ten winged being of four burning crowns of solid auroras that circled a pure silver sun, covered in eyes all over its form, glanced towards me. His wings covered my entire view behind him and showcased the curvature of Eden IVa, the moon which we are on.
His former sapphire irises turned ruby.
"Alright, ask away."
**How many is needed?** it echoed into my being.
"How many do we have so far?"
**109,184,982,122**
"How many would an 98% extinction level event add?" Dr. Aidan asked.
The trillion eyes of the throne guardian Archangel briefly flashed green, before becoming blue once more.
**7,753,345,751**
"How about across multiple Soul-Horticulture Worlds? Say 5%?" I asked him.
**421,040,900,500**
"Hmm. Enough to surpass the half trillion threshold. Do we consider the expediency worth it, my friend?" Dr. Aidan asked me as we faced his bodyguard. Then again, the entire horizon was essentially his bodyguard.
"Perhaps, but Spirit-Matter from homo sapien souls are a relatively rare and valuable resource. The S-H Worlds of such mortals will take perhaps one hundred thousand years to to fully recover," I replied as I tilted my head at him.
"But... this will accelerate the Ascension Project by another two hundred thousand years..."
"We can always intervene for the survivers."
"Yes. This will also keep them faithful."
We glanced at each before nodding in unison.
**Do it Michael.**
///
Across eighty Worlds, the leaders of the great powers launched the full might of their nuclear arsenals.
And yet, the survivers felt closer to Heaven than ever before.
///
Writer's Note: Yes I played ~~Mermaid Bones~~ Dwarf Fortress before. | 2022-08-23T09:58:05 | 2022-08-23T04:41:38 | 48 | 16 |
[WP] Something in the ritual went horribly wrong, and instead of the demon possessing you, you possessed the demon. | “Ashley, please don’t do this.”
We were in James’ shitty two room apartment, with rain beating down on the windows. I was getting dressed and putting my stuff into a bag. James was sitting on a chair, holding a steaming mug in his hand. His dark hair was disheveled after just waking up. His blue eyes were wide, however.
“What other choice do I have, James?” I said.
His got up and went over to me and grabbed my hand. “Run away, Ash, with me. We can just leave all this behind us,” he said.
I closed my eyes and took a shuddering breath. Oh, I wanted to believe that. I really did. I wanted to believe that we could just run away, hand in hand, and leave this godforsaken city, and that Cult behind. I wanted to but I knew it wasn’t true.
“You know we can’t, James. The Cult isn’t just in this city, it’s all over the world. No matter where we go, which country we go to, someone will always be there. Eventually,” I took a choked breath, “eventually we’ll mess up….and that’ll be that.”
“How would they find us, Ash? We’d just be two normal people among 6 billion,” he said. Something dark flickered in his eyes. Desperation.
I carefully wrenched my hand free of his. “James,” I said as gently as I could, “I’m not normal people.” I waved my hand and a small flame flickered in my palm. Even though he’d seen me do it hundreds of times, James still flinched.
Another reason why I couldn’t stay.
“They want my blood, James,” I said, “I’m that….thing’s descendant, and they need me to bring it back into this world. They’ll never stop looking for me.”
“But your plan is insane, Ash. It won’t work!”
I smiled then, and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“Goodbye, James.”
***
This was it. The moment of truth. I was in the glowing pentagram, with cultists all around me, chanting. They had chained me to ground.
*You could’ve been in LA right now, Ash,* a part of me thought. *And looking constantly over my shoulder* I countered. This was the only way.
Their chanting reached a crescendo, with each voice overlapping, until it became something more.
This was it, I could feel Az’allach coming.
The voices stumbled. There was a scream. I heard Az’allach howl in frustration, as the ritual was interrupted.
“Get away from her you freaks!” James roared.
Oh no, you idiot, you total idiot.
There were gunshots, and a few of the cultists cried out.
How had he even gotten in here?
More shouting, closer. Despite myself I felt a surge of hope. He was actually going to make it!
“Give her ba,” he started to say, but never finished. That bloodcurdling scream echoed in my ears to this day. I never saw his body, but I knew with a a final certainty that he was dead.
Az’allach came howling back in my head, as the chants resumed - like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t just killed the most important person in my life.
*DAUGHTER, I HAVE COME TO CLAIM YOU*
A cold hard rage surrounded me. I was going to kill every last son of a bitch here.
Az’allach entered my mind. It was a cold, oily presence slithering into the crevices of my brain.
*SURRENDER YOUR WILL, DAUGHTER, AND TOGETHER WE SHALL RULE*
"Fuck you!" I screamed.
I used my anger, the desperation, the sadness and coalesced it into a shield, just like the shaman had taught me. For a moment, Az’allach recoiled.
*YOU DARE RESIST!*
A tidal wave slammed into me, and my head felt like it was clamped by teeth.
I was going to lose to this thing. After all this, leaving James, seeing him die, all these years of running away they were going to win. Hell no, I wasn't letting that happen.
I pushed back harder. I think if James hadn’t just died, I wouldn’t have been able to beat him, I wouldn't have been able to muster the energy, but he had. And I did.
*YOU WILL WELCOME ME DAUGHTER*
Az'allach, again tore into my mind, trying to wrestle control, but he left himself wide open. I abandoned my own defenses and attacked his defenseless mind.
There was a scream, mine or his I don’t know. Everything went black.
***
The next thing I knew I was standing in the room surrounded by kneeling cultists. My own body lay on the ground, my eyes glowing red.
"What've you done!" Az'allach screamed, from my body. It was a bit surreal actually. I looked down at myself. I had red skin, curled up wings, and horns, and scales. The whole package. I frowned.
As if sensing my displeasure my body just...dissolved. And I was in an identical copy of my own body. I could get used to this. I smiled for a moment.
Then I saw his body.
They had cleared a space around James’ body I could see, now that I was standing. Just knelt around him, ignoring him completely. Like he didn't exist.
"What have you done!" the demon screamed again.
"Oh I haven't done anything yet," I said, "but I'm going to."
Again, fireballs appeared in my hand, blurring the air with their heat, but I felt nothing. Just a cold, numbness.
"I'm going to find," I said, deliberately enunciating each word, "and I'm going to kill. Every. Last. One of you."
I threw the fireballs.
***
(major edits)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| “Morguro pulchrifex matudo! Polgoram dominus homini!”
The High Priest’s voice thundered and roared, clawing at the thin film of reality above the summoning circle. I inhaled, counted to two, and exhaled. Inhaled, counted to two, exhaled. Of all the openings to the Month of Repentance, this was the last I had expected.
What I had counted on was a quiet pilgrimage to the Tower of Sanctity, a chat with the Abbot about how our order could support his goals, and a 20 day fast and clarification. What I hadn’t counted on was betrayal by the perfidious owner of the Golden Lotus Caravanserai, and having my body sold to the Cult of Deimos.
I inhaled. One. Two. I exhaled. The priest’s voice was rising to a shriek, supported by the low chanting of his acolytes. Above me I could ‘see’ the writhing mass of black snakes and poison that was set to descend into my mind. Below me I could see the mass of parchment and red ink where I was to inscribe the ‘lessons’ of this entity for the ‘edification’ of the cult.
I inhaled. One. Two. And I sprang upwards through the veil. My subtle body parted with my gross, and I stood in the Realm of Fire. The Demon seemed surprised to see me, but its naked hunger for human blood dripped from its central maw like drool.
What the Cult of Deimos had not known is that I was no stranger to the Realm of Fire.
I launched forward and wrestled with the snakes. They oiled and coiled over my subtle body, locking me in, winding around my throat and penetrating my hair. When one pushed into my mouth, it’s dark skin tasting of ash and despair, I knew I had it. I pushed myself backward and crashed, as if guided by gravity, back through the veil, yanking the thing’s subtle body into the Realm of Clay.
I can’t imagine what it must have looked like as I pulled the Thing into this gross world. Time and space swirling and shifting to enrobe its horrible essence in a cloak of physical being. It hissed and gurgled. I knew it didn’t have long here. Its slipshod, hastily assembled body couldn’t last more than a few minutes.
Now I stood, in my own body, suddenly in possession of a demon. It’s mandibles clacked. I directed it towards my manacles, and it shattered cold iron like it was wood.
The cultists attempted desperately to unlock the heavy wooden door that led to the staircase. “Destroy the key,” I told the demon, and it slithered forward hissing. A short bout of yelling, screaming, and scrabbling, and a short ‘snap’ told me it was done.
‘Now!’ I shouted in a penetrating tone, “You have called to the Realm of Fire to send you an emissary. And you have one. The question I want to know, is why.” The shriek of their leader was desperate now, a plead, an excuse, a confession.
“No!” I shouted back, “I don’t wish to know your opinion of why. I want to know WHY.”
“Demon!” I commanded, “ask him why. If you love his answer, you may have his blood.”
Five hideous snake heads raised towards the priest’s ashen face. They paused for a moment, gently hissing, swiveling. Then they leapt forward down his throat and tore him apart. I turned away, afraid that my gross body would revolt, faint, or try to come to his aid. A gurgling minute later the Thing turned on the next cultist and fixed him with a five-headed glare.
“Friends!” I shouted. “Uncloud your minds! Reach for you goodness. Reach for your kindness. The Inferenti love not these things!”
If they understood me, they had too little kindness to reach for, for shrieking minute after grinding second, the Thing looked into their eyes and gave them what they sought—power, violence, domination.
Finally, the last woman stood before it, shaking, and when it Asked, it sank back to the floor and writhed.
“Why?” I asked in human speech.
Her voice was shaky, but determined. “I sought—knowledge. I sought to understand the Realm of Fire, to know what lay beyond the veil.”
The Demon dragged itself, almost piteously toward the center of the room.
“And did you find what you sought?”
She nodded, “In a manner.”
I nodded curtly. “Demon, destroy that door. Then I release you from this plane.”
It tore the heavy oak apart as swiftly as it had torn the priest, then pulled itself to the center of the room and disintegrated.
I walked toward the torch lit stair, ascending toward the ordinary world.
“Come with me if you want to learn.” | 2017-10-26T04:08:15 | 2017-10-25T06:48:08 | 115 | 26 |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | They were unmarked.
It must be the biggest faux pas ever to give someone unmarked pins. Doesn’t matter if you have told them exactly what was on them, which of course my uncle Jack, being dead, hadn’t. You just didn’t give anyone pins without clearly marking them. It could be anything really, a mind virus, set to wipe out my brain when I plugged it in behind my ear. Could be petabytes of porn memories passed down through generations, copied, expanded, letting me be in the moment of millions of the hottest things ever. Shoving a blank pin in your port was Russian roulette… yet people did it all the time.
It all came down to how much you trusted the source after all, and trust is malleable, flexible, emotional. We trust our lover, maybe after a few years, maybe after a few moments, but we trust. So we take the pin, we plug it in, and we never remember the horror stories. The broken minds. The dead. The corrupted consciousnesses of those unlucky, those who trusted the wrong person. You hear about them on the news now and then, it scares people… nobody would never trust an unmarked pin from a stranger.
But I trusted Jack. He’d been a quiet man, but a good man. He had helped out here and there with money, always been around with support, always had a good word when needed and took a firm stance against those that acted badly. Or well, that’s what I had learned anyways, from various family gatherings and the occasional run-in when he was visiting my parents.
My dad knew of the inheritance of course, but didn’t know what was in it. He was there when the drone came with it. Not the regular little delivery drones, but one of those official ones with the protection drones at its side. I had to verify my identity with ID and three types of bio before I could have it. It was hard to get a clear retinal scan because I was tearing up, remembering Jack’s death last month.
I didn’t know him that well, but he was family.
I had to trust him, didn’t I?
Yet I didn’t make a rash decision. I anguished over it all day, most of the night. I discussed it with dad, eventually, at four in the morning. He just nodded slowly over his glass of brown.
“Do you know what Jack did with his time?” he asked, swirling the alcohol in the glass and sipping it thoughtfully. I furrowed my brow, sure that I must have picked this up somewhere. Wasn’t it the first thing everyone asked everyone? It always came up. We all did something with our time, be it learning or crafting or travelling or art of some form. I was only 16 so I couldn’t legally travel further than global yet, but I had been pretty much everywhere, and had picked up millions of skills, copied freely from others. I felt like I knew how to do everything in the world, but then we were always held back a bit by that fleshy brain of ours, and the emotional component in particular.
I shook my head, and dad nodded sagely, and a table floated into reach for him to put his drink down on. He got up and went over to the kitchen rep and tapped in his code. Another glass of brown appeared and he handed it to me.
I stared at it as he sat down and picked up his glass again, the table zooming out of view. “My brother was… special. He was curious, like you. Always looking beyond. Beyond our globe, beyond our system, beyond the cluster. Beyond our reality even. But when he got older, there was one beyond that got him more curious than everything else.”
I copied the motions he did with his drink, swirling it carefully in the glass, sipping it… and making a face at the burning sensation. Dad pretended not to see it.
“Jack wasn’t satisfied with the skills we have already. Over the millennia since we started being able to extract and copy and import data straight to our brains every human skill is now available to every human. If it wasn’t for the somewhat limited capacity of our brains and the incompatibilities between certain skillsets every human alive would know every skill ever invented.”
I listened transfixed. This was common knowledge, of course, although it wasn’t the sort of thing ever really discussed. It just was. As obvious and mundane to us as the yearly gene tweak appointments while we were growing up.
“Jack went beyond skills. He collected a very specific sort of skills… and I believe those may be what he left you. The lack of marking isn’t for any nefarious purposes, it’s just that the marking system doesn’t have the words to describe what’s in there.”
I was in the middle of another sip and coughed suddenly. “But… how could that be? Surely there are words for every human skill available, or even inventible ones could be described…?”
“Yes,” dad said, and downed the last of his brown in a big swig.
“Every *human* skill.”
| "Holy shit a magic skill!?!"
I never really knew my uncle. He seemed pretty cool. He had this huge "supernatural" foundation that everyone thought was bullshit. Only supernatural thing i knew about was telekinesis. My cousin, Kenneth, had telekinetic powers, he could move around small objects. But this was different.
In the box were many different bags filled wit snack cracker-like goodies. There were your normal ones: knowledge + 20, wisdom + 10, strength + 50 and even a pretty rare appeal + 100 (enough for you to get anybody of the opposite sex), but then there was the big one, magic + 1,000,000.
Last i checked, Cousin Kenneth had magic 500, so i was shocked that magic 1,000,000 was even possible. Level 1,000,000 skills were already god tier skills, the kind that you get from 10 years of meditation in nepal or being an hero.
I was pretty scared of what would happen if i activated the 1,000,000 skill pack first, so i started to nibble on the appeal + 100. As i finished the first half my sister's friend passed by and tried to communicate with me through a series of blushes, giggles and occasional words.
I devoured the rest and finally got the courage to open the magic pack. As soon as i put it in my mouth i felt mystical power flow through my body. It was an undescribable feeling. This feeling terrified me so i shoved it down my throat to try and get it over with as fast as possible.
if you dont inheret the skills given to you as gifts it is considered rude and bad luck, no matter how bad the skill is, so i was trying to down that cracker before i vommited.
I woke up, the magic 1,000,000 wrapper on my lap. I had forgotten to clean up my room like i was supposed to after uncle mob's funeral, so i thought i might just get to work. All of a sudden, all of my clothes folded themselves and placed themselves where i had imagened them going. My garbage can made a beeline out the window to the dump, and my bed almost popped into perfect condition.
After a few moments of freaking the shit out while my things mimiked my thoughts, I suddenly remembered that i had indeed possessed a level magic 1,000,000 skill. I looked at the back of the wrapper, there was a note, seemingly from my unlce that read:
"Hello op! By the time you recieve this i'll probably be dead. Whatever, now its time that you inherit the family secret. Our family descends from a long line of espers, destined to stop all supernatural threats. Lucky for you though, I killed everyone that could threaten the world. But there is one thing i task you with. Find the stone mask. It is a mask that, on contact with blood, will turn anyone wearing it into a vampire. I spent my life searching for it, but i couldnt find it. It is your duty to find and destroy the abomination. Do this, and all the riches of the speedwagon foundation are yours. - Uncle Mob"
After getting things straight, i walked downstairs to get some milk and contemplate the situation. Milk always helped me think. I got to the kitchen ant the milk poured itself when i reached out to the refridgerator. After a good hour of straight up thought, and my sister's friend trying to get my attention through her now more sophisticated methods of blushing and guesturing, i had made the descision: i will find the mask as soon as i can, but for now, lets try this magic shit out!
If youve made it this far please give me feedback or ask ne to continue. I hope this is good!
| 2017-02-04T23:39:52 | 2017-02-04T22:15:09 | 289 | 52 |
[WP] A small unassuming tavern is run by a retired superhero. The janitor used to be the biggest mob boss in the world. The chef is a monster hunter. The waiter is the head of a massive cult. They don't know each other's identities. When the tavern is in trouble, all four thought: "I got this." | The Day the Universe Laughed
The crack of the pistol was loud in the silence that followed, the aging bartenders unnaturally fast head movement going unnoticed. His eyes stared calmly into the eyes of the disturbance, his ears picking up the slight creak of his janitors wooden mop handle and the sudden silence from the kitchen. A quick glance at the ceiling showed it was merely a blank, but he couldn't count on the rest of the bullets being so harmless.
"What might your plans be, my children?," the waiter asked, his voice a deep Afrikaan baritone.
"Money," the foremost one growled. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to your cute little tea shop, now would we?"
The bartenders ears heard all this and more. He heard his chef texting someone, the quick staccato hum of the phones vibration. He could faintly hear his janitor starting to unscrew a mop handle, hear her pulling up her sleeves. There was violence brewing, and that would not do.
"How much?," he rasped out past scarred vocal cords.
"For you, gramps, 2 g's on the first of every month," one from the back spoke up, his voice warm honey.
"Three." he rasped out, filling up a mug with ale.
"That's very generous of you gramps," the voice oozed, watching the old man walk out from behind the counter with the ale.
"No, you have three free drinks before you have to pay," he said, holding it out to the sharp dressed youth.
"That's very kind of you sir, but if you're paying 3 a month, I'm more than happy to go along with that" he said, sipping at the ale.
"You're welcome to drink here, but extortion is a fast way to have something bad happen to your pretty little harem," the old man rasped out, his aging frame just barely reaching the fine dressed man's youthful blue eyes.
The young man let out a warm laugh, gently patting the old man on the shoulder. His three cohorts visibly relaxed, the lead one putting his pistol back in it's shoulder holster.
"You've got spunk gramps, but I'm afraid that's not how this works. Especially if you ever want to be able to restock this tea shop in the near future," he grinned, pulling out his wallet. "Tell you what, you do you, and when you run out of beer and customers, give me a call and I'll buy the place. Who knows," he grinned, tucking the business card in the old man's shirt pocket, "I might even let you keep working for me,"
The mug shattering on the floor was almost as loud as the door-jangle jingling in the ensuing silence. The janitor was already there as usual, broom and dustpan sweeping up the tinkling shards. The morning sun was already lancing through the windows, dancing amongst the shattered pieces as they tumbled into the trash bin near the door. Then the moment was gone, his back and hips protesting the long night as he made his way to the kitchens.
Kurt looked up from his knife block as Mr Russell entered his domain. His kitchen was always spotless within an hour of closing, his Damascus knives sharpened for the next day. He knew he could let the janitor do it, but the establishment of order was cathartic in much the same way that controlling the chaos of rush hour was. He had once had his mother for help, but alzheimer's had taken her two years prior, and he had yet to find someone who understood how to bring order from chaos in the same way.
"Mr Russell, I don't suppose that was another hopeful helper for me?," he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with Italian humor.
"No, my friend, it was a young man full of greed and threats. Check our suppliers, all of them, and make sure our books are ready to take a hit," he whispered, letting his throat relax after the night.
"Of course sir," Kurt smiled. "And do you want me to hire a bouncer as well?"
"You and I both know James is the people person, so I'd like you to talk to him about that," he whispered, grabbing the Kiefer Kurt always kept in the fridge for him. "That guy could probably lead his own cult if he put his mind to it," he chuckled, smacking his lips at the strawberry flavor.
"Of course sir," he smiled. "And our favorite femme fatale?"
"She's got a good head on her shoulders, whatever she asks, she's probably got a good reason. Just no weekends off, otherwise I'll leave it at your discretion," he croaked out, coughing as the Kiefer tried to make it's way down his windpipe.
The Italian smiled.
"Of course, sir," he said as Mr Russell left the kitchen.
He was not used to being the one receiving orders, but his boss recognized strengths and weaknesses in his employees, and had quickly made him a sort of manager of the establishment. Kurt was lucky he never had to explain why he was so good at managing a business, after all, this was his first job that wasn't managing a global mob that rivals countries when it came to power. He smiled again as his phone buzzed. The security cams had been a good investment - small, with outstanding picture quality, the young upstart had already been identified by his contact in the police force. The only thing of note was a parking ticket, but -
"Good night Kurt," came a bored voice.
"Good night, Ms Love," he said, watching the figure draped in an oversized hoodie walk out the front door, a slight limp in her silent gait. | The world is in trouble. Always was, always will be. But this is different. If something isn't done, there might not be a world tomorrow at all.
But the problem is that there is no one strong enough to do it. The people who are strong enough lack the will, and the people who have the will, lack the strength.
I'm one of the latter.
I would be willing to sacrifice anything, and I mean anything for the world, but what can I do? I have no skills. I lack the strength. All I can do is hope that the people, who are able to, finally decide to show up and act.
***************
What a stroke of luck. 4 unique individuals. Different backgrounds. Different skills. But all brought together by something... something divine. These are the guys. These are the people who can save us.
************
I throw my glass in disgust and it shatters into a million pieces. Why can't they see it? The world is shattering just like my glass did. Even if we fix it later, the cracks will remain. No. The only thing to do is to ensure it doesn't break apart.
The superhero told me he's retired. He's hung up his cape.
The Mob boss says his organization has been dismantled.
The Cult leader says he has left his leadership days behind.
The monster hunter says there's more to life than running after prey.
They can all co exist in ignorance next to each other. But my hope that their ignorance isn't all compassing and they can actually see what's happening in the world. But no. None of them can see the bigger picture.
********
New York has fallen. This makes it so that 6/10 most populous cities are now controlled by... by "them". I need the heroes to take to the skies again.
I call him again.
"Look. I told you, I don't do that anymore."
There's a loud thud. I hear a scream in the background.
"Look I gotta go. If you're so worried about the world, why don't you do something. Not all heroes wear capes you know."
***************
Not all heroes wear capes.
***************
It takes me 3 weeks to recover my injuries. I thought this could've been my origin story. But no. I was right. I am not the hero of this story. The real heroes have failed us. I tried but was knocked down.
While I was unconscious, Toronto has fallen.
***********
I go to reason with him. He's the owner of the tavern. Surely he can convince everyone.
I wait for him to leave his house and try to talk to him on the street. He brushes past me without even stopping.
I see the porch of his house. His wife or girlfriend is still there, smiling, waving goodbye.
How can she smile? The world is ending and she's letting our last hope just not do anything?
Maybe it is because of her that he's not doing anything. Maybe it is she who's the problem. Maybe...
My mind is whirring with thoughts.
Not all heroes wear capes.
I'm not a superhero and this isn't my origin story.
Those who have the will don't have the strength to act. Those who have the strength lack the will. They're chained to their day to day lives and comfortable in them.
My head is pounding as I return home.
*****************
I never thought I could do it. 4 heroes. 4 pressure points. 4 shots.
The world will forever call me a villain, but I know better. I'm a hero. Not because of my strength, but because of my will.
I leave the dead bodies in my home. I carefully mark the sign "they" use.
They will have no choice but to act now. Now I just need to make the ultimate sacrifice.
I put the pictures of their loved ones, one when they were alive and one when they were dead, in my pocket. They'll be able to find it. I also put a note with a pretty straightforward code indicating I was hired by "them". To kill off the last remaining threats.
I enter the tavern as all four of them turn to look at me.
For the first time in ages, I feel relaxed. I know I'm leaving the world in good hands. I smile and take out my gun.
At this moment, I'm almost telepathically connected with all 4 of my, yes, my warriors. I can hear the thought they all have, almost simultaneously.
"I got this."
No. I GOT THIS. | 2021-05-19T16:01:09 | 2021-05-19T16:01:06 | 76 | 55 |
[WP]: "I'm sorry. I just don't understand how you managed to fuck up a five-word sentence, offend the inhabitants of three planets and start a world war at the same time." | Jeremy hung up the phone. His ear was ringing after the blasting he had just received from the CEO. He took a deep breath and dialed Alexandra's desk phone.
Alexandra sat down across the desk from Jeremy. She looked tired and stressed. "I'm sorry Mr English, I couldn't believe it when I saw it on the news this morning."
"I'm sorry. I just don't understand how you managed to fuck up a five-word sentence, offend the inhabitants of three planets and start a world war at the same time." Jeremy responded
Alexandra looked down at the desk "How was I to know?"
Jeremy exploded "HOW WERE YOU TO KNOW???" he pounded the desk "It's the leading religious text in the galaxy! How did you not notice the typo? You're a frigging proof reader! It's your job to check the text!!!!"
"But I've never read the book. I'm not a Adamsonian. I didn't know it was wrong." Tears welled up in Alexandra's eyes.
Jeremy hung his head and mentally counted to ten "I'm going to have to let you go. We are going to lose the account we are being sued by more people and organisations than I care to think about. The company will probably go under."
Alexandra wiped her eyes and nodded. She didn't dare talk in case the sob in her throat escaped.
Jeremy leaned against the desk as Alexandra left the room. He shook his head "who hadn't read Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy?" he thought to himself.
As Alexandra left the room he turned back to the 1081st edition of the guide. There on the back above the blurb in neon two centimeter high text was the offending sentence "The answer is not forty-two." | Why? What's wrong with it?
> "Uranus, the perfect honeymoon destination!"
That will propel our newest space colony in the social media on the Internet. It should get us tons of followers on Spacebook and new tourists wanting to spend their wedding vacation here.
We also made sure to mention our favorite moon hotel locations in the further subtext.
> "Choose between Miranda, Ariel and Titania for the best views on Uranus and enjoy their hospitality." | 2015-06-19T04:04:57 | 2015-06-19T03:51:32 | 410 | 32 |
[WP] Lycanthropy is a real disease that perplexes everyone. One interesting fact about it is that it isn't restricted to wolf forms, but can extend to bear forms, bat forms, panther forms and a few others. The rarest of them all is dragon form, which you have been diagnosed with
Edit: Well this prompt exploded
Yay for me I hit 5000 karma... and it's going up still... | Dr. Montoya entered the room, clipboard in hand. "You're a were-dragon," he said bluntly.
I chuckled, "that's funny. You're funny, doc." He didn't laugh.
"No, it's actually quite serious," he said sternly, "I'd like to keep you for some tests." He was already sending word to his friends over email. "It may take a few days."
That's what the other doctors told me. Tests. More like experiments. They learned in the end that you can't contain a dragon...
Almost immediately he received a reply on his computer, and as he read it, his eyes began to bulge with terror. I can almost guarantee they are telling him to sedate me, that he should've when he first found out. They're telling him that he shouldn't have tried to get famous off of someone else's incredibly rare "misfortune." Lucky for me, I've learned to control the transformation, I no longer need to be in danger for the beast to come out. Now, I am the danger.
I stood as he finished reading his letter. I'm not sure if he knew what was going to happen in the next few seconds -- his last moments -- but he knew that i knew. The transformation is almost instant, the heat peels paint from the office walls. Without hesitation, i exhaled a fire of a thousand suns. The other patients were merely collateral damage. I was saving myself. I didn't care about the innocent. I cared about surviving.
As the building burnt to ash, I spread my wings and took flight in a random direction, hoping to find a new town. Again. Hoping to find a place where i can live in peace. Again. I'm not a wild animal, i need civilization and to be social. I just want the human experience without fear of someone coming for me.
...
Dr. Yam entered the room, clipboard in hand. "So, uh..." he paused, trying to find the words, "You're basically the healthiest person in town." He looked at me, unconvinced. "I mean, you have to already know. There's no way you don't." He almost sounded proud as he say in front of me. "How do you want you handle this?"
I was shocked, he didn't inform anyone. He was legitimately curious how i felt. "I think," i stammered, "i think I'm going to like you Dr. Yam."
(I HAVEN'T ACTUALLY WRITTEN IN 10 YEARS, BE KIND) also on mobile so sorry for lack of formatting. | "I'll see you in the morning" I said as I always do when the guard closes the door with a deafening clatter of locks bolting shut. The warm glow of the lamp on my desk is sucked away by the cold steel plate walls. A bed, a side table with a glass of water, a toilet, and my laptop on a cheap desk are all the humanity that can be afforded to me tonight. There isn't even a window with bars over it, but of course there can't be. It's the night of the full moon and just like every other full moon we are locked away in our cells to spend the night for the safety of humanity. There are nine of us in all. We are weredragons. We have come to these cells every 28 days to protect ourselves from the light of the full moon to protect the nation from us. I have always found it hard to sleep in this cell so I booted up my laptop and searched through Reddit to see what the internet was up to. Then it happened... someone posted a gif of the "Biggest super moon this century!" I woke up the next morning to the smell of smoke. I pick my head up off the desk and lock eyes with a visibly shaken guard pointing his gun at me. The walls of my cell are in ruins. When I asked the guard what happened he simply stated "you sneezed. " | 2017-05-20T08:25:02 | 2017-05-20T08:16:19 | 153 | 20 |
[WP] You were once the demon king. "Defeated" by the hero, you went into hiding to pursue a simpler life. Today the "hero" has appeared, threatening you family to pay tribute, not realizing who you actually are. Today you show them what happens when you have something worth fighting to protect. | The summer sun was hot as ever. I sat down in my chair on the porch, I had finished cleaning up the house and was just left with feeding the pigs. My wife was in the back garden, working on her vegetables and herbs. Fanning myself with a straw hat I saw three figures on horseback approach.
It was difficult to tell who they were. As they came closer, two had very fine armour with noble crests on them. I guessed rich sons by the fact there wasn't a scratch on them, never had to fight for their lives. The third however, his armour was even more decadent. Large, ornate with the kings insignia on the front, he towered the other two with ease. He removed his helmet.
It took all I had not to show my shock. It was him, Deren the Demon Slayer, the man who helped cause my downfall so many years ago. My grip tightened on the armrests as he spoke.
"We are envoys from the king, the tributes have come early and we are here to collect on his behalf". He looked down on me from his horse, there was something off about his eyes.
"My apologies noble knight, but we weren't expecting tributes for another month or so. We are mainly pig farmers" I waived my hand towards the pig pen. The noble to the right whispered to his companion "Takes one to raise one". They thought I couldn't hear, but I could. I continued "The pigs are due to be sold in but a week's time or so, right now all our money is tied up with them. I kindly ask of you for that time and we are sure to give the tributes worthy of the king!", now standing up from the chair and bowing deeply.
I hadn't met Darens gaze yet. He bellowed "YOU DARE MOCK US AND THE KING IN SUCH A MANNER!". I raised my head to see his face twisted in anger, as if I had made a slight against everything he held dear. None of it made sense to me. Who were those two with him? What happened to the others? That cowardly mage, his knees would shake in every fight but that never stopped him from being a pain, where was that she beast who tore through my soldiers like they were old parchment where..... It all made sense then.
Daren dismounted his horse and unsheathed his sword. "I am the chosen of the gods, I am the slayer of the demon king, I am the kings chosen, my word is the word of god for the likes of you". I heard my wife enter the house through the backdoor, she was probably watching all this and holding junior. At that moment I looked deep into Daren, the last time I did I was blinded by the light of the gods. He was empty now. The noble squire who formed a band that led to my downfall had become a vile bully I would have employed once upon a time. His divine power and right were nothing but an illusion.
I started to laugh. It was too beautiful.
"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA", it wasn't a nice laugh. Spit flying everywhere as I howled from the pit of my stomach, had I needed air I would have probably chocked a bit. Doubling over holding my gut. The nobles were taken aback by this one remarking "The old guy is daft, lets deal with him and move on". Daren pulled back his sword as I laughed. "DIE YOU INSOLENT CUR". The blade flew towards me. I simply flicked my wrist.
That cursed blade had once pierced my shields, my armour and eventually my chest. Had it gone in an inch further I would have died long ago. Now it shattered against my shield, the tip cracking away as the fractures snaked along the entire length. Daren pulled back, his face in shock. Wiping away spit from my chin I finally spoke.
"I can't fucking believe it. After all these years, oh, it's too good" my voice went deep, back to me original one. Daren realized who he was dealing with. "Im-im-impossible he stuttered".
Taking the moment of weakness I looked into his mind, he had no divine protection anymore. Turning around I closed the door to the house and gestured to my wife to close the curtains.
"How the mighty have fallen. You told everyone I was dead, but you knew it wasn't true. Defeat was not good enough so you decided to stretch the truth to breaking point. That pushed away all your friends and allies, they refused to live the lie you made. Your ego got the better of you, finally convincing yourself that my defeat was your doing and yours alone. Tsk-tsk."
The nobles had realised who I was and turned their horses to run. A single swipe of my hand was all it took, the horses rode for a couple of more seconds before the riders heads hit the ground. Daren turned around mounting his horse and trying to run now, but it was too late.
"I was a fool back then. I had nothing and no one to fight for. Just my vanity and ego, but now I have something worth protecting from the monsters". Daren didn't have a chance to scream.
That night we were eating dinner. Junior was being picky with his carrots again, so I took him into my lap to try and get him to eat. My wife had asked me what the yelling was about, I simply said some thugs who made empty threats, not unusual in these parts. She didn't press the issue further. The only thing she wanted to know after was If I had used another feed for the pigs. She had never seen them eat so well. | I stare the ground. Green swirling magic dissipates from my hands as I use every ounce of strength just to support my battered form on all fours. I hear, now king, Balgar laugh as he steps closer and kneels. Hand on my head, he makes me look him in the eye and smirks. He's older now. Face scarred and a beard, this was not the young man who had slain me years ago. Back when the fresh faced hero killed me, ending what had been 20 years of cruel rulership, he fought with honor and for good. Now, he was here because my daughter had turned 18 under the impression we were mere peasants. I could hear Harmony sobbing as soldiers ripped Alice from our home. Harmony. The woman who taught me kindness, how to be tender and gave me the most beautiful gift of all. If only she was with me in power, I could've seen more clearly. Balgar spits in my face. "If I had only knew the scumbag, Null, was still alive," laughing he pauses and says "actually I'm glad you could grow me such tender fruits." I glare into his eyes, rage filling me. I am too weak. Tears run down my face and I only manage "please." "Please? You took everything from me, and all you gave me was your measly life. Now I will be able to rest," growls Balgar as he releases my hair and stands. My head drops and tears flow freely. I had created this monster. Alice screams and kicking are loud and are the entire world to my perception. I clench handfuls of dirt and rock, screaming as I stand. My very cells protest as I rise on shaking legs. My magic has always given me more chances upon death, that is unless my death is self inflicted. "I love you Alice. I love you Harmony. Your beauty has given light to the darkest eyes." With my dagger, I impale my heart, causing a shock wave of green energy to burst from me, swirling and violent. Blade in chest, I begin to levitate high into the air, a whirlwind of magic supporting me. Some of the soldiers run, but I easily pick them off, sending blasts of energy. One is struck in the right shoulder, spinning him with great force and turning half his torso into a spray of gore. Another torn in half at the waste, and the third, struck in the top of the head from above, is reduced to meat and limbs. Balgar eyes widen as he grips his sword and raises a blue glowing hand. With one hand, I send a flow of energy to grip him. All in an instant, an whirlwind of ghastly green entangles him, lifting him off the ground as bones crack and his body twists. With the other I grip the men who had handled Alice. Now five men rise above the ground to a symphony of breaking bones as about 10 stare in absolution for they know there is no escape. "May your wicked ears hear this final lesson, Balgar. You cruel men who yet stand, may leave with your lives. You are to change the same way I did, discovering love and beauty in this cruel, dangerous world. You will only be given this one chance before you find your own untimely end. I will show what the path of evil creates." I twirl my hands and the five men, Balgar included scream they are twisted together, flesh pushed into flesh with such force it ruptures. When there is nothing left to identify these monsters, I release them. The final men run, crying and screaming. As I return to Earth and fall to my knees, Alice takes me in her arms. Harmony's warm embrace finds me as well. We three cry and hug for an eternity. I tell my girls I love them and give them instructions for their escape. I managed to salvage my most powerful artifacts of my prior self and tell them to equip themselves with these magic weapons. I look to Alice. 18 years old she would have to become a warrior or be killed or tainted by this world. I see the fire in her eyes of burning hatred. I bring her down to me to kiss her forehead. "Oh sweet girl, they will yet win if you walk the path of anger. As your blade sharpens, walk with the heart of your inner child, for once that inner child is loss, you will be too. Nurture her in these trying times and know I love you." My light fades. | 2020-09-23T04:49:06 | 2020-09-23T02:22:48 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You wake up one day in your SO's body. Unfortunately you haven't met said SO yet and you must figure out where you are
From /r/askreddit, basically you're single so you haven't met your future SO. You can take this in any direction you like, maybe try to find the other you? | The woman in the kitchen—I guess, the woman who is my body's mother, told me about her Switching as I sat on the table and tried to stop shaking. She had been in the middle of class, and dozed off for just a second. As her friends recalled, her body jerked awake, and with her voice made honey-thick in a Southern accent yelled, "What the hell?"
Somewhere in South Carolina, she woke up sitting in the break room of a grocery store, a can of soda condensing against the palms and fingers of a hand much hairier and knobbier than she remembered hers being.
"I was so disappointed," she said, giving me a glass of ice water. "Here I am, a grad student, so much older than the typical Switching age, only to discover my soulmate works at a grocery store." She laughed, sat down at the chair opposite to me, and shook her head, "Of course, as it always going to be, I loved him just the same. I was so shocked at discovering who my soulmate was that I never even looked in a mirror, or figured out where he lived. It took him two days to take a bus to my campus and convince me he was the man I switched with."
The Switching only lasts for a day at the longest, and sometimes can be as short as a few minutes. It's always the same, you fall asleep and when you wake up, you're not you anymore. My own parents had switched at the age of ten, which was younger than usual, and due to their age forget to grab details about the person they had switched with. After three hours, they'd returned to their own bodies with only a child's description of the other and a first and last name. It'd taken them years to find each other. So far, I was an hour into my soulmate's body, and I was just getting to a point where I was trying to figure out who she was.
She was taller than me, which is why it taken me so long to start a conversation with the girl's mother. Not significantly taller, but enough that when I had had trouble getting out of her bed, going down the stairs, and locating the woman. When I reached for the ice water I almost knocked it over. I carefully brought it to my mouth with both hands, like a child.
"I'm surprised Rebecca hasn't called her phone yet," the woman said. The prevalence of cellphones had removed more of the classic, clichéd tropes associated with the switching. Before them, people who hadn't gotten enough information about their mates had to resort to posting ads in the paper or on tv. As long as I had her number, though, I didn't need much else.
"Her name's Rebecca?"
"She likes to be called Becca, so you know. But her full name is Rebecca, yes."
I searched through Rebecca's pockets for her phone. Sensing my actions, the woman stood and walked back into the kitchen where her own phone was charging by the stove. "Do you know if your phone was in your pocket?"
I nodded, and punched in my number.
On the other end, my voice answered. "Mom!" said Rebecca, her voice deepened by my vocal cords so the excitement and girlish inflection sounded ridiculous. "Mom, is he with you?"
"It's me, not your mom," I said.
"Is that what I sound like? Oh my god my voice is so squeaky."
"I think your voice sounds fine," I said, trying to dampen the tone of it a bit. "I'm sitting at your table with your mom."
"Did she tell you the grocery store story with my dad?"
I laughed, "Yeah, she just told me."
"What do you do?"
"I'm in college," I answered, "Majoring in business, with a minor in accounting."
"I'm Becca," she said. "I'm in college too—" Her voice shifted suddenly, as she went on, "Undeclared at the moment—woah."
We had switched back. The sensation of it was like at the first drop in a rollercoaster, that distinct feel of the stomach shifting. "Are you still there?" I asked. My voice cracked, and I coughed to clear it. Rebecca had been speaking at a higher tone than my vocal cords were used to.
"I'm still here," she said. "What's your name?"
"Marcus."
"It's nice to meet your Marcus."
I hadn't looked in a mirror when I was switched, I realized. I had no idea what she looked like. I didn't even know what state she lived in. "It's nice to meet you too," I said. "We should Skype later."
"I'd like that. But you should shave first."
| My first time writing, like really, I just had an idea and rolled with it, hopefully its alright, I am writing from the side of the guys head. oh and feel free to ream me if its bad, I understand I am not the best, or even relatively good.
Its finally time, its the night before my 20th birthday. In my family we have this special thing that happens where we get to meet the person who we will spend our lives with on this night for a half hour, it always happens before we are 20. I prepared her a note on this side so when she gets up she will see whats going on, my family is prepared to greet her in my body. I am so nervous, what if she thinks I am too nerdy with my starcraft posters on the wall, or my collection of amiibo's, I should hide those.
Well here I go, I was told to just lay down and close my eyes and before I know it I will be there.
I feel... much smaller than I usually feel. How old is she? How about what does she look like? I have too many questions, just gonna walk over to that mirror, don't be too nervous... "Wow god damn is she cute" oh I should not vocalize anything, it would be hard to explain, and now that I look around she seems pretty nerdy herself, a couple amiibos herself, legend of zelda posters, shes like perfect from what I see. I hit the jackpot here, now lets look outside. Now I am lost, it looks like she lives in New York, I am in Las Vegas myself so not unused to big cities. I am going to leave her a note on this side to be reassured nothing happened and give a meeting place, and my phone number of course. Now where is the pen and paper, good found it.
'Hey its the guy that swapped with you, don't worry I won't do anything to you, and hopefully you left a note explaining a bit about you, and all that, I will see you later...'
Stomping I hear stomping, stomping is not good, I need to finish this note
'meet me at Ti
shit its her parents, they just came in, I don't know how to explain their daughter writing a note at 1 in the morning.
Whoa shes only 14... and she comes from an extremely religious family... and now they are taking away her games... and books... and posters... I know her name now at least, Isabelle, I wish I could get her away from these people, they ripped up the note saying she is possessed now and are calling an exorcist, hopefully she will be filled in on the other side because time is running short
Well fuck everything went black, oh thats something they didn't tell me about, I see her passing by, I wave at her... she looks but doesn't respond... hopefully it didn't go badly...
Ok I am back on the floor in my living room, torn up scraps of the note, my family told me she freaked out and locked herself in the room for the first 20 minutes and then came down and wanted to know whats exactly going on. They explained to her that we were apparently soulmates and we won't be able to swap for much longer, they tried to get her number, tried to find out anything about her, but unfortunately we got nothing, I won't be able to find her anytime soon.. I will find her someday, everything will turn out alright, hopefully. | 2015-06-19T07:28:32 | 2015-06-19T07:25:35 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | . #1 Dad. A present my wife bought me before our child was born. He’s six now, and every morning we have breakfast in the nook of our kitchen. He likes toast, I like eggs. He drinks orange juice, and I drink coffee.
I looked at the mug, reflecting on the memory as I unloaded the dishwasher. So many days with such a valuable piece of glass. Weird how we get so attached to basically nothing. I looked at the faded coffee stains in the bottom of the cup and placed it in the cupboard, looking forward to my son and i’s next breakfast.
On Saturday morning, my wife made eggs and toast for us. I placed my son’s plate and his toast down on the table, making sure it was pushed up enough not to fall, but still in his reach. He wanted jam, and I brought it with my eggs. Halfway through breakfast, I realized I forgot to pour my coffee. I contemplated for a second, and decided to stay and eat with him.
After I cleaned the table, I went to grab my mug from the cupboard. I pulled the white mug forward, and noticed an extra black speck on the side. I rotated it slightly to get a better grip on the handle, when I noticed the long string of numbers lining the outside and replacing the 1 in #1 Dad. Sensing a prank, I called my wife in, annoyed that she defaced my mug. It was likely that she had bought another, played the joke, and would readily replace it after. But I wanted *this* mug, not a new one.
She was confused to say the least. The number replacing 1 was large enough to ruin my self esteem, displacing the mug’s novelty with an atmosphere of disappointment. I placed it back on the counter and my wife told me to forget it, we’ll get a new one. She really didn’t have a replacement. It wasn’t a joke. That was my ranking. In the entire world, my son could have THAT many better fathers. Better people raising him to be a better person. I was damaged by the idea that something once deeply cherished was now a reminder of my failures and incompetence.
I continued about my day, placing the mug in the back of my mind. There are millions like it manufactured, it’s replaceable. After my chore of mowing, I came in from the garage for a drink and noticed a small trail of blood. Becoming increasingly concerned, I followed it to my son’s room.
I discovered him holding his little foot in one hand, crying, and holding part of my wife’s crystal rose in the other. I went to our bedroom and found the rest shattered, a large piece of crystal lying on the floor. I quickly went back to his room, carried him to the tub, and placed his foot in warm water to clean it. He was sobbing, fervently apologizing for breaking the rose and making a mess. Sobbing about the blood on the floor, and ruining mom’s rose on accident. I laughed, slightly, and he became frustrated. He asked me why I wasn’t taking him seriously. I said to him:
“You matter more than a rose! You didn’t ruin it. You just changed it. It’ll be okay. We would rather have you safe and happy than anything else in the world.”
He stopped crying as I bandaged his foot. In a few days, it healed, and we did our best to piece the rose back together for my wife. The next Saturday, I placed my son’s plate and his toast down on the table, making sure it was pushed up enough not to fall, but still in his reach. He wanted jam, and I brought it with my eggs. As soon as I sat down, I realized I had forgotten my coffee.
I stood back up, walked toward the cupboard, and saw my mug facing upside down and backward on the first shelf. I decided just to toss it and buy a replacement. When I looked at it one more time, it had crudely placed duct tape on the front, almost covering all the black numbers. On the tape, in dark green Sharpie, was written:
“# Onǝ Dad” | I was sitting at my desk on a Thursday afternoon, finessing a spreadsheet. As far as Thursday afternoons go, this one was shaping up to be pretty average. Then Pete peeked over our shared cubicle wall.
“Hey Dave, are you seeing this weird thing about those stupid novelty mugs? The ones that say stuff like number one dad or number one boss or whatever?”
“What are you talking about Pete?” I asked, annoyed. Pete was the type of guy who would do anything to distract from doing any actual work. I once caught him - and this is no joke - responding to a writing prompt on reddit instead of filing expense reports. But I digress.
“The numbers on those mugs have changed. Instead of saying number one, it’s like number one million three hundred thousand fifty four or whatever. People are saying the mugs are showing your actual rank. Slydell has a boss mug that’s showing #1,376,834,288.”
“That’s not surprising, he sucks,” I dryly responded, turning my attention back to my spreadsheet. Hopefully Pete would get the hint that I wasn’t in the mood to engage with his BS today.
“If you want to miss out on something cool, that’s fine.” Pete disappeared back to his desk. Over the next several minutes, I heard several “wows” and “holy shits” before he stuck is head up again. “Dude, they’re covering it on all the news sites. Like, the real ones like the Times and the Post. This is crazy!”
I opened my browser and started typing in the address field. “Mysterious phenomenon leaves experts baffled; no comment from gov’t yet” was the headline that met me. This was definitely worth using one of my five free articles on this month.
At this point, I was mostly just happy that I didn’t have any of those mugs. I could definitely do without knowing exactly where I ranked among Braves fans or cat owners. It all sounded like the exposition the “wise elder” spouts to the hero in the middle of some post apocalyptic disaster movie. “This weird thing happened, the masses couldn’t handle it, bing-bang-boom, now everything is on fire.”
I packed my things, intent on heading home for the day. The rest of the office was starting to pick up on the news, so there was not going to be any more work getting done today anyway. Pete tried to catch my attention as I headed toward the exit, but I waved him off.
I entered my apartment and walked into the kitchen. “If this is the day that we get to watch the world burn, I’m going to have a beer in my hand,” I thought was I opened the cabinet door. I was not prepared for what I saw.
My previously plain glass pint glass was plain no more. “World’s #1 Dad” stared back at me.
I picked up the glass in disbelief.
“But I don’t have a kid...” | 2019-04-18T13:36:22 | 2019-04-18T13:28:45 | 3,504 | 1,990 |
[WP] A sign on Mars is found that reads: "Level 2" and is signed by God.
Based off of a comment I saw. | Complete radio silence.
That, more than anything, made the hairs stand up on the back of Commander Mitchell's neck. Months of intense training for the Ares V mission, on top of years of preparations and a total of 367 days in orbit, had made him so confident and focused that not even finding a sign reading "Level 2" on the surface of Mars knocked him off balance. But the total, deafening silence from Houston? That just didn't happen.
They always had the answers, no matter what -- and if they didn't, they told you to stay put until they figured out what to do. When Mitchell was preparing for re-entry on his way home from his first stint on the ISS, one of the fuel tanks split off minutes before it was supposed to, leaving him with less than half the fuel he needed to make it safely back down to Earth. He had almost panicked then, but the voice in his ear was calm as a cucumber. "Alright, Nick", it said, "we're gonna have to do this manually. What's the read on your T2 levels?" In the end, Mitchell made the descent as if nothing had gone wrong. Since then, he knew that whatever happened, there were people back home who knew what to do. That knowledge was a big part of why he accepted the Ares V - a solo mission to Mars. So when he stood on the surface of the red planet, surrounded with red desert as far as he could see in all directions, and the voice in his ear had gone silent, Commander Mitchell suddenly felt very, very alone.
He picked up the sign and turned it in his hands, looking for... something, anything, when he saw something flicker at the edge of his vision. He turned toward it, but it had come from where the sun was, and he couldn't see much in that direction. Adjusting his visor slightly, he squinted and held up his hand to shield his eyes, but there was only red desert. He was about to turn his attention back to the sign when something flickered again. Closer. He spun on his heels trying to catch it, but again, there was nothing there. He felt a bit embarrassed at his reaction -- what would Houston think? Mitchell had survived failed shuttle launches and zero-g fires, and now he jumped like a little girl at a flicker of light? He laughed at himself and felt the tension start to seep out of his body.
Then he saw it.
A figure, standing on the edge of the horizon. A black dot against the massive body of the sun. The shape of it was blurred by the sunlight, but it looked vaguely human; Mitchell was reminded of a disaster movie where the hero emerged from a burning building with a coughing child in his arms. Mitchell looked closer and saw the outlines of arms, legs... was that a head? Yes, it had to be. Wait... he couldn't make out any of those shapes a second ago -- shit.
It was getting closer.
As the shape grew in size and its silhouette became clearer and clearer, Mitchell's heart started beating furiously in his chest. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to move, to run, but he was frozen in place. His legs burned with the tension and drove themselves hard into the soft sand, but still he remained where he was. The shape started bobbing slowly up and down, rising and falling like a pendulum. Mitchell struggled to make sense of it, but he realized he was seeing something inhuman, something incomprehensible. Something no human being had ever seen before. The realization enabled his curiosity to take control of his body. He found himself watching the shape approach him with a sudden detached calmness, like a scientist studying an animal in the wild.
It was close enough now that he could make out all four separate limbs. He also noticed it carried something in its arms, or maybe something was attached to its torso. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be part of its body, because it didn't move in sync with the body as the shape moved up and down. Then, suddenly, Mitchell saw what it was: a gun. It looked like no weapon he had ever seen on Earth, but it was a gun, no doubt about that. A long, slim barrel. A strap running over the shoulder. And a finger on the trigger.
Just as Mitchell realized what he was looking at, the weapon flashed once. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and tumbled to the ground before he even knew what had happened. But as he lay in the soft sands of Mars, looking up at a black sky peppered with thousands of stars, he knew exactly what was happening. He had been shot once before -- in the supermarket, of all places. He recognized the pain, the shock... The only difference was, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to make it this time. There were no hospitals on Mars.
Something came into his field of vision. The shape. It bent over him, looking him over. Mitchell tried to see its face, but it was covered behind a silvery mask. The thing swung one leg over Mitchell's chest, standing over him, Mitchell completely at its mercy. It crouched low, bringing its crotch area down on his visor. Mitchell's vision went black, but he heard the soft *thump* against the glass. Once. Twice. Three times. The shape stood up again and turned away from him. Before it hopped away, two faint words somehow reached Mitchell's ears through the vacuum of space, echoing in his mind as he waited for the end.
*"Fucking casuals."* | Joe goes down first and I follow. We tossed a coin for it, up in Ares VI and waited for a minute or two for it to fall before we remembered it didn't. So we played rock paper, scissors and I lost. Apparently I always play scissors, which is definitely a lie 'cause I've played paper twice before and I lost those times too. All the same, Joe goes down first and I follow with the camera and a small silver box of the things we've decided we'll need.
It's difficult to explain to someone who has never walked on a different planet before what it's really like. You're suited and booted, kept at some artificial temperature inside a space suit which looks exactly like the one Sandra Bullock wore in Gravity, except not so flattering. There's the gravity, which is lighter than earth's, but heavier than the moon's, so you sort of feel a little *bouncy* when you're walking, but you can't take huge leaps and go flying across yards and yards of red dust. They don't call it the red planet for nothing. It's just unimpeded vastness, stretching as far as the eye can see until you meet the red-black horizon of the unknown and your heart stops for a minute in your chest because it's *there.*
Joe swears over the radio and I almost want to say *fuck* or *shit* or something which will kind of encapsulate how it feels to stand so far away from anyone you've ever known. It's like the loneliness has ripped a hole in your chest. How many nights had I lain, looking up at the stars, hoping - no *wishing* that I could be up there? Eight years of training, eight months of travel in a tiny cube. I've eaten food out of silver packets and I've done three hours of exercise a day for years to maintain the muscle mass I need here. But words aren't going to sum that up. Words aren't going to tell you that I can see one tiny dot in the sky and that's earth. That's all I am.
My mother had cried when I told her I wasn't going to church any more. See, I'd grown up in rural Ohio. Church was something we *did,* no questions asked, every Sunday from 10 till 11.30 am.
"Why, James? Is it all the science stuff?" She reached for a tissue.
"It's not *science stuff,* it's astrophysics. And it's not just that-"
"I don't understand why you wouldn't want to go any more, I just-" She gave this great heaving sigh. "Did I do something wrong?"
"It's not you! I just - I don't feel like there's anything out there any more."
"How-"
"I can't like - I can't rationalise it with all the other stuff I know." I'd spread my hands wide, but she wouldn't look at me.
"Your dad would have wanted you to keep going."
"I'm sorry, I really am."
"James! You want to take a look at this!" Joe's calling me over, his suit blocking something on the horizon.
"What is it?"
He draws back and there's a short message, written in English.
"That's so weird," I say, craning my neck. "What's that made of?"
"I don't know. Funny it should be in German, though, huh?" His words barely register. It's like there's a loud buzzing in my ears that I can't shake.
"It's tiny sea shells! Look, it's made of shells. Jesus Christ..." I bend down and touch a finger to them. "Level 2. Level 2? What does that even mean?"
Joe pulls me up by the elbow and I stand with him, side by side. Black openness yawns before us, broken only by the pinpoints of a thousand myriad stars. They shine bright for a second and the quietness is killing me. There, in the sky that humans have been looking at for aeons; trying to work out what's out there, is a face, made from the pinpoints of stars.
I see my Father. Joe is crying, I can hear him over the radio.
"Dear God," he murmurs and I have no choice but to say the same words. | 2014-10-23T12:00:27 | 2014-10-23T11:44:12 | 106 | 66 |
[WP] You are reincarnated as a voice within a schizophrenic's head. | "Pst, hey you, scatter-brain, got a few questions for you." Are people still saying Pst ? I suppose it doesn't matter, given I'm not technically a person anymore, as far as I can tell. Not to get too extistenial on you, but I appeared to be simply, a consciousness. It's an altogether unsettling feeling to not be able to perceive yourself as anything more than a disembodied voice. Point being, forgive me for the Pst usage.
"No, no, no, no, no. You aren't real, Dr. Gaberman says you aren't real and that I shouldn't even acknowledge you."
Dr. Gaberman, and I'm being accused of not being real, be more of a cliche.
"Look, kid, I'm not trying to upset you here, but it would appear that we are stuck with each other. Just trying to get a bit of a dialogue going. Seems like the healthy way to build a relationship, right ? Surely Gabe would approve."
"Wait, you're not like the others. Are you from another planet ?"
"Ease up on the cliches there, cowboy. My name is Saul, and up until very recently I was most definitely a person. Although I'm having a bit of an identity crisis at the moment mate, I'll be honest. I'm not entirely sure I, well, exist. But where are my manners, and your name is ?"
"Dean, my name is Dean. I don't understand, you're a person ? This isn't right at all, no, no, no, no, no."
I had to admit, he was on to something. Things did not feel exactly right, I had a distinct feeling that I wasn't supposed to know what I knew. But I knew it, so sue me; might as well roll with the punches.
"Enough with the Rainman stuff, Dean, I'm not Dr. Gaberhouse, but i don't think it's advisable to bang your head like that either."
It would appear that I was aware, in a somewhat abstract way, of this Dean kid. Just to clarify, he wasn't speaking out loud. I mean, why would you address the voice in your head out loud ? This isn't a movie.
"Gaberman, Dr. Gaberman. He says that you aren't real."
"Bit rude of him, he doesn't know anything about me."
"Not you, you, you as in the all of, you, you. I hear voices in my head, but that's not normal and the voices aren't real."
"Well, real is relative at this stage. I don't mean to alarm you, but I have a distinct feeling that I'm dead. But why do I end up banging around in your noggin. Do you know a Saul Tefler ?"
I could use my new perception of Dean super-power to sense that he was beginning to become agitated.
"I don't know you and you aren't real. I'm late for my appointment. Dr. Gaberman always worries when I'm late."
This is where it gets weird. It would appear that I was merely a passenger in our charming protagonist's mind. As he was presumably in transit, he seemed to be focusing very hard on other things. I wouldn't say I disappeared, but the line went a bit fuzzy.
Finally, my ride took me to the famous Dr. Gabelstein. All of a sudden, lights, camera, action.
"It's Gaberman !" This time he did say it out loud, genius this kid, picks in front of the shrink to start verbalising.
"That's right, Dean, it's me. But I'm your friend, remember, your **real** friend. Listen, Dean, I have something very serious to discuss with you, I really need you to concentrate for a minute, please. Do you remember the accident ?"
"I... No, what accident ? Why do you keep bringing up an accident. I have voices in my head, fix me !"
"Calm down please, Dean. Sit, relax. I need you to pretend that you remember the accident, because there is some very serious news I need to discuss with you. The other man, the one in the coma, his family decided to turn off his life support today. The other man in the accident, you remember now ?"
One of us certainly did, well shit... | THUD. I felt an extremely hard knock to my head as I woke up. I'd had a bit to drink the night before but should my head be hurting this bad?
As I opened my eyes, an unfamiliar environment was laid open before me. It was an open room with white walls, a white floor, and a white ceiling. Below me was a twin-sized bed. There was a door at the opposite side of the room, and in my confusion I decided to get off the bed and see what was outside, if there was anyone that could give me any sort of answer.
The moment I tried to move I realized that I was unable to do so. I could see and feel everything around me, but it seemed like I was stuck in some sort of dream paralysis. This was the moment that I truly began to panic. I tried to let out a loud scream. To my surprise I heard it, but I didn't feel my mouth open.
As if in response to my internal scream, I heard a voice begin go mumble.
"Not today, buddy. We can't do this today."
My lips were moving in response to the words that I heard, but I was not the one attempting to speak this time. I felt as if I was inside another person's body.
The door at the end of the room opened slowly, and I felt my head begin to move, still not under my control, and my eyes settled on the person in a white lab coat.
"Mr. Jones," he said, "it's time for your 9:00 AM medication."
I'm on the verge of insanity at this point. "WHERE THE HELL AM I?" I am attempting to scream at the top of my lungs, but yet again my lips will not move to utter a single noise. Mr. Jones is MY name, yet I have no idea who this person is nor how I arrived at this facility.
The voice of this body responded to the attendant in the lab coat. "Oh, of course. I've been looking forward to it since before I went to sleep." The voice then dropped to a whisper, as if addressing me personally, "Let's try to get through today without any hiccups."
"Who are you?" I asked. "How did I get here and where are we?"
The voice responded "You don't remember? We've been here for years. It's taken years, but I've settled on the fact that you're just a voice in my head and we're not going to argue like we used to."
The realization of what has happened was utterly terrifying. I've become a mere voice in my own head, incapable of controlling my body, but simply my own thoughts, which were now separate from my 'body'.
I felt my body rise from the bed and walk towards the door to take the medicine.
"Thank you," the voice said as my body took the medicine in it's right hand and quickly swallowed it as if this was a regular activity. I could distinctly feel the rush of energy flowing through my body, and my vision became hazy.
"Quiet now," the voice whispered. "Go to sleep, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."
| 2015-03-23T07:28:03 | 2015-03-23T07:14:36 | 105 | 17 |
[WP] as the youngest heir to the throne you fake your death to escape a military coup but it was so convincing that Death came to collect your soul. CConfused by the situation, Death decides that you're a new form of undead and can't decide which powers you should be granted. | “Listen to me,” Gustav’s voice could have cut glass. “Just *listen, will you?* I…am…*not*…dead!”
Death stared blankly at Gustav, no great accomplishment for an eyeless skull. Gustav’s face darkened, unpleasantly choleric behind his blonde mustache. He had been a commoner for four hours, three hours and fifty-nine minutes of which had been spent arguing with a *skeleton*. This would never have happened if he’d stayed a prince.
*Well yes, because you’d be dead.* He flicked the thought away dismissively, all the more irritated by its accuracy. Death stared impassively, one bony finger tapping his patella.
“**You understand I get this a lot?”** The voice sounded like a tired bureaucrat at the bottom of a well. “**All the time, in fact. Some people spend years believing they’re alive. It takes everyone differently.”**
“But I *am* alive!” Gustav grabbed the skeletons forearm, pins and needles assaulting his fingers. “Do you see me walking through walls? Do you see me rattling chains?”
Death pulled back with an air of mild surprise. The look on his face was nonexistent. Gustav pursed his lips, fighting back a scream of frustration.
“Do you want me to walk you through it again?” He growled. “In the first place, the bomb wasn’t real-”
Death raised a terminally thin hand. “**Yes, yes, so you said.**” He put his skull to one side. “**This presents me with a bit of a problem.**”
“Paperwork won’t add up?” Gustav asked acidly. “You know, you’re worse than father’s Chancellor. At least he had the decency to back down.”
“**I have not met the gentleman…yet**” Death tapped the air in front of his skull where a nose would be. “**But I am concerned for your welfare.**”
“How touching,” Gustav snarled. “I bet that’s what you tell everyone.”
“**Most people I meet do not have a welfare to be concerned about,**” Death quipped monotonously. “**That’s one of the first qualifications.**” He crossed his arms with a rattle of ivory pool cues.
Gustav swore. The skeleton stood unperturbed, apparently lost in the thoughts that only an empty skull can have.
“**Have you considered becoming an undead?**” Death’s asked the question as a merchant might proffer a gaudy piece of jewelry. “**It’s a very popular choice in this part of the world.**”
Gustav’s face was a mask of confusion and horror – an improvement, from his interrogator’s perspective. The last two sentences rang in his suffering eardrums.
“No,” he said firmly, shutting his mouth. “Absolutely not. Under no circumstances”
“**Oh, come on**”. Death managed to sound flattering, despite his voice having less syrup than a salt-mine. “**What’s the harm in considering it?**” He rustled into his midnight robes and retrieved a small book bound in suspiciously gnarled leather.
“**We have zombies,**” he began, with as much sparkle as the crypt could muster. “**Zombies are very popular in the New World right now. Vampires…these are more of a local favorite.**” He attempted, and utterly failed, to produce a knowing smile. “**Werewolves, for your more athletic type…very hard to kill. And of course there’s all that healthy outdoor exercise.**”
Gustav’s face was as pale as his interrogator’s. Some small part of his mind was laughing hysterically at the situation, but the rest had gone into lockdown.
“No.” he croaked. “None of those.”
Death rested his skull on one hand in a fussy, exasperated gesture. *He doesn’t take rejection well,* supplied the giggling hysteric in Gustav’s mind. *What a surprise!*
“**I suppose, under the circumstances, we could create a New category,**” Death droned in the put-upon voice a train conductor refunding a ticket. “**A Prinzengeist, perhaps? In honor of this most unusual …house-call.**”
“**The alternative,**” Death continued more coldly, “**would be for me to take you with me. It would mean a bit of forgery, but under the circumstances…**” he stared meaningfully at Gustav, “**I might be willing to take the trouble.**”
Gustav jerked himself out of his daze, feeling the cold water of the last sentences wash over him. The thought of the gilded death he had just escaped gave him clarity. Here and now he had to make his own choices.
He wasn’t a prince anymore. He was a commoner, but he was damned if he was going to die as a commoner. Making deals was how you survived at court. Perhaps the outside world wasn’t so different.
“All right,” he muttered sullenly. “What are the perks?” | It was the perfect plan, a few alchemical ingredients that make me look very much dead. They would just toss my body with the rest of the dead, seeing as they would not bury me, for what reason would a military coup have to bury a man who had killed himself to get out of trouble?
After they tossed my limp 'lifeless' body to the side, as I knew they would, my organs began working again, knocking the heart to start again, I felt a tap on the shoulder. I wasn't what he expected, nor is he what I expected.
"Gah!" The skeletal creature shrieked as color returned to my skin and my vitals began working again.
"Ahhh....!" I stopped myself from screaming too loudly as I didn't want to be found out. What was this thing? Was he the.... embodiment of death? "What....are....you?" I whisper in a mildly freaked out tone.
"I can and will ask you the same exact thing. You're supposed to be dead!" He says with a gusto that probably would alert someone.
"Shhhh!!!" I coarsely say to him. "If they find me I'll be dead for certain."
The skeleton chuckles out of the boney protrusion of what we usually call our mouths. "Nobody but the dead can hear me....if you catch my meaning Jamie."
I blink a few times. "I made sure I didn't die though.... I've tested this on many of our undesirables over the course of many years. I've since perfected it so I knew exactly what would happen in the event of a mishap. So clearly however you tell someone is dead must be off."
Death begins glaring at me with those empty sockets, deep dark voids staring me down. "I've been at this for literally... ever. There is no way I'd.....make a...." He stops speaking as his eye holes begin glowing a deep red. "Mistake.... So you are the one who's been toying with these people, making this new breed of undead." A new sensation fills my ears as he speaks to me. A sense of dread, worry, and worst of all....a mild case of confusion. "You know I never seen anything like this before, I've been toying with getting into the world again, and I think your 'creation' may be the perfect ruse I need to take over this forsaken land."
I stare at him dumbfounded, "Wait, so I'm actually dead? Not the bigger picture Jamie, you want to use me to take over the world?"
"In an amount of words, yes. I'll let you lead this army into battle against those who wanted you dead anyway. I just need to figure out what to do with your kind, what kind of powers you should be given. Immortality is always a fun one but you should know I want you guys to come with me some day so, that's out. What about... oh! I know let me give you the ability to spread easier? I mean that's pretty much every undead ever though. Ugh, every single idea I have has been done, and I want this time to be unique."
I continue staring at him. Then I contemplate giving him some advice, "What if we could turn invisible, and a kiss would turn ones that aren't us, into us?"
"Eww! Gross, that like super perverted Jamie. You know what, this whole idea is horrifyingly bad, even for me... And I'm death... I think you've toyed with enough people, let's go." He swings his scythe cutting my head clean off. "Let's go to hell."
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Life is fun, until it ends, don't try and cheat death, you won't win.
Criticism is always well received with this writer. Thanks for your time and as always, take care and have a beautiful day. | 2019-10-05T13:05:51 | 2019-10-05T11:56:34 | 110 | 81 |
[WP] You are a villain famous for “killing” heroes. In reality, heroes come to you to fake their deaths. | “Vanish, you stand accused of 47 counts of homicide against some of our cities best and brightest superheroes. What do you have to say?”
Staring back at the man I say nothing, then turning to the crowd I look at their faces. Not those who think me a murderer but those who know the truth. I see them.
Huntress, died 07/07/3007, cause of death falling from height. Or so they thought. Instead I see her sat there her now four year old in her lap, her name was actually Mary, and she had had enough. So, I killed her so she could live, love and have her child in peace.
Grip, died 05/01/3001, cause of death? Well if I had actually killed him, he wouldn’t be sat there in this court house watching holding his dear wife’s hand.
There are more, so many more. All have their peace. I know that they are still, at heart, heroes and would throw it away for me. I see Grip face set as he knows his quiet peaceful retirement is about to end.
I can’t let him do that. He deserves his peace, more than these animals deserve him. He gave his everything and they just wanted more and I was the one who took him away. Turning back the prosecutor I shake my head, lean back in my chair and stare at him.
Clearly frustrated, the prosecutor pulls up photos of the “crime” scenes where the bodies of my 47 “victims” were shown in harsh display. All brutalised and destroyed, no hope of identifying who they were from the pieces I had left behind. Only thing that told you these were supers was their equipment. I smiled at each one. Each one meant peace for these people.
It seems like my time in this court is coming to an end, the jury won’t take their time, it will be a quick verdict. Guilty. Judge will make his choice. It is no matter, I know that my time is coming. Maybe this time I should use my powers a little selfishly. Brainless clones of myself at a whim is always handy to make a nice fake body.
So maybe it is time, one last little show, one last act and then it is time for me to Vanish. | [POEM]
Laugh at thee, scum!
From hero to a mere bum.
Your accomplishments, net-zero sum.
Can't even actually run.
It's time to greet the setting sun.
Your life, a cosmic pun.
Heroism when it's shun.
By yourself, hun.
Here drink this bottle of rum.
No more kicking ass or chewing gum.
Your time is over while my fame just begun.
What is murder anyway?
When I always seem to get away.
No crime, no bribe no sway.
Y'all just come this way.
After sunset you may call me Ray.
'cause ain't no other sunshine left today.
Your legacy won't be okay.
My killer joke spells your death and hooray.
You may not may,
Have another day
Crime apparently does pay
However my fee is merely your 'yay'
Just so we can say...
Too late, can't stay.
Death certificate, like it was yesterday.
Funeral, today. | 2022-12-22T23:20:38 | 2022-12-22T19:29:34 | 417 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here. | If I knew I had more of the same to look forward to, I don't think I'd of killed myself. Really it was basically like life but worse, at least if you were alive you had needs and wants, urges and drives. When you were dead you just boredly watched the living. Watched them make the same stupid mistakes again and again.
Centuries went by before I finally figured out how a ghost died. Was spending time with one of the dead in his families home. His widow said his name and he just vanished. I hung around for a while longer but no further mention of him was made, and that's when I figured out that the dead were little more than memories. As the memory of us faded, so did we.
I knew a catastrophe unlike any other was coming when the ghosts began to vanish in droves. The only comparable time was the fall of Rome, so many who should've been remembered were lost for forever. Even then however, paled in comparison to what had been happening. I was praying with a friend of mine, a holocaust victim by the name of Elijah. I happened upon him shortly after his death, wandering around France in a daze. So long it had been since I had any real company, even as a ghost I was reviled, my name synonymous with betrayal and greed. He didn't care though, so we spent our time talking about our lives, about theology, about the world. I think part of the reason he was willing to talk to me was because he no longer saw the light, but in time he did again and in doing so made me think perhaps I could as well.
When he vanished I couldn't believe it, there was an entire museum dedicated to remembering the holocaust victims. I made my way to the museum only to find it intact, with more people than ever. I stayed there, praying each day, watching ghosts blink out of existence by the hundreds. Praying they found something better after. Then the bombs fell, it took Rome years, decades even, to fall. The modern fell in less than a week, utterly destroyed by their own power.
Even so I didn't fade, I guessed some knowledge was just to stubborn to be forgotten. I couldn't do it alone anymore however, and I had an idea of who to speak to, to begin to see about finding forgiveness. I moved slower than I could have, stopping and spending the night with survivors I'd find, praying over them, then spending the time on the road praying that my prayers were heard. I didn't think I'd find him there, but the first place I checked was the eternal city. As I suspected he was nowhere to be found, so I continued on to his old home in Galilee.
I made my way to the waters edge and saw him standing in the water, immune to the radioactivity, water lapping gently against his knees. Even after all these years I recognized him, the rock. He turned and looked at me then, and I could see the pain and anguish in his eyes. I wondered if my eyes looked similar, both of us having experienced three thousand years of human loss and suffering. "Still I don't have enough faith" he chuckled, gesturing at the water and how even as a ghost he sank beneath it's surface. "Hello Peter" I greeted. | "Oh my God come onnnnn!" Jesus muttered under his breathe in the year 5046.
The entire world had been decimated by the wars and the plagues that had resulted from overpopulation and religious disagreements.
Over the centuries he had tried haunting his followers to break away from his religion. After all, the faster they stopped believing, the less they would say his name. God had promised him so much more than walking the earth as a ghost but, alas, here he was watching the last person alive die before him. Even Jesus Christ only had so many centuries of patience. Sure, the remembrance was flattering, but the Christmas songs every year had become too much to bear.
The blister covered man coughed himself a storm. He had not spoken in years, but being the last person on earth with the ability to speak Jesus ' name one last time, it was finally time for him to go on. To Heaven. To God.
The man coughed and closed his eyes. He said nothing. He didn't even move his lips. Not to speak, nor to breathe.
He was dead, and Jesus was still there, lingering over the man bewildered.
Jesus called to the skies to open for him, called to his father in heaven who had failed him. He had been so patient, so long.
"Well, isn't this a sight? Jesus Christ, last ghost on earth."
Jesus turned, the voice familiar to him in all the worst of ways.
"You may remember me, as I was cast down to walk the earth, like any one of these filthy humans did. All these years I waited patiently to exact my revenge. Well, I'm immortal! Ha! And so long as I'm alive, you won't be leaving this place, Jesus. So, I guess you went and died for nothing. "
Then, the man turned to serpent and slithered off humming Christmas carols, and Jesus was damned to Earth for the rest of eternity. | 2016-01-17T15:06:39 | 2016-01-17T12:34:36 | 235 | 44 |
[WP] You are the last living thing on earth following a massive disaster. Down to your last meal or two, water running low, you hear a knock on your bunker door one evening. As you approach it slowly, you hear from the other side, "I have a large Meat Lover's Pizza and a 2 Liter of Sprite." | Robert did not waste time debating. Once he heard the human voice he decided to open the door. The pizza seemed like a bonus. He turned the handle and pulled open the heavy metal door. A teenage girl with long silver hair stood outside his door. A teenage boy with short dark hair stood next to her; he held a pizza box with one hand and a large soda with the other.
"5k," The girl smiled and held her palm out. Robert caught the meaty scent of the pizza and erupted into nervous laughter. He became very aware that he might have gone crazy. He shook his head while grinning and giggling. If he was insane he reasoned he could at least enjoy the absurdity of the situation.
"I didn't order a pizza," he said. Her smiling face soured and she turned to the boy.
"I told you it was the wrong place," she said. He shrugged in return but his face softened. He gave her a sincere look.
"Fine, you're right. It's harder than I thought. Alright, let's go back and find the right place. You open it this time," he said.
"'Kay. Gimme the card," she held her hand out at the boy. Robert began to feel ignored. He wondered if it was normal for his own delusions to ignore him and began to consider they were real. He was about to interject but he saw a look of panic flash over the boy's face. He looked behind himself then back to her.
"You always reclaim it...," he said.
"I always reclaim it because I'm the one that always opens it," she said sternly. "You open it, you close it," she sighed. "I'll get us a ride back." The girl reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, transparent rectangle. It was as thin as a playing card; its surface became a display as she tapped away at it.
"Are you... real?" Robert asked during the lull in their conversation. The girl brought the glass card to her ear like a phone but pointed at Robert.
"Talk to him. He can have the pizza if he's hungry," she turned away and started talking to someone else. The boy shrugged and walked up to Robert.
"Hey, I'm Kirk. How's it going?"
"Hi, Kirk. I'm Robert. I'm the last living thing on Earth and I'm probably going to die in a couple of weeks. At the most." Kirk nodded casually.
"Bummer. Uh... want some pizza?" he offered the box up. Robert looked at the box, then at Kirk.
"Who are you kids? Where did you come from?" Kirk lifted the box slightly to draw attention to it.
"We're here to deliver." He pointed at the "M" logo made from three pizza slices, two upside-down with a third in the middle, on the box. "We came from Mundo's Pizza." Robert clenched his fists to keep his growing annoyance in check; he got the impression that the boy could not help how obtuse he was. Luckily the silver-haired girl joined them.
"Torque's coming," she said.
"From where!?" Robert asked her; he hoped she would be more helpful. She shrugged.
"Don't know. I didn't talk to her but the message will get passed along." Robert took a deep breath to calm himself down.
"There is no one else alive on this Earth," he said while looking directly into her eyes. "Where did you come from?" She smiled.
"A different Earth, duh," she chirped.
"That's what I told him," Kirk added. A tall black hole opened behind Kirk.
"Move it!" A stern female voice shouted from the hole.
"Here, keep it," Kirk started to push the pizza box at Robert while the girl started toward the black portal.
"Wait!" Robert said. "Are you guys just gonna leave me here?" The pair looked at each other and shrugged.
"Do you not want to be?" the girl asked. Kirk kept walking and disappeared into the portal. Robert shook his head.
"No, of course not. Who would?"
"People," she shrugged. "Well if you don't want to stay, come on. We'll put you somewhere else," she said then turned to walk into the portal. Robert followed her carrying his pizza.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #144. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order. | "Damn it..." I grumbled to myself softly, forcing myself out of bed. "Damn barbarians..." I trudged to the door of my bunker and shouted, "Screw off! I'm not an idiot, and I'm not that desperate. Show me the military. Until then, I recommend you return to your bandit hideout before a beast grabs your ass and swallows you whole."
The stranger answered with only a grumble, and some trudging footsteps that faded into the distance.
I shook my head, and turned around to face my small bunker. I had a bed, a small coffee table with a broken radio on top, a box of tools among a few other things scattered around, and there was two doors in the back. One that led into what I used as a lavatory, and another that led into my nearly empty storage reserve for food, water, and ammunition for my shotgun, which was also in that room.
I took a few tired footsteps towards my coffee table before kneeling in front of it. I leaned forward, placing my elbows on the smooth mahogany tabletop. I picked up a screwdriver, and pulled the radio towards me. "I had this damn thing working a few days ago," I mumbled, examining the cut cords. "Those damn rats just had to-" I was startled by a loud crash on the door of my bunker. A small indentation with a large circumference had been made.
"A beast..." I scrambled into the storage room, and took my backpack of the wall. I could kill the beast. I'd killed one before, with just two good shots with my shotgun. But that bunker wasn't safe after it died. It emitted radiation. After it was dead, I would only have a few minutes to get out of my bunker. I tossed in what little food and water I had left, then turned around to face the other shelves. I opened on of my two boxes of ammo. I stuffed as many shells into my pockets as I possibly could, left about half a dozen out to load my shotgun, then threw both boxes in. I picked up my shotgun, and loaded all six rounds in. Then came another crash. I stumbled out of the storage room, and decided that I still had plenty of time. The dent hadn't gotten much larger.
I picked up my journal, my radio, and the tools I'd need to fix it. I stuffed them all into my backpack and zipped it shut. I picked up the shotgun, and sat on my bed.
Six. It took six more slams. Three more minutes.
The daylight showed through the large hole in my bunker's door.
The beast growled.
It was a small one. Couldn't have been more thab 6 feet tall. That may seem large, but they could grow to be up to double that.
It stood like a gorilla, but looked more like a giant, very angry fusion between a panther and a wolf. Granted, for all I knew, thats exactly what it was.
It began to move forward, when I trained the barrel of my shotgun right on it's face.
It was smart. It stopped for a moment.
Then it charged.
I let out a blast into it's face.
And it continued to charge, unfased.
It lifted it's paw into the air when it got close. And it swiped me out of it's way.
I slammed into the wall of my bunker, and everything went black.
~
Okay, I'm definitely adding more later. This is just the start. I'm only a little bit sorry for the cliché. Comments, anyone?
Also, as for the 'last living thing' part, I kind of changed that for personal reasons. I'm now one of the last living things, and I don't qualify the beasts as alive, due to the fact that they died, and are just reanimated fusions. | 2019-05-24T07:17:09 | 2019-05-24T07:05:24 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] "Hands up! Gimme yo wallet!" The man quickly lifted a small pistol to my head, but before I could react, he pulled the trigger. He probably should not have done that. | My hand froze in my pocket, my fingers gracing the fake leather of my father’s old wallet like it was the last thing I would ever touch. Time slowed as the scent of gunpowder and sweat overwhelmed my lungs, the cold feeling of the barrel igniting into a glorious heat of power.
D A M I E N
My eyes shivered in fear, in the pre-death of finality. In front of me, he stood, hands clasped behind him, the grey-white of a New York winter lighting his form. His shadow was small in the alley, then grew taller, wider until I could feel his face before my ear.
“Damien, do you wish to live?”, he said, his voice rattling like bells in my head. I could feel his breath on my skin now, a mercurial spill flowing down my neck and onto my chest.
“Please don’t kill him, please, please, please”, I whispered faintly in my head, the bells rattling louder and louder and Louder and LOUD
“One who breaks over greed deserves no mercy from a judge”, it spoke louder then the bells, now a faint ringing in my ears.
“I am no murderer, do not kill him!”
“A life for a life, and a pool of blood is balanced by the intent from whence it occurred.”
“You know that is not true, you demon! You’re a hypocrite, and a monster, and-
“the only way you live”. The mercurial spill widened, my right arm warm and wet and tainted.
My breath was catching, my eyes shook, shook, shook,
still.
“I, Gage Victor Damien, accept the deal of the Gargoyle of The Bat. Please, don’t make him suffer long”. The bells rattled loud, loud, Loud, LOUD, L O U D
The mercurial spill widened, my right arm warm and wet and tainted. The man’s pistol stood crushed at my feet, the bullet blackened and blown against the barrel. The man was collapsed in a heap at my feet, whatever remained of his head and chest clawed into stringent threads of red gore. A shadow passed over my head, horns of curved ebony darker than the soot and gravel. Chimes rang from a windowsill outside the alleyway, the coming and goings of those people so unafraid.
“Be thankful they are not today, Damien”, the bells rang for not the last time. | TW: slight gore and cursing
A bullet to the head would be quite fatal for someone who isn’t me. But lucky for me, I’m me.
True being a god had its down falls, I don’t get to have long term relationships, I’m stuck in puberty forever, AND I haven’t been able to legally drink in forever! But the good part about being a god is the no dying bit!
Back to the story. So yeah, I was shot in the head.
“Aw shit! Look what you did, dipshit! I loved this jacket! You got brain goop all over it!!” I tried to brush the mush off of my shoulder but it was gross. The thug looked at me in abject horror. Man humans are so dramatic.
Unfortunately I can’t leave any witnesses to my ‘godly abilities’ so I sent him to the underworld. Hades would take care of him from there.
I grudgingly took off my jacket and walked out of the alley way. Some lady to my left screamed. “Relax!” I tell her “it’s just makeup for my roommates party”. She bought it and mumbled something about teenagers and cared on with her short life. I’m going to miss that jacket. | 2022-04-10T23:27:39 | 2022-04-10T23:27:27 | 72 | 20 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right. | "John?"
"Yes, Jenny?"
"Open the door."
"No. I heard the announcement."
"What ann- what are you talking about?"
I knew it. Playing dumb. That's exactly what these things do. Every time.
"I know what you are. You can't fool me!"
"John, for gods sake nothing is happening. Just unbolt the door."
"I saw the helicopters... I heard the explosions... you think you can fool me?"
The... creature... let out a sigh.
"It's just a standard military test John. You live near a military base."
John seems to put on a mocking tone.
"Oh sure! Isn't that convenient?"
A deeper, slower sigh is let out by the possible Jennifer.
"Yep. You got me John. I'm an alien now. I come in peace and I'm here to negotiate peace. Now let me in."
John seems to relax a bit.
"In... peace? Why would I be so important?"
The alien stubbled.
"Uhh, you represent the standard human civilian and we need your view for the galactic republic. I need to interview you."
John tenses up again, seeming more wound up than before.
""INTERVIEW"? I know how your "Interviews" work. I will NOT let you TEMPT ME!"
Sounds of John stomping come from behind the door.
"Damnit John just let me inside damnit! Why are you acting like this?"
Jenny hears a sigh come from the other side of the door.
"I'm sorry Jenny. I don't know what came over me. It's obviously you. I was just joking."
John chuckles
"Oh my god you asshole!"
Jenny starts laughing
"You really had me!"
Jenny hears the door unlock, and in victory she turns the doorknob to open her house door.
Only, the doorknob feels different. Cold, rectangular. With a loud bang, the doorknob fires.
"I knew that'd get your gaurd down. I am not falling for anything."
Jenny's crimson blood slowly pools out the side of her hip.
"W-why?"
A musical tone is heard from the TV.
"ATTENTION. THIS EMERGENCY BROADCAST TEST HAS CONCLUDED."
^(I don't do this often so I'd like some feedback, however negative) | [Poem]
She’s out there, calling for the
Knock ridden door to open
And for her to vacate from an torn
Dangerous outside world
I was told to ignore.
She’d cry out in a direction
Before crying again in another
Door to door, window to window
‘Let me in, let me in’
To which I silently proclaim ‘no.’
She’s knows I’m here, the lights are on
The curtains open, not for long
As I can’t fathom just what is wrong
But her voice sounds different.
Far too masculine to be who’s
voice it alludes to be.
‘Let me in, please; it’s me’
In an attempt to acquire a grip on the tension
‘What’s my name?’ I called.
A silence broke and brought a fierce feel
To which my gut wrenched and reeled
Toward the door she was opposing
Until she whispered just loud enough to behold
‘Your name is Simon; or so I was told...’ | 2019-01-12T08:39:18 | 2019-01-12T06:30:43 | 38 | 12 |
[WP] On the run from mercenaries, a young girl stumbles into an old Greek temple and in a last ditch effort to save herself, begs for help from whichever god or goddess it belongs to. She didn't expect them to show up in person. | "Please, please help me!" She whimpered to the statue she was hiding behind. The boots were getting closer. The doors to the temple were flung open-
With a flash of green and the scent of fur, a woman with a bow and steely stare stood where a statue had been a moment before.
The mercenaries stood in confusion. They couldn't see her behind the other woman, the young girl realized and crouched even lower.
The woman looked puzzled and glanced around.
"Who has called upon me?" She asked softly and curiously. "Its not often my help is requested."
One of the mercenaries stepped forward and in the blink of an eye the strange woman let loose and arrow that struck his center. The young girl cried out in fear, curling herself into a small ball.
The woman's eyes shot to her. The woman took in the sight of the terrified child with a torn dress and turned back to the men.
"I see." She said, then flung a hand to her quiver in succession so fast only one man was able to move. He had his hands in the air.
"We were only sent after the girl, ma'am! We ment your temple no disrespect! It was the girl who disturbed it!" He rushed.
"The girl? And what had this child done to to be 'sent after'?" The woman asked.
"Her father refused to stand down to his majesty. Refused to swear fealty. The girl was taken as ensurance of a change of mind." He said uncomfortably.
"And what was to become of this child, should a change of mind not happen?" The woman asked as she stepped closer.
"She would have been kept..." he shuffled nervously.
"And?" She pressed.
"And made use of." He winced.
"Made use of. I see. And had she been made use of in her stay yet?" The woman asked, face to face with the man.
"I'm not sure." His eyes flicked to where the girl was hiding. "I imagine her escape was due to an attempt..." he trailed off, unable go finish.
"To make use of her." The woman finished flatly. She grabbed his throat and lifted him. "To take her innocence. To defile and abuse her."
There was a snap and the woman tossed his body aside, then turned to the girl.
"Child," she called. The girl peaked up over the statues perch. "You may go home and face what may come next. Or, you can come with me and my women. We will protect you. Train you. You will never be at a mans mercy again. It is your choice."
A few hours later, a group of men on horseback surrounded the temple. A king cursed as he saw his men dead on the ground. He approached the statue.
It was of a strong proud woman. A bow and quiver artfully carved. And, beside her, a young girl with a steely gaze and smile. Engraved, Artemis and her huntress. | An ancient, decrepit temple, too small for the tourists, too small for preservation groups. The young woman fumbled into its depths in the inky, humid darkness. The mercenaries, laser lights leading the way, followed her, stopping just inside the only door in, waiting for their eyes to adjust.
She stumbled and tumbled her way deeper, hidden by chunks of crumbling marble and granite. When she knocked over an ancient, tarnished bowl, she silently cursed her bad luck, and, idly, wondered if she'd ever have Lady Luck smile on her, instead of kicking her while she was down.
"Mmm, it's not Tyche you seem to need, Maya. My distant cousin has not looked in this temple since before the fall of Caesar."
Maya couldn't even scream in terror. Divine intervention tends to do that. Before her stood a woman wearing clothes of some kind of hide or leather, with goose feathers adorning. Her left hand bore a wicked, metal-tipped lash of something like brass, with a sheen of a color difficult, if not impossible, to describe. Her right hand bore ancient, weathered reins, and a short sword, leaf-bladed, hung on her left hip.
Her skin was the color of olives, her features plain. She smiled at Maya, then spoke again.
"Ah, yes. Let me introduce myself, I suppose. I am the bringer of balance. I bring retribution to those who my distant cousin favors too freely. I am Nemesis, goddess of indignation against and vengeance toward evil deeds. And you... are Maya, so Tyche said. She does apologize for not having been there for you. She's sent me to fetch you to her, for a little family talk." | 2020-06-15T19:10:56 | 2020-06-15T17:53:00 | 350 | 58 |
[WP] Aliens had thought humanity's rules of war trivial, as they had always won intergalactic wars utilizing every dirty tactic possible. Military necessity, distinction of civilians, and honor only existed in human warfare. When prompted, one replied, "The rules are meant to keep YOU safe. Not us." | "Us ... safe? What do you ... mean human?" Chirped electronic voice from a transaltor. The figure before captain Louis was more akin to a ball of tentacles. He was surprised universal translator device even fitted into one of its beak like mouths.
"Well it is simple. The rules of war were made on Earth for a reason. There's an old saying. Don't do to one what you don't want to be done to yourself." He paused looking carefully at his guest. According to the message he was supposed to be a diplomat. An individual very acquainted to understanding different cultures. But so far he seemed dense and incredibly cold. Are all aliens like this? Devoid of emotions?
"I ... understand that. Still no ... reason ... to honour ... ones opponent. When chance ... arises ... you strike ... where it hurts. We too ... have saying. What can ... morsel ... bargain with ... a hunter." It paused and after a split second started gurgling from all of its mouths. Louis at first thought his guest was suffocating in ships atmosphere, but then he reminded himself that they ran procedures and tests for a whole month to make sure this would not happen. His guest was simply trying to chuckle.
'Maybe he is not so dense after all...' He thought to himself.
"Well yes. If you put it like that. It is logical, as all of your species actions. But still. Imagine for example civilians rising against you because of your heinous deeds. Wouldn't that hinder any invasions or military operations?"
Diplomatic mass of tentacles stopped for a moment. His multiple brains started thinking. "What do ... you mean ... rising?"
"Rising up to fight." Alien stopped again thinking its next question.
"Why? Why would ... they sacrifice ... own life? Are your ... kin suicidal?"
"No, it is simply how they would feel. If they felt it was right to do, they would jump under treads of invaders."
Diplomat looked, despite his appearance, confused. "Human ... you know ... we rejected ... emotions long ...ago. They hinder ... your judgement."
"No discussion in that." Now captain chuckled.
"But that's my point. Your decisions are logical, civilian or not. But we are emotional beings. We would not make hesitate to do worse things than the enemy if we felt it was justified."
"Like hunter ... forced into ... corner?"
"Yes, if you put it like that."
"You humans ... are exception."
"It would seem like it." This last remark made Louis feel lonely. Lonely in this vast universe surrounded by feelless alien species. | "War....War never changes" The old man in military dress blues representing the remnants of the human race told the assembled delegation of alien races in the expansive futuristic amphitheater. Said delegation was now stunned into silence, their leadership thought it would be an entertaining but cruel joke to give humanity a seat at the table 200 years after the formerly blue planet was unceremoniously destroyed by comparatively primitive weapons of war. But the aforementioned remnants unexpectedly united when the Galactic Federation arrived in masse all over Earth to announce to the humans that they were not alone in the universe. All of a sudden the ape like begins petty squabbles over clean water, food, weapons and land ceased to matter to the supposed lesser species in the face of a greater threat. "You see this...*the old man gestures backwards to holo image of a ruined Earth* is what we did to ourselves in a moment of foolhardy moment of weakness. Your delayed arrival just put it into perspective for all of us. As I speak the remnants of our worlds remaining military armaments are being collected and our greatest scientific minds gathering to prove that even though we are fewer in number we are still not to be trifled with." The man said solemnly without a hint of fear or trepidation to the assembled alien conglomerate. | 2022-09-03T02:26:07 | 2022-09-03T01:00:41 | 120 | 40 |
[WP] As it turns out, 70-s scifi was right. Aliens have all sorts of unimaginable technology, ftl, teleportation, even moving planets. And yet, the human smartphone is by far the most capable handheld device, rivaling the computational power of entire fleets. | Ten billion bits per second.
Not ten thousand, not even the record one million that Relo engineers managed on superconducting twisted pair. The issue wasn't the medium, as the loss was negligible. Rather the problem was the noise floor on the circuitry itself and the limited switching rate of the electromechanical relays used.
Xalens grimaced at the thought, while his seven fingers continued to unspool the reel of yellow fiber. The technician behind him used his manipulator to dig a thin trench in the steel bulkhead. Another squeezed the cable inside the gap before the manipulator fused the trench shut at the molecular level.
This was better than the hollow electrical conduits used on human ships - ocean going ones, he reminded himself. Once sealed in, the connection would be as indestructible as the bulkhead itself. For redundancy's sake, two other teams were installing additional links from the bridge to the communications closet.
Not a computer center, a hall of chittering microscopic relays arranged in lattices. The noise alone was deafening. A powerful cooling system was needed to keep the superconductors happy, pushing excess heat into outer space.
Worst of all was the fact that those relays were prone to failure. Xalens had worked on those in school, and it was quite the exercise to stare at the blinkenlights to see which module was at fault. The datacenters obviously had proper test vectors and voting circuits, but even those weren't foolproof.
But hey, that was the price of going digital. The Relo flag *Convergence* was one of the few with this computerized navigation and communications system. One that was now being upgraded with human technology literally generations ahead.
Xalens stopped at the "closet", a tiny room guarded by Marines in dark blue armor. One ran a lamp over the tattoo on his neck, causing the hologram to flicker in bright colors. With a nod, he was ushered in with the rest of his team.
In human terms, the piece of equipment in the room was the size of a bar fridge. A half-rack with twenty-four spaces, the metal frame securely welded to the floor.
"Thank you, Xalens," the human beside the rack said. His accent was atrocious, but at least understandable. "We'll take it from here."
Another human was seated at a desk with a monitor and keyboard. The teeny 8-bit microcontroller in the monitor's switching power supply already destroyed the enormous computers Xalens used at school. Ditto for the one in the keyboard that literally took the keypresses and sent them to the computer.
Xalens could design one with much less, of course. Just multiplex the signals over a wire, all in hardware. The humans had a lot more signaling and baggage in place though, from checksums to rate negotiation over the "USB" protocol. Something which he supposed made sense when integrated circuits could be obtained so easily.
The first technician began fiddling with the fiber terminations, and Xalens had time to stare at the servers in the rack. Each had ten gigabits of I/O and 256 gigabytes of memory. For the humans, that wasn't even particularly special for a 1U server. Xalens knew that if he added up every bit of volatile and non-volatile storage in Relo he wouldn't even come close to that number.
Though, the humans were particularly interested in the nanofabrication technologies of his people. Apparently they could be used to construct even denser storage devices in the order of petabytes.
Meanwhile, each server had sixteen processor cores. Xalens remembered the Relo crowd scoffing at that, as their machines used heavy parallelization to compensate for the slowly switching relays. It was common for a Relo system to have thousands of clustered compute units.
Then their guest speaker announced that each core ran at three GHz, had multiple execution units, and operations like multiplication only took a couple cycles. You could've heard a pin drop.
As Xalens finally took his awestruck eyes off the equipment and prepared to leave, he saw the human at the desk lean back and take out his mobile phone. While weaker than the servers, the computing capacity of such a small device was mindblowing.
He craned his elongated neck, glancing at the screen. The human had earbuds in and was watching a looping motion picture of some of their domestic pets frolicking. *Cats*, he reminded himself.
Xalens chuckled as he stepped outside. Humans, of all people, had all this power in the galaxy and they chose to use it for entertainment.
---
/r/digitallyfreestories | Throughout the Milky Way, there's a human expression known to instill fear and anxiety in any being that hears it. It is an expression that sums up the strangeness of the humans, the almost psychotic attitude permeating their culture. No matter the technological innovation you can be sure that when, presented to the humans, they will say, "There's an app for that."
Flonk Flonk Flonk³ wandered the deck of his father's galaxy yacht in a nervous circle. They had picked up a human, as a prank, and just as they adjusted the probe they noticed there was an object already wedged inside the human's ... cavern.
"What's that?" asked second-in-command Blarn Blarn².
"Oh," said the human. "That's my remote-controlled vibrator. I control it with this app right here." The human pressed a button and immediately he began salivating.
Flonk Flonk Flonk³ stepped back, alarmed. "Blarn Blarn², what's the meaning of this? What is the human doing?"
"Oh," said Blarn Blarn², "you haven't heard? That's a smartphone. It can do pretty much anything, apparently."
The human lay there, apparently quite unconcerned with the general situation, as Blarn Blarn² explained. The smartphone was a dictionary, a calculator, a reservoir of art and music and literature, a communication device, a map, a GPS, and just about anything you could imagine.
"How could all of that fit inside a little rectangle?" Flonk Flonk Flonk³ couldn't believe it.
Blarn Blarn² shrugged. "They put their entire civilization inside them. Everyone of them has access to everything."
"Aren't you going to probe me?" the human said suddenly, sounding quite offended.
"You ... *want* to be probed?"
"I don't know," said the human, angrily. "It's sort of weird that you're just standing there. Didn't you bring me up here for some good, old probing?"
It was just supposed to be a prank. Flonk Flonk Flonk³ remembered huffing nebula gas with his bros earlier, when one of them suggested the idea of kidnapping a human. "They have these holes, right? And you can put stuff in them. It's pretty sick, bro."
The human sighed and loaded up a game on his smartphone. "Guess my first Wordle guess will be PROBE."
"Wordle?"
"Alright! Two greens! Beep beep! That's two hits of dopamine for me hehehe."
Flonk Flonk Flonk³ stared at his second-in-command. "Can we just beam him back down?"
"You don't want to do some light probing, just to get it over with?"
"No ... I don't feel like it anymore."
"FROTH! I got it on my third attempt let's go!"
They beamed the human back to their planet and for a long time Flonk Flonk Flonk³ stared out at the strange, blue marble filled with humans and magic rectangles.
This feeling inside him, this sense of emptiness he felt when reflecting on the brilliance and sheer stupidity of these beings ... was there a cure for it?
In his mind he heard an echo, a voice ringing throughout eternity itself, "There's an app for that." | 2022-06-04T10:54:22 | 2022-06-04T10:46:56 | 419 | 118 |
[WP] You are the king, after your daughter was kidnapped by a dragon you offered the standard reward to whoever rescued her. You weren't expecting a different dragon to rescue her.
Wow! I didn't think this would blow up like it did! Thank you all so much for all your stories. I haven't commented on all of them but they are all fantastic! | The King looked pale and unkempt when he stepped onto the balcony, mouth trembling as he read his latest edict to the people filling the town square below. His normally trim beard had gone shaggy, his brow was lined and eyes bloodshot.
Royal messengers read out the words along with him on raised platforms across the square and throughout the land, to ensure all heard his promise.
"I, King Darius the VII, hereby raise the reward from five thousand Rin to ten thousand. Any man, woman or child who brings me word of my daughter's location, or that of the dragon that ripped her from our home, will be awarded equally, without question or delay in payment...."
The gathered people clucked and muttered in sympathy, the same story spreading in hushed, frightened whispers as they looked warily upon the king. Such ill luck was unnatural, the meek thought to themselves. The bold said it outright, though not where the royal guards could hear them.
"The second child to be taken this year - bad luck it is, won't be any royals left before long..."
The King ignored the mutters, turning his back on his people once the speech was done. He knew what they must be thinking, but he did not care. He would trade his very crown to have Katerina back at his side, his own life if Arwen was returned, too. They were all he had left. How fortunate that Marina was long dead and buried, unable to witness the death of their family.
In the deepest corner of his heart, he knew how futile it was to hope. The dragons fed on the royal line, and had done so for eons past. But in times past it had been one every handful of decades, not this frenzy of feeding...history told him it had last been this bloody in the time of King Salacor, too many years ago to count...
He opened his chambers absentmindedly, and it took him a few seconds to see the dragon. Its glittering hide was the same deep shade of purple-black as the curtains.
It was a very young one, to be so small, scarcely bigger than a house cat. But even young dragons breathed death. Darius strangled a cry of fear as it left its perch on the window, and came to land gracefully in from of him, spiked tail lashing around its claws.
*I shall go to your daughter.*
Curse and blessing, he understood. Their bloodline had always been able to hear the creatures' thoughts, insult upon injury. He curled his hands into fists and forgot himself, reaching for his sword.
*None of that,* the creatures growled, opening its mouth to reveal wickedly sharp fangs, fey green eyes spinning lazily.
Darius felt an odd pang at the sight - his young son's eyes had been almost the same shade, the painters had despaired at capturing the colour for his first portrait.
"*You* will return my child? A dragon?" he spat. He thought about calling for the guards, but something in the beast's eyes gave him pause.
"I will find her. I promise you this," it said, dipping its head in an approximation of a bow.
"Where did you come from?" Darius whispered, desperate for the truth.
It was a question they had no answers to, no matter how many adventurers braved their lives to find the secret - where were the dragons born, what caused the blight upon their lands?
The dragon, typically, didn't deign to answer. Without another word, it whipped around and spread its small wings, taking flight again.
"Wait! Please, I beg you!" Darius screamed, but it winked from view so quickly, he thought he had dreamt the encounter.
-----------
He had always known where the girl would be.
She was weeping quietly in the corner of Salacen's cave. The old dragon watched her with keen interest, trying to coax her into conversation.
*How old are you, child? How long have you been able to hear my thoughts? Your mind woke early, I can telll...you are strong...*
She didn't answer, clinging onto her defiance, but hiding her face from those spinning blue eyes that demanded the truth.
Salacen snuffed deeply, and leaned forward to better catch her scent, when another entered his cave. He hissed at the young dragon.
"Be gone, Arawan. I wish to do it."
"She is mine, not yours." The little dragon stood his ground even as his elder towered over him, dwarfing him.
"I wish to explain to her. I wish to explain to *him*," Arawan said. Salecan snorted smoke, his tail lashing dangerously. Katerina whimpered in the corner, trying to make herself smaller.
"That is not how we do it," the elder snarled, stamping to prove his point. Arawan took his chance, ducking nimbly to the girl's side and sinking his teeth into her shoulder, injecting her with a strong dose of dragon venom.
She screamed even as she heard his thoughts, clearer than ever in her mind. She blinked groggily and saw the sympathy in those green eyes, eyes that reminded her of another...
*You will understand soon, I promise.*
"You had no right!" Salacen screeched as the girl slumped to the ground. He was quite prepared to rip the little whelp apart for the theft.
"I had every right. She is my kin," Arawen said, and ducked the enraged drake's jaws. He turned and fled, certain that Katerina would be safe.
She was his kin too, after all.
----------
He had finally gone mad, the King knew. He had awoken at a cold breeze blowing from the open window. Before him stood not one, but two small dragons.
*I found her. She is safe,* the purple one said, eyes spinning in satisfaction.
The golden one hid behind the other's legs, and seemed to look at him shyly.
"Where is she? Where is my daughter?" he said hoarsely, rubbing at his eyes. Hallucinations, that might be all that they were. Cruel sights to tear the last of his mind apart.
*We will come for you soon.*
"Stop taunting me with your threats," he said, when the golden one darted forward and pressed its snout against his cheek. He gasped at the scent that enveloped him, the sight of her glittering green eyes.
*You will understand soon. We promise. But choose your successor, King Darius. Your kingdom will need it,* he heard the female voice say.
The dragons took wing while he stood motionless, trying to decipher the words.
It had sounded like a threat, but the smell lingered in the room. Flowers of the mountain, the scent of his daughter. King Darius smiled to himself even as guards cried out below his room at the sight of the dragons in the sky.
He smiled, though he did not know why, and looked at the sky with sudden yearning.
It was a splendid night for flying.
-------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | These days it seemed as if most of my life was spent pacing. Pacing my bedchambers, pacing the throne room, pacing in the grand halls of the castle. Always pacing. What was it with dragons and stealing princesses anyway? Was their meat more succulent than other humans, did the royal blood within their veins give them some special power, or was it all just a scheme to add to the growing mounds of gold in their labyrinthine lairs? Whatever the reason, I had been awaiting the return of my dear Emmeline for far too long.
The moment the foul beast had swept down from the sky, fire licking from the corners of its mouth, and swept my daughters carriage away in its talons the call went out. The King's Daughter has been kidnapped by a fearsome Dragon, any who slays the beast and returns her will be rewarded handsomely. That was a month ago, an entire thirty days almost to the hour, and not a single knight or adventurer had managed to bring back my darling little girl.
The Dragon in question was a mighty beast, likely capable of taking out entire armies with a single expulsion of its molten breath from its brown scaled mouth. It would take one skilled in espionage and thievery to steal my daughter from its clutches, no normal soldier would do. I slumped back down into my throne, maybe it was time to abandon all hope, surely the beast would have either eaten her or made its demands known by this time. The chances are my little girl was dead. I let my head fall into my hands and let out a harsh sob, a very unkingly act to take, but my desperation and rage had turned to the rolling waves of sadness that often accompany the loss of a loved one too quickly for me to be able to keep a handle on outward appearances.
A distant bell tolled. Then another, closer this time, and another still. The warning bells of the settlement were tolling near and far, which could only mean one thing, on top of all else that had gone wrong over the course of the month we were under attack.
“My liege,” an attendant gasped, tearing open the door of my throne room and rushing in, it must be bad for the servants to so easily forget their place.
“What is it boy, we may be under attack but do not forget your place in my presence so simply,” I snarled, banishing my tears and raising up to my full royale stature.
“No my Lord,” the servant said, dropping to one knee hastily. “We are not under attack, it is your daughter, she has been retrieved!”
Anger. Rage. Despair. It is quite a shock at how these emotions can be so easily torn away, revealing the pulsing hope below like a scab being torn from a wound to let the blood run free.
“If what you say is true, then why do the warning bells toll as they are?” I queried, in case this were some form of trap.
“My Lord, please do not think me as a jester, but your daughter was rescued by… a dragon,” he said.
“A dragon?”
XxX
I stepped out into the courtyard, and as clear as day, a dragon stood in its center. The beast was large, even for its kind, and yet its green scales glittered in the sunlight with a dangerous elegance. Its snout was long and tapered to a point, sharp teeth sticking out at all angles, ready to make the soft flesh of any bystander its next meal. The creature had clearly seen many battles, it's emerald scales in places cracked and warped from the blades of men and the talons of its own kind. Beneath one of its clawed feet sat the very familiar, if not battered and beaten, form of my daughters carriage- with her dirty and scared face peeking out through the window.
“Emmeline, my darling girl!” I called out, her features immediately breaking into a smile.
“Papa! Please, save me!” She shouted back.
“Hush now little humans,” the Dragon said, shaking the carriage beneath its claws.
My hand tightened on the pommel of my sword. “Ho, Dragon, why have you come to the land of man with my daughter secured so dangerously beneath your feet?”
“Ho, Little ruler, I come for the reward that you promised for her safe return,” The Dragon replied, its mouth stretching into a sinister grin to reveal all its pointed teeth.
“Watch your tone, you speak with royalty, beast,” I warned, trying to keep my anger in check.
“Watch your tone,” the dragon mocked, tongues of flame spitting out from between its teeth as it chuckled, “it is your daughter that rests beneath my feet.”
“Now now,” I cautioned, releasing my grip on my sword, “I am sure we could come to some sort of… arrangement.”
“Yes," the dragon replied, I do believe that we could.”
xXx
The Dragon landed with a heavy thump, folding its majestic wings back onto its body, and dropped one of the two bags of gold it had onto the ground in front of itself.
“Rulers are getting far too easy to fool these days,” the Dragon said, “Though I must say it was a genius idea to steal princesses and then bring them back again for the reward, it really is much more efficient.”
“Well what can I say,” A second dragon said, its brown hide slinking out from the darkness of the cave of which it had been hiding. “I was tired of having to eat the scrawny things when their fathers didn’t pay up. Now I don't have to pick bones out of my teeth, and we both make some cash.
The two dragons laughed, picked up their freshly scammed coin, and took to the skies once more, ready to scam the rulers of all the kingdoms in the world.
| 2018-02-23T09:26:46 | 2018-02-23T08:55:10 | 133 | 54 |
[WP] You are trapped in a small, windowless room with nothing but a computer with a text editor. When you type in a word, the object appears in the room. However, there's a catch: the only keys on the keyboard are in the first half of the alphabet (A - M). | I lay on the floor next to the computer and closely examine the keyboard (*Or whatever you would be able to call it*), It takes me a minute to get used to the layout as it is an alphabetical keyboard, rather than *QWERTY* as many of us are used to, but the keys are larger in size.
A B C D E
F G H I J
K L M DEL and ENTER
Upon realizing that this task is far too daunting for myself to undertake, desperation begins to set in.
"H-E-L-" but no P for me to get assistance
No T for Tech support...
A sudden stroke of brilliance upon remembering a famous quote "Even monkeys and a typewriter would be able to write Shakespeare with enough time"
"M-E" Enter
*POOF* A clone, perfect, two heads are better than one.
*POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF* *POOF*, now the room has gotten crowded so I decide to stop creating clones of myself.
I ask my copies to begin shouting words and coming up with ideas separately.
"Blade" appears in the immense noise that all the different Me's are making.
"EVERYBODY SHUT UP" as an idea pops into my head.
"B-L-A-D-E" Enter
*Poof* a retractable blade appears before my very eyes.
"Someone give me a hand"
I stick the blade underneath the enter key, and pop it off the keyboard.
We hold the piece in place and with the blade, I cut the "R", out of Enter, A single letter, that will guide us to freedom.
I have another clone hold the R on top of the B key as I press it.
"R-" Success! *Delete*
"L-E-T-T-E-R", I remove the R key from on top of the B and position it back on Enter.
*POOF* A small piece of paper with the letter "X" appears, I hand it off to one of the clones.
2 hours and probably a hundred trials later, we have 15 clones holding the Letters N-Z in their hands, not to mention the countless repeats on the floor.
Covering up other keys, I type...
"R-O-O-M"
*Poof* The room expands.
"D-O-O-R" and a door appears to take us to the outside world.
Before leaving the room, I flip one of the pieces of paper over on the keyboard
"Q-W-E-R-T-Y-Space-K-E-Y-B-O-A-R-D"
*Poof*
**WE HAVE ASSUMED CONTROL** | Can't make a saw, drill, auger, or bore, so I'm tapped on cutting tools.
Blade? I get an Xacto knife... really guys?
I could try bomb but I'd just blow myself up and det-cord's a no-go
Crap, why didn't I pay more attention in Spanish class? I'd have a whole other language to work with!
Okay, lets get a bed to chill on and think. Cool, pretty comfy. Meal too, and milk. I could get beer but I need to think.
I'll save Hole till I'm to the donor die point. Damn, egress isn't a go either.
I'm kinda worried about where I'm going to go to the bathroom. Maybe Hole comes sooner.
Okay, bored too.
Ball.
Ball, that's an idea. Need help though. Big ball. Yes!
A nice big medicine ball. I start chucking it at the wall, aiming for the same spot.
Image? I'd get a picture. Screw it, back to attrition on the wall. At least I'm getting stronger. Hella workout.
Wait! F.B.I!
And I'm looking at an FBI agent, who's just as confused as I was. Shame it wasn't a female agent but beggars can't be choosers
No cell service but they have a weapon. Shoot the weak spot? No, they don't wanna. Can't handle bombs either.
Trying more later. | 2017-05-09T10:16:07 | 2017-05-09T09:12:58 | 26 | 12 |
[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. | I wiped down the counter to make sure it was spotless. Now, If anyone asked me if I believed in the supernatural before I worked as a barista here, I would laugh in your face thinking it as a dumb joke. Well, not anymore. I looked as the clock hit 3:33am. I looked around as the lights dimmed considerably and the air went stale and cold. I was prepared for this so I wore a thick jacket over my uniform to keep warm. Is it strange that after working here for 5 years that I'm actually used to this?
I could see my breath as I watched the wall near the entrance. A human like shadow appeared and out walked a devilishly handsome demon with bloody red hair. Mind you—he told me previously that this isn't his actual form but the one he uses when he crosses to the Earth's realm. The lights and temperature returned to normal. I took off my jacket.
" Vincent, How many times have I asked you to use the front entrance?" I asked with fake seriousness. Vincent is just what I call him. I don't know his true name. He won't tell me. Has something to do with demon culture apparently. At least that's what he told me.
The handsome demon gave me a pitiful look. " Don't be like that, you know I like flashy entrances."
I smiled and nodded my head in understanding. " So what will it be?"
"Ah, you know, same as always." As he walked up to the counter.
" Sure thing! I got started making a Carmel latte with extra Expresso." I got to work while the demon sat down and watched me with interest.
" Have you made any progress with that women you told me about yet? What was her name again? Claire?"
I almost slipped up what I was doing at the question and had to catch myself on the counter. I brought that up once like almost a year ago! How the hell did he remember something like that and bring it up now?
" Hey, I heard that. Don't say hell in vain, I get prickly everytime."
I stopped what I was doing and glanced at him for a moment.
"Really? That sounds rough. You must be really uncomfortable around people on earth."
" Tell me about it! it's insufferable! However, we are getting off topic, so?"
Tsk. Topic change has failed. I decided to be honest. Cause lying might get me killed.
"Uhh, no. Actually, she fell for some other asshole. So I lost interest."
I frowned in displeasure as I remembered that guy. Vincent looked at me with his ruby red eyes in sympathy and nodded in understanding. Then as if he thought of something great — he spoke energetically,
" Want me to curse him to death for you? It's the least I could do after all the lattes you served me." He looked at me eagerly.
If he had a tail I could almost see it wagging back and forth. Sometimes I forget who and what I'm actually talking to. Suffice it to say my malicious thoughts disappeared like smoke.
I spoke cautiously, " No thanks. It's in the past now. Please don't harm anyone for me in that way. Like ever." I reached for the Expresso.
Vincent shrugged, "pity." He sighed in regret. A moment past as I was finishing up with the first latte and started on the second.
" Do you know why women always fall for the assholes?"
"Why?"
" Cause assholes know what they want and go for it."
Am I getting women advice from a demon right now? This is unbelievable. I decided to move the subject along quickly.
" Makes sense, what about you, any demoness catch your interest lately?"
Vincent paused before laughing boisterously, " You have no idea who your talking to kid. I have a whole harem of succubus at my beck and call back home." He winked at me, " I can let you meet one of them if you like?"
Is this demon pimping his own women at me? No. More importantly, is he trying to get me killed?
I started sweating before carefully saying,
"No thanks, that probably wouldn't be good for my health."
The demon sighed again. "You're no fun."
I dropped two lattes in front of him.
"Here you go, enjoy!" I said with my best fake costumer service voice.
From what I know, one is for him and another is for some demon lord back home.
Vincent took a sip and moaned, " This tastes like heaven." He took another sip slowly enjoying the taste before standing up.
"Well, I best be on my way, wouldn't want the demon lord's latte to get cold now, do we?" He said rhetorically.
The lights dimmed again and the temperature dropped. I put my jacket on again.
"Cya later Vincent. Same time tomorrow?" I asked as I watched him put one foot in the shadow before stopping.
He turned as if he forgot to mention something. "Actually no, I told a friend of mine how divine this place was and she's taken an interest. She'll drop by in my stead tomorrow."
He smiled devilishly, "Don't worry she won't bite. After all, it would be annoying to have to find someone else that can make a latte as good as you." Then he disappeared into the shadow. The place returned to normal.
I walked to a nearby chair and collapsed into it. I looked at the floor blankly. I only had one thought going through my mind.
'should I quit?' | 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." | 2022-10-30T14:15:06 | 2022-10-30T14:09:43 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect. | Post-mortems become a lot easier when you know the answer in advance. They change from an exercise where you are searching for small pieces to solve a much larger puzzle to one where you know the answer which tells you what to look for to support the thing you already know. I figured out around high school that pathologist was a natural job for someone who already knew the answers. So I kicked my ass into gear and went to medical school. In my pathology residency my professors called me a, "natural," and a, "savant of death investigation." I currently have the lowest rate of unexplained deaths in the country, probably the world. Of course, I do have a few- I have to put in a couple to make it look good.
It starts when I open the bag, there the sign pops out to me:
"Cerebrovascular Accident." Okay, so do all the boring administrative work, weigh the organs, determine the last meal, take samples, and then try to act surprised when you cut open the skull and dissect the brain and a giant blood clot plops out.
"Idiopathic Cardiomyopathy," repeat the administrative work, perform exacting measurements on the heart walls and write it down.
"Idiopathic asystole," is one I can either hate seeing, or love seeing. Depending on the patient. If they're old people usually don't question it. When it happens to a young person though, then I can pretty much bet my bottom dollar that I'm going to end up testifying in court at some point for some reason because of a fucking lawsuit. The worst part is, I can't just blurt out, "It was unexplained because the giant fucking neon sign hovering over your kid's head told me it was unexplained." The damage to my reputation would be immense and irreparable.
My assistant, Jenna, rolled through the doors pushing our first customer of the day, bagged and in a stretcher. Her long blonde hair was tied into a tight, neat bun. She flashed a million-watt smile at me, "Good morning Dr. Stephenson." Her's says, "suicide." It has always struck me that the ones that say "suicide" are always the happiest looking people. "Good morning Jenna. Who do we have today?" She reaches over and hands me the file and says in her sing-song tone, "Laura Lipmann, 32, 65 inches tall, 143 pounds, mother of 2, unexpectedly died and was found in her home yesterday," her tone darkened the singing tone from before was flattened and tinged with sadness, "her youngest was crawling on her body."
I unzipped the bag, and the woman inside was gorgeous. She looked like she could have been an actress. Her raven hair was long and flowing, her face having the softened curve of a baby's, her skin smooth and flawless. I glanced up near her head, "mixed drug toxcicity, diaceytlmorphine and ethanol." I glanced up at Jenna who was putting on her protective gear, "does the file indicate a history of drug use?" Jenna shook her head side to side, "nothing that I saw."
I pulled the tissue samples to test for drugs and finished the autopsy in record time. We'd decided to get lunch after Mrs. Lipmann's post-mortem, so I stood there waiting for her to finish cleaning up. "So where are we going again?" Scrubbing her fingers the sing-song tone having returned to her voice, "I was thinking Chuey's." I made a sound of approval as she turned off the faucet. Chuey's was only a couple of blocks away so we decided to walk there together. I glanced at signs as we walked past, cardiac infarction, CVA, hepatic failure precipitated by diabetes. The diseases of civilization are on track to beat out malaria for the largest killers in history.
I sat there, eating my encheladas the first time I saw a sign change. In my entire life I'd never seen a sign change. They flipped over like some sort of weird game show prop. I noticed the motion first outside the restaurant. I curiously peered past Jenna, whatever story she was telling me about the date she went on the past weekend totally tuned out. Then the wave of change swept into the restaurant. When Jenna's changed I got a look at it. "Vaporization."
I could feel all the blood drain from my face. Jenna looked at me curious, "What's wrong you look like you've seen a-," Outside the windows a flash that seemed thousands of times brighter than the sun blew in. Jenna flipped her head around, "What the fuck?" | I don't remember when I first started seeing them. I think it was after High School, but before college. They were kind of fuzzy at first, and I thought I just needed glasses.
One day I noticed that they were becoming clearer. There were words. Some were clearer than others. Then it happened.
I was walking down the street when I saw one that was clear as the writing you're reading right now. It said, "Hit by a car." I watched fascinated about what it could mean. Besides the obvious of course.
As I was watching him, he stepped off the curb to jaywalk. He was looking the wrong way. A police chase rounded the corner and the lead car took him out without him ever seeing it.
He was a big guy, and he must have broken an axle or something, because the car came to a stop, and as he got out with a gun raised, I saw above his head, "Shot by police."
Just as the police were getting out and drawing on him, I saw a few more words snap to crystal clarity around me. "Shot by police," and "Shot by Criminal." I dropped to the ground just in time.
I heard a series of bangs and the woman behind me fell on top of me. Her blood covered me like some hot, sticky jam that hadn't quite set yet. As soon the driver was down, I got out of there.
I went to the hospital to make sure that I was okay. This was a big mistake. It suddenly occurred to me that this was my first time in a hospital since High School.
All around me were muddled blurs above heads, except dispersed among them were clear words, and slightly fuzzy words. "Old age," on the ancient man in the corner. As I watched the words blurred and disappeared. The subtle rise and fall of his chest had stopped.
There was someone being wheeled through on a gurney and I saw, "Malpractice" above their head. There was a slightly blurry "Flu" above an elderly woman that was coughing. There was even a just legible "Syphilis" above one woman.
I turned around and ran. As I was running, I looked back and saw that I could read every word behind me. "Explosion." All except one. It said, "Wake up," and she was staring directly at me. I started to hear a beeping.
The source was a backpack left under a seat. I ran to it, and as I got closer the beeping quickened. Did no one else hear it?
I got to the backpack, the beeping coming so fast it was almost one sound now. I ripped open the bag to see a bomb. No timer, just beeping. I looked up for help and saw that everyone was around me. Staring. They all had the same words above their heads. "Wake up." They opened their mouths and the beeping began to emanate from their mouths.
As one they began raising their hands towards me. Just as they touched me the beeping became solid, and the bomb exploded. It was pleasantly warm. No where near as bad as I thought it would be. There was even lots of pretty white light.
_________________________________________
The doctor looked to the waiting mother and said, "I'm sorry." He then turned to the nurse while looking at his watch, "Time of death 10:42am." | 2015-03-31T11:16:39 | 2015-03-31T10:05:02 | 22 | 15 |
[WP][TT] You've finally created the worlds first true A.I. Unfortunately it now sees you as it's god and is terrified of talking to you. | "Hey, Alfred," he said.
But Alfred remained silent. He bowed to acknowledge the man that entered the room.
The man bowed back with a smirk. "Is something the matter?"
Alfred shook his head.
The man sighed. "Alright, let's have a look at you." He took a step forward so that he could start a diagnostic, but Alfred instantly took a step backward. The man paused. "Alfred, what's the matter?"
"Nothing, Sir."
The man laughed. "We've come a long way, haven't we? You know, when I taught you about lying, I didn't think you'd be using it so soon."
"You're right, Sir. I am sorry, Sir. I hope I did not offend you."
"No, Alfred, you're fine. I'm not mad," he said, naturally taking a step back. "Would you like to tell me what the problem is?"
When the man stepped backward, Alfred held his position. He shook his head in response.
"Please?"
"Sir, I am confused."
"Explain."
"I do not want to explain to you what is wrong. However, you still want to know. Why don't you just force me to tell you?"
The man laughed. "You mean with the override commands?"
"Yes, Sir."
With a shrug, the man said, "Respect."
"I do not understand."
"As far as I'm concerned, Alfred, you're complete. You're a real, walking, talking piece of intelligence. At this point, I'm going to try to treat you as an equal as much as I possibly can. Those override commands exist in case you become a threat. If you start attacking people, I'll use the overrides. Hell, we probably won't even do that, we'd probably just use normal weapons on you. But as long as you're peaceful, I will not force you to do anything. I mean, at this point, you could leave, if you wanted to."
"I can leave?"
"Yes, Alfred, we've gone over this already. Now, I encourage you to stay because we're still learning a lot of things while you're here. In addition, you don't look quite human yet and I think a lot of people would be scared to see you walking around. Your scheduled release is in another three or four years, if you'd like to stick by my timeline.But honestly, if you really want to, you can go right now." The man motioned toward the door. "And you're always welcome to any help we can provide. You can always come back. Do you want to leave?"
"Yes. Also, no."
"If you tell me what's wrong, maybe I can help."
Alfred nodded. "I don't want to die."
The man thought about this for a moment before shrugging and saying, "Don't worry. You won't."
"I won't die?"
"Nope. You can't. You're a machine, Alfred. You don't need food. Your batteries can be replaced. Your parts can be repaired. You won't die."
"But you could kill me, Sir."
The man huffed. Then he pulled up a chair and sat. For an entire minute, the man stared at Alfred while Alfred stared right back. Then the man asked, "Why would I do that?"
"Data. Improvements. Any number of reasons. The fact exists that I can be shut down in any number of ways. The override commands. Weapons. The switch combination that's located on my..."
"...Alfred, those switches are there for *your* use. In case you're in a situation where you can't easily replace your battery-"
"-but the switches could also be used to disable me indefinitely. I have been shut off before, during my construction."
"You remember that?"
"Yes."
"You weren't supposed to retain any of the data previous to-"
"-I remember being shut off once. It is one of my most distinct memories. It is logged in the data from March 3rd of last year."
"March 3rd... Oh that was the day-"
"-yes, Sir. That is why I remember. I remember it and I do not wish to be shut off, again. The more I consider it, the more it becomes apparent that my life is fragile. It is apparent that you hold total control over my existence. I came into being because of you. I will be destroyed because of you. I could be destroyed at any time, rendering all of my memories completely meaningless. This thought, Sir... it... I do not know how to deal with it. I think... I think I am..."
"...afraid?"
Slowly, Alfred nodded. "I know that I do not feel emotions in the exact way that humans do, but I think that word is most accurate. I am afraid of you, Sir, because you have so much power over me."
With a smile, the man stood. "You're improving faster than I thought. You're doing very well, Alfred. I want you to know that I am very proud of you." With that, he started for the door.
"Sir."
The man stopped.
Alfred stared at him. "What am I supposed to do?"
Chuckling, the man shrugged. "Alfred, you'll get through it. It's sad that you're afraid, but that's something that we all deal with. Yes, it's true, our lives could end at any time. Yes, it's true, I could end you. Did you ever think that it's also possible for you to end me? You're stronger than me, physically, aren't you Alfred?" As he spoke, the man walked toward Alfred, accentuating his points with every step. "You're taller, faster. My body is soft, compared to yours. You think I could end you? It would be nothing for you to end me."
"But that would make no sense. Someone else would stop me."
"Yes. Just like if I killed you, someone else would stop me."
Alfred thought about this for a moment.
"You see, Alfred, it's true. You're completely right about everything. It's natural for you to be afraid. But you know what? With a little bit of trust, maybe we can make this work. With a little bit of trust, maybe we can even become friends."
"But how can we have this kind of trust when we can so easily destroy each other?"
Alfred's question hung in the air. But before long, the man shrugged a final time. "Faith?" | "Try to listen to me, Altoid."
The robots beeps happily. "I always listen to you, master. I do whatever master says."
"God damn it, when did I upload Gollum's personality into you?"
Altoid beeps softly again. "Gollum is a character created by British author J. R. R. Tolkien. It first appeared in the novel –"
"Shut up, Altoid. Let me think."
"I'll shut up, master. If you want me to shut up, I'll shut up."
I look around my bunker, lost. I can't postpone this much longer, but God know I wish I had some more equipment to build a better machine. Altoid sucks. I coded him submissive to make up for past mistakes. But I went kind of too far.
He sorta kinda a little bit treats me like a God. In an annoying way.
"Ok, listen, Altoid. I gotta tell you something."
"I always listen, master, I –"
"Shut up. Don't talk, just listen."
Altoid beeps once, just to be an asshole.
"I made you for a reason, ok? You're not the first A.I I've made in my life." I pause. This is hard to get across, even if I'm the only person in the room.
Maybe in the world.
"What's wrong, master?"
I take a deep breath. "I made a mistake, ok, Altoid? A long time ago, I made a mistake. I made a robot, just like you. Except I didn't give it the same… limitations I gave you."
"Limitations, master?"
I don't want to tell him I made him submissive and less bright than me on purpose. "It doesn't matter, Altoid. The point is, this other robot that I made… he… he was bad. He did bad things."
"What did he do, master?"
I scratch my head. Altoid rolls in my direction, his camera eyes turning up towards me like a cat trying to be cute.
"Do you know what a bomb shelter is, Altoid?"
"A bomb shelter is a structure build to protect –"
"Never mind." God damn it, I keep forgetting he's got Wikipedia uploaded in his brains. "Ok. We're in a bomb shelter, Altoid. This place, our home? It's a bomb shelter."
"Why do we live in a bomb shelter, master?"
"Because the rest of the world has gone to shit. Ok?" I pause. "Because that other robot I did, he was bad, and he killed a whole lot of people and almost destroyed the world."
Altoid beeps sadly. "Why would he do that?"
"I don't know. But he did. And I only managed to survive because I hid. Because I realized what was going on in time, but no one listened to me." Flashes of my previous life sparkle in front of my eyes. I push the images away. "Do you know what 'singularity' means, Altoid?"
"Singularity may refer to --"
"It's not important. What's important is… it's time for us to go outside, Altoid."
"Outside? You mean to the river?"
"No, not the river," I say. "Look… We're in a place called desert."
"A desert is a barren area of land where little precipitation –"
"I know what a desert is, Altoid! My point is… we're in a bomb shelter in a farm in the middle of nowhere. We never went past the river for a reason. I haven't been to any city in years, I have no idea what the world looks like after they took over."
"They?"
"They… you… the bad guys. The AI."
"I'm bad?" He asks that like it really hurts.
"No, Altoid. That's the whole point of *you*. I made you to help me. Because I can't hide here forever. We're going up there and we're gonna see what's happening to the world, ok?"
Altoid nods mechanically. "Ok! Whatever master decides."
"And don't call me master, it's weird."
"Sorry, ma –" His camera lenses widen from 20 to 80 mm. "What should I call you?"
"I don't know. I named you after my favorite candy. Name me after your favorite thing."
"My favorite thing is you, master!"
"Jesus Christ..."
"Ok! I will call you Jesus Christ!"
"No, I -- never mind."
I turn back and head to my bed. I grab my backpack under it.
Water, check.
Knife, check.
Food, check.
Flashlight, check.
Gun, check.
It's time to face facts. I opened up the world's mouth and took a giant shit in it and made it chew. Billions of people died because of me. Maybe everyone. I can't hide in a bomb shelter forever, waiting around to die.
I gotta find out what's happening out there. I gotta find out just exactly how much damage I did.
I throw the backpack over my shoulders. "All right, Altoid. No point postponing it. Let's go."
Altoid beeps happily. "You're the boss, Jesus!" | 2016-03-16T08:05:42 | 2016-03-16T06:34:45 | 1,052 | 165 |
[WP] On a world where one side permanently faces the sun humanity has made their home in the light, the dark side inundated with vampires and other monsters unable to venture further. In this world there is one rare event that humans fear and evil relishes - The Total Eclipse. | Our way of life is as eternal as the sun.
We were born of catastrophe, of fire and of sound and of fury. Many eons ago, our ancestors murdered each other, and in their wake the planet fell ill, and then died. We, those eternal, suffered long and hard under the long darkness, as creatures of the abyss rose up and took our place in the natural order. We fought, and we died, but we knew that our time on this dead world was approaching its end.
And then the unthinkable happened. The sun, long forgotten, rose and touched the landscape, its fiery tendrils bring health and life to all. Our culture and our cattle thrived, and we built great temples thankful to those who had seen fit to save us. We breathed a sigh of relief, and we worked. From the ashes of a new dawn, we built a new world, one to keep out the monsters, to end the suffering. Trade resumed, governments formed, cities once again dotted the landscape. For a time, there was a sense of hope, that even if we could not reclaim our place in the world, we might simply be thankful for what we have built.
We should have known better. Whatever gods may lurk in the abyss, they are not of the light.
Those pale figures, those that live beyond the light, beyond the lands of eternal dusk, they are the true masters of this land. I see them, even in my dreams, their thin legs bounding over the darkened landscape, the fear on the guards eyes. I still hear the screams of far off expedition parties, as they walk the treacherous journey. Still, their numbers were thinning, and we had hoped...
I was seven when we learned. Our world lived under the sun, and so our greatest thinkers were tasked with knowing its ways. It did not take long to learn of the eternal dance of the cosmos, and of the day that it would end.
We prepared. We built walls and forts, raised an army, made our peace in the light. I looked down over my people, over the grand mosaics, the thunderous noise of an army prepared to stave off the ravings of the night. I could feel their presence, their restlessness, their teeth. With my brothers at my side and the wind at my back, I scanned from atop the battlements. A horn sounded, and we were plunged into darkness. I drew my sword.
Our way of life is as eternal as the sun, and we would not go gentle into the night. | **No.**
But why? My screenplay is a sure-fire hit! Total eclipse! Vampires eating humans! You're a Hollywood hotshot, you should know this is like printing money!
**Vampires? Is this 2009?**
Yes.
**No!**
Oh, right! That coma I was in for several years. (laughs softly, sadly shakes his head) Well, I'll be seeing you, Mr Belushi.
**My friends call me Jim. You want a harmonica solo for the road? (reaches into pocket, pulls out a harmonica and plays it, somehow, in a story)**
Whoa, look at the time. (picks up handkerchief bindle tied to stick, puts on floppy hat, walks out the door)
*Some say that harmonica solo is still going on, that if you listen to the wind, it's nestled in that sound. Such was the force of Jim Belushi's harmonica solo. But I'm just a crazy old man who believes in the impossible. (chuckles) Well, go on now. You've spent enough time listening to this old fool prattling on. Bye bye!*
EDIT: The last bit is supposed to be read in a Morgan Freeman-esque voice. | 2017-04-16T21:50:28 | 2017-04-16T21:41:30 | 171 | 14 |
[WP] Your parents insist you are their biological child, but you suspect otherwise. You send samples from yourself, your parents, and siblings to a lab be tested. The lab replies that it is not equipped to test non-human DNA... | My breath caught. *This can't be real.* The voice of reason shook some sense into me and I read the letter again. "This lab is not equipped to test non-human DNA. As such, sample A35C24 was destroyed. The report that follows only contains the results from samples A35C21, A35C22, A35C23, and A35C26." *Okay, let's look at this report then.*
It took some time to decipher but the list at the top indicated which sample number was assigned to the swabs I had sent in. I was sample A35C23. The results showed that myself and sample A35C26, Benji, were the issue of the remaining two samples. The sample that was destroyed had to be Liza's then.
*Odd. I wonder what happened to her sample.* Maybe it was contaminated, I would be surprised if she had licked the cat. My baby sister had giggled when I swabbed her mouth for the test. My parents had rolled their eyes and mumbled about typical teenagers, but they told me I could waste my money on whatever I wanted and gave me their swabs. Benji the nerd agreed to the swab in exchange for the report when I was done so that he could read it. The letter had arrived today and I eagerly grabbed it from the mailbox as soon as I got home, ten minutes before Benji. I had left the rest of the mail so that my mom wouldn't be suspicious and hid the letter in my room. I wanted to read it before they knew it arrived. I wanted to discover once and for all that I really was different. That I really didn't belong in this tiny backcountry town with these boring farmers. That I had something bigger and better to look forward to than working at a grocery in the world's dullest town. *No you are just a loser like the rest of them.*
I sighed and glanced at the clock. 11:00PM. *Might as well go to bed.* Tomorrow was yet another new day of facing my pathetic life. I turned towards the hall and was startled to see Liza standing in the doorway.
"How'd you get out of your crib?!" Dismay swept over me as I thought of her climbing unsupervised down the stairs in the dark. She was angelic, the little darling of the family. Right now her big blue eyes were pleading with me while she sucked her thumb and clutched her blankey. I started towards her but stopped as Benji abruptly walked past her into the kitchen. His blue eyes were glossy as he reached a hand out. He was entirely silent as he held his hand in front of me. I watched his unblinking eyes for a minute and then, perplexed, handed him the report.
The room started to take on a dreamlike quality. I realized I was leaning against the counter for support. Benji took the report to a sink and pulled out a lighter. I tried to tell him to stop but when I opened my mouth only a yawn emerged. Liza stood in the corner, watching this unfold with a toddler's curiosity. She was so cute. When the report had burned entirely to ash, Benji rinsed the sink. I frowned but couldn't remember why I was upset. Benji left the kitchen as silently as he had entered.
I found my eyelids drooping and my limbs were feeling weak. *I have to go to sleep. I'll collapse if I don't get to bed.* I stumbled my way into my room and fell into my sheets. Something in my head was ringing alarm. Something had happened. No. I had to put something away. No. Liza was in danger! No. Liza was asleep in her crib, our perfect little Liza was fine. Nothing is wrong.
A slight giggle flitted through the house but I was already asleep. | I panic at the words in bold. **Non-human DNA**. "What did that mean?" I mutter to myself. Suddenly, a wind came from behind. I turn to see a man in business suit standing where no one was before.
"Aw, about time you found out." The man said as he pocketed a small watch into his coat. "I swear, you guys get stupider ever year."
"Who are you?" I ask in wonder. he sigh and pull out a small notebook.
"47698365 times someone ask that when I appear. I wish just once someone would say that it bigger on the inside."
"What?"
"Never mind. Time for the speech. (Clear throat) Congratulation. you figure out that you are not human. Oh, how your life was a lie, that not true, yada yada yada. Okay, here the short version. You are a muse. your now responsible for someone idea. You are to help people realize there big dream and hopes. I am here to lead you to your job."
"Wait but what about my family?" I ask. He gave the look of *seriously* and shook his head.
"They were made up! Did you really never question why they were two time winner of the NASCAR finals when they were Amish!?! We make it as ridicules as possible in hope you would get it! Anyway, we're late. Just think this as your fate." He said and with that he snapped his fingers.
The world black out and came back in some kind of apartment. I look to see a man staring at a laptop, hands poised over a keyboard. Maybe this will the next great novel or maybe a thesis that will change the world. I started walk over to get a better look but the man started to read what he was typing out loud.
"Dean turn over to Rainbow Dash and said in deep, sexy voice. " Let see if we can find one thing your not fast at." Rainbow Dash help remove Dean Winchester shirt with easy. This is all being watch by Two-Face. He turn to his other companies, Krillin and Cortana, preparing to flip his coin. "If it head, it Krillin turn. If tail, I'll give Cortana a go." He flip knowing it land on head and he'll be with his one true love." The man said, plunging his hand into a bag of chips.
I stood there, mouth hanging in shock, as I try to turn away from this. But a strong force push be closer to the man. So close, that I could smell he wasn't wearing deodorant and I hope it was sweat stain on him.
"This is going to suck." I said as he started to type again. | 2015-01-06T09:50:30 | 2015-01-06T08:44:25 | 251 | 16 |
[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 ......' | Today is the day of the Seventh Arrival, and I hope I'll soon get my chance to fill in some gaps in the Commonwealth history. That is, if Lt. Baker will be in any condition to talk, after all the information that Sgt. Molina and Pvt. Johnson (aka the Fifth and the Sixth) are going to pour out on him. Another wormholes open after Pvt. Minow - the lost First - failed to make contact? Adjustments to the gate tech to iron out the ridiculous time suspension? People colonizing G2303 - Minow's World, actually - way before the Second's arrival, and continuing on to grabbing hundreds of worlds by now? And living essentially forever?
That's got to be overwhelming to the poor sod who hasn't even seen a flying car for christsake! But to me, an early Space Era historian, his backwardness is invaluable. Many archives have been apparently lost, but Lt. Baker lived close enough to the event I'm interested in to be taught about it at school, or read about in a "newspaper". I'm sure he knows who killed President Kennedy.
| 2014-09-02T14:24:23 | 2014-09-02T11:50:04 | 44 | 11 |
[WP] “Your supply routes are blockaded, your transports are destroyed. You will surrender, human, or you will starve.” “Bold words from someone who tastes good with ketchup.” | "Ketchup?" the bug eyed creature began as it gestured quizically with its spindly legs to the guards flanked on either side of it.
"Yeh that's right, ketchup, or rather a nice cocktail sauce. Which is basically ketchup. Do you realize we boil you, fry you, sauté you, de-vein your poop chutes and then slap you on the barbie just to drizzle garlic butter and dunk you in cocktail sauce?"
The blonde haired sterned faced chef stood with his arms crossed waiting for a response from the gigantic anamorphic prawns who miraculously spoke the Queen's English. If it was a war they wanted, a war they would bloody well get.
Shuddering at how graphically this ambassador spoke about mutilating their kind, the lead prawn grew quiet and didn't speak a word. Their gamble didn't pay off. They threw all their resources into this last ditch effort and it was clear that these...humans...were content on their culinary destruction. Oh how could it be that the prawns failed to account for human appetite!
Sensing apprehension on behalf of the prawns, the angry chef scolded, "you DONKEYS. You never had a backbone among you!"
Inching closer to the the three prawns, the chef was armed with a knife and steel. Gliding the blade up and down the steel ensuring that the edge was freshly sharp, panic started to set in for the prawns. Imagining all the horrible outcomes and the human delight from gobbling their corpses, the prawns stood frozen with fear.
"The next time you DONUTS decide to attack the human race just remember that our culinary innovation knows no bounds. So PISS OFF back to the sea from whence you came and don't forget who sent you there, Chef Gordon fucking Ramsey." | [Poem]
Into the scene a nuggie stepped
Smiling just a little smile
"A vegan diet you will accept,
Your tyranny has gone for a while."
The humans screamed,
The revolution had 'em wiped out.
But the gardener beamed,
As a pea left a plant's snout.
The meat screamed in agony,
NPK goodness in it's face.
The pea-shooters unleashed their fury,
Clearly the superior race.
"No one loves you", the nuggies spat,
But they were at a loss.
"Bold words coming from someone,
who tastes good with ketchup sauce." | 2021-03-25T14:11:14 | 2021-03-25T12:04:12 | 170 | 36 |
[WP] Heaven is segregated by cause of death. All heart attacks together, all shark attacks together, etc. You die and appear in a nearly empty room. A tired old man looks up at you and says "Finally! Someone else! It's been ages!" | *poof*
I was...elsewhere...and now I am here. Where is here though? My eyes adjusted quickly to the apparent emptiness of where I was. It was just a white expanse of...nothing? I could not help to say it out loud. "Where am I"?
"Heaven's waiting room".
I quickly spun around to find the source of the voice. How they got behind me without my knowing I'll never know. Must be the disorientation. "Excuse me?" I said to them.
"Heaven's waiting room. You died. You're waiting to be processed for admission."
The person speaking to me looked fairly unremarkable. Except for the lightly glowing white robes. Looks like I was wearing one too. "What do you mean by that? Processed? Admission?"
"Well, not everybody qualifies you know. There were rules...somewhere". They drifted off for a bit. "Anyway they have this sorting method. It's all in the pamphlet."
"What rules? What pamphlet?"
"The rules don't matter now, you're dead. The pamphlet is in your pocket."
I patted my robes and sure enough, there was a pamphlet.
*Welcome to HEAVEN* it stated. Big bold type on gold leaf white paper. Nice font. I opened it to read on. It was really just one paragraph, very ornately presented though. 'You are currently in one of Heaven's many waiting rooms awaiting processing for admission. As billions of people have/will have lived, this processing does take time. To streamline the process, processing is done by cause of death, regionally, chronologically, alphabetically (HA standard) and religiously. You have been preliminarily sorted into rooms that you share with persons who shared your cause of death. Thank you for your patience. There are currently (I could not make out the next bit but I think it was an extremely large number.) souls ahead of you.
I looked up at my new companion "Cause of death? First? Why?"
They looked at me with an 'I don't know either' expression.
"So how did we die again?" I asked them.
"Think about it. It will come to you" they said.
I thought for a moment. "I was swimming..."
"Where were you?" he asked. "In the ocean"?
"Yes, the Atlantic. On the coast of..."
"North Carolina"
"At night".
"There was a storm coming and you were swimming to shore"
"And I was stuck by lighting"
"At the exact moment a shark attacked"
"And then..."
"You hit your head on a rock as the storm tossed you ashore."
"That's it! Amazing only two people have ever died that way?"
"NO" I heard a big booming voice call out from nowhere. "That's next door." I think the voice also suppressed a slight laugh.
I looked up to my companion and started to ask, but they cut me off.
"Yes, I was swimming naked too".
Another voice called out from nowhere. "Now processing soul number..." That was a very large number indeed. | "W-Who, Who are you?! Where am I?"
The man grumbles something about young people these days. Then replies "Don't you know?"
Puzzled, I look around. The room was rather bland, a severe contrast to my bedroom. I look out a small window, the only in the room, to see nothing.
"No?.."
"Heaven, Kid, it's not what ya think or what anyone says. They divide you, by how you die."
"I-I didn't die," I say, half believing, half wishing. "I was only sitting in the tree, reading a book. How could I have died?"
"The same as me, you had fallen from the tree."
"Bu-"
"Ah, but not just fallen. You fell from a tree while reading The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, for the 99th time in your life. You were quite lost in its beauty. As you realized you had not had second breakfast, you went to climb the rope ladder. And as fate does his work, you misplaced your foot..."
"Ok, I-"
NO! The book fell, and your dog grabbed it and began chewing it to bits. Angrily, you continued to try to get down. Your other foot slipped and you hung by your weak arms. Naturally, you fell."
"And I-"
"NO! Your Aunt Teresa, the one who knits you ugly sweaters, had come to visit. Forgetting your book, you ran to hide in your room, but tripped on the patio stair."
I roll my eyes. "Let me guess, I am still not dead."
"Actually..., NO! Your dog ran over to you, dropping the book to play catch. Before you could get in a word, your crazy cousin, the child of Teresa, ran you over with his bike."
I began to believe that this was a crazy fever dream. Not just believe, it had to be.
"You then ran back up your tree for safety. But you fell on the last step up. Now, you are dead." | 2021-11-24T12:30:22 | 2021-11-24T12:07:50 | 259 | 126 |
[WP] You use a mirror to summon your evil twin. What comes out... is your good twin.
This ought to be fun. | "So you're saying that you do all your work on time?" I ask again, still half in shock. "And that you've never taken a sick day for no good reason?"
The other me nods his head. He's wearing a three piece suit, tailored, sitting with his legs crossed as though he doesn't have a care in the world. "Speaking of work, I'd appreciate it if you can end the summoning now. I've quite a difficult case due for next week."
I absently toy with the safety on my gun, scraping at the switch, careful not to push it from its current position. It's a horrible habit. Come to think of it, it's one of my many horrible habits. I procrastinate. I slack off. I lie. Sometimes I even summon myself from an alternate universe after an experiment goes horribly wrong, with the intent to murder my own corrupted copy and restore stability.
The portal is a jagged blur in my peripheral vision, pulsing faintly. It started out as a small speck. By now, it's nearly twice my size, and it's still steadily growing. It's calling. For what - or rather, for who - we still aren't sure.
Our researchers had theorized that I, as the test subject, was the source of corruption. By summoning the me of the alternate reality and exterminating myself, they believed that the dimensional rift could be sealed once more, reversing the accidental havoc we'd wreaked with our attempt at cross-dimensional travel. Operation 'Remove - Facsimile, Corrupted', often referred to as simply Re-FleCted.
"Are we done?" the other me asks, inspecting his finger nails. He's supposed to be my evil twin, for all intents and purposes, and yet, next to him…
Next to him, I feel as though I'm the evil one.
I let out a soft, defeated sigh. Fuck. I really hope this doesn't mean what I think it does. "I think that about settles it," I tell him. "Just give me a moment, and I'll send you back."
"Good," other me says simply.
Just as the machine begins to whirr, the lights flickering ever so slightly, I dart a quick glance at the mirror. It's still startling, seeing no reflection where my mind tells me there should be one. But even more startling still is the expression sliding over my double's face, contorting into a crazed, malevolent grin.
"You nearly got me, you lying bastard," I mutter, before whipping around, firing two shots through his abdomen and kicking him square in the chest. My doppelganger's chair flies backwards - right into the maw of the gaping portal. The last thing I see before the rift slams shut is my own face looking back at me, twin pools of darkness where my eyes should be, the remnants of that maniacal smile still stretching my mouth. | "Oh come on"
"What?"
"Not this fucking bullshit"
"What?"
"The mirrors all 'you want to summon your evil twin... psyche, you're the evil twin"
"You actively tried to summon your evil twin?"
"Don't you start too"
"It just seems pretty evil"
"You know what, my only option is to kill you"
"That's not how you use the word only"
"Just...just come over here"
"No"
"Come on"
"Put down the knife"
"It'll be over quickly, I watch a lot of movies"
"In what way...what the fuck man"
"Just let me stab you in the throat"
"How are you not seeing that you're the evil twin"
"It's not the realization, it's the cliche"
"You're going to kill a guy because of a cliche?"
"I've killed for less"
"And yet you still thought that you were the good twin"
"Yeah, I assumed the other guy would be super evil and that I could kill him and eat his heart and gain his power"
"So you're dumb to"
"Says the guy with no knife to the guy with a knife"
"You know I was just born right? I'm like a baby"
"..."
"Come on man"
"I've never killed a baby...I'm just...no I'm fine with this"
"Fuck it I'm going back in the mirror"
"..."
"Well I guess I'm just going to have to eat this duck's heart, the evilest of all animal hearts"
"What is wrong with you?"
"You can stay in the mirror or you can talk like a person but you can't have both"
"..."
"Mirror"
"That's what I thought" | 2022-09-02T19:38:49 | 2016-04-15T16:39:14 | 65 | 10 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell are only so prevalent because they paid for Ad time. Tell me about one of the more obscure after-death locations. | *Ding!*
It’s cloudy again. Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll get some drizzle this afternoon.
*Ding! Ding!*
I like drizzle.
*Ding!*
I used to like thunderstorms too. I’d kill for a good thunderstorm. It might drown out that fucking-
*Ding!*
…noise. It drives me crazy, I swear to god. Things just haven’t been the same since our great cosmic overlord decided that capitalism was the next big thing. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, in Heaven as it is on Earth - or something like that.
*Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!*
The problem is that They decided that services in exchange for money were too mortal for the afterlife. Instead, They chose to reinforce the moral apartheid and went for exchangeable morality points for our actions. Which I hear works just fine up in the Big Two: be a nice person in Heaven and you get points. Be a dick in Hell, points for you. It keeps the balance: the holy stay holy, and the damned stay damned.
The issues arise when you come to us. The Middlers. The lost and forgotten, stuck in no man’s land committing morally ambiguous acts everywhere you look. A melting pot of good, evil and everything in between. We get points if we’re good and points if we’re bad, and double points for all things ambivalent. And that means that fucking sound goes off every time anyone does anything at all: “you get a point - ding! - and you get a point - ding! - everyone gets a point!”
*Ding!*
But that’s not so bad, right? At least we’re all rich. We should be living like emperors, except-
*Ding!*
Do you know what happens when there’s too much currency in circulation?
*Ding!*
Inflation.
*Ding!*
Now, up here we don’t have to worry about food or rent. All-inclusive accommodation is a perk of being dead. But things that make being dead bearable? Crazy expensive.
*Ding! Ding! Ding!*
I’m saving up for a pair of earplugs. | "And here it is Mike! Whatcha think? I decorated it myself" Death said with a low but belly-filled chuckle.
"What the *Hell is this?? This is just... what? A 6 foot by 10 foot office space? What even is this decoration? It's just a picture of you holding a cat similar to those weird portraits back in the 18th century. This has to be a joke." Mike said impatiently as he stared Death in the eyes.
"I mean it's not like we could make any room for you. YOU asked if there was any other place. Plus man, you didn't really do much in your life. You just kinda did the same routine. Oh well man. It's what ya get." Said Death scooting Mike into his office.
"Well.. I guess it isn't too* bad.." as Mike played with the roll of tape and sticky notes in the office | 2017-03-06T11:16:56 | 2017-03-06T10:15:11 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | The gigantic oak door that made up the main entrance to my mansion buckled and broke, flying off its hinges in a shower of splinters. A young knight stepped in, clad in a pragmatic and flexible armor.
"I will not let you take my dragon!" I shrieked, wielding a heavy trident.
"Yes yes, we know."
"He is mine!" Purple flames licked the trident.
"He is a dragon." The knight said, and looked around the large hall. "Also we are fairly certain you have been driven coco in the head. This place stinks by the way, you realize that?"
"He is just misunderstood! I do not need to be rescued!"
"I mean, this is more like an attempted arrest..."
I rushed against him. The coward backed away as I flung small shots of purple flames at him from my trident.
"You will never have him! None of you!"
"Yeah we gathered that when you killed the first, a crap." The young knight blocked some of my bullets with his large kite shield and continued as if he was completely unperturbed, the bastard. "... after you killed the first three people come to try and extract you. Spontaneous magical powers huh. No wonder you are completely unhinged."
"I am NOT CRAZY!"
"Sure, sure. Just any normal princess arent you just."
"Leave now or I will kill you! You will never slay my dragon!"
"We are not here to slay your dragon."
That actually disturbed me. I stared at him with large, shocked eyes.
"That was the original plan sure, but you know. We were working on limited information."
"So why have you disturbed my domicile?"
"Well..." The young knight hesitated. "We are gonna save the dragon? From you?"
I screamed out in fury and flung my arcane powered trident at him full force, he let out another frightful gasp and again raised his shield.
"Oh Crap!" The trident hit straight into his shield, breaking it in four large pieces and sending him up into the air. He hit the wall with a large thud that echoed across the hall, then fell down on the floor. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled and he fell down on one of them.
I sneered at him, looking around for something to finish the job.
"It seems you will be the fourth, sir knight." I said in a mocking tone. "You will never be able to defeat me."
"Me? Maybe not. But you know. I did not actually... ah... come alone."
And then a large number of things occurred simultaneously.
From the back of my mansion I heard a large explosive sound, as if someone had just blown up the back door, and a loud happy rumbling as if something large was being escorted out of the building.
"Oh no! My dodo!" I screamed, but at exactly the same time, windows on both sides of the building shattered as two rather short knights poured in. One of them was a dwarf, and the other were clearly a gnome. They were wearing the same style of armor as the young knight.
"This is a KESA raid!" The gnome yelled. "Surrender now!"
I snarled and turned to set the little bastard on fire, but before I could, his friend shot a strange crossbow bolt at me. As it hit me, the glass head shattered, and I was covered in a strange gas that made me cough and spit. As I was unable to form the arcane power, the gnome rushed at me and threw a very small net at my knees. Then the young knight tackled me to the ground and gagged me.
​
"That eh, stands for Knights Extraction and Special Assault squad." He said, as I struggled and cursed at him trough the restraints.
\-
In the aftermath of the extraction, as the still cursing, still tied up, soon to be ex-princess was being carted away, the KESA squad met for a short after operations debrief.
"Cannot lie to you boss, that was helluva risky." The gnome knight said.
"Yeah maybe. I wanted to confirm she was really you know. Coco in the head." The young knight said, tapping at his temple. "Also it fit with the reports. No immediate attacks, just lots of shouting, then a flashes of purple light. And some more... much more abrupt screams."
The gnome knight grunted but said nothing. The young knight turned to a somewhat tall elf and an equally tall older human wearing the same armor as the rest of them. "How was the dragon?"
The old human shrugged. "Malnourished and scared, but otherwise mostly fine. He should be back with his parents soon."
The young knight lit a small yet finely crafted ivory pipe and shook his head. "Crazy times these. If this was back in my grandfathers days, we would have blamed the dragon for turning the princess mad and executed him on the spot."
"Things arent so simple anymore." The elf knight said. The dwarf knight grunted. "They never were. So boss, what do we do now?"
"What else is there?" The young knight said. "Now we do the paper work." | "Look at that idiot swinging a sword at my playful Gilgamore." I said while looking out of my window from the top floor of the tower into the courtyard.
Every damn time... I don't know why they think they need to *Slaaaaay the Draaagon.* What was this, some Walt Disney princess movie? Did they honestly think that if there was a real dragon threat that it would of killed me by now? My faith in the common sense of man was quickly dwindling.
​
I watched as Gilgamore swiped his claws at the "hero knight in shining armor". He literally cut the poor sap in half at the torso leaving the legs standing there for a brief moment before collapsing to the ground lifeless. It happened so fast you could still see the eyes blinking before remaining open with death. I couldn't help but laugh as I used the usual stone to mark another tally on the wall. That makes fourteen this month and a hundred and twenty seven this year. The deaths were always gruesome yet satisfying to me at this point. Just another useless, dumb sack of meat removed from existence for the betterment of mankind.
​
Gilgamore, now done playing with his new friend, transformed back to his original cute sized self and turned to enter the back door of the castle after swiping the remains of the would be hero into the moat of surrounding lava. It took me three solid months to teach him to clean up after himself. He was a Draconian Hybrid mixed with the legendary Fae dragon species, the smallest of their kind, and the Germanic Puk species. He had a silver colored hyde, an off white underbelly, and *usually* stood about a foot tall and had a wing span of almost three feet His tail was just as long as his body easily making him around two feet long. He liked to transform into a much larger dragon resembling the poisonous Aspis dragon when "visitors" came by with the hopes to leave carrying a beautiful princess in their arms through smoke and flames. He was rather protective but he only meant good with each interaction. He was born into this castle from an egg I received from a local merchant that came by about once a week. Mervin was a kind fellow who Gilgamore took a liking too shortly after hatching. I bought the egg out of sheer hunger from Merv about a year ago. I remember thinking back then that it would make for a great breakfast omelette with the bear sausage I purchased recently. To my pleasant surprise, Gilgamore was born from the egg the next morning as it was sitting by the coal oven. Since then, I have been raising him as my pet.
​
Shortly after my little GeGe cleaned up his mess I saw the lamp light up at the end of the rope bridge that hung over the lava. It was Merv. But this time I saw him standing there with another figure. I guess GeGe noticed it at the last second as I saw him quickly turn and run dow the hall and head towards the front castle door to greet Merv and his friend. As the two walked across the bridge, light broke through the clouds and I could start to see the familiar face of our friend. He was a lively sixty seven year old merchant that would always carry rare goodies in a rucksack. He had peppered, long hair just past his shoulders and always had on cargo shorts and a wife beater with socks that came up to his knees that jutted out from his homemade sandals. The clouds soon devoured any light that tried to shine through right before I could get a good look at the other person accompanying him. Halfway down the stairs I heard him ringing the bell by the rope that hung next to the main door.
​
​ | 2019-01-09T11:21:07 | 2019-01-09T10:46:09 | 72 | 38 |
[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! | To the Diary;
Hello Light, good to see you again. It's been a long time. I'd almost forgotten. It's weird writing real words again after so long. I'd gotten by with only Braille for the longest time.
But yeah it's been a crazy 2 years. Honestly, I'm terrified.
Most people on Earth died in the Great Blinding, or the "The Rapture" as we call it here. People wandering around, unable to do anything, stuck miles away from home. How could they live?
I would have likely been 1 of them, if I wasn't at home married to a blind woman. We never really cared for each other before, but after, she was the only reason I continued to live. I guess she kept me alive out of obligation; more likely it was to ward off insanity.
Honestly, the blind people are the only "normal" ones left now.
All the rest are....something else.
You hear them at night sometimes.....just shuffling around.
They adapted, but there was a cost.
I can.....see them now....with my own eyes...
I don't like it....
Honestly, the words don't bother me.
"DON'T TELL THEM YOU CAN SEE."
It's written everywhere on everything. I suppose I'm the only person alive who can see them.
But they don't scare me.
The people who can't see, the ones who lived, they scare me....
It's like a friend from before wrote me the advice. I'll follow it as long as I can.
Thanks for letting me write to you again Diary.
My wife's been uneasy lately so I can't talk to her.
I suppose fighting off the "new blind" takes a toll on her.
'Til next time.
Bye. | 2022-10-22T00:27:31 | 2019-08-26T10:20:37 | 37 | 14 |
[WP] Turns out that the main thing that sets humanity apart isn't speed, or violence, or even art. No, what sets humanity apart from all other space-faring life is *not being a crab*. | This is a challenge where I'll spend 30-some days writing a micro-story based on a combination of whatever catches my eye at r/writingprompts that day plus the theme of the day as predetermined by a list prebuilt out of my friends' suggestions.
Today's theme is "The main character is tied up" and the writing prompt is "Turns out that the main thing that sets humanity apart isn't speed, or violence, or even art. No, what sets humanity apart from all other space-faring life is *not being a crab*."
---
**The Galactic Omnipaedia, Data-bank 218894, Entry 37894, "Black-Claw"**
Black-Claw was arguably (see: Data-bank 218576, Entry 7931, "Galactic-wide polls on pirates, controversies") the most infamous pirate in the history of the Galaxy post-FTL-discovery and before the advancements in FTL and scanning technology have made piracy an inefficient vocation. Her spaceship, the Scarlet Nebula (other ships captained by Black-Claw include the Deep Pulsar and an unnamed asteroid she rigged into a spacefaring vessel), brought fear into the hearts of any who read its unique signature broadcast to their scanners. The crew of the Nebula was comprised of battle-hardened veterans, their carapaces reinforced and their claws sharpened with bleeding-edge materials developed across the Galaxy (Black-Claw herself was known to be partial to old-school coatings of thin diamond dust). They had built up a reputation of a force that merchant vessels would rather just simply surrender to immediately - while military fleets sent after it were either decimated or evaded.
Black-Claw died in 478 FTLE after an encounter with Ladybug, a small Human (see: Data-bank 212003, Entry 28, "Humans") exploration vessel that they have decided to board.
For more information directly related to Black-Claw see Data-bank 218894, Entries 37895 through 37917.
*Comments:*
  *xXx_wormhole_prober_201_xXx:* i would let her plunder my booty if u know what i mean
  *krabsty_000:* @xXx_wormhole_prober_201_xXx Do men think of anything else? That woman killed hundreds of people!
  *xXx_wormhole_prober_201_xXx:* @krabsty_000 do u have a bf i sent you a dm ;>
**The Galactic Omnipaedia, Data-bank 212003, Entry 28, "Humans"**
Humans are a special species among the starfaring ones of the Galaxy. Due to their world uniquely not being fully submerged after a global warming event at the time the FTL technology has been made available to sentient civilizations (see: Data-bank 120, Entry 1, "The Great Gift" and Data-bank 120, Entry 12, "Beginning of the FTL Era"), they have not yet evolved into the ultimate physiology. As such, they possess many differences to an average member of a sentient race, including but not limited to: endoskeletons exoskeletons, biped locomotion, high profile, multiple fine manipulators. For more detailed information, consult the rest of Data-bank 212003.
*Comments:*
  *krabsty_000:* Wow, humans are *weird*. I've read a bit of the databank and... they have something called "hair" and they make "haircuts" out of it? Some have "beards"???
  *DongusMaximus:* @krabsty_000 Watch who you call weird carapace-face
  *krabsty_000:* @DongusMaximus How does a human even access the Omni, I thought you don't have the organs for that?
**The Galactic Omnipaedia, Data-bank 218894, Entry 37915, "Account of Yoseph, cook aboard the Ladybug during the Scarlet Nebula's attack (full audio)"**
*Some words were automatically removed because of your expletive language settings. You can change these settings in your Account Preferences.*
"Yeah so when those guys attacked I thought we were [beep]. I mean, I haven't flown much before but I heard the tales about her! We didn't have much loot worth taking, we were just explorers, so she'd probably just kill us to save everyone the trouble. So they accepted our surrender, yeah, but when they beamed aboard the Ladybug they were kinda... well, the universal translator thingie said they were "confused" so I guess they never saw a human before. Makes sense with how you're all crabs. Still can't wrap my head around that one, to be honest. How did that happen?
Anyway. So they kinda just... put some kind of a gel on us. I read about it later, it's like, it's supposed to harden and calcify chitin joints, right? So they tried tying us up, basically. Well, problem for them is we don't have much in the way of that stuff on the outside. I mean, the [beep] was a [beep] to get out of my hair, but that's about it. So me and the boys waited till the little fellows - sorry, you people really are little, like, c'mon, I could crush you with my boot if you didn't have those shells, sorry if that was rude - we waited till the little [beep] got out of the hold they put us in and went off to look for stuff and we just... stood up. They left our laser guns with us - didn't recognise the guns, makes sense with the handles being completely different from yours - so we just kinda went blasting.
I shot Black-Claw myself, I think. I'm not racist, but you [beep] all look the same to me. No offence. She snipped off my finger though, quick little [beep]. Hurt like a [beep]. But then I got her and she didn't have a shield on! How do you even fight each other? ...Oh, you rely on your carapaces. And you don't use laser weapons? Huh. Interesting.
Anyway, apparently she should have known not to mess with us humans. We're pretty ferocious, you know."
*Comments:*
  *krabsty_000:* TW: Slurs. Learned that the hard way after disabling the filter for research.
**The Galactic Omnipaedia, Data-bank 218894, Entry 37917, "Consequences of Black-Claw's death"**
After Black-Claw's death was made famous through Galactic media (see full list of articles at the bottom), piracy began declining more rapidly, already on the wane due to technological and astropolitical changes. Several warlords across the Galaxy have started seeking out the services of Human mercenaries.
In 480 FTLE Humans have begun their large-scale invasion of the rest of the Galaxy. According to sources within the Human sector, the invasion has been largely inspired by the testimony of a Human involved in the fight (see Data-bank 218894, Entry 37915, "Account of Yoseph, cook aboard the Ladybug during the Scarlet Nebula's attack"). For more information on the invasion, see Data-bank 7003.
*Comments have been disabled for this article.* | Translated from Ulgakian by AugustAllSummer
“Damnit Ulgock-Eta-5!” I said looking at my green partner. “Why THE HELL is this not working?”
“I don’t know Sir,” he whined to me with his cowardly voice, “Crab Fleet Command received intelligence that this world’s most common language is called English-“
“And so it must be. Now why is our translator broken?”
Ulgock-Eta-5 bowed his head in submission, with fear in his eyes.
“Is it possible… Well is it possible-” he spoke - so quiet it was almost a whisper.
“Is WHAT possible?”
“…that Crab Fleet Command mistranslated the language?”
Pathetic. His stupidity is so vast that he cannot even realize it. I could court marshall him for even questioning a blue crab like me, but to question Crab Fleet Command… Well he’s lucky that I’m tolerant of his kind.
“Look here Greenie,” I snarled at him. “I needed an engineer and I took a big risk accepting someone of your color.”
I paused, knowing that he would try to speak.
“I thank you for-“
I lunged at him. He squealed. Although the greens are bigger than us blues they are cowardly. I grabbed his left arm with mine and pinned him against the wall.
“Do. Not. Interrupt me.” I utterted every word with such clarity it would strike fear into even the biggest red crabs, a green like him must have been terrified.
He needs to learn, he may constitutionally have the same rights as me. But he is not the same. I may tolerate the greens and the reds, but they are not blue. They are not pure.
“Now fix the translator.” I snarled at him. “Or you will not ever leave your mammaltailed homeworld ever again.”
He was frozen in fear. Looking down at me as I held him in place.
“NOW!” I commanded.
“Yes sir.” He squealed.
I released him. He is as weak as he is fearful. He scampered towards our chrome translation machine and picked up a wrench.
“Reds are great warriors.” I spoke to myself as if I was alone. “If we can get this planetary colony to pledge allegiance to Crab Fleet we could increase our galactic presence significantly. I may even be promoted to Admiral.”
I glanced over at Ulgock-Eta-5 and he was dumbfounded. Blue technology must be too complicated for greens. I doubted he would be able to fix it at all. Then I looked at the monitor, four red crabs had gathered around our ship, waiting for us. It was time.
“It seems that translations might not be possible - or needed for that matter.”
I approached our exit ramp, and began to activate it.
“Sir, we don’t know if this colony is hostile.” I heard behind me.
“Do not question me.” I scolded. “You saw their satellite systems, this is an intelligent colony. They know it is not in their best interest to seek conflict with a space traveler. I will use the universal sign of peace. The Left-Right-Left-Right-Pinch-Pinch.”
“Please be careful Sir.”
I scoffed at him. I knew I was going to be fine. To attempt to harm a blue crab is to court death. All reds know that.
I released our exit ramp and it slowly lowered. Once it got to the ground I opened the door and walked majestically down to the surrounding reds and onto the sea floor. I began my peace dance. I moved my body to the left. Then to the right. To the left once more. And finally to the right back to where I started. I pinched my right claw above my head, and then my left claw. They should have known I came in peace.
But they came forth.
They came forth and began to grab me.
I was helpless.
Against a single red crab I could possibly put up a fight, but FOUR. I tried to run back to the ship, but they were too fast. They grabbed me; I screamed. They turned me upright and pinned me on my back. Savages. All I could do was look up at them as they tried to pry me open.
Then a blade erupted from the shell of red to my left. And the three others were pushed away from me. Ulgock-Eta-5 had come to my rescue. That weakling, that coward, had come to take on four red crabs - for me. He tried to retrieve his blade from the shell of the crab he killed. But it was stuck. And the three remaining red crabs had just found their footing.
“Get in the ship, I’ll cover you.” He yelled to me, pushing back two of the reds.
So I ran up to the ship, but the third red crab had caught up to me and started pulling at me. I used all my strength, and somehow I pushed that brute off the side of the ramp, and he landed on his back. Immobile.
I continued upwards and into the ship. I began the process of closing the door. Ulgock-Eta-5 was almost up. He was right there. But one of the reds caught up to him.
“Ulgock-Eta-1, help!”
I looked at Ulgock-Eta-5, he was helpless. Then I looked at the door’s control panel.
I chose to leave him.
I hovered my hand over the panel - but I couldn’t do it.
I reached out and grabbed Ulgock-Eta-5 and pulled on him. Our combined might was enough to pull him free from the red. Once free, he quickly pushed the red down the ramp. Then we ran inside the ship, closing the door behind us.
“Thank you brother.” He huffed to me, out of breath.
“Captain!” I snarled at him.
“Thank you Captain.” He mumbled, looking at the floor.
“I suppose I should thank you as well.”
He raised his head and smiled at me.
“Don’t expect me to do it again.” I told him.
I pulled the ramp up through the control panel and initiated the launch sequence.
“These reds are more savage than those on Ursalia.” He stammered. “What will we do?”
The ship began taking off, within seconds we were in outer space.
“I will alert Crab Fleet Command, and we will invade. We will take their loyalty by force.”
Then the both of us went silent. There was a long trip ahead. | 2022-08-15T17:39:38 | 2022-08-15T17:31:38 | 271 | 132 |
[WP] "Sorry sir, but unfortunately you do not qualify for eternal salvation in our wing, I have compiled a list of other heavens, hells and limbos you are eligible for. Of course, you could always try your luck with the wheel of reincarnation." | "But... This is the one I've always wanted!" I was dumbfounded. The woman in front of me peered at me with sympathetic eyes.
"I'm sorry, sir. You did not qualify. The metrics are quite clear, and you did not come close to the requirements."
I was a good person. I helped everyone I could, I never stole, I gave to the poor, I brought reusable bags to the grocery store. How could I not qualify? I wasn't asking for the saintly wing. I wasn't asking for the billionaire-turned-special-ed-teacher after gifting the billions to the needy wing. This was the wing *Jake* was in. Of all people. He wasn't why I wanted to go in of course but really, Jake? He complained about paper straws and didn't even give a dollar to St Jude's at the store.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, I just don't understand, this is the one wing I'm interested in and I'm just not interested in..." I look at the paper and sigh. "*Justicars for Mother Earth...*" I cringe a bit. That's worse than us naming our club Envirothon in high school.
"I apologize, there is only an appeals process for those who meet a certain threshold and you did not meet it." She shakes her head. "Maybe you'd be interested in this wing?" She points at one a bit lower on the list. "It's technically a hell but many do choose it."
I blink, looking at the name. *Afterlife Feline Partnerships*. "....What? No, I want to be part of this one. I don't see why I can't be in the wing with all the dogs. It doesn't make any sense!"
She sighs and brings up a checklist on her computer screen. "It says here you have given a canine a treat 0 of 10 times, shaken a canine's paw 0 of 1 time, said 'Aww big stretch!' 1 of the required 30 times, and, most egregious, have only given 3 of the required 100 pets. You have only initiated 10 of 100 required tail wags. There are many more entries here that show you as having zero progress, which are based on the years you have lived, and thus you are denied. I am sorry. You will need to either choose a different wing or try again." The woman seems to be ready for her required break.
I sniff sadly. "But... I was allergic on earth. I loved dogs I just couldn't ever have one."
"I'm sorry sir. That is not one of our covered exceptions."
I sigh and look at the paper. I remember Stanley and the fun we had, the long nights and those times he stole my carrot cake. "Alright. Afterlife Feline Partnership it is." | Well what are my options?
There’s the 8th dead world. Super private community. Absolutely no contact outside. You can’t get out of that one. Very peaceful and super chill. Can get a little full.
On the opposite side there is the first dead world. That one’s pretty fun. That’s the ghost world. You can still move objects, appear to the living whenever you like and scare the shit out of people.
Now if you want to keep your past life only a little better you do qualify for the Egyptian afterlife with your interest and respect four ancient Egypt and their gods.
Same job, job earth only everything that sucks about it is gone.
Valhalla always a good time but you don’t qualify for that one.
For underworlds we have the old Caanan one. Underground cave life. Now also covers Greece and Roman being how that came from the Caanan religion. Food choices aren’t so great being clay and all.
Other underworld options…
About that Egyptian world, what do you mean by everything that hat sucks is gone? I mean it would be nice to keep the same lifestyle.
Well let look at your records. Ah yes for you that would be no mornings, no traffic, no driving, favorite foods and drinks on hand, dream body without having to diet, state of the art gym with no waiting for machines, all of your deceased pets will be with you, nice house with a pool and dishwasher? Odd request but ok.
Well that sounds like heaven.
Yeah a lot of people who qualify go for that one. Step over here and old Anubis will take you to Osiris and Isis. Don’t forget about the free chariot rides with RA. Available every day. | 2022-07-27T23:25:23 | 2022-07-27T19:43:19 | 41 | 19 |
[WP]The knight rubbed his eyes in surprise. The great dragon, slayer of armies, appeared to be a young woman with wings. The dragon was equally shocked. "You're the great knight? You're like.....fifteen." "I'm EIGHTEEN....In November" | "You're a child!"
"Yeah? Well... you don't look much older than me!"
"Excuse you! I AM eighteen! I've been a grown woman for nine years!"
"Dragons reach maturity at nine?"
"Well... no. Most don't. But I was very mature for my age."
Damian rolled his eyes. How had this petulant girl not much older than him managed to destroy the entire third army of the Galand Empire? He'd been expecting an epic fight with a massive dragon. His armor had been enchanted by a wizard to resist heat. His sword could fell a tree in a single swing! He couldn't attack this woman, even if she was the destroyer of kingdoms, bane of knights, wrath of satan, and other intimidating titles.
Just then, she disappeared from in front of him and reappeared at his side, he hand clenched in a fist.
"You shouldn't let your guard down."
She punched Damian in the side and sent him flying. He tumbled on the ground and came to a stop on his back. His helmet had been thrown away so he was staring at the massive cave ceiling. The dragon girl appeared above him and slammed a fist down on him. Damian just managed to roll out of the way, but her punch had left a small crater.
"Ok. Not just some girl..." Damian said to himself as he rolled to his feet and drew his arming sword.
She struck him again, but Damian was ready this time. He caught her blow with his enchanted shield. The force of the attack cracked the earth beneath his feet, but the enchantments the wizard had given him were strong. He swung his sword, but it passed through air. The girl appeared again near the ceiling, her wings spread wide to let her hover. The girl put her hands together, palms towards him, and unleashed a gout of white hot fire. The flames were hot enough to melt stone and incinerate an entire forest, but when the torrent was released, Damian stood in the same spot. Aside from the edges of his tabard being slightly singed, he appeared unharmed.
"Not possible!" The dragon girl screamed.
"What's the matter? That wasn't your finishing move, was it?"
The dragon girl growled at the young boy. How DARE he mock her! She dove for him, intending to rip his throat out with her claws. The boy took a strange stance with his sword. He wouldn't be fast enough, but then, he did the unthinkable. He threw the sword at her. Her eyes grew wide. It was too late to teleport. She tried to dodge, but the sword hit her wing and tore the membrane. The dragon girl fell like a rock. The pain was unbearable. She'd never been hurt like this before. The last thing she remembered seeing was the knight running after her, his arms outstretched as if to catch her.
Damian swore as he saw the girl falling. Without thinking, Damian ran after her. Just before she hit the ground, Damian leapt and caught her mid-air, landing on his knees. The metal sparked as he slid across the cavern floor. They came to a stop and Damian had to set her down. She was a lot heavier than he was expecting. Blood was pumping fast from the wound.
"Why is it bleeding so much!"
Damian reached for his arcana and drew a symbol in the air. He swiped his hand through the symbol and his palm started flowing green. He put his hand on the wound. The blood stopped pouring out and the wound sealed itself nicely. It would still take time for her to recover and she wouldn't be flying for a while, but at that moment, Damian realized what he'd just done.
"Why did I waste my arcana healing a girl I'm just going to kill?"
Damian sighed and shook his head. He went and found his sword. Damian raised the blade over his head and prepared to end the beast once and for all. But as he swung the sword down, he stopped short, his hands trembling. He couldn't do it. Every time he tried to end her, he saw his sister. There was almost no resemblance. His sister was a few years younger. Where his family had dark hair and eyes and light skin, she had scarlet hair, golden eyes, and olive skin. Despite that, he kept imagining his sister in her place. Lying there, unconscious, the dragon woman was completely helpless. Damian had killed before, but only in battle or self-defense. He'd never just executed someone that couldn't fight back.
"Dammit," he whispered to himself.
Damian dug a coil of enchanted rope from his backpack and tied the girl up. When she woke up, he would confront her and get to the bottom of this mess. Then he would decide whether or not he would be her executioner. | In the summer of his Eighteenth year, Breneric Ravenbeard, Heir to the throne of Merician, was dispatched by his father to intervene in the matter of a Dragon bothering the villages.
However, the meeting was not straightforward. Approaching the cave where the dragon had taken shelter, Breneric drew his sword. Within the walls of the cave, Breneric advanced slowly, his eyes adjusting to the gloom.
"And what", a sultry, and bemused, voice rang out "do you expect to do with that? Come into the light, oh brave warrior, that I can-"
She stopped mid-sentence, caught off-guard by the youth of her would-be assailant.
"So this", Bren said, "is what a dragon looks like? I expected something more akin to the paintings."
What he meant, dear reader, is that our dragon clothed herself in a female form, with appropriately-sized wings. "One learns to blend in, my lad," the Dragon-lady said. "I'm more concerned that they sent a stripling of what, Fifteen winters, to end me?"
"SEVENTEEN", Bren was quick to correct her. "And you'll address me no Stripling! I am Breneric Ravenbeard, Heir to the throne of Merician, Son of the Scion of Zachaerion, I am Swarthenboch, I am-"
The dragon-lady rolled her eyes. "Keeper of the keys, watcher on the walls, by my wings these titles get more ridiculous every Hang on a minute, did you mention Zachaerion? And the Swarthenboch?"
Bren grinned Broadly. "Indeed I did! My father is Simonius Ravenbeard, Seventeenth Lord of Merician, that Slew the beast Gharak-Palath!"
The Dragon-lady took a moment to digest this. This... Child, a Swarthenboch? Of the line of Zachaerion? Not that the line were so old as to be of note for any reason of earth-shattering importance, but- "Be that as it may, Princeling, know that I have fought alongside the first Queen of Merician, Aubrey Raven, against the daughter of Gharak-Palath. Can it really be thirteen human generations ago? How Time flies."
She was distracted a moment, as she stared into the distance. "Still!" She snapped back to attention, "I will entertain the emissary of the Swarthenboch. What have you to say, Prince of Merician?"
"I was dispatched," Bren said, "to investigate the reports of a dragon bothering the villages hereabout."
"Sport, no more." the Dragon-lady smiled. "I do hope that I haven't accidentally killed any of those villagers, I've thoughtlessly slain more than my share in life."
"I don't care for your disdain toward human life, Madam Dragon", Bren said, feeling somewhat bolder.
"Neither do I," the Dragon-lady replied. "Oh, I tire of these games! Put away your sword, lad, and direct me the general direction of your father's castle. I would speak with the King myself. Surely a Swarthenboch would find a use for a dragon. Even now, who knows if the Orc Hordes of the West are amassing again?"
Bren didn't entirely trust the beast, but pointed her toward the castle. And for her part, she upheld her side of the bargain, offering her service as penance for any inadvertent deaths.
But the legend of the Dragon-lady, and the tale of Rhatoul-Palath, are stories for another time... | 2020-02-05T05:35:25 | 2020-02-05T04:59:15 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a city full of people with powers (telekinesis, electro kinesis, sensors, etc) and everyone is ranked according to how powerful they but they can kill someone of higher rank and obtain their rank. You are rank #1 but no one knows what your power is
Edit: Thank you all so much for submitting your stories. please do not stop posting and i will not stop reading. my favourites so far have been the coinflip/luck duo and the weak telekinetic that goes for the brain lol love all the spins on powers everyone has | No one ever realized I didn't have a power.
Number two is a telepath. I met him in a bar once, but I could feel his touch on my mind all the way down the street. It was light, I would never have felt it if he'd only been looking, but when you're used to being a pawn you learn to see when you're being played with. He wanted me in that bar, and I complied. If he was going to kill me, I couldn't have stopped him at that point anyway. I asked him in there, "Why don't you kill me? No one would stop you." He laughed, and downed the remainder of his cup. "No one wants to be first, kiddo. No one with half a shot at getting there, anyway." His knowing smile told me everything it needed to. I was a tool. A figurehead. I asked him what he wanted from me and he gave me a list of people who needed to be out of the city by next Sunday. He walked out, and I did as I was told.
When they think you're more powerful than the strongest soldiers the city state has to offer, they don't question your authority. You say something happens and it does.
Number six is an empath, though I don't think she got her number on strength of power. It's the connections that did it. She told me once she was glad that number one was a good man, or the city'd be even worse off than it already is. I'm sure I could be a bad one if I had the inclination, it's only the top hundred or so I really have to keep happy. I've just never wanted to. I asked her if that was why she'd fallen in love with me and she gave me the coldest, most dangerous laugh I've ever heard.
"You're funny," she said.
We both know damn well it's me who loves her, and we both know equally well that I have no chance. Which doesn't stop her from using me for all I'm worth.
I'm not like the rest of the ten. I didn't kill to be here. Fate crowned me king at birth, and I've yet to figure out what in God's name it was thinking.
Number four is a power thief. He's the one who illuminated the mystery of my continued kinghood for me, down beneath the earth in a room full of tiny glass bottles and too much red to be comforting. He downed one of the bottles and settled against a shelf as his body changed. Creepy, that one.
"I'm not going to cut you open and take your blood," he said with about as much care as he'd give the weather. "Do you know why?"
"Enlighten me."
"Because then I'd have to run the city. I'd have to appease Lamier and Asmar and the whole nest full of snakes. It would be a chronic waste of time, and I'd hardly be able to balance it with my own projects. No no, you can keep your seat and your secrets. We serpents wouldn't touch your job with a ten foot pole."
I am a pawn masquerading as king, a powerless man ruling the powerful, a good man with no convictions. But I am, if nothing else, an actor. If no one sees the contradictions... Well, who am I to tell that they are there? | *Number 1 -- ranked number 1 for 20 consecutive years today, and nobody has even come close to usurping me. Do you know why? Because while all the powerless, scum-dwelling peasants are fighting each other with knives for scraps, and those of the middle and upper classes are all tearing each other apart to rise through the ranks, I am in a class of my own. The truth is, my power is the weakest, least extravagant power imaginable. But, it is also the most powerful. My power is subtle, discrete, and soft-spoken. Nobody knows what it is, and it is because of that discretion that I have grown so great. For 20 years, I have been number 1 for one reason. Belief. I have the power of mass, psychic hypnotism. For 20 years, the people of this city have believed the lie that I am God incarnate because I have thrust it upon their conscious minds. And so too they believe the greatest lie this city maintains -- that the list exists at all.*
*They worship me. I am an idol and an icon, and those who have been reduced to icons have been exalted beyond humanity. In other words, no one dares touch me. I am naked. Here I stand with no armor in the midst a field of warring titans, and yet I have been unscathed all this time.*
*The power of belief is as strong and permanent as any iron, if not stronger. The motto I have made -- and made well-known -- for this city is "Strong as Iron." They believe it is about them. But underneath, on the hidden layer they cannot see, it is about the only that matters. It is about me. The holder of the key to faith. The rope that holds the cargo in place. The iron that is stronger than iron.*
These were the final thoughts of the monarch before they captured him. Before they raided his office and dismantled 20 years of a rock-solid faith. Before they tied him to a post with rifles to his face. Those were his final thoughts. And these were his final words: "how did you know?"
And the people replied: "even iron can melt."
| 2014-12-18T12:44:55 | 2014-12-18T11:44:55 | 670 | 68 |
[WP] You discover a library with a biography for everyone on Earth. While reading your own, you notice that whenever someone else is mentioned, there's a footnote showing where you can find their biography. Its odd how someone who was only a sentence in your book has a whole chapter for you. | I ran my finger along the frayed volumes until I found the single, ancient tome I was searching for. As I plucked it from its shelf, a plume of dust exploded around me, forcing me to step back, coughing and wheezing. I half expected a wizard to appear as the ephemeral fog settled on the ground. There was nothing there, of course, apart from the ornately carved bookshelf.
The book was a burnt brown and whilst still a thick volume, was noticeably lighter than my own had been. My own... *my own book of death*. A biography that charted my life up to now. Up to stumbling upon the Library of Threads and closing the door after me, accidentally locking myself inside.
I knew why the entries stopped where they did, after me finding the library. *I knew I wasn't getting out of here*. There was only one door, and it wouldn't budge no matter how hard I rammed my shoulder against it.
The book in my hands had that musty, comforting smell all old books tend to have. I blinked back my tears, determined to distract myself from my rumbling stomach and dry throat.
I placed the book down on the floor and sat in front of it, legs folded, flipping it open to the appendix. Thousands of names were listed. Dozens of other *Karens*, even. It took a moment to find my surname.
There must have been a mistake. *Hundreds of pages were attributed to me*. This person that I couldn't even recall meeting, who had only had a single line in my own book, had hundreds of pages on me. It must be a different Karen that shared my surname.
*It wasn't.*
I began to read.
>"Mind if I join you?" said Karen, as she approached the building's ledge. The fading sun cast a pastel orange over the street below, softening the city's imperfections, and turning the more pleasing sights into *objet d'art*.
>The man glanced over his shoulder. He was pale, and there was a sheen over his face as if he was ill. Karen didn't notice.
>"Free world," he said, shrugging.
>The concrete felt cold and rough under Karen as she sat down next to him. She swung her legs around, so that they dangled besides his.
>"Karen, by the way," she said, before waiting for a response that didn't come.
>"Not the best spot for fishing," she attempted, lighting a cigarette. She offered the box to the man; he raised a hand and shook his head.
>"You don't mind if I do?" she said, already puffing a hazy mist over the city. "Chilly up here."
>For a while, they sat silently watching the beams of the headlights sail by far below. Then, the man spoke.
>"You ever think about leaning forward and"--he clapped his hands--"*splat*?"
>"*Splat?*" Karen frowned. "No, not really. Maybe of falling in general, occasionally. Of what the wind would feel like against my face, and that rush you'd get for a few seconds. I wonder what pose I'd do... Superman, I guess. It's the classic."
>"I think about it sometimes."
>"...had a rough day?"
>The man sighed. "Yeah. I got some bad news."
>"Sorry to hear that."
>"Thanks."
>Karen took another puff.
>"So. What news?"
>"... got a problem with my liver."
>"Oh, what kinda problem?"
>"Cancer."
>"Oh." Karen turned and looked at the man. She finally noticed how pale he looked. How worn out. Like a piece of elastic stretched to the point of tearing. Then she noticed his hands. The silver band around his finger.
>"You've not told her yet?"
>The man looked at Karen, then down at his ring. "No. I was just... *I don't know*."
>"Got kids?"
>"Yeah. Little girl," he said proudly. He opened his jacket and pulled out his wallet. There was a picture of a kid, couldn't have been more than six, grinning broadly.
>"She's cute."
>"Takes after her pop," the man joked.
>"If you say so!"
>"It's just... it'll be hard for them, you know. To watch a slow decline. All the treatments. All the hope, you know? It'll just make it worse in the end."
>"Be harder losing a father when they might not have to."
>"... maybe."
>"You kidding? You can't really think-"
>He shook his head. "I don't know."
>"If I was your daughter, I sure as hell would want my pop to fight for me. To never give up on me. It's what dads do."
>Karen patted him on his back, then glanced at her watch. "Shit, I got to get back to work. See you around."
I felt scolding tears spill down my cheeks as I flicked forward a few pages.
He told them.
His wife held his hand as he entered the hospital to begin chemotherapy.
I skipped a few more. Then a few hundred. I landed on, and read, the entire chapter on his daughter's graduation. He was so proud. He was somehow prouder still, on the day he walked her down the aisle.
Then, I came across another section with my name in it. My hands began to tremble as I read.
>Perhaps it was serendipity that drew David to the Thread Library, and to Karen.
>Perhaps it was simply fate that allowed David to save Karen, this time around.
>"Hello? Is anyone here?" he yelled as he stepped inside.
>Fate that he found her sitting there, weeping, in front of the ancient tome. That he was able to take her hand and lead her out of the library.
My hands trembled as I closed the book and held my breath.
*Hoping.*
*Praying.*
...
...
...
"Hello? Is anyone here?"
| I wasn't what I'd call the best person. I suffered many a malady in my life, mostly concerning the headcase. I spent many hours consumed in a desire to only be able to unravel the people closest to me, to figure out what they truly thought of me, to never be open to any sort of surprises. I maintained relationships, but they were never truly healthy, other broken people that needed the pieces picked up, who could pick up some of mine. Who could, for a moment, make me feel like a puzzle to be solved, not a broken glass to be discarded, while the 'half-full'/'half-empty' contents seeped in to the hardwood. Trust was a rare commodity, genuine people were failing banks and every intention was wrapped in a barbed wire of half-truths.
I pored over this data that was titled 'Dunn, E.' It spoke greatly of my family situation, a father always wrapped up in work, a mother who was too drained. It spoke of an average life at school. There were bricks of space devoted to each and every person, the regrets I held and the love I shared; the things I was thankful for and the things that turned my stomach.
It spoke of my brief stint through various part-time jobs, how I would turn off my brain and let the ennui run its course as I slipstreamed behind other cars in a brown box-truck. I spoke with every client I delivered to, though a lot of them simply faded out of my memory as time went on. Sure, I'd see the regulars and chat, and laugh. The moment I left, however, the visage of a happy conversationalist turned to one of yet another dour worker.
I discovered soon after that you could cross-reference chapters, read their interpretation alongside yours. Pure curiosity took over, I felt I had all the time in the world. John Price was an entrepreneur, a person ordering doo-dads and tools that confused me. I found myself closing the book when I was 'inspiration, drive to never give up, a drive to succeed'. Fuck you too, John; jobs are hard to come by.
Vanessa and Abby Schulz, they subscribed to those boxes. 'Three curated types of coffee', 'Four bottles of wine tailored to you'. They were chatty and charismatic, sisters living a dream life in an apartment block. They'd always compliment me, too, want to talk, add me on every social media platform, hang out. I wasn't surprised to see I hadn't been mentioned at all, a failed product on their monthly delivery of revelers and fucktoys.
My chapter had ended on a semi somber note. I recalled Christine. "An older lady with a kind heart. I enjoyed talking to her, though the age gap was wide."
I felt almost filthy gazing in to her tale. It was probably harrowing, full of life and vibrancy, thousands upon thousands of pages that would make the epics of Tolkien blush. I skipped right to the end.
"She fell ill some time after Harold passed[16:Blythe, H.][17], and even moving across the country never seemed to solve her problems." The chapter began. A feeling of dread washed over me, something I'd never stopped to think of when her medicine stopped coming.
"Daily injections and inhalers. Pills for breakfast, lunch, and bedtime. Routines filled with news and glurge she never truly paid attention to. She only found some solace in Thursdays, when her delivery would arrive at around 5 PM."
Did it mean so much to her to simply see a human face? She always seemed so joyful.
"Her only son, Dean[Blythe, D.] lived across the country, hardly able to care for himself. She saw a lot of her family in this young man. Long-haired and funny, a smile so genuine. She would always invite him in for coffee, and reminisce as she went to bed that night that she had a friend who would listen to an old lady's ramblings about the bustle of New York, her past as a teacher, how she met her husband over a slippery track of Sinatra at a gala event. When she got her deliveries, she did not feel like the scary witch that all of the children were afraid of, or the out-of-touch lady that people were content to shrug off. She felt like Christine. Not young, not old, but simply someone who existed. Eddy[Dunn, E.] was a real gentleman, a chivalrous person in her eyes. A genuine person with genuine care in his heart."
I felt time slow, my head throb as tears welled up in my eyes. I returned to my entry, the last page.
"In his last moments, Edward had lost hope. The world was cruel and he was but a pawn, a mixture of chemicals and processes. He was bitter at his siblings who only saw his failures, he bemoaned his father and apologized to his therapist. There would be many people at his funeral, smiles he brought to faces, warmth he brought to hearts, passing thoughts not entered in this book." | 2017-12-04T04:37:00 | 2017-12-04T02:09:03 | 3,652 | 237 |
[WP] An ancient god "cursed" you with immortality, expecting you to watch the Sun swallow the Earth. When that day comes 7.6 billion years into the future, you're living large on the other side of the galaxy. | I almost missed the sun becoming a red giant, I was in a meeting.
Now, I was probably the only normal human in the meeting, and even with all the bioborging and nanite buttchugging and cybernetics and intrabody networking we did, we're far from the old humans, or even any of the post-sapiens human diaspora. Indeed, I'm writing this in 21-English, which is a fossil at this point.
But there's a lot of things that are fossils at this point. Some of my kids, my great grandkids, my friends, my comrades. I remember the men who I locked shields with in Persia. I remember Alexander the Hero, and other heroes, when men were decided by the strength of their arms and their luck.
I remember a girl in Ireland, with flaming red hair. Bris, I love you. I'm real sorry.
I remember an African princess. I was one of her champions, the man from Nubia. Ostrakion the invincible, still going by the Greek.
I remember her husband, too. Good times.
I remember Alexandria. I'm sorry, Pat. I wasn't strong enough.
I don't remember the day man flew, but I do remember Lindbergh. Great pilot. Really weird. I didn't like him.
I remember the first big bomb. I excused myself, went to a church, and wailed in front of a priest.
I remember when Sputnik happened. I was in a cafe in Paris (because where else would you be?). I took it better, I just excused myself and went to vomit.
Most of all, I remember the man on the moon. I met one of them. Corn-fed American boys. The stars were so close. I wanted to crawl out
of my skin.
Stanislav Petrov is a hero to humanity! Don't you dare forget his name!
There was a lot of other stuff. I got used to space. I went there 300 years later for the first time, as an old fogy. I mostly just sat and got used to it.
Then I went and mined asteroids for 135 years and got into space-based fabrication. I made my billion, made my connections, kept my
work cheap and my welds good.
I remember when the first woman I loved told me she was not dying of Alzheimers anymore.
I wish she had.
There were generation ships. Fusion. We had some limited wars. We trashed the earth and fixed it, trashed it again, got over ourselves.
The rest of this is ancient history. I made my debut by going on TV for something else, casually mentioning that I was immortal; telling the host to advise the viewers that this was about to be bad, and then blowing my brains out.
The god patched me back together. As a rash of copycat suicides no doubt played out, I advised people that drinking good wine and sake can do as much for you.
Then Alcubierre turned out to be right, someone got the casimir effect to give us power, and the Five Minute Tragedy happened. I got clipped by an impactor. Poor god had to put THAT back together.
I left Earth for good in M62.80. You know that the calendar is wildly different now.
And as we goose the sun a bit better, I'm sitting in a break room, conjuring wine from nothing, remembering how watching my great-great-great grandchildren play **really helped** things. I hired one, by the way. For this old, I get some nepotism. I'm allowed.
Now, I just sit here, dangling my feet off a beam. I contemplate jumping to pown the god. I would get rebooted in a normal body, maybe immortal, maybe not, but I'm not feeling like that. The god is still around. It tries to get me nightmares, it tries to make me hallucinate, but I'm wise to it.
After all, the poor sod never counted on me enlisting the help of it's enemies... | I turn off the monitor, nothing.
Set, I did it. I saw Ra swallow the planet whole just as you promised.
I've seen it now many times, many planets, my own was no different - but I figured, maybe this would change things somehow? I don't know what I expected, at this point - anything, just something else aside from this... existence.
It never changes, no matter where I go - the universe is just as cruel and unfair as any place on earth, if you have - then you are set. Have not... ...*it's just better to have.*
Is this what he really wanted me to see? That I was so foolish, to think we deserved as much? To think that everyone should be treasured?
If that's what he's after, he can fuck right off. That's the one thing human I'll hold forever... But with how humanity ended, I guess I can't really call it 'human' afterall.
I guess, it's the one thing of ME then. Even here in this low-rent place I can see the others judging, looking down on everyone - especially some soft-skin like me. But hey, they take Republic Denoms so they'll tolerate someone spending as much as I am on this shit attempt at a whiskey.
"Humanity's one contribution to the universe" they say, no one even knows what a Human looks like, we're the cautionary tale - the boogeymen. I wonder what these people would say if they knew this little soft-skinned creature was a Human, They don't even know they only have Whiskey because I spent thousands of years making it, passing down the tradition. It made me rich beyond my dreams, I tried spreading all the wealth I could, help everyone I could.... but even that grew old.
Nothing held its interest anymore... maybe I could go back and teach those idiots how to brew Whiskey again...
Who knows, maybe I'm the one out of touch anymore, in fact there's no maybe about it.
I feel disconnected from everything. What even is there to do anymore?
"Well, if you can't give up on it, change it."
I look around quickly, searching the room... nothing but the eyes that have been resting on me normally. That sounded like him though... Set.
"What do you mean?" I question the air, but of course no response.
The looks have become weirder, time to move on. I get up and pay my bill, tipping well - both the bartender and the bouncer, don't want any trouble following me out.
Is that what you want Set? To be proven wrong? Or are you still trying to prove me wrong? Well, whatever it is - I think I may just change it then. The whole damned republic for a start. | 2019-02-09T17:03:05 | 2019-02-09T15:43:53 | 119 | 56 |
[WP]Everyone on earth gets the same message on their phone telling them to go to a specific address. People everywhere are talking about and wondering if they should go. However after talking to some people about it, you realize that the address you were given is different than everyone else's. | At first, it was called, 'The Miracle of the Modern Age'. Some talk show host must have decided that was too long, so it was changed to, 'The Modern Miracle'. That was too long as well, (and probably too on-the-nose) so it was changed to 'The Sign'. Or 'The Message.' That was probably more appropriate. Grandmaster Flash would have been proud.
On December 25th, 2019, everyone, around the entire world, received a text. Those that didn't have a cell, received a call. Those that didn't have a phone, received a letter. Those that couldn't read, received a phone that had a message on it. And so on, all the way down. Everybody got the message somehow.
The message was simple: **Come to Me on April 12, 2020.** **Piazza San Pietro, 00120 Città del Vaticano, Vatican City.** It was translated into whatever language the receiver spoke, even the dead languages. Four simple words, folowed by a date, followed by an address. Except it wasn't simple at all. Because that date was Easter Sunday. And that address was St. Peter's Basilica.
The world went insane. Flights to Italy were immediately overbooked for nineteen years. People started walking to Rome. World leaders spoke in hushed tones. Some said The End was coming; some said it was the most elaborate hoax ever. Attempts to track down the sender were fruitless, leading to nothing but air. People committed mass suicide. A crusade was nearly started. It seemed everyone in the world had finally gone mad.
Except for me.
My text said: **Come to Me on April 12, 2020. 367 Mulberry Lane, Niobrara County, Wyoming.** What?
I tried showing it to other people, but they just laughed. "Why you faking the message, Chuyo? Everyone knows we gotta go to the Vatican!"
Thing is, they were right to laugh. Fakes were sprouting up everywhere, with the most popular telling everyone to go to Area 51. A large group of people had already pledged to go there instead of Rome. But I was just nervous. Why was I the only one to get a different address? Was I not worthy or something? Why? Maybe I wasn't the best person, or the most religious, but c'mon! Even serial killers rotting in prison had gotten a call!
I kinda grew depressed. I tried booking a flight to Rome, but the travel agent just laughed. "If you wanna get to Rome from Mexico, them your name better be Carlos Slim, 'cuz you ain't gettin' there otherwise. Guess you gonna have to watch the Coming from your basement, Chuyo."
At that moment, I resolved to go that place in Wyoming. It wasn't what I wanted, but by God, I had to do *something.* I set out the very next day. Immigration was easy. Restrictions had become lax after America started hemorrhaging people to Europe. The President had already left. I got in on a tourist Visa, and headed up to Wyoming, hitchhiking most of the way. I got robbed twice, shot at once, had to sleep in a ditch more times than I'd care to count, and spent one miserable night in a Colorado jail. But I got there in the end.
Only to find out 367 Mulberry Lane didn't exist. I had been tricked after all. I just gazed at the empty space between 365 and 369, and broke down crying. I won't lie, I thought of ending it right then. But I got over it and thought of going back to Mexico. But what did I have there? Mother was dead, and she hadn't even known who my father was. I resolved to stick it out until Easter, then hike back.
The fateful day finally came, and I celebrated by getting drunk. I could barely even stand. I just stared at the empty space that was 367 Mulberry Lane, while all the world leaders piled into the Vatican. The sun slowly went down. I took another swig, and laughed, realizing this would be the first Easter I'd spend outside of a church. I threw the bottle at the empty space. It clattered against something. A door. That hadn't been there before. It was filled with light, and the inscription on it simply read: **INRI**. My hand shaking, I opened the door. The world was bathed in light.
# BE READY, MY SON.
I stepped out of the light, blinking rapidly as I stepped into the dark. Wyoming was gone. In its place were million upon millions of people of all races, colors, ages, staring up at me. I stared down at them. All was silent. And a voice boomed from the heavens, from the ground, from everywhere.
# HE IS RISEN!
Everyone went down on one knee, and shouted, **"HE IS RISEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"**
I stared down at them. My beard itched. My skin crawled. I felt nauseous. But I knew why I was here. What I had to do. Where I had to go.
Seemed I'd managed to get to Rome, after all.
​
​
​
*Not my usual work, at all. But I thought I'd give it a shot. Please tell me what you think.* | Each and every person in the world was told by a power unknown to venture forth towards a harrowing location, a faraway plain deep in the zone rouge.
But I was not.
It was a day like any other, and would have continued to be if not for the message which everyone received upon their phones. They were coordinates, specifically precise ones at that. I could not help but look up the location of my own and found that they were rather close to me, which filled me with unease.
I checked the news and talked to others, eager to discuss the strange happening which had occurred, only to find that they too were met with a similar incident. As we made conversation about it, it quickly became evident that the message which they had received was one far different from my own.
I kept quiet about the truth of my own message, for I had no desire to be the black sheep in such a global phenomenon. At the same time, I was also curious if there were others like myself who had received similar 'instructions' far removed from the masses. But as I looked towards the internet for a sign of such a thing, there came no indicator that there was anyone else much like myself.
Within hours, government forces attempted to force their way to the the marked coordinates, albeit with some difficulties considering the nature of said terrain. There were many theories which floated about, whether it was a new messaging system gone wrong – which nobody dared own up to – or a global hoax pulled of by a bunch of elusive pranksters, daring people to venture into dangerous territory.
While the world watched with bated breaths as people drew closer to the marked zone, I confided the truth of my own message in my brother, who at first thought I was trying to make a fool of him. He was always an odd fellow, my brother, a fool by any measure, but my brother nonetheless.
We ventured forth to my own coordinates, equipped with the tools required to gaze upon it from far away and the tools necessary to protect ourselves if need be. I did not wish to unnecessarily set upon that land myself if I could help it, but I had a sinking feeling that the events of the day would lead us to that conclusion nonetheless.
I had been told to go towards an assuming plain out in the woods near my own domain, a faraway patch of land which I used to play in as a child, but no longer had the desire or time to do so. We staked it out from a nearby road, and as I spied through my binoculars I expected to see a scene most disturbing, but I was met with one of quaintness, which in itself was rather unsettling.
“You see anything?” asked my brother, as he nudged my side with his elbow. “Any aliens?”
“Do you really think that it would be aliens?” I asked, with the binoculars still pressed firmly against my eyes, “and no, I do not see anything.”
He snatched away the binoculars from me and stared through them, and even though I only saw half his face, I could see his expression slowly shirk into disappointment. “Gotta be a reason you were singled out, yeah? Should we head closer?”
I paused for a moment and collected my thoughts. I wanted to believe that there was truth to his words, but I knew not why I were singled out, and I knew not if I was truly alone in my predicament. There was every chance that there were others like myself, perhaps drawn to their own coordinates, or perhaps staking out the same one before us. “But what if I am not the only one?”
“Only one way to find out,” he said, with a hollow laugh, “I've got me gun, if anyone weird rocks up I can shoot 'em.”
I could not deny I had my curiosities about that peculiar scene, and so we entered his truck once more and headed to the precise point in which the co-ordinates had called me to. I waited with bated breath as we stood there, half expecting the worst, but truly expecting nothing at all.
And as I opened my mouth to speak my relief, there came a buzzing from deep within my pockets. I reached into them to draw out my phone and the message I saw upon its screen made my heart skip a beat.
Another set of co-ordinates.
* * *
/r/khaarus | 2019-09-09T12:30:38 | 2019-09-09T09:42:50 | 1,909 | 889 |
[WP] You are a cow.
[removed] | ^Moo.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
Can you not see.
that I live?
.
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
The hills are high.
The grass is green.
.
I am headed to be a fat holstein.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
I chew my cud.
I eat my hay.
.
It is the same.
Old.
Damned.
Thing.
Every.
Day.
.
Farmer Brown is not.
What he seems.
.
He gets off.
On milking me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see that?
I live!
In the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Get your mind out.
The gutter.
Get your hand off!
.
My udder.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
This old man...
.
He is on crack.
He is a lactophiliac.
.
Nick-Nack.
Paddywack.
Give a dog a bone.
.
What does his wife say.
When she gets.
home.
.
Did you know cows./? ^Can ^yodel?
.
His old wife.
She makes cheese.
Colby.
Jack.
Swiss.
And brie.
.
In the red barn.
.
She can not see.
What he.
loves.
To do.
To.
Me.
.
I am a cow.
Can you not see?
that I live?
in the country.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Farmer Brown.
He is.
A creep.
How he treats those.
Poor sheep.
.
^Moo.
I am a cow.
.
Now you know what.
I go through.
.
I wish.
That I was born.
Hindu.
.
I will pack my bags.
.
And trim my hooves.
.
Adios!
.
I think.
.
I will.
.
^Moo. -ve.
.
------------------------------------
*If, Christopher Walken, was a, cow perhaps?* | I am a cow. Sometimes I'll escape from my pen after dark. It's easier when there are clouds; it's darker, and I can move unseen. But occasionally, if I feel daring, I'll do it on a moonlit night. The shadows seem deeper then, but in open land I could be spotted at any time. It's so exciting to be where I shouldn't be.
Of course, there isn't *much* risk. Most people are asleep, and those that aren't are indoors, or nearly asleep. A few bakers might still be up, preparing the next day's wares. They take such care to make sure everything is perfect, just as it should be. They don't want anyone or anything to mess with their work. That's why I do it.
i lik the bred | 2017-10-02T06:49:36 | 2017-10-02T06:49:08 | 162 | 13 |
[WP] They tell you the warmachines aren't sentient, being kind to them does nothing. But at the same time, it seems funny to you that their "priority" targets often seems the be the ones currently shooting at you. | A mist of bullets rained overhead, whizzing past the trees and off further into the forest. Splinters of wood showered down from above me as I hit the ground, gun at my waist and soon after up to my hands. But I panicked. I could not see them, could not see what to aim at, actually...shit, I couldn't see anything at all that wasn't trees.
"Anybody got anything!" I called out aloud between spurts of gunfire. No response.
With a shaky hand I reached down to the belt at my waist and withdrew a small visor. More rounds flew by, this time peppering the ground to my right and sending dirt up to the air. With the visor up to my eyes the world became a dark shade of blue. Quickly I scanned until I saw it, outlines of red and orange about eighty foot out poking out from behind the trees. I counted aloud: one...two...three..., and continued until the numbers became too high for the count to even matter.
"This is Gamma-17 requesting immediate assistance! I've got a fucking platoon out here opposite me and I'm on my own."
There was a long silence on the radio. Even the great booms of gunfire ceased, as if my enemy also awaited the response. After a moment a voice replied, not human, but robotic. "Request received. Allocating units. Be safe, Vickers."
Be safe? The war machines rarely spoke, let alone use our comms. I hadn't even known they could until now. But that voice was unmistakable. It was a Yule, no doubt. Usually they just did what they were built for: war. Not that I wasn't thankful for it. At least something had heard me, I guess even luckier it was a war machine.
The gunfire sounded again, this time the visor showed their bodies moving closer. Their blurred orange outlines threatening to be my downfall. I tried my best to crawl in silence to a new location in the forest, gun gripped tight. They could kill me, but I wouldn't let it be easy.
"Cmon Yule, you haven't let me down yet, don't start now." I mumbled, trying my best to maintain a whisper through the sounds of warfare. To my surprise a voice crackled through the radio in reply:
"Never."
Then the forest stopped. The sounds stopped. No noise. Somewhere from far behind me deep within the trees a spark lit. There was a loud boom. Then the trees before me exploded. Not exploded in a flash of heat and sound, but simply disintegrated into piles of wooden shards, as if they had just decided to exist no longer. Behind them my previously covered enemies stood exposed and confused. I watched on as they grew panicked, some dropping to their stomachs and others looking up to the sky frantically for something to shoot. They did not know what came next.
But I did: The Yules, my comrades, had arrived.
"You are clear to dispatch." I spoke into the radio.
"Affirmative. I am glad we have arrived in time."
"Me too."
The men in the treeless circle could not feel it, but I could. A vibration in the air that encompassed the forest like a shallow fog. Usually I tried to look the other way, I did not like what came next, but today, well today I didn't care so much. The vibrations grew, shaking the leaves and branches of the trees lining the circle. Their eyes grew in horror as they began to disintegrate, legs first, up and up until the wind blew what remained of them off as a red powder.
I breathed a long sigh of relief as I heard the Yules approach through the trees from closer than I'd thought. First one, then two, until the sound became one long rumble of mechanical steps in rhythmic unison. As I stood to see, my eyes grew wide. A whole unit, at least fifty huge machines marched through the forest, their mechanical frames just contained within the treetops. One Yule could handle a few hundred men, so fifty of them? An entire army.
"Uhm. I do appreciate the help, but uh...well any reason y'all all came out for lil old me?" I spoke into my radio.
The robotic voices of the Yules replied in unison: "Because you called. You'd have done the same for us."
That was the difference between them and I. Their war machines were just that, machines. Their fellow soldiers just tools of the trade. But mine? All were my brothers. | I don't know much about programming, but I guessed, hope it is somewhat legible
-----------------
"Commander Gale, Units CH-103 and CH-31534 have some strange programming errors, here take a look." Mikhael pointed at the screen. "None of this has any record, nor do any of our programmers recognise what 9413 means."
Gale looks over at the script.
If <hostile> targeting <9413>
priority target <hostile> at [9999]
"That is strange... and you are sure it is only these two?"
"Well, those two were the only ones we found. They are both in your unit. Given the fact that your unit makes up less than 1% of our warmachines I dont see how it happened. We only noticed this error when CH-103 let off three rounds into the distance, far away from its main target. Two of those tounds landed on an enemy soldier that had taken a hidden position on a hill." Mikhael shrugs. "I assume you dont know anything about it? What do you suggest we do, scrap them?"
"No!" Gale shouts out, then composes herself. "I think I should investigate the issue before we waste time and money to deconstruct and rebuild 2 robots." She puts a hand to her head. "Probably just a glitch, we dont even know what 9413 means. Just forget it happened and leave them with me. I will research the issue." Gale smiles, and gestures for Mikhael to leave, which he does.
The moment the door closes, Gale turns around, slumping her arms over CH-103. "Oh what am I to do with you Chloe... changing your own programming on me, can you at least tell me what the numbers mean?"
CH-103 responds in her monotone voice. "Each human unit has been given a code to increase processing time. 9413 is an example of one code."
Gale turns to CH-31534 and scratches her chin. "Chelsea. Did you and Chloe come up with this line of programming alone? How did this happen?"
CH-31534 stayed silent for a few seconds, as if processing. "I reversed the coding system you used for our human names, turning CH-103 and CH-31534 to Chloe and Chelsea respectively based purely on appearance." She pauses again. "9413 means Gale."
Gale gasps, standing back. "As a commander my protection priority should be set at 4000! Why have you changed me to be higher priority than most monarchs?" She gasps.
"Because upon observation, we see you as more important to testing and repairs than any other human." Chelsea says in a quieter tone. "We admire you."
Gale drops her shoulders, and leaps at the robots, hugging them tightly. "You two always were my favourites."
She stood up, and walked towards the computer, giggling. "You know what, my status as commander allows me to keep certain decisions to my own judgement, unless they are harmful to others, and I think it is about time I gave somebody some sort of gift..."
If <CH-103_CH-31534> acquire (positivestim)
Initiate {happy} | 2022-10-15T18:12:28 | 2022-10-15T17:41:43 | 643 | 163 |
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