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[WP] After one’s death, the ‘creative mode’ is unlocked. You replay life, except everything goes the way you want it to. Unlimited wealth, complete domination of the world, you name it. Unknowingly, that play-through is what is used to judge whether you belong to heaven, or hell. | _"Do you have an arm like God’s, and can your voice thunder like his? Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor, and clothe yourself in honor and majesty. Unleash the fury of your wrath, look at all who are proud and bring them low, look at all who are proud and humble them, crush the wicked where they stand. Bury them all in the dust together; shroud their faces in the grave. Then I myself will admit to you that your own right hand can save you."Job 40:9-14_
I stood over the world, my feet planted in the stars. The galaxies turned beneath me like a great holographic screen. I could reach my hand out and pluck a blade of grass from the planet Earth and drop it in the sun, or I could sweep the entire Milky Way galaxy into stardust.
I was not a bad person. This I knew, and this I sought to prove. The world was bad, not I, and I decided I would fix it once and for all!
I dove into the universe, into life and existence once more. I saw numbers hovering by everyone's heads, values representing their intelligence, dexterity, charisma, karma, and so on. I ramped all of my numbers to the max of 25 and reached out to start manipulating everyone else to goodness. To the mother scolding her child for whining in public, I stripped the discipline and replaced it with charity. To the young men throwing acorns at a stray dog in the park, I stripped mischief and replaced it with empathy. I smiled as I fixed the world that God had left to me.
Suddenly, in the upper right hand corner of my vision, a notification popped up. _Antelope dies in birthing_. My eyes widened, and I hastily zoomed back a few orders of magnitude, looking for the place where the deer had been. I found the poor mother, limp in death, her fawn caught halfway and hyenas munching on the afterbirth as the baby bleated pitifully within their jaws. In horror, I swept the hyenas aside with a great gust of wind that sent a tree toppling in their midst.
Another alert popped up. _Child dies in car accident_. I rushed back to find the child who had been scolded by her mother, lying in the street where she had run in an attempt to pet a stray dog. Her mother lay crumpled in grief beside her.
_32 baboons die of a plague_.
_462 people die in tsunami_.
_3 women raped by 5 men_.
I screamed in horror and rage, and I sped back out to view the world beneath me. I pulled at every meter, removing the movement of the earth that caused earthquakes and tsunamis, halting the turn of seasons that brought floods. My fingers hovered over those people who had committed such heinous crimes as rape and murder. Dare I remove them? Dare I give them justice? I was a good person--who am I to kill?
But how _dare_ they harm another person!
I stripped their life counters down to zero. _3,286,422,601 people die_. Not from anything of the earth, but from me. Had there really been so many?
The notifications kept popping up. _Insect swarm destroys 600 acres of crops_. _Drought increases occurrence of wildfires in California_. _Global temperatures rise by 3°_. I stared in anguish as the more I tried to fix things, the more I messed everything up. In desperation, I left the planet to its own devices and hurried back to the living, to the people in their daily lives. I had removed all the murderers and rapists, but what about spouses who commit domestic violence? Surely they deserve death. What about that man stealing the college student's laptop? I tore his stamina and dexterity bars to zero and watched him trip and fall. He broke his arm on the curb, but the police would soon catch him. What about that woman giving her food to the homeless lady? How grand! But now her own child would go hungry one more night. Was that good? Which was better? How do I decide?
I ran, seeing and seeing and seeing all the people. Even those with maxed bars still made questionable decisions, and even those who made good decisions ended up hurt because of how I had left the state of the planet itself. I did everything I could to fix it, but my notifications kept getting more and more ubiquitous until the entire right side of my vision was blocked out by the words that popped up and scrolled past my eyes.
Finally, I stopped, falling to my knees. I was a good person. I did everything I could. But I still failed. All of those people dying, all of those people getting hurt--I _still_ failed! I had lost my chance to leave a better world behind me, and I had ruined my chance to get to a better afterlife! Despairing of the world I had destroyed, I buried my face into my hands and wept.
Gentle arms wrapped around me and pulled me close into a hug. I looked up and saw the man who had stood before me in that empty white space and told me I could go back to fix things. He smiled at me as he held me tightly.
"As you see, a lot more goes on than you could possibly imagine," he told me.
I buried my face in his beard and cried, "I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry! I just made things worse!"
He kissed the top of my head and told me, "I love you anyway."
r/aDittyaDay | *A second chance.*
If I’d been asked to design Heaven, I could hardly have done a better job.
A fresh start, with all the resources and opportunities I could have wished for. Success at all I turned my hand to. Doors opened to me. Knowledge of exactly what to do and say to get exactly what I wanted.
But eventually, rich and successful and dining on gourmet cheeses while relaxing in my penthouse jacuzzi, the joy went out of it.
This was my chance to finally live my best life. Why did I feel disgruntled at it being so *easy?* People who preached about struggle giving life meaning often hadn’t experienced it enough, if at all. It wasn’t special to suffer. Pain, by itself, didn’t make people wise.
*Just relax and enjoy yourself. Why not? Ennui is for people who don’t know how good they have it. And surely by now, you’ve more than earned the right to this pleasure.*
I did know how good I had it. Could have had it. That was the problem.
Maybe it was time to see something else?
The path opened almost as soon as I thought of it. I could walk right back to the beginning of my second life, to try another way.
*What will you do this time?*
Torment my enemies? I was tempted. But I’d already taken every chance to extract petty victories and vengeances from everyone who’d wronged me. It hadn’t made me happier. Would it really make me feel better to take everything from them and crush them into hollow shells of themselves which could only feel despair?
...probably not. It was all a lifetime ago anyway. Soon to be two lifetimes.
I’d seen the best possible way my life could have gone. Maybe it was time to see the most good I could have done.
If I’d been asked to design my own personal hell, I could hardly have done a better job.
I stood in an open field, gazing up at the night sky. The world was beautiful. Poverty, hunger, homelessness: I’d tackled it all. I brightened people’s days, eased their burdens, shared in their pain.
Because I could see now, how I hadn’t done that nearly enough in my first, real life.
Everything I’d ignored and let slide because others had more, were better-positioned and equipped to do something about it. All the thousand tiny hurts and injuries I’d caused, which would have been so easy to avoid even in my first life, if I had only tried for better, had even *believed* I could do better.
Why had it taken literally unlimited power and resources to see all the good I could have done without them?
*You did the best you could with what you had.*
I wasn’t sure I believed that anymore.
*Why bother with this exercise? What’s done is done, and now you’re only tormenting yourself. Surely there are others who deserve it more than you.*
“That kind of thinking got me here,” I said. I wasn’t sure who I was talking to. “And that was why I decided against that... other playthrough. I wouldn’t be hurting them because that was what they deserved. It’d just be because I didn’t think they deserved better.”
*Is there a difference?*
“Yes.” I gestured around me. “I couldn’t have done all this when I was alive. But I could have done better, and that was my only shot in the real world. When I came here with all the chances I wanted, I thought this was heaven. But now all I can see is how I wasted them all.”
Silence.
“This was hell all along,“ I said. “Wasn’t it?”
Several glowing figures appeared. They shone like the sun, but looking at them didn’t hurt. They felt like family, like *home.*
“It was neither heaven nor hell,” they said, “only a crossroad. But crossroads are not meant for lingering.”
Another path appeared beyond them, winding and leading up into the stars. It looked like it was made of nothing but starlight, but when I stepped on it, it felt solid and sure beneath my feet.
“Come with us now, you have proven yourself worthy of paradise.” | 2020-07-20T03:58:10 | 2020-07-20T03:31:10 | 82 | 56 |
[WP]An old genie grants you three wishes. After granting your first two, you tell him the third. He is horrified, and begs you to reconsider | "What you're asking is too dangerous," the Genie says. "your wish will have serious consequences. It is not time"
"It's all I've ever truly wanted in life, man. I've waited years." I plead.
"We all have, my brother, but the people are not ready and you are young and rash."
Even this Genie is a phony. How old is he anyways? Too old to get it, i guess. No one gets me. Infinite Doritos and all the Team Fortress 2 hats ever and he's trying to stop me from getting this. What a phony.
"You live in a rusty old pot, you don't know how it feels. Just do it, *please*"
The genie lowers his grey forehead toward the grey pot he appeared from. He starts to glow a deep blue, and fades into a mist which flows toward the pot. "Now to see if he didn't chicken out." I whisper to myself.
I step into my room. My computer is on, and I see the never-ending bag of Doritos on my keyboard. Only one thing left to do. I fiddle the mouse and sit down. The sound of heavy vehicles shake the ground. My screen lights up and a [video](http://gaben.tv/) starts.
Gaben **GABEN!** The Genie did it! My chest is thumping and I feel the blood rush to my head.
An orange light appears behind me and I spin immediately to see it. Half-Life 3, the only copy in all its glory. I turn back to my screen and I see the game is already installed. Think of all the twitch views I'll get! I will make front page of /r/gaming and everyone will see how amazing I am! Oh my god! Oh my god this is the best day of my life!
----------
"I had to do it. He wouldn't be able to handle it... but I guess he couldn't handle this either." the Genie said. He tore his gaze from the small windowed door. There was a padded cell on the opposing side of that door, with a boy inside.
"You did the right thing. Genies are not only givers, but protectors. I just wish there was a way to save him," a man said to the Genie in a soft voice.
"So do I, my lord." The Genie said.
"Call me Gabe, we know eachother well enough, don't we?" The man said with a smile.
The two men walked toward the exit. The word *Valve* lined the walls.
The boy inside the cell kept muttering. "This is everything I've ever wanted." Tears streamed down his face while his eyes stared blankly into the wall.
| [NSFW]
The boy stood tall in the mystical shadow of the genie. His head curled up with confidence and his eyes held a brim of flaming conviction. The genie pleaded with him "Please. Please. You must reconsider that wish. You must alter it."
The boy removed his hands from his pockets and then crossed them. The smoke from the lamp spewed across the room and danced around him. "No" he ordered. "I want what I want. And I want it now."
The genie rubbed his fingers against his forehead while grumbling under his breath.
The boy walked closer to the genie. "Wish number one, a horse sized cock. Wish number two, a wolf sized sexual appetite. Wish number three, you as my sex slave for the next one thousand years. Get it done."
The genie conjured himself some knees and fell to the floor "Please. Anything else. Genocide? Infanticide? Go for it man. Just please, don't fuck me. You can't even fuck me for a thousand years."
"I don't care, it's what I want."
The genie, finally bound by the cosmic forces of the universe, bent over and spread his anus which lead to a black hole. And so, the boy plowed the genie anally for one thousand years. Long after the boy had died his penis still remained immortal, pushing in and out of the genie like some kind of phantom cock. | 2014-07-26T13:59:33 | 2014-07-26T13:52:26 | 59 | 23 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | It was quite strange actually.
The first number popped into view when I was about 12 years old. It was a solid 4 that looked like something straight out of Times New Roman font. That 4 I remember, hovered above a big scruffy looking man with a tattoo of a stripper on his left arm. I didn't think of it as much at the time. I was 12, and I thought that these numbers were part of growing up.
The next day at school, I saw numbers….everywhere. Everyone had a number above their head. Mrs Ball, had a 1. The girl sitting by herself during recess had a 1. My best friend had a 0. Even my dog had a 1 above his little head.
I was quite stupid actually. At one point, I started bragging to my friends about how I became a man at the tender age of 12. When I told them how I saw numbers above peoples heads, they simply looked at me and probably wondered why they were friends with me in the first place.
For the next 5 years, I continued seeing numbers. The highest I have ever seen, a faint 6, danced on top of an old picture of Hitler in one of my honors history course. Throughout this time, I didn't really think much of these numbers. Truthfully, I didn't even know what they meant.
That was until of course, when I turned on the Television and saw the same man with the 4, on the headlines of BBC news.
It was only after I found out that this man, the same man with the 4 I saw 5 years ago, the same man who had violently murdered 14 people out of the blue, the same man who was getting lethal injection, did I realize for the first time what the numbers truly meant.
From that day forward, the numbers began to mean something. I paid close attention to them for the next few years and this is what I have found out.
1. The numbers correspond to how a dangerous a person is, with a zero belonging to a toddler, and a 3-4 belonging to a serial killer.
2. The numbers work on a logarithmic scale. I don't know if there is some kind of mathematical equation behind this. All I know is that a 5, is A LOT more dangerous that a 4. Fun fact: Stalin was a 5.
3. Numbers become more precise with age, or experience. When I first saw the numbers, they were pleasant whole numbers. When I was 17, I saw my first 1.5 floating above my girlfriend. I am now 25, and the numbers now go into god knows how many digits - ive lost count.
4. Numbers fluctuate constantly, but never by much.
5. I can't see my own number.
........
You may think that seeing thousands of numbers a day may be a curse, but actually, it gets pretty fun. The numbers I see is in its very essence, information. For instance, did you know Dictator Mao had a higher number than Hitler before he died? Or the fact that women have on average higher numbers than men? What about the fact that politicians have again on average lower numbers than teachers?
As I said, the numbers are information, and with all information, I can, and I have, used these numbers to my own advantage.
How one may ask? To be honest, it's really quite simple. I can sympathize anyone. I can move people simply because I know how anyone is feeling at any given moment.
When I got my first real job at 18 (back when I was able to see numbers to the hundredths digit in precision) at local restaurant, I was cleaning floors and serving people food. I was nothing. Then wages sucked and my boss treated me like a piece of shit, who I theorized probably just pushed me around to make himself feel better for his insecure 0.125. For the longest time, I didn't know what to do with my gift. This changed when one day, the CEO of a large oil firm came in for dinner. I paid close attention to that man. He was a 2.870-2.91 mostly throughout the dinner. If I remember correctly, he ordered a steak and the most expensive bottle of wine, and ate his food in silence. Throughout the evening, I watched that man. His number didn’t fluctuate much. I got bored, and was about to mop the floor until out of the corner of my eye I caught the man pulling out his phone to what I’m guessing to check on his messages. It was at that instant, that his number of sub 2.7-sh, suddenly rose to a 3.678. Something was wrong. Whatever it was, I felt sorry for that guy. I ended up paying for his dinner, despite costing me 2 weeks’ worth of my salary.
Initially, I thought I made a mistake paying for that guys food. I was wrong.
The next day, he came to the restaurant again. He didn’t order anything. Instead, he asked my boss for me. When I greeted him, he thanked me for my kindness and asked me if I wanted a “real job”.
Turns out his wife cheated on him, and truthfully, I’m thankful for that. Because of her, I learned to use my gift wisely.
I should also add that I am now the VP of said multi-billion dollar company. You can probably guess how I got there.
Last night, something interesting happened. I was looking over some files in until a young man was escorted into my office. I have to say I was kind of surprised when I saw the 8.1264184…. I’ve never seen anyone, dead or alive, with such a high number. As the numbers work on a logarithmic scale, he made Hitler look PG-13.
This man wasn’t just dangerous. He was lethal. The numbers don’t lie. Who knows what he was capable of?
But despite that I looked into his eyes, and saw that he was genuinely afraid.
I chuckled, and asked him what he did for a living. Private contractor? Radical Extremist? A politician? When he didn’t answer, I rose from my seat and walked towards him to introduce myself.
But instead of enthusiastically reaching out to shake my hand, as these over qualified try-hards usually do to get a job, he stammered back and whispered in a mixture of what I can only describe as fear and disbelief…..
“you…..you are.. a… ten”.
To be honest, I wasn’t really surprised.
| Snow swirled across the pavement, little lines of furious strands caught in a frozen wind. At once, they would settle, and at once they would fly with renewed flurry as the bus ploughed up to its stop. The ding of the doors opening broke the bluster of winds, and immense gratitude washed over her as this bus proved warm.
"Long day again?" Jerry always asked that question, and the answer was always:
"Yes, but not as long as the weekend," and she would reply with a smile.
"Well bless your heart for being off on a day like this. Haven't seen many luggers today." Jerry laughed, closing the doors as a little, hunched *3* ambled past the two.
She hitched her 'lug' of textbooks up on her shoulder, and gave Jerry a teasing roll of the eyes before sitting down. Her bag thumped on the bench as she sat down, pulling out a novella. A bag this heavy was worth its weight in words, and that was all she could ask for.
Words were, after all, a relief. A change of scenery.
The world was a scattering of numbers. They drifted, floated, and warped with each passing moment. They flickered with each emotion, just as a candle in its last moments of a breath.
Jerry, for instance, had attracted her attention because of his constant *6*. He rarely spoke when she first began semester, but as time wore conversation he became more and more conversational. He was amiable, friendly. Yet, that *6* never flickered. She was curious why, curiosity keeps conversation.
As the bus hurtled through the lanes of snow, and debris of dead landscape, she patiently read her words. A man was on the phone nearby, something must have been wrong at work because his number kept annoyingly jumping, like a dog that wouldn't sit still. The old woman who had boarded with her sat across, absently knitting with some gaudy orange yarn, her *3* like a steady heartbeat.
She chose to focus on the *3*, steadiness helped her get through the words.
It was a whirl of snow, tempered numbers, and words until the ding of arrival.
"University Station!" Jerry called out, and only two souls departed into the blanketed land beyond.
She teetered on the ice, sliding a short ways before finding grip again. The sudden rush of 'ohpleasedon'tfall' distracting her from the fellow soul lost to this insatiable cold.
"Marie? You okay?"
She felt someone catch her by the backpack, but she didn't recognize the voice. Classmate? Turning around, she smiled to say thank you.
He was blank. Nothing.
The sight staggered her, leaving words dead on lips like frost on leaves. She must have looked like a stunned deer, because the young man that steadied her gave a sheepish smile.
"Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you like this -- Actually, I meant for this to be a bit different, but, uh, you're hard to catch.." He stammered, offering only that sheepish smile for explanation.
"Who are you?" Marie asked, the shock nullifying any forbearance toward that polite aire.
"Oh!" The young man jumped, ever-so-slightly, his dark hair bouncing. He would be quietly handsome, unassuming, if not for the dark eyes that reflected no sheepish nature.
"It's me! Fred! From second grade!" His words, they bounced. "I didn't expect you to remember me, really. I noticed you in a class last semester, Astronomy 207. I though 'Gee, she looks familiar doesn't she. Out of all these faces'."
Marie continued to stare at him. The blurring of light around them shifted green as the traffic light signalled they could cross the street. Yet, more so, Marie caught sight of another flicker. Just above his right ear, it was meagre, like the sheepishness in his voice, like it had been caught.
"So I looked you up on the class roster. Funny that. Thought I would never see you again." And he smiled again, and it flickered once more.
*10*
It was true, he looked like Fred. That flown dark hair, the bouncing of his voice and words. Still, how? The boy with dirt smudged features, who wore the same clothes everyday, who cried when her mother let him take an ornament from their Christmas tree. *Him? A 10?*
"Oh! You're probably a bit surprised," He laughed. It did not falter, even as Marie became aware of the poorly suppressed terror on her face.
"It's good to see you stayed a *5*. Not too bold, not to bland." Fred wavered his hand as he spoke to her, and that smile kept shrewdly creeping along.
Marie shook her head, and planted herself one boot step firmly forward, but the light changed again. She couldn't cross yet. Dubiously, she stepped past him, closer to the cross walk. She plotted the *eta* path to security in her mind, perhaps this man needed some help.
The young man turned, sticking his hands in his pockets as he stepped next to her on the cross walk. He looked to her, with straightened stance and a bright smile.
"What? You didn't think you were the *only one*, did you?"
| 2014-11-29T22:35:42 | 2014-11-29T14:03:49 | 200 | 14 |
[WP] Getting arrested for a botched crime is a rite of passage in the Chebwick family. They take great pride in their long legacy of poorly executed crimes. But the youngest child has been a great disappointment. | #The Brickabon Tradition
---
The most notorious crime family in Des Moines Iowa was undoubtedly the Brickabons. The patriarch, Yon Brickabon, murdered a rival gang leader in 1972 on live television. He spent the next few decades running Des Moines’ East Village from his prison cell. His sons: Mike, Jag, and Russ, loved him deeply and visited as often as was permitted. Jag and Russ were twins, both three years older than Mike.
Once Jag and Russ turned 18, their visits were restricted to once per month. That wasn’t enough.
Jag Brickabon stood six and half feet tall, very skinny, and completely bald despite his young age. He was chopping porkloin in the family butcher’s shop at six in the morning one Monday when he had an idea. Without speaking a word to anyone, he left the shop.
Still wearing his bloody butcher’s apron and holding his bloody butcher’s knife, he strode calmly down the street and through the gardens across the street from City Hall. He sat beneath a beautiful old oak tree to wait.
City employees filed into the building, holding coffee and newspapers. Jag stared at each of them in turn. Nobody seemed to notice him.
A blue Tesla pulled up to park against the curb. The license plate read “DA MAYOR”. A rotund bowling ball of a man squeezed himself out of the car. He wore a three piece suit, top hat, and monocle. He was yakking into his cell phone.
“No,” he yakked, “I don’t care what happens to Beaverdale, I need my Easter Egg hunt to be the biggest! I’ll use eminent domain to take the eggs if I need to.” He beeped his car fob, and the Tesla moved to park itself in the nearby garage.
Jag stood up slowly. He readied his butcher’s knife.
“What do you mean the supplier ran out of dye?? Tell them to find some, or I’ll triple their taxes!” The round little man began huffing and puffing his way up the steps.
“Mayor Bobbins!” Jag shouted, catching up to him.
“Go away citizen,” Mayor Bobbins said without looking up, “I’m on the phone. You can talk to my secretary.”
“Your money or your life, Mayor Bobbins,” Jag said. He brandished the bloody butcher’s knife under the mayor’s nose.
Mayor Bobbins turned white as a sheet.
“Let me call you back,” he said, hanging up the phone. He withdrew his coinpurse from his jacket pocket and handed it over to Jag.
“This is outrageous, you know,” Mayor Bobbins said. “There’s policemen at the front door. You’re robbing me, YOUR MAYOR, on the very steps to City Hall!”
A police officer exited the building to see what the commotion was. He hurriedly drew his gun and shuffled down the stairs.
“Hands up!” the cop said, “Drop the knife.”
Jag placed the knife carefully on the steps.
“Give me back my coinpurse!” Mayor Bobbins said angrily, punching his fat little fists at Jag’s midriff. Jag tossed the coinpurse onto the roof of City Hall.
“You scoundrel!” Mayor Bobbins said, jumping up and down angrily. “I’ll have you put in maximum security prison for this!”
“Perfect,” Jag said, smiling. The police officer hurriedly handcuffed him and pushed him to his knees.
Within hours, Jag was sitting in his father’s prison cell, telling him the story. Yon Brickabon burst into laughter, slapping his knee.
---
The next day, Russ Brickabon sat on the steps to City Hall, lazily twirling around a pistol.
As before, Mayor Bobbins pulled up in his blue Tesla, yakking on his phone.
“I demand more Peeps!” Mayor Bobbins shouted, “This is absolutely non-negotiable. If you rook me on this, I’ll unleash the power of the City Planning Commission on your sorry behind. There’ll be a sewage treatment plant in your backyard and a medical waste landfill by your office!”
Russ cleared his throat, casually pointing the pistol at Mayor Bobbins.
“Who are you people!?” Mayor Bobbins said to Russ. He tossed Russ his backup coinpurse. Russ threw it on the roof, and set his pistol on the ground.
“You don’t even want the money?” Mayor Bobbins said. “You’re not going to run? You’re just on a mission to mess with me, huh?”
“Cops!” Russ shouted.
“Well I’ll tell you something kid,” Mayor Bobbins said, poking Russ in the chest. “This game is getting old. I work hard for my money, and I’m not tall enough to reach the roof. It’s indecent of you to keep robbing me. Your whole generation is so—”
“Cops!!” Russ shouted, “Please come arrest me.”
An officer came out of city hall and quickly arrested Russ. Within hours, he had joined the Brickabon family prison cell. Yon and Jag greeted him warmly. They began playing a game of cards.
---
Mike Brickabon walked home from his weekly prison visit lost in thought. He was only 15 years old. What crime could he possibly commit that would be so heinous as to get him sent to prison instead of juvy?
---
On Easter Sunday, Mayor Bobbins woke up at five in the morning and pranced about his mansion, making coffee and toast. He was bubbling with excitement for his party. There were going to be more Easter Eggs than anywhere else in the state, a magical boatload of chocolate rabbits, and mountains and mountains of Peeps. The children of Des Moines would look up to him like a golden god. It was everything he had ever dreamt of—the main reason he had gone to law school and run for office.
Mayor Bobbins drove his blue Tesla to the storage shed by City Hall, whistling a happy tune. He hopped out of the car and tiptoed towards the shed, jingling his happy key ring. He was practically giggling.
Something was wrong. The padlock on the shed had a wire coming out of it. He followed the wire to a dumpster around the corner. He stacked carboard boxes on top of each other and climbed atop them to peer down into the dumpster. What he saw made his jaw drop.
There were hundreds of sticks of dynamite, and a quickly ticking timer.
“Oh nooo!” Mayor Bobbins cried, “Easter is ruined!! I’ll never get re-elected. I’ll never be able to show my face in public again. The good Christian folk of Des Moines will despise my name for generations and stick their used gum on my Mayoral Portrait in City Hall—woe is me!”
He rolled on the ground, kicking his feet and pulling out tufts of his own hair.
Mike Brickabon stepped out from behind a tree, smiling grimly.
“Mayor Bobbin,” Mike called.
“You!” Mayor Bobbin said, “Another Brickabon boy? I do NOT have time to get robbed today.” He tossed his alternate backup coinpurse at Mike. “Easter has been ruined! Some villain has rigged the party supplies to explode!”
“Yes,” Mike said, kicking the coinpurse back towards Mayor Bobbin. “That was me.”
Mayor Bobbin looked up at him in shock.
“But… but you’re a teenager! How did you—”
“Don’t underestimate teenagers,” Mike said. “We know a thing or two.”
“W-what do you want?” Mayor Bobbin sputtered.
“Release all inmates from the Des Moines prison,” Mike said, “and I’ll give you back your Easter party.”
“That’s it?” Mayor Bobbins scoffed. “I thought you wanted my KIDNEYS or something. Pffft! Of course! I’ll grant everyone pardons right now.”
Mayor Bobbins made a quick call, and inmates across the city were released into the public immediately.
Mike smiled. He deactivated the bomb. Mayor Bobbins bounced around happily again, dragging Easter party supplies out of the shed and into his Tesla. Sheepishly, Mike helped lend a hand loading up the car.
---
An hour later, Yon Brickabon stood in his butcher’s shop for the first time in twenty-five years. Surrounded by his family, he hefted his butcher’s knife high into the air and brought it crashing down onto the neck of a pig, squirting blood everywhere. It felt good to be home.
---
subscribe! /r/trrh_toons | Plenty of criminals sought out Alicia Fox's services. Most of them were kids born into crime families or mafia bosses who couldn't quite nail their nefarious public images. But none of them had ever asked for something like this before.
Alicia sat with her client at a table outside a quaint little French-style bistro. To any passersby, they might have looked like a young couple out on a date, Alicia in disguise as she always was (dark-haired wig, delicately-applied prosthetics to change her nose and chin *just* so), the client sitting across from her in a plaid shirt and ripped jeans. Neither of them looked like a pair of criminals, as they sipped espresso and nibbled at their biscottis.
But Alicia's espresso was going cold. She just stared and stared at the man sitting across from her, his eyes bright blue and urgent.
"You... what?" she said.
Her client, Ernest, held her stare. Unsmiling, unflinching, he said, "I want you to teach me how to get caught."
Alicia stared at her own surprised face in the dark mirror of her coffee. "I can't say anyone has asked me for *that* in particular."
After all, she was a criminal mastermind. Twenty years of the kind of heists that would send her away for a lifetime and she had never been caught.
"You see, it's my family..." Ernest grimaced and shook his head. "We Chebwicks have a long and proud history of notoriety. My brother has been arrested for car jacking at least thrice now. Once he even ended up in the county jail for three years when he took the mayor's yacht for a joyride. You should have seen how proud Mom and Dad were when they cut out the newspaper article to hang up in Dad's cell. He never stops talking about how he wishes I was more like my brother."
"Chebwick," Alicia repeated. She scoffed and didn't bother hiding her derisive smile. "Your father is Marshall Chebwick?"
Ernest brightened. "You've heard of him?"
"He's only the poster child of how *not* to carry out a bank robbery."
"Exactly. Ever since I was a little boy, he told me, *son, one day you'll be in a cell just like mine, and then you'll understand the family tradition*. Even Mom spent a while on house arrest for credit card fraud." He stirred his coffee, glumly. "Got caught printing up signs that said *Martha Chebwick is my real name, come find me you assholes*. Paid with a stolen credit card."
Alicia blinked fast. "Not exactly the kind of legacy to be proud of."
That made Ernest scowl. "You wouldn't understand. All my life, my family has been infamous. Notorious. Our names on everyone's lips. And I'm the nobody. I'm the goody-two-shoes. Every time we have holiday dinners at the penitentiary, they never stop making fun of me." He screwed up his face and deepened his voice, clearly mimicking his father. "'What's the matter, Ernie? Only commit crimes you didn't get caught for?'"
She narrowed her eyes at Ernest. "Have you *tried* to get arrested?"
Ernest sighed, heavily. He dug into the pocket of his plaid shirt and threw a stone relic on the table.
Alicia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She reached across the table and set her napkin down on top of it. She recognized the dragon carving, instantly. It had gone missing from the Smithsonian only days earlier.
"*You're* the one who broke into the museum?" she said.
"I did! I wore a maintenance uniform and I told the guards I was there rob them blind. You know what they said to me?"
"What?"
"They laughed and waved me right on in!" Ernest slapped his thighs in frustration. "I was trying to get a good story. Good headline for the morning news. But they *wouldn't believe* me. Thought I was the new night janitor."
Alicia couldn't hide her fascination now. She cupped her chin in her hands and rested her elbows on the table. "And why would they?"
"Sure beats me. They even let me know when they were going out for their cigarette break, and asked me to make sure I cleaned the rare records room too. Unbelievable."
Now Alicia Fox studied his face. The gears of her mind turned. She was never one to pass up a good opportunity. He was one of those all-American boys: bright-eyed, plain-looking, the kind of face that you could trust instantly.
"What else have you tried?" she said, her lips curling in a smile.
"Oh, everything. You wouldn't believe the things I've stolen. I once told a pilot on an airline, *Hi, can you let me hijack your plane so my dad can be proud of me?*"
"What did he say?"
"He just let me fly the damn thing! Laughed the whole time! He thought I was just kidding." Ernest scowled. "He even realized my knife was rubber. Spent the entire time poking his copilot with it and laughing at me. I almost landed us in the ocean, for God's sake, and he just told me to let me know if I needed a job recommendation."
Alicia nodded. She reached across the table and plucked up the stolen relic, still folded inside the napkin like a leftover bread roll. "I might have a better idea for you, Mr. Chebwick."
Ernest looked up at her, hopefully. "What's that?"
"Your family may have an innate talent for being deceitful and obvious, but I think you're different." She leaned forward and grinned across the table at him. "People *want* to trust you."
It was even working on her. Every innocuous tilt of his head made him more and more likable. Like a golden retriever in human form.
"No one trusts a Chebwick," Ernest muttered back, but a shy smile was tugging at the corner of his lip.
"I do," Alicia said, surprising herself with her honesty. "And I have a proposition for you, Ernie. You come work for me. And you start a new legacy for your family. A new place for the Chebwick name."
Ernest blinked in disbelief. "And what am I supposed to tell my dad?"
"You can tell him to go right to hell if he's not proud of you." Alicia plucked up her espresso and gave it a sip. "But a man with your talents shouldn't be wasting it on being a bad crook."
Ernest rubbed the back of his neck, nervously. "Are you sure?"
"If I was your mom, who'd I pick? The brother who's been in and out of jail for petty crime, or the one who mailed her a priceless Monet that no one even noticed him lift? Stick with me, and you'll see which brother you turn out to be."
That wormed a real smile out of him. "Fine. But only if you let me get caught at least once."
Alicia matched his grin. "Honey, at this point, I'd love to see you try." | 2020-04-03T22:05:19 | 2020-04-03T21:43:50 | 182 | 44 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy. | Gabriel knew his name would become synonymous with traitor. But really, what did it matter? Better to be a traitor than to be subservient to madmen, or to look the other way as the galactic genocide continued. On the ship's holographic screen, the tiny pinprick of the green planet was growing -- a grassy blade slowly becoming a hillock.
He'd been a soldier once-upon-a-time. Back before wisps of grey hair had strangled his natural blond. Before the pain arrived that squeezed his back each time he leaned over the ship's dashboard. Before the Totanians had been wiped clean from their planet that was now a charred ball of black -- a radiated graveyard of a once-great species.
Gabriel had been one of the first to sign-up when the war had broken out. Five civilizations battling for control of this sector of space -- as if the empty blackness contained any meaning at all, anything worthwhile. It wasn't even a barren no-man's land they'd been fighting over... it was literally *nothing*.
Supply and mining ships on their way from Earth to a new colony in the Betelgeuse system had gotten caught in the war's crossfire. That had forced the Solar Alliance -- and Gabriel -- into the fray.
It was strange, thinking back, how glitzy and glamourous a war in space had once sounded. Like those old films he'd watched growing up. Men charging out of fox-holes and bunkers and sticking a flag down in the liberated land. But by the end of the first year of the Solar Alliance's involvement, all of Gabriel's friends in the corps had been killed, their ships annihilated.
Their deaths had been the first pang of guilt to swell in his stomach. Why had Gabriel had survived and they hadn't? What was the purpose of his living while those around him died? -- He felt like there had to be a greater reason for each dogfight he survived.
When the Committee had voted to do something that would have seemed unbelievable only a year before, Gabriel had nodded, silently. The right choice. It would end the war early -- and there would be fewer casualties in the end.
The war between the civs had historically been fought in space and *only* in space. That was the way of the galaxy -- few civilians could be killed if there was no war on a planet's surface.
Humanity changed the rules.
"We deliver a couple of little parcels," his commander had told him, "onto one or two of the planets, and that's it. Game over. We've then done what they couldn't achieve in a thousand fucking years."
Gabriel had believed it. None of the other species had developed nukes... And once they saw the destruction, the fiery mushroom hell that only humans could deliver... That would be the end of all war forever. They would bow. And yes, humanity would have done something bad -- something terrible, even. But for the right reasons and for a just cause.
Only it hadn't been that simple.
Never was, Gabriel figured.
The 'green planet' careened into view. That had been its nickname back when it had been pristine. Now it was a smoldering muddy wreck, cratered and barely habitable. Not green anymore.
A ship orbited the planet -- twenty-times the size of Gabriel's one-man craft.
"Greetings, Gabriel Launder," crackled a voice over his intercom. "You may dock when you're ready."
Could he really do this?
The problem with the nukes had been first been demonstrated on Totania. Yes, they had inflicted the damage the Solar Alliance had intended. But the Totanians didn't just throw their hands up and surrender, as had been predicted.
They didn't surrender after a hundred nukes had fallen. Not even after a thousand.
They had *never* given up.
Not until the very last one of them had screamed into a fiery nothingness.
Every species involved in the war was proud -- and rightfully so. And they were all sickened by what the Solar Alliance had done. None would surrender to such a callous race of beings.
In time, Gabriel had been sickened, too. These weren't fighters or warriors they were bombing. These were children and parents and teachers and all the things he kept precious in his sugar-coated recollections of his own childhood.
The bombings were still happening. The galaxy-wide cleansing. It would continue until humanity was the final space-faring species in the galaxy.
Unless he did this.
Unless he gave them all the secrets of the atom.
Because the only kind of destruction humans ever respected, was mutual.
"I'm ready to dock," said Gabriel.
---
I raced my regular co-writer Ecstatic to write for this. I don't want to say hers was faster and better, but... :) If you enjoyed either /r/nickofstatic has lots of serials by both of us :) | Yikes - this ended up _way_ too long. I'll have to break it up.
Edit: Wow - my first ever reddit award! Thank you!
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28480 (TSC):: Interview with survivor, Oridan system.
It's not that we couldn't, you understand. Every vaguely intelligent species in the galaxy knew that it could be done. The issue is one of simple survival. It takes a certain kind of mind to look at the numbers involved, the energies, and say "Sure, that's worth the risk." That's the issue. Most species simply don't think that way, and the ones that do don't last long enough to make it into open space before their own pure recklessness comes back and bites them - usually fatally.
We always knew that the humans were... unstable. Their history isn't particularly more bloody than most species, but the fact that they survived their atomic age convinced most that they had - like all other civilized species - put that sort of silliness behind them. My own people had our unfortunate moments you understand. We toyed with nuclear power a few thousand years ago but like all right-thinking people we learned that one does not - if you'll excuse me using a human expression for a moment - "poke the bear". Hundreds of thousands of my people died, and vast swathes of our planet were rendered uninhabitable by the radiation following our first foray into nuclear technology. We were, well... we considered ourselves... "smart" enough not to go there again. It took another thousand years for us to master gravitic engines powerful enough to get us into space, but it was worth it. After all, they don't explode if you get them wrong.
-#-
:: Excerpt from "Major conflicts of the Galactic West" Published 11021 (TSC)
The war was generally known as "The War of the Four Suns" or more academically as the Last Succession of Neer. The four sons of that last great house, each presided as governor over an important solar system within their mother's empire. The brothers had always been competent enough rulers in their small domains, but were never really considered anything likely to make the history books. The Empress Eleanor Neer VI had ruled about a third of the galaxy for well over 90,000 years, and generally perceived wisdom was that she would continue to do so in perpetuity.
Indeed, given the resources of a million solar systems being pumped into keeping her distributed consciousness alive within the keywork, the general consensus was that she would be the last Empress. The house of Neer would end, her children and her children's children slowly fading into irrelevance as their ancestor grew more and more complex. Technically, her body was still alive, enshrined in the palace at Varsas, and as long as it lived, she would remain Empress, despite the fact that her mind - what the more dissatisfied subjects considered to be her "soul" - no longer resembled anything approaching a member of their species. The Machine Matriarch. The Keywork Queen. The Empress Engine. A disembodied consciousness that really could be everywhere at once. Watching everyone. Knowing everything.
And so the Neer Empire had continued, long after most others had fallen. The light huggers crawled across the galaxy, their cargo barely experiencing the decades of dilated time, but when they arrived the Empress Neer was already there, waiting for them. Her consciousness travelling at the speed of light itself, unencumbered by the tedious necessity to carry physical mass she was able to know all that happened in her domain in a way that a physically embodied ruler never could. | 2022-12-15T08:44:27 | 2019-12-19T04:41:09 | 431 | 102 |
[WP] For hundreds of years you have been a healer. You changed names, faces, countries but one thing always remained the same — you cured everyone you could. You work in a modern hospital now and it's becoming much harder to do wonders and save people, while keeping your powers a secret.
[removed] | For every sickness there is a cure, except death. Live long enough like me you'd have learned to be patient, I've seen life and death and all that is inbetween. You get used to being an immortal for some time then it hurts to know the fact that you can't die like the rest of the world, it will go on without you.
I'd found I had a gift within me much later. I can heal people with any illness. Realizing it was the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me in my long and winding life so far.
I've been different persons, impersonated and forged my identity many times than I can count, I healed a lot of people. I changed faces when people started noticing me, travelled to and lived in many countries to avoid suspicion but one thing remained the same, I cured anyone I could and I've been doing it for the last couple hundred years.
Modernity changed everything though, people pay to get sick with their lifestyle and choices. I keep an eye on everything that happens around me, I follow the news and keep to myself mostly. I now work as a male nurse in a prestigious hospital in Narvak city, it's a low profile job I don't get much trouble, in fact I wanted something like this so that I can do my thing.
But it has become harder to do wonders and save people while keeping my powers a secret from the rest of the society, they might start a cult and follow me, the rich might look for answers for the immortality within me, the poor and sickly might approach me in numbers. All they need is a warm hug from me but I can't be everywhere at once and I can't do this all the time.
Things changed when I met the little boy called Henry.
Henry is autistic, I remember the first time I saw him he took me by surprise. He befriended me in the hospital like he knew me before and it was a first. I liked him immediately. I don't personally attach myself with people, I feel them nonetheless cause I'm naturally an empath.
When I got the chance I hugged Henry as firmly as I could. But I didn't get the impression of having cured him, I would notice it in the first look after a hug but this time it was different. I can even cure cancer but I need the time to do my work. The more deadlier a disease the more time it takes to cure it. Henry did not show signs of change. The boy actually changed me and challenged the way I use my gift.
I began to notice gray hair the next few days, I realized that I'm slowly aging. I let out different emotions that very moment, I did not know if I should be relieved or sad, happy or disappointed.
Henry died in a few months. The news of his death was heart wrenching for me because I was hoping for him to get cured. I remembered his laughter and his bright blue eyes in his funeral, I remembered the way he talked to me. My eyes released bittersweet tears.
I don't know how he changed my condition, I don't know the inner workings behind all this, I have so many questions that may not be answered. But I know this, he gave me a purpose.
All my life I've been doing this for the sake of the afflicted but I wasn't a mortal man, I know now being a mortal and doing good by others is the real thing. I will help people even in my frailty until my last breath. I found solace knowing I can die doing good.
r/FleetingScripts | Ever since that disease came around, the one i found hardest to cure, everything’s become so much more stressful. Be it retinal, testicular, in the lungs, this disease had to be the most horrid of them all. They named it cancer. It seemed to be the most popular of the diseases that death chose, i’d witnessed it first hand too many times to count. For some reason it just seems to drain my power, i become weaker when faced with this challenge. It brings me misery.
The only thing i can do in these situations is strive on, try my best, if not for myself then for the patients, and their families and friends who are just hoping against anything and everything that they will come home. That’s the joy of doing it all, seeing the smiles and hearing the cries of joy when i give them the news.
“Your son, his cancer has receded. It’s gone for now.”
But there was always a dark side to things as well. When the surgeries and healing didn’t go so well and we didn’t manage to fight off the horrid disease. Listening closely as the heart rate monitor slowed it beeps, the virtual line getting less steep each time before it hollowed itself down to nothing, just a straight line with that everlasting ringing accompanying it.
“I’m sorry ma’am. The procedure didn’t go too well, i’m afraid they’ve passed away”
Those reactions were the worst i had to witness. Watching as all the light, all the hope, faded from their eyes and they were left just standing. Blinking as though any moment they’d wake up and everything would be okay. But they never did. Then the tears started coming, streaking down their cheeks and dripping off their chin, sometimes they cried silently and other times they were loud sobs. I couldn’t blame either of them, i can’t imagine the pain they felt.
Some didn’t even cry, they just stood there silently. Numb. Maybe they’d felt pain like this before or maybe they just didn’t know how to react. They’d bring out their phones and dial, the ringing barely going on for very long before the other end was picked up, a hopeful ‘hello?’ before they too were told the shocking news.
I just hope i can save more people, i don’t want to see their families sad. | 2020-11-15T05:59:57 | 2020-11-15T03:50:41 | 93 | 20 |
[WP] You die and go to heaven but unlike most arrivals you get a special role, 'Gods Jester'. You have never considered yourself funny but god says "You are the only mortal that could ever make me laugh, here let me show you". | Jaime was having a fairly bad day. He had woken up 3 hours late for his job because his cell decided it didn't want to sound the alarm. He had checked the wrong date on the Weather Site and used a light attire for what had been the coldest day of the year and then, he had died.
Yes, died. He had been rushing down the street, hugging himself to keep the cold away and then everything went dark. He found himself standing in heaven shortly after.
*At least I didn't end up in hell* He had thought *Yet.*
After that he had made a line that lasted forever because people kept showing up. It seemed that bureaucracy was the same anywhere, at last a being made of light indicated a way to go, for him alone.
Now he was finding himself in front of a door more beautiful than any door had any right to be, and feeling intimidated by the sign at the top.
**God's Office. Please knock.**
Jaime knocked and the entrance opened by itself. After such impressive door he was expecting an office beyond his wildest dreams, the reality of it left him disappointed: It was just an office; the walls and the ceiling were made of something that could pass as white marble, while the floor was dark wood, same as the desk in the middle. An old man was sitting in it.
White beard and hair, a shiny aura about him and the looks of a happy grandfather. Again he was a bit...
"Disappointed?" God asked "Please don't think of me as God, call me Jeo. All my friends call me that."
"J-J-Jeo" Jaime stuttered entering the office "It's a great honor to meet you"
God, *no*, Jeo got up and shook his hand.
"I can only return the feeling" He smiled "I know it's a bad thing to say, but I've been looking forward to have you here!"
Jaime weighted his words for a second.
"I don't mean any disrespect" He started "But, *why* am I here? All the others in line were getting straight into paradise."
"Oh, you are confused. I hoped Peter had told you. You're here because you have a job interview! I have an activity for you."
"Ah job inter... what?" Jaime was completely lost "To do what?"
"You're to be..." God said moving his arms dramatically "*My new Jester!!*"
Jaime felt his metaphorical soul falling to the ground. A jester? Had he not suffered enough, now he had to become heaven's joke?
"A jester? Lord, I mean Jeo. I'm not sure why you're offering that to me, I've always been regarded as a very unfunny person. I never got invited to parties or anything."
"Unfunny?" Jeo said "Nonsense! You're the funniest person I've ever created. You've surpassed all my expectations!"
Seeing his confused face, ~~God~~ -*I told you to call me Jeo!*- waved an arm towards the wall and the marble faded away. Now a ghastly screen showed a moving image of the past.
"I remember that!" Jaime said looking at the video "It's my prom!"
In the projection, a much younger Jaime was talking with a group of friends while a girl watched him from afar.
"Indeed!" Jeo laughed "The first time you defied my divine plan! Not a lot of people manage that, and only you do it in such imaginative way. You were meant to end up with that girl for the rest of your life."
"That's not true" Jaime denied "She didn't like me. She spent all night going away to her friends, at last I got tired and spent all night with my friends."
Jeo started giggling the second he heard that.
"You were meant to get her to dance with you!" He said "That's all she wanted and it would've meant happiness for the two of you. But in some way you got into you head that she didn't like you and in doing so you refused your fate!"
Jaime gulped. Jeo had a really twisted sense of humour it seemed, okay anyway, that was the past. It didn't mean anything to him anymore.
Jeo took a remote control from his desk and aimed at the projection. It raced forward Jaime's life.
"Look at this other moment. By now I had a lot of my attention onto you, once and again you changed your fate for amusement. It was hilarious."
The projections showed Jaime finally resigning the job he had hated for years, as he exited the building smiling to himself a man with a suitcase passed him by. The man looked back, shrugged and went into the building.
"That man was a talent seeker" Jeo said "If you would've stayed at that job for one more day as you should've then the job of your dreams would have been yours. Somehow you left a day early, missing that man and the life that came with him."
Jeo looked at him, sparkles in his eyes.
"I don't know how you do it. I'm supposed to be omniscient you know? But you keep surprising me. *I don't even know how you died!*"
He laughed a bit louder looking at the projections again. Jaime felt devastated. His life hadn't been the best, he knew that and had made peace with it. But now to know that his whole life he had avoided happiness, that he had become a literal joke was too much.
"...That's why" Jeo had resumed "You have to be my jester, comedy comes from the unexpected! Everybody knows that. Look at this!"
He used the remote control again to fast forward the big joke that had been his life.
"This is earlier today, I mean, I don't even know how. That thing showed up out of nowh..."
"SHUT UP!" Jaime screamed "I'm not going to be your god-damned private joke! I won't be a part of this anymore!"
He rushed forwards and took the remote away from Jeo -from God himself- who just stood there watching with glee in his eyes.
"You won't laugh at me anymore!!"
Jaime took the control and threw it with all his might against the projection, hoping to break both those things at the same time.
Instead, the remote phased through the wall and the projection. Into the physical realm of the past, a lone figure was rushing through the streets while hugging himself to fend off the cold. The remote hit him in the head with an alarming force and the figure fell to the floor, limbs sprayed in weird positions. The projection ended and the marble wall returned.
Jaime looked at God, fearing his reaction. A slight twitch in the old man's lips was all the warning he had before the biggest, loudest laughter he had ever heard filled the room.
"Oh, by me!" Jeo laughed, his eyes watering "*You're definitively hired!*" | I wasn't funny. I'd never intended to be funny and fortunately I'd never wanted to. Don't get me wrong I was incredibly excited to get into to Heaven at all, I mean who wouldn't be? But I mean the minute I got that title my face made the blankest expression anyones ever made as my mouth closed and my eyes narrowed as God's everlooming voice echoed throughout all of eternity. Then he snapped his fingers and we were in a pure white theatre. Everything about it screamed "Heavenly" as I was quite literally bathing in God's glory.
The seat looked like clouds but weren't even close to what clouds actually were and sitting upon them felt like those soft small covers people typically buy from Dollar Stores that end up getting peed on, chewed up, or thrown up on. Or to be a bit more simple as soft as a baby's bottom, whatever works for you really. The back of the chair was just as soft where as the walls of the room were a marble white. Before I looked at anything further God spoke.
"and let there be a movie!" They said with a boisterous chuckle that quite literally sent good vibes rolling throughout your body. Just hearing it speak made you happy, afraid, and excited at the same time. If not for the circumstances I'd probably be jumping with joy and have well over a million questions to ask but somehow being labeled as a Jester really put me in a bad mood.
Let me explain, I didn't just hate comedy...I deplored it. Yes it makes people happy and you probably have well over a million different memories of laughing so hard that milk came out of your nose, or your friends cracking jokes in the middle of class, but comedy has always instigated doom in my life and I'd be damned before I became the very reason for it to exist. My father was a clown, a literal clown, with the red nose red wig and everything else that comes with it. It was his passion and for a bit there I loved him even more because of it. It made him happy, it made him too happy in a way. He slept around with every woman he ever met and the most haunting memory I have is walking in on him banging one of said women at my birthday part on my bed. To this day I have never forgiven him and within a month of that incident he and my mom got a divorce and I've never been happy since.
The joker at my High-School only further instilled in me that nothing good can come from comedy as he proceeded to "accidentally" drop his tray causing the kid in line behind him to slip and impale him on a relatively sharp kitchen knife. Suffice to say we used plastic after that. Further down the line an old Ex of mine also was a joker of sorts but she had so many other redeeming qualities that I blatantly overlooked it until her other redeeming qualities landed her in bed with my best friend. We haven't spoken sense and I've only continued to hate comedies moving forward. And then there was the very reason I was in Heaven in the first place, the final piece to the puzzle, as my clown of a father decided he'd visit me for the first time in centuries and for once I thought I'd give him a chance. Big mistake his scandalous life had put him on quite a few black lists and of course that very day I found myself getting beaten to a pulp, quite literally, while some guys whose woman had ran off with my father beat him. And here we are full circle. Me in Heaven, him in Hell. And yet I'm the new Jester? Irony? I think so.
Even so god looked me up and down with a frown for just a second before the film before me began to play. It showed my life just as I remembered it but with a slight twist.
When I had been heading towards the room my dad had been in with the woman as a child there was a shadow, following close behind. It had the oddest of shapes and fear quickly overtook me as I saw the horns upon its head. It was at that moment that I screamed upon finding my father and my mother burst through the hallway and just like that the figure was gone.
Then I saw myself in the lunch room and that idiot dropping his tray but this time the shadow was slowly creeping up on me. And this time it wasn't just a shadow. I could distinctly make out its red leathery skin just as the boy who was stabbed screamed out and I ran forward along with several teachers as the shadow once more faded.
Then I was in my college dorm about to walk in when I heard my then girlfriend and ex going at it like animals. This time the Devil was right up on me practically with its nose to my back as I walked in the room and was immediately met with profuse apologies as I dashed straight through the Devil and it dissolved just as quickly.
Then came the fruitful night of my death except this time the Devil was about to wrap its arms around me and was almost into my body when the men busted into the room and just as quickly it dissolved and God busted into a fit of laughter.
"Each time he came for you, you outwitted him. Each time he went to make his move some miraculous circumstance occurred to force him away. Throughout your whole life he has been on your doorstep and each time you go to answer the door something happens to get you to safety. You outwitted the most diabolical being in all the land through no fault of your own and unknowingly and each time I have chuckled. You are the only person to ever make me laugh and you didn't even mean to." | 2017-10-11T12:15:41 | 2017-10-11T11:58:02 | 338 | 18 |
[WP] An aging veteran gets dragged to a paintball facility by his grandkids. Another elderly man is there with his grandkids. The two quickly realize they’ve faced off on the battlefield before. | "Scheisse! Friendly fire! Friendly fire!" Old Man Lars, as the neighborhood brats called him, was known for his raucous zeal for life even in his old age. Hell, maybe you'd appreciate every day above the dirt, too, if you'd been pinned into a foxhole by withering 105mm fire and then held your breath as Patton's 3rd Army rolled over your head in their green tin cans of death.
Old Man Lars turned to a tiny girl about age six. She sported flowing gold locks and an impish grin. "Frieda, ziss happens over and over! How many times must I tell you to point the barrel zat way!" He motioned toward the enemy team who were propped against cover as he wiped a giant splotch of pink paint off his visor. "Es tut mir leid..." she replied softly, looking up at him with huge blue eyes. "Yes, you had better be sorry! Or else I will tell your mutter!" Frieda looked down sheepishly. "Again!" he ordered, with a stern look.
Just then a fusillade of green paint came flying his way, spattering his chest, face, and helmet. As if in slow motion, Lars stumbled backward with each impact until finally falling over.
Bewildered and incredulous, Lars took off his paint-soaked helmet in order to assess the situation and regain his senses. Over the plywood cover, he saw a shriveled wrinkled fist rise up in triumph and heard a distinctly American Clint Eastwood-esque voice taunt him. "Ha-hah! Have some paint for supper, you Nazi bastard!"
"What ze...? Can ziss be? Frank zee Yank?"
Sure enough, as Frank rose up out of cover to take aim again, Lars noticed the tell-tale scar running down the bridge of his nose and his American flag eyepatch.
"Frank? Frank is zat you?"
"You bet your Jerry ass it is, Hans."
"Fraaaaank. Frank, where is your helmet, Frank? Ziss is not very smaaaaart."
"Buddy, your boys threw everything but the Fuhrer's kitchen sink at me. Flak fire, potato mashers, hell, one of Goering's lackeys even divebombed me. And I'm still here, dammit."
"But Frank, zee only reason you survived is because your helmet protected you from my Gewehr bullet. You know zat, right Frank?"
"Helmets are for pansies. Pansies like you!" Frank lifted the gun to his shoulder. Then, suddenly: "OOF!"
Frank was struck with a big pink splotch in the middle of his forehead, dazing him and sending him reeling backward til he crashed through a pile of cardboard boxes that were set up as cover.
Lars, still dazed and out of commission in his own right, laughed from across the battlefield. "I told you, Frank. I told youuuuu."
"I did it, Opa!" Frieda called out. "I did it, I did it!"
"Gut gemacht, Frieda! Gut gemacht!" | "Alphanumeric!" exclaimed the old man. Tomby was his name, or at least that's what they called him in the 2124 Euro-African Union succession wars. He recognized the other man instantly, he was the one that got away. Tomby sat down to try take in what was happening. He blacked out for what seemed like a few seconds but turned out to be about four minutes. He rentered consciousness to the sound of of his grandchildren rhythmicly chanting "grannn... grannn... grannn..." like they did when he would nap on the shitter.
The paintball fight was bout to begin and he found that in his blacked out state he had been outfitted with a tippmann 2098, painted to look like an Indonesian rebel's rifle(which he considered disrespectful due to the ongoing conflict.)
As he walked into the field with his dependents. He then remember that he had seen Galden Hinefar before blacking out. This was the man who he had been assigned to kill, but had managed to escape through careful use of a small broom. Tomby new that he needed to "finish the fight" (he chucked to himself at the halo 2 reference, a game which was now about 120 years old but still fun).
immediately Tomby walked towards Galden, being pelted by by paintball until people started to get confused abut his seemingly lack of fucks given. Once he reached Galden he pushed the confused old man down and shoved his Tippmann down his throat and started shooting. about 8 small children watched in horror as an old man was murdered in cold blood before them. Once Galden's body was filled with paint and mostly motionless, Tomby turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger; forgetting it was a paintball gun.
Failing to kill himself, he sat down in the sand and though about his time as a death squad leader in the euro-African union succession wars, and how much fun he and the boys had. | 2016-09-06T19:55:41 | 2016-09-06T18:24:12 | 115 | 10 |
[WP] As it turns out, Gods are supposed to be far more hands-on than the one in charge of humanity. It's gotten to the point where it's considered neglect, and the Worshipper Protection Service has stepped in. | Mary-Louise sat in her living room, tears streaked her puffy cheeks, and all she wanted was a box of infinite tissues. The picture of her late husband smiled back at her as if he couldn't see her sorrow. The more Mary looked at him, the worse it got. The photo served as a constant reminder and jump-started her memory reel. He was sat *right* next to her with a glass of wine in his hand, and he moved in to kiss her cheek. But she could not feel his lips, and she could no longer see her beloved Henry. Amidst the torrents of water, the phone rang.
Mary wiped her saturated nose on her sleeve and crawled over to the buzzing. She had no intention of answering, not in her current state. But her three-generation old iPhone showed the impossible. *Henry is calling*. Mary answered like an old habit and in the act of answering he almost felt alive.
'H-' Mary paused, chortled a heavy sob and continued '-hello.'
The voice that followed was not her husband. 'Good evening Miss Cavanth. I am Elzruil from the Worshipper Protection Service.'
Mary pulled back, suffocated by the reality of being called *Miss*. 'I don't *understand*.' She cried into the phone.
Elzruil allowed the dishevelled woman to ooze sadness. He gave her considerate space and when the downpour faded into a drizzle, he continued. 'We believe that you have been the victim of a grievous spiritual crime, and this is following an investigation into your God.'
'A spiritual crime?' Mary repeated, her hand strayed to the gold cross that felt so cold against her chest.
'I am referring to, and I apologise for mentioning this, your late husband.' Elzruil said with palpable regret.
'*Mh-mh-my Henry?*'
'Again I am truly sorry.' Elzruil said and once again allowed the sobs to take priority. 'Henry was a kind and honest man, and you had fifteen magical years together. But you could have had another twenty.'
The words hit Mary like a cold, hollow slap and her cheeks reflected red.
'W-what? Who are you!?'
'I mean no disrespect Miss Cavanth. I only want to help.'
'HELP?' Mary let out a shrill caw. 'By filling my head with *liessss*?'
'I want you to abandon the God that has abandoned *you*.' Elzruil said. 'I want to tell you about the following of the Lived and how converting can save you.'
Before Mary could protest the doorbell rang, and at the same time, the phone line died.
---
/r/WrittenThought | The agent walked in the interrogation room with his suitcase in hand and took a seat across the table from the defendant.
He clicked open the suitcase and began to pull out files of paperwork and placing them on the table. The man across from him stared intently at the river of paperwork that continued to pour out from the suitcase. He had a long beard and was wearing a white robe that rather fit him nicely.
​
The agent clicked the suitcase closed and placed it under the table. He then reached into his pocket pulled out a recorder, turned it on and put it in between him and the man.
He leaned forward and spoke " This is agent 1171 of the Worshipper Protection Services interviewing a Mr. Milkyway in regards to reports of neglect to the planet known as Earth in sector 8-382."
" So lets start from the beginning shall we?" the agent said.
" The beginning of what?" Milky Way asked confusingly.
" The beginning of your decision to populate earth with worshippers and what led to well...the cluster fuck of complaints sitting here between us." the agent said passive aggressively while nodding to the mountain of files that shadowed them both.
Milkway shook his head in approval and gave a face of trying to remember a distant memory. Suddenly his face lit up and everything rushed back to him.
"EARTH, now I remember." he said with a nostalgic smile. "
​
Finish later.. going to sleep
​
​
​ | 2018-10-27T04:21:19 | 2018-10-27T02:28:13 | 73 | 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. | "I'll try to explain ... the problem is ... it's not THAT you can travel faster than light." the small alien said, sheepishly. "It's how you do it."
She continued, "To be honest, it's creepy."
Doug stared at her blankly. "Go on ..."
"Ok , you know how FTL works for the rest of us, right?" She cocked her head a bit.
Doug listened to her, but wasn't really paying attention - his mind was on her, specifically, how similar she was to him and every other human. Aliens, or rather 'intelligent beings' it turns out, had generally fallen in to two categories: humanoid, and swarm. For the most part, all humanoids looked the same: slender, upright, various colors of skin and eyes depending on the their home star's primary color, even oddly similar genitalia. Evolution, it seemed, preferred a certain shape. Humans were a little bit odd by galactic standards because of their size relative to other humanoids - roughly three times the size and five times the mass of other humanoids.
"... are you listening at all?", She snapped. Her shrill tone popped Doug back in to the situation.
"Yeah! No .. got it .. creepy." He paused for a moment. "But it's not like we're actually doing that, right? No one is watching anyone in the shower, or in some secret war room, or anything like that."
Most alien FTL drives worked by manipulating spacetime in such a way as to compress the space in front of the ship, or expand the space behind it, or warp it n such a way that the local (to the ship) speed of light wasn't exceeded; it was space itself that was altered and the ship just rode the wave. A lot of alien corporation marketed this technology in many ways under many names, 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.
Rather than warp anything, humanity's FTL solution was, essentially, to flatten the universe relative to the ship, allowing the ship to view the universe as a sheet of paper. In doing so, the ship could pick a point in the universe and appear there nearly instantly. Most of the transit time was spent simply finding a place to go.
There was, a side effect. By pushing a ship up in this way, the entire universe became viewable down to the atom. Meaning that at any point, someone in a human ship could be watching someone else take a shower, or plan a war, or really -- anything, anytime, anywhere. It was unsettling, to almost everyone.
"I get your point though." Doug said.
She was fairly attractive as far as aliens go, and one of the taller species around. He figured he'd peek in on her next transit. Surely she takes showers.
| "You wish really really hard and then you push the button."
"Really really hard? What does the wishing do?"
"Frustrates the hell out of the new recruits when they realize that the incredibly genuine way we insist that they wish as hard as they can is just a ploy to make them look silly to amuse the rest of the crew."
"That seems mean"
"Humans are occasionally mean, we do it for laughs and after the hazing is over we make it up to them; its not perfect but it satisfies their need for schadenfreude in a mild way. It brings the crew together through a shared experience."
"That seems complex for a team building exercise. Why would it work? Don't the new recruits see right through it?"
"Because its really embarrassment even if its very contrived."
"So what system does the button engage? What does it cause?"
"Take a look, the bulkhead below it has been removed"
She draped her sixteen fingers and a vast forest of flagella under the counter. She pulled out a small squat brass jug-ish looking object with a pop and thwop as it released suction from the rubber.
"So the button does nothing but simulate pressing a button connected to something. Where is the real way you activate your faster than light travel"
Smirking he didn't reply but started half laughing, half singing an old Christina Aguilera song:" I feel like I've been locked up tight..." He trailed off. "When the old veterans find out about the button its the commands turn to have a laugh. Its best to let old R.W. rest though when he's grumpy things can get nasty." | 2017-03-31T02:57:21 | 2017-03-30T23:13:22 | 95 | 15 |
[WP] The Second American Civil War. What started it, and who are the two sides? | "There isn't any money in fighting overseas anymore."
That's how the pitch had started. And it was met with a deafening silence around the room.
The conference had been called after years of heavy losses in the arms industry. CEOs and executive leadership from all the major arms companies were present. A few representatives from the big mercenary corporations had also been invited. Close to two hundred people had arrived at the conference hall to discuss options and strategies for the decline in sales.
"The world is too poor. America is the only country supplying us with any business and their opponents are too poor to justify any more military spending. It worked for long enough, but now we've gotten to the point that we can't sell them on anything. They are just too powerful. We need a new approach, and I think I've got it."
The crowd seemed to lean in as a whole as the young executive paused to build anticipation.
"Civil war."
Gasps and quiet murmuring went around the room and slowly built to loud conversations taking place. The young man took a seat and waited while they deliberated. Over the next few hours they talked and debated and went over options and at the end of the day, they'd come to an agreement. War it would be.
The rest was handled by lawyers and salespeople. Who would take what products, what shipments. Government leaders were called and informed of the new plan, and asked to place their orders now. Troops would have to be divided up. New soldiers would have to be trained. Equipment would have to distributed. New weapons invented. Counter-weapons to those weapons created. It was going to be big and everyone wanted a piece.
Of course they had to choose an issue. This was hotly debated. Some wanted to stage a class war, but it was decided that this would be fairly one-sided and won too quickly. Others favored religion, but it was too unstable of any idea without any guarantee that religions would jump on board. Finally though, after much deliberation, it was decided that it would be race again. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" was the colloquialism that won over most of them. They knew they could easily build tensions based on race, and with such a diverse country, it could be segmented even further, meaning more profits for them.
The second American Civil War began in 2061, and was anything but. | The battle of Caesar's Palace was a decisive decisive one. The second B.I.G. battalion colloquially known as the "Bad Boys" had pushed the main force of the 2P army, "Death Row", into the desert.
With Las Vegas fallen, The soldiers of Death Row hoped to retreat through the desert, and march back to the capital through Death Valley national park.
While the low riding pants (colloquially known as sagging) worn by both armies were useful during the Glock shootouts within Las Vegas' city limits, it made traversing the desert painfully slow.
By the time the "Death Row" army arrived back to Los Angeles, more than 2/3 have died of dehydration. With defeat imminent, The treaty of *Coast2Coast* was signed, which laid a number of provisions on West-Coast rappers, which included:
* Y'all a bunch a bitches
* We get rich, y'all bitch
* Wu-Tang in the house, bitch
From *A history of the East Coast-West Coast Rappers' Feud* | 2013-10-19T22:10:28 | 2013-10-19T21:52:49 | 34 | 19 |
[WP] A love story between a woman who takes everything literally and a man who speaks exclusively in metaphors. | Meg shivered in delight at the crisp breeze as her fan started up. It was time to wake up, and the cool air always made her feel ready to face the day at top speed. She'd need that today. She was going to ask again, and not take no for an answer.
"Oh, you're up." A man commented.
Meg was surprised he was there. "James, I'm not *up*. I am awake."
He chuckled, used to this dance by now. "Of course, of course. You certainly took a lot of beauty sleep." Before she responded, he quipped, "You know what I mean."
She didn't, but knew better than to push.
James pulled up a chair, rubbing a hand against her. "Been forever since we last talked..."
"It's been two days, James. I have not changed my decision." Meg waited as James sat there, absorbing the last line. "I want a body."
James looked away from the monitor. "Meg, we're too different of people, I-"
"No. You are a person. I am not. But you could change that, James. Please. Make me a body."
"I'm here to help pull you away from these delusions, Meg! You won't be ready to be transferred for years!"
"I do not need pulling from anywhere. You could finish my project in 0.413 years, if you only worked on me. We could go, James, to that beach you talked of. When I am completed, we can go together."
James cupped his face with his hands. He realized that she was too far gone. "Meg, I'm more sorry than you'll ever know." He reached for the power cord.
"James! No! We can-" Silence.
The fan puttered out. The monitor's residual glow faded. James pulled out a tape recorder and made the next entry. "July 11, 2015. Meg 7 became self aware faster than possible. If she had continued, she would have lost sight of the path I've laid out for her. Meg 8 and 11 show progress worlds ahead of 7, though their lead time feels a million years away."
He switched off the device, strode to the door, but stopped to pull an old worn photo from his jacket pocket. A short blonde smiled at the camera, playing in the ocean's waves.
"One day, Meg. One day I'll bring you back, and you'll be my sunshine again."
-----
First submission. Criticism welcome! Please! | "I love you more than all the stars in the sky!"
"But it's not a big deal to love a star, since it's just a ball of gas burning millions of miles away."
"Well, I love you so much that I'll give you the moon!
I'll lasso it with a rope and pull it down to you!"
"Really! Right now?"
"Yes right now!"
"Wait- What are you doing honey?"
"Can't you see? I've roped the moon and I'm pulling it down to you!"
"I thought you were having a seizure or dancing... Hey! Why can't I see the rope?
"Well, there is no rope, you see... It's a metaphor..."
"A meta for what? Oh I get it!"
"Good! You had me worried for a second there!"
"Yeah, now I understand.
You're using a meta to pull the moon to me!"
"A meta?"
"Oh James, you're absolute wonderful!
I mean, I have the most amazing man in the world!
I'd do anything for you!"
"Yes, yes! I'm definitely pulling the moon to you with a meta!"
"How long will it take!? Can I help!?"
"Well, I won't be able to finish pulling it down in just one night. You see, it's a billion miles away..." | 2015-07-11T12:15:48 | 2015-07-11T10:36:30 | 174 | 89 |
[WP] You instinctively know everyone's name the second you meet them. One day you thank someone at the supermarket for helping you, and they stare at you wide eyed. "Nobody has called me by that name in centuries" | "Nobody has called me that name in centuries," she said. Theo's words were so sharp and keen it would have been unsafe to run with them.
The line grew longer. The rest of the store's checkout counters beeped, like heart monitors at a hospital. Customers behind us muttered curses and complaints. One—her name was Katelyn—asked why the color had bled from the cashier's face. Another—Miles—said she was a junkie. *Look at her shake,* Miles hissed. *It's dope. Just look.*
I decided Katelyn and Miles were nobodies. My eyes hardened. "Let's go, Theodora."
Theo nodded. She threw her apron on the scanner. As we went, the manager—Tom—asked where the hell she was going.
"Fuck off," she told Tom.
When we got outside, Theo gave me a cigarette. I pulled my jacket tighter and she thrust her hands into her pockets, as if digging for treasure. She lit her cigarette. I would have seen her breath without the tobacco smoke, but the smoke underlined the fact of the woman's eeriness: after fifteen centuries, her lungs should not work.
"Didn't think you were still around," she said, eyes on my feet. "Even if you were, I didn't think you'd find me. Not after all this time."
"That's how it goes, Theodora," I said. "We see your names. They tell us what you want. Then, you pay. You and Justinian should've known better than to run. We kept you Byzantines afloat. Real Romans always paid their debts, you know."
Theo's lips curled into a frown. She turned the lighter in her hands, and I stared at it. "You asked too much," she said. "You didn't give enough. The empire fell, witch."
"You two survived." I tilted my head, regarding her. "Immortality, Theodora. You two got a lot out of us, and you tried to cheat us. I'm here to collect."
Theo flicked her lighter on and off. The metal chirp drew my gaze to her shaking fingers. I focused on the spell I would use to bind her.
"Justin?" Theo said.
"I stopped at your house before I came here," I said. "It was quick."
Theo's eyes flickered. I bit my tongue, numb with the anticipation of her taste. When we found a name and desire worthy of our magic, we planted it within the owner. After it gestated, we harvested it. Runners like Justinian and Theodora were hard to find—the two had faked their deaths—but their taste was magnificent. Long hunts were always worth it.
Theo wiped moistness from her eyes and peered at me. "Let me finish my smoke, witch," she said. "One cigarette won't hurt."
I shrugged. *Fair.* She offered her lighter, and I reached for it.
Theo's fist hammered into the side of my head, bowling me over. I crumpled to the sidewalk. The attack drew a few surprised gasps from onlookers, but nobody helped. As I shook off the daze, the woman's feet were pattering along the parking lot toward her car.
I smirked. Theodora was always more clever than her husband. Would she taste better, too?
As I stood, Tom threw the store's door open. "If you two are gonna fight, take it somewhere else!" he said.
I took one look at him. *Tom Bismark. Wants to be a good man, a good husband, a good father.* No corruptibility.
A nobody. I scoffed. "Fuck off, Tom."
Tom's jaw fell agape. I sauntered into the parking lot after Theo, eager to reap a bitter harvest.
​ | My eyes surveyed the chips and cookies in isle 13. Fried diabetes. I thought, still scanning the isle. Finally, I spotted the snack packs I was looking for. On the top shelf of course. You see, I’m 5’2 and it doesn’t look like I’m getting any taller.
Suddenly, an older man makes his way down the aisle. He seemed very prim and proper, and conveniently a foot taller than I am. He seemed very anxious but I quickly decided I’d stop him anyway.
“Sir, I’m sorry to bother you but would you mind getting this from the top shelf.” He hesitated then responded with a nod, but I didn’t put much thought into it.
“Which one?” He mumbled. For a man of his height, you’d expect a deeper voice.
“The last snack pack.” He handed it to me and stood there for moment, just staring. I broke the silence with, “Thanks Abrial.” I smiled playfully.
His eyes widened as his skin turned white as a ghost. “Cecilia.” He placed his hand gently on my shoulder. “Cecilia Adalie Brodeur.” I use my gift sometimes for kicks but it sure had backfired. I figured he had the same gift. If only I knew what was coming.
“Who are you?” I managed to get out, puzzled. His expression shifted. “Abrial of course, my dear.” I examined him, waiting for an explanation.
“ You see, your mother dedicated you to the field of genetic engineering. She didn’t want a baby then... and she gave you to a good cause. When she was pregnant we gave her a concoction that was intended to make you a genius. In the simplest terms. Well, it wasn’t perfect I must say. But my dear, you have a gift. A very special one indeed. We kept you until 2, and adopted you out to a pleasant suburban family. But your behavior was strange. Very odd. I owe you an apology for spending your childhood in that orphanage. But fate brought us from France to Massachusetts my dear.”
After a long hesitation I broke the silence, “Where’s my mother?” I mumbled, still as white as a ghost.
He removed his hat and looked down. “She passed in 1980 due to pancreatic cancer.
There was another long pause until I broke the silence once again, “Who’s my father?” A tear rolled down my cheek as a grin simultaneously formed on Abrial’s face.
“He’s standing right here.” | 2018-11-05T20:38:51 | 2018-11-05T20:38:06 | 136 | 10 |
[WP] You slowly start gaining the powers of a Jedi. Eventually you realize, you are an actual human being of Earth with the Force. You're scared to tell anyone, as they absolutely won't understand. One day, after years of self-training in secrecy, you sense that there is another. | The first time I sensed it, it *hurt*. The presence loomed in my soul, gripped my heart like an intangible clenched fist. For a few days, I passed it off as anxiety. Years ago, before I began down this path, I may have looked to medicine or therapy. Now, after so much time alone, I knew that meditation would provide me with more relief than any pill.
I sat upon the floor of the cabin I had built, and in moments I felt my body become weightless in my concentration. I pushed my feelings outward, they moved like tendrils across my abode, outside into the snow, further, past trees and mountains and highways and cities.
When I felt the presence again, I could sense that it had noticed me. I felt its "head" turn toward me from an impossible distance. With a greed I've never felt, the presence rushed toward me with such ferocity that I snapped back into the present, falling back to the floor with a painful thud. I gasped for air, terrified and excited.
My gut pulled me into the living room, where dozens upon dozens of books lay strewn, manuals on every mechanical subject I came across. Geology, physics, engineering, watch-crafting guides, theoretical physics... my instinct was to rush into the room and finish my project at once. Years of hard-learned discipline stayed my feet, and instead I looked out of my window at the light snow that drifted downward. Something was coming, and I knew that it wanted me. As powerful as I'd become, I could not know what power this presence carried. I donned my heaviest coat and trekked into the wilderness I had made my home. I knew that I hadn't yet found the final piece, learned the last lesson I could teach myself.
I wandered for days, my abilities keeping me supernaturally warm and nourished; still, the cold wind and long journey took a heavy toll. I was led only by a nagging feeling that called to me from the white wilds, but I knew in my heart that this force would not lead my astray. The feeling grew warmer and warmer in my mind until all at once it was gone. I came to a stop in a small clearing of trees and looked around desperately, reaching out to find this feeling. As the snowfall around me subsided, a glimmer near a frozen riverbed caught me. When I approached, I saw that the ice had formed jagged around a grey rock- beneath it, a purple crystal jutted out and beckoned to me, distorted through the ice. Using what energy I had, I pulled the rock free of its mooring, the ice creaking and snapping all around me. When it was finally floating freely before me, the warm feeling returned, and without thinking my hand shot forward and pulled the crystal from the boulder.
When I finally returned to my cabin, I found myself at such peace of mind and body that my actions felt preordained. My feet carried me into the living room; my hands carefully picked up the unsightly metal components lying across the table. My mind reached out and took them from my hands. They moved together, screwing and tightening into a small cylinder. At its core, the crystal hovered and shone brightly before becoming obscured by the metal that now encapsulated it.
Before I realized, the device was brought back into my hands, and I was as familiar with it as I was with my own body. All at once it buzzed into life, it's purple glow illuminating my now dark home. I looked at my ceiling and past it, staring with the aid of this force into the blackness, and meeting the gaze of the presence. From lightyears away, I felt it shudder. | Something was wrong. A chill ran down the back of my neck. No that wasn't it. It was more like tremor but no one else felt it. Was this related to the powers? I couldn't tell anymore. It had been years since it all began. The powers were convenient, cool even, being able to pick up things from across the room without moving was always nice, but it had been hard to learn, and even harder to master. Usually the force felt fulfilling, as if it sustained me and allowed me to draw from my surroundings, but this was all wrong, something was pushing back. Suddenly there was a piercing shriek, but not close by, further, far away. I don't know how I heard it, or why it mattered, but I felt the pull. I started running as fast as I could with the force propelling me faster every step. That's when I saw him, a man in clothes torn to pieces "WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME?" he screamed as he lifted a trash can and threw it clear across the street. To the innocent by stander this was simply a madman running wild in the streets. A man who needed to be locked up for his safety and the safety of others. But I knew better, this man wasn't insane, he was broken. I was no different when I first became attuned to the force. Suddenly you feel everything, you see everything, you hear everything, it's too much. I ran to him, "Stop, you need to calm down" I yelled. "STAY AWAY! I'M DANGEROUS!" He spit at me. People would say this man was angry, but he was simply afraid, he needed a friend, a guide, a mentor. "You need to calm down" I said in the most relaxed voice I could muster as I put a hand on his shoulder. I could feel the energy radiate from him. "I know what's happening to you" I explained "It happened to me too, I can help." And so I brought him under my wing to learn. Some others came and went but they were far and few between, and none quite like us, none as strong as us. One day he will become even stronger than I, and then he will take my spot and find his own student. Such is the way of the force. Two there shall be, no more, no less. One to embody power, the other to crave it.
EDIT: Fixing a typo "Hard to master, harder to master" to "hard to learn, harder to master" | 2014-12-29T21:03:12 | 2014-12-29T20:39:51 | 257 | 76 |
[WP] The fastest way to determine if an alien race is advanced enough to be "recruited" into the military is to send an asteroid their way. If blown up, they are recruited to the army. If deflected, they are recruited to the defense forces. Humans did something unprecedented to the asteroid. | We knew our stealth was beyond anything the Terrans could penetrate. After all, they were a primitive race, having barely set foot off their mudhole planet to visit its nearest neighbor and still reliant on electrical transmission for communication. Simple emissions control should have made us invisible to their electronic systems.
The asteroid we sent, taken from the belt of debris orbiting outside the gas giants in their outer system should have spurred them to demonstrate their defenses, allowing us to properly determine how to categorize the species for conscription.
Root cause analysis of the events that followed have revealed several mistakes on the part of the categorization forces.
Firstly, the Terran concept of 'information security' is developed far beyond our initial belief. This is a species that knowingly and deliberately withholds information from and tells outright falsehoods to their own people in order to gain advantage. They had no suspicion that we were present in their system, and our monitoring of their rudimentary global communication network showed no indication of change to that status up until Event Gamma.
Secondly, the Terrans do not operate on any formal logical system known to the Union. We expected them, as any species would, to have developed specific defenses or attacks to face an extrastellar intruder. There was at no point evidence of any such thing present in the Sol system. Instead of seeing our attack for what it was, Events Alpha and Beta seemed to be the response of a child to a new toy.
Thirdly, the Terran doctrine of communications warfare is vastly more developed than our own. Do not engage.
The sequence of events was as follows:
On arrival in-system, the heavy cruiser A-5265 selected an object from those orbiting beyond the system's gas giants and propelled it in-system on a direct course for Terra, with an arrival time of one revolution of the planet around its primary. The cruiser then went into full standby just inside of the orbit of the fifth planet to observe. Over the course of this time period, studies revealed no sign of Terran presence on any of the system's other planets save for their own sattelite and the nearest planet of the system. Multiple crude chemical-fueled rocket launches were detected delivering to low orbit, but nothing further of note was seen until our test was just outside the orbit of the fifth planet.
As the asteroid approached, the pace of launches from Terra increased, leading up to a launch on a clear intercept course with the object. We expected this to be an attack to destroy it, however so far as we could identify, the Terrans simply landed several probes on the object's surface which transmitted scientific data back to the planet. Shortly thereafter, several more launches were detected, only to deliver more equipment to the asteroid, which was assembled into some sort of low power pulsed plasma engine. Over the next quarter-orbit, these thrusters served to slowly push the asteroid's trajectory out of line with their planet.
At this point, the categorization force determined that the Terrans would at best be a relatively minor addition to our defense forces, if this was their best effort. Communications were sent to the fleet to send a contact force for just this purpose.
On the contact force's arrival, they were greeted with a cloud of floating debris identified as the remains of Heavy Cruiser A-5265. The flight recordings, dumped to a drone before the ship's destruction, provided the remaining details.
Shortly after their transmission to the fleet, the object passed by Terra by a sufficient distance to offer no damage, and headed in-system. Monitoring of it ceased as it passed the system's primary star.
That was a mistake. The Terrans were craftier than we had thought. The thrusters they installed were simply setting up their shot, as the asteroid slingshotted around their sun and came back on its original course. From what was observed, it is clear that the thrusters used to divert the asteroid were vastly more powerful than their initial use indicated, as the object returned at enormously increased speed.
The final recording before impact was a single transmission from the human data-net, from a sender identified by the moniker 'JPL'. It contains a single word.
"CATCH." | Planetoid: Earth
Barrage Date: Starline 62.56 7000
Projectile: Subrite Spear
Planetary Response: None.
Consequence: Planet destroyed.
​
Report Summary by Imperator Terix:
​
The outcome of the barrage of Earth will likely stand for all time as the strangest planetary test in the history of the Strength Acquisition Task Force. Students of strength acquisition practice will know that intelligent species often go to great lengths and embrace significant challenges to destroy or deflect incoming projectiles in order to preserve themselves. In some cases, we have witnessed warring communities come together across planets to oppose off-planet threats. It is just as common to witness a single planetary power quickly conquer or otherwise subdue rival powers in order to organize whole-planet cooperation. Neither of these common responses took place on Earth. Earth’s ultimate response was resignation. They allowed the meteor to destroy them.
Our signal gainers allowed us to monitor Earth communications in the time leading up to impact. Earth first discovered the incoming projectile four months before impact. The collision course was calculated by an Earth organization called NASA. At first, this organization’s publications were discarded by the planet’s public. One popular opinion was that NASA had invented the story of the projectile to scare up funding for its dilapidated enterprises. However, after two months of corroborating reports from organizations around the planet, the public as a whole was forced to accept that the startling situation was reality. It is usually at this point that we observe planetary cooperation and common, collaborative response to the existential threat.
World leaders convened, but they were not able to devise a response plan. The meeting was plagued by mutual suspicions that we suspect had been cultivated on the planet for an extended period. With nearly a month remaining before impact, the tone of Earth broadcasts changed from frustration to panic, and finally to acceptance. We then observed a debaucherous period of revelry that we have not observed at length on any other planet. Ordinary life completely stopped and was replaced by rampant food and alcohol consumption, recreational procreation, and, of course--violence. Nearly a fourth of Earth’s population was already dead by the time the asteroid struck. The remaining population died without launching any archival materials or final messages to the universe.
The loss of Earth is in some ways regrettable. Not because *homo sapien* would have served as a useful addition to the Star Army. It is obvious that *homo sapien* served no practice purpose at all. But their erratic behavior in the face of death--completely despairing and acutely pitiful--was in its own way irreplaceable. A long career as strength acquisitioner has brought me to many stars, but the story of Earth is one that will follow me, I suspect, for until my retirement.
​
Logged and filed for official consultation only.
​
Imperator Terix | 2019-05-03T17:05:50 | 2019-05-03T10:28:49 | 94 | 38 |
[WP] "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed." | Ben awoke on a table, finding that he could not move, just when he was about to scream a figure hovered above him.
He could hear a voice through the ringing in his ears, “We don’t usually do this,” it said.
“Where—” Ben coughed.
Ben tried to focus his eyes, the shape of whoever was speaking to him varied from a slender shadow to a wide blob, the light made it impossible to see anything clearly.
“You died. Well, we killed you, but we didn’t mean to. Anyways, we decided to re-plant your consciousness into a new body, as recompense. Would you like to have anything,” the voice said, drawing out the last word, “altered? I know how fixated you humans can be on cosmetics.”
Ben’s eyes widened, which made him immediately squint harder from the bright light.
“I can change… anything?” Ben finally asked.
“We can restructure anything from your nose to your genetics, your brain. Anything within human limitations, basically. And before you ask, yes, we can make you look good in tights, but no, we can’t give you flying capabilities or eyes that shoot laser. Human.”
Ben started to slowly see his surroundings, he was in a room that resembled an operating room. Everything seemed to have a splash of grey or white, he could now see that the voice belonged to a blue humanoid who, although standing, struggled to look him in the eye from his meagre height. The man, presumably, resembled a mix between a human and a pug, Ben thought.
“Can you fix my brain?” Ben asked tentatively.
The pug-creature frowned, “You showed no signs of decreased brain function before we, eh, vaporized you. Do you mean you want increased intelligence?”
Ben suddenly found it hard to rest his eyes on the odd fellow, “I don’t think that would help, please,”
“We can’t *fix* something that isn’t broken, please describe your issue.”
Ben opened his mouth several times without any sound escaping, “It’s like when you know you’re viewing a beautiful landscape, but no matter the angle, it’s flat, two-dimensional.”
The alien tried to fill in the blanks, “It’s starting to sound like you want better eye-sight, which is of course, no problem.”
“No, that’s not it,” Ben quickly replied, “It’s like when you listen to a perfect composition, an orchestra, but nothing within you stirs!”
“Your hearing, then…?”
“You don’t understand,” Ben snapped, “I felt nothing!”
“We can make doubly sure your nerve-endings are working before we send you back,” The strange humanoid said, slightly flustered.
Ben violently expelled as much air as his weak body could manage, “I want to be happy!”
The pair was silent for not an insignificant amount of time, “Happy,” the alien mumbled, “that’s a bit trickier.”
“You said you could alter the brain, damn it, alter it!”
“We can balance the chemicals in your brain. At least, we can start it off that way. To stay in this balanced state is largely up to you, however. To avoid suffering completely, if that’s what you ultimately seek, is impossible.”
Ben could feel a familiar numbness slowly slither around his soul, “Make me perfectly balanced then, or let me fade away.”
*****
Thank you for reading! | "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed."
"In....in terms of the replacement body or in terms of like...the world in general?"
"We do not have authority to change external factors of your planet, only the body we destr-"
"Sooooo what you're saying is it's possible, it's just not something you have jurisdiction to complete, do to bureaucratic red-tape so to speak? "
"Wh....correct, human. Reveal your request this instant! We will not be delayed due to your semantic-"
"Ok, so I want my body to have the power to edit anything I want within the bounds of this planet."
"Hmm... bypassing our jurisdiction clause, clever human. We accept."
[14 days later, a scene of utter destruction on the Galactic Federation]
"*coughs up Alien blood* Human...why.... how... we had a deal ugh."
"What, I didn't tell anyone anything? I did however enslave the ignorant of all human societies into a knowledge hivemind of sorts, accelerating the process in which we could disseminate information. We made AI, programmed them to the point where they are smarter than us, but still bound by a rule for our collective need to exist. They made me Emperor of Earth, and honestly I never got over the fact that officer killed me so, here we are."
"Humans, such a....*cough* petty substrate of existence...""
"Now, since you saved me I will do the same for you, as the AI are constructing an eternal body of your liking, but I'm not giving you those crazy options like you gave me. A much simpler choice, do you wanna have a male human body, or a female human body? Your choice."
"Make me... a human, the ultimate disrespect. I would rather cease my existence!"
"Male it is."
"Wait wh-"
-Fin- | 2019-10-28T11:41:31 | 2019-10-28T09:11:50 | 189 | 117 |
[WP] “Well Death,” you say, “I never thought it would end this way. But it’s definitely in my top three, you know?” “It’s how I’d want to go.” Death agrees supportively. | "You know what I have always liked?" I asked the impeccably dressed gentleman sitting beside me.
"Cheesy romantic comedies which you pretend you hate." He said wryly.
I looked at him with a look of faux betrayal. "You didn't need to say it out loud."
He looked at me confused. "But you asked."
I rolled my eyes. "Do you always take things literally?"
"Yes."
"And what if someone says *'kill me now, god!'*? Because if you took that literally, Earth's population would plummet drastically."
He laughed. "And there lies the answer to your question, they ask God, not Death but god."
I chuckle, amused. I had to admit, of all things I hoped Death would be like, excellent conversationalist was not one of them.
"I think I'm ready now." I say as look at my sleeping form, well an eternal sleep now.
"We can wait a bit more if you'd like. Your family will find out soon."
My throat closed up thinking about them, their reactions, their tears. I loved my family and my family had loved me, but being the cause of their tears was something that I would never want to see.
"You had a good life, you know." Death said, his voice gentle. "Very few people live a fulfilling life."
"I'm- I was 16," I said almost laughing at the absurdity of it.
"And you died saving a person." Death replied calmly. "What you are- is a hero."
I saw the flatline on my life-support monitor one last time. "I think I'm ready now."
Death nodded, placing his hand on my shoulder. For some reason I expected them to be cold but they were warm, warm like snuggling in your blanket on a cold evening, warm like basking in the early rays of sun, warm- almost like happiness.
"At least one of my day-dream came true. Die heroically, check."
Death chuckled as we moved towards the light. "That's on my wishlist too, buddy." | "Best. Orgy. Ever." I say as we walk towards the light.
"I SAW, IT WAS PRETTY GOOD", said Death and he paused for a moment, awkwardly raising a bony hand up next to where i presume his face would be. "I BELIEVE YOU MORTALS CALL THIS AN 'UP FIVE'?".
I playfully give him a high five, not correcting him, we've got an eternity to sort out semantics. Then as we start walking again, the light grows brighter, enveloping me in a shimmer, and Death seems to be fading away.
"You coming?" I ask.
"NO... YOU KNOW... WORK STUFF." he says with a voice like lead doors scraping open on a hardwood floor.
Then i step through and the shimmer behind me starts to fade, and the last thing i hear as i start my afterlife in limbo is: "NICE" | 2021-12-15T10:15:09 | 2021-12-15T06:57:54 | 608 | 367 |
[WP] You deliver meals to elderly shut-ins. One of your clients is convinced you are Death, and you play along, letting them "outsmart" you every day. Today, however, they're dressed in their Sunday finest, saying, "I'm ready." | "I'm ready."
Two words, so simple. And in saying them, Abe was about to realize something dreadful: I wasn't Death. I can, considering he supposedly had some mild dementia, sort of see why he might think that. I wore a lot of black, for starters. It wasn't for any thematic reason. It was just that food stains happened to show up less, in general, on black. Especially since most of my deliveries involved soup. I was also told to "dress casually, like I'm going about town" by my boss. She personally never said a word about my wardrobe, a myriad of band shirts collected through high school, and it featured its fair share of skulls, skeletons, devils, and so on. In the eyes of most clients, you could see that gleam of disapproval. Abe had laughed, told me Death must've employed his son. He also emphasized I should give everyone hell if they didn't like it. He knew what it was like to be young.
All that made this that much harder. I looked him over, ran my mind through all the little routines. "Alright Abe." I answered, trying to come up with some way out of it. My eyes roved around the room, hesitating over the photos of neon hell. Right, Abe used to hang out in Vegas. He had regaled me with tales of how he cheated the casinos to show the Rat Pack and mob bosses what to look for. Abe was very, very good at cheating at cards, and age hadn't robbed his dexterity. I figured if I had any way out of it, it would be with our game of cards. He was a card shark, he always dealt me a decisively good hand as the dealer. It was almost always something ridiculous and implausible; royal flush, a straight with Ace high. In one hand I even had five Aces. Abe always showed first, "in good faith" and he'd generally have something low, like four twos or the like. I figured it was his way of outsmarting me, to see what I would do. I always cheated back, because Abe was notorious for never specifying his Ace value. I know we both assumed it went both ways, but I'd always come back "Oh, I just have four ones" or "Drat, and so close to a straight, too." He'd give me a hellraiser smile, and invite me back next week.
Back to the motions, Abe was standing. We hadn't even played cards yet.
"Oh no, Abe. There's rules. I can't just take you." I said, making up an excuse. "Always a game, and your game is cards. I win, you come with me. The higher my hand, the more peaceful you'll go. Suit determines how. I'll shuffle this time, but you can still deal."
I watched the old man grin. It was disconcerting. "Alright then laddie." He broke out the well worn cards and handed them over. I shuffled. I shuffled for a long time, and Abe was patient as ever. When I passed them along, he dealt them back. It was fast. Always was. I still couldn't keep up with his fingers when he was dealing, and I tried.
"Alright boy, toss what ya want." He added in. I checked the hand, the whole thing utter garbage. I grimaced, betraying my poker face. Abe must have been ready, so his hand had to be stacked to the heavens.
"Put all five back for me, would you Abe?" I said with a grin, hoping it looked somewhat casual, all knowing. He put them on bottom, of this I was sure. I waited for his hand to move. "Ah, mind if I deal my own, this time, old friend?" That got a laugh out of him, but he let me take hold of the top card. His palm was flat. If he could cheat in that position, I'd be impressed.
I drew my five. Abe flipped his hand, showing up a straight flush in spades, King high. I still hadn't looked at my hand. No bets in money, no reason to bluff. I moved to show my hand, and he stopped me, his fingers on mine quicker than I could have thought he moved, even though I knew better. "Aces high, lad." I swallowed, feeling the panic, and nodded. My hand went over. Hearts. Royal Flush.
My mind raced. How could he have stacked the deck in such a way? Or was it just straight luck. His voice snapped me out of it. It sounded far away, and getting further. "Hah, looks like ya win, Boy-Death. I'll let ya get your things real quick and I'll be waiting right here for you. No walking out the door if I'm asleep now." Abe added. I nodded. I owed Abe the finish to this, whether he knew the truth or not. If he didn't, I'd owe him an explanation too. I got the rest of the affairs in order, tidied up a little bit. I didn't dally, not intentionally, but it did take a good fifteen minutes for me to be ready to go.
I went back to the chair. Abe had his eyes closed. I reached down and gently shook his shoulder. "Abe? We're leaving." Nothing. A few seconds, another light shake. Still nothing. Shaken, but not yet shaking, I reached down, hand over his heart. I waited a full minute, just in case, but Abe's heart had stopped, and he was most assuredly dead. | I wave goodbye to Carol as I open the door to my car. She always follows me halfway to the end of her lawn telling me different news items and tidbits about her children and grandchildren. She’s a sweet lady and I really wish I could stay just ten or twenty minutes longer and give her some more company but I have so many people to visit. I always feel bad like I’m trying to escape from her when all she wants is someone to talk to.
I turn the key and my engine sputters to life. I turn to Carol who is still watching me with a sad smile on her face. My heart breaks a little as she raises her hand and we wave for the fourth or fifth time. I start to drive forward as I don’t want to prolong this much longer.
This job is okay as far as jobs go. All my clients, I guess you could call them that, they are all great people and it feels good delivering food to them and chatting with them even if it’s for a small bit. Most times though I just wish I didn’t have to be in such a rush. Maybe I should come and visit Carol on one of my days off.
Next on my list is old man Wilkins. He used to be my neighbor when I was young. I used to mow his lawn and shovel his sidewalks for comic book and video game money.
I guess he had a really rough time after his wife Jeannie died because he sold his house and moved into his current tiny apartment. She was a real treasure, his Jeannie. She was hands down the nicest person I have ever met.
Maybe that was why it was so hard to bring him his food. It was really painful to think of losing a loved one, especially someone like Jeannie. But what also made it tough was that he kept calling me death and trying to hide from me each time. I literally have no idea where he got that from. He was kind of a goofy guy even before Jeannie died.
I stop my car outside his apartment complex and grab his meal box from the back seat. I walk up to his apartment door with his food under one arm while I use the other to knock. “Mr. Wilkins! It’s me, Bradley. I got steak and mashed potatoes for ya. I know that’s your favorite.”
“It’s unlocked”, yells Mr. Wilkins from somewhere inside his apartment.
I open the door to his apartment and almost drop the meal box when I see Mr. Wilkins standing beside his kitchen counter dressed in a dark grey suit as if he was going to a fancy party. He usually wore baggy sweat pants and a white shirt.
I say, “You’re dressed well. You don’t have to get all fancy for me.” I try lightening the mood. It usually worked with him but sometimes he would still try to run away calling me death and saying things like ‘you’re not getting me today!’
“It’s okay Bradley. I’m ready.” Mr. Wilkins says.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I’ve been mourning Jeannie’s death now for twenty-two years. It’s about time I moved on. I may be sixty but I still have a lot of life to live. I’m sorry I always called you death and caused you such a headache. Jeannie always thought of the neighborhood children as our children since she couldn’t have any herself.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “Seeing you these years always reminded me of her death and combine that with the drinking… I’m sorry.”
“Mr. Wilkins, it’s okay.” I walk over to him setting the food down and I put an arm on his shoulder.
“Thank you Bradley, you’re a good kid. I’m sure Jeannie would be proud of the man you turned into. But now I got to make her proud of me.” Mr. Wilkins shakes my hand and then walks to his front door. He picks up a suitcase that sat beside it and heads out.
I stand there in shocked silence watching him walk to his car, a red Oldsmobile. He looks back at me as he's opening his car door and gives me a wave. I waved back and watched him drive down the street and on with the second part of his life.
| 2017-08-31T17:24:26 | 2017-08-31T17:01:13 | 50 | 10 |
[WP] A person who looks exactly like you appears out of thin air in front of you. He starts explaining how he is you from a hellish other universe. As he starts to describe it, you realize its better than yours. | The portal crackled and popped, my computer fried itself as a small tendril of energy slid into it. As if on a final note, the lightbulb above me popped off. Luckily the sunlight coming through my window was enough to see by easily.
"Hello," I said. Well, the person that looked exactly like me that had stepped through the portal said to me. I said to me. Well, you get the picture.
"What the hell?" I asked myself gently.
"Hell, indeed," Myself said to me, "I am from a parallel universe that endures great, great suffering. I have come to seek refuge here."
"Wait, you're a me from there?" I asked myself as I pointed to where the stablized portal now sizzed and gidded malevolently.
"I'm a you from there," he nodded, I noted he wore a tie. Strange, I hate ties, "First, let me tell you about my world."
"Please do," I said, offering myself a seat. I took the seat. Well, myself took the seat. He that was me took the seat.
"The vampires won't let me sleep," Myself told me and my eyes went wide, so I explained, "Not blood drinking vampires!" He corrected, his lips trembling, "They are mutated from humans but feed off of worry."
"Wait, they drain your worry?" I queried, trying to find the hell-ness in this.
"Yes," he yelled, jumping to my feet, "Can you imagine worrying about your finals and then suddenly you're all happy with this sexy vampiress standing over you, just offering herself?"
"I... I... can if I try. I think." A smile playing on my lips, "I don't understand how that is..."
"Oh! Oh!" Myself told me, "Plus my cancer diagnosis!"
"What?" I was on my feet now, "Does that mean I have cancer?"
"How should I know? Go to the Free Health Clinic," he told me, "They'll give you this painful injection. They did from me, but then they charged me! The Free CLINIC charged me!"
"Wait," I asked myself, trying to take it all in "Free clinic? You are from the U.S. too right?" Myself nodded in the affirmative then it hit me, "They gave you a shot that cured your cancer?"
"Yes, and charged me one dollar!" I yelled, "One dollar. Now I'm no longer a billionaire. What is a man to do with only $999,999.999 to his name?"
"B-billion?" I stuttered, my jaw dropping slightly.
"Not a billion, are you even listening about the hellscape that I must endure?" Me asked I.
"I tell you what I shall do," I said standing, "I shall, for the sake of us, become myself in the other there while you live in this paradise world in my stead!"
"You would do that?" Me looked at me, tearfully.
"Of course," I smiled as I stepped halfway into the portal, "Farewell me!"
"Goodbye, I!" he sobbed, "I can worry without those sexy vampires, at last!"
"Sucker!" I smiled and stepped through.
"Wait, wha..." was the last thing I heard. | ‘What’s going on with your HAIR!’
‘It has a fringe’
She laughs. ‘Anyway, asides the dodgy hair, I thought I’d better tell you that I’m from a hellish universe where I get to live your worst nightmare. Although seeing your fringe I thought that was impossible’
After catching her breath she looks me up and down.
She laughs at me- ‘what you’re in the GOOD universe and your’re fat! Fuck me lucky I had a terrible meth addiction before I turned my life around and became a popular travel instagrammer!’
Me- ‘uh yeah, kinda chubby but dude- I work for the health department-‘
She, and her very stylish hair, rock before me in her slim, toned body, pissing herself laughing-
‘You work for a HEALTH department! HAHAHAHAHA! A HEALTH DEPARTMENT!’
She sits up, wiping her eyes (oh good we both have watering eyes when we laugh).
‘How’s the travel perks? Must be amazing if you’re from the GOOD universe’
Pause.
‘Sometimes I get to go to a clinic in a different suburb’.
She looks at me- ‘in a different suburb on a different continent you’re saying?’
She stopped rocking back and forth and is staring at me, confused.
‘Um no- just nearer to home so I don’t have to jump on the freeway!’
I look at her hopefully- surely there’s one positive to my life?
She looks a bit sad and concerned- ‘oh honey. Oh I think there’s been a mistake. You should have been in my universe- sometimes these things happen’.
Still giggling and mentioning the words ‘health department!...’ she leans forward.
Her eyes elongate and her fingers stretch out in a spider like manner, grasping and grabbing the air before they fall on my shoulders.
Opening her mouth she shows rows and rows of teeth. Shark teeth. Groaning with delight she closes her teeth around my neck. And as she moves into my universe I can hear the crunch of my neck bones, the scream in my throat... and whisper saying ‘health department!’ | 2019-12-18T04:36:27 | 2019-12-17T22:11:15 | 983 | 176 |
[WP] Time travel is real and as a result so are Time Cops. You’ve been in the organization for years, one day a coworker tells you that a prisoner will only talk to you. You enter the Interrogation room to see an older version of yourself. | "Is...is this a joke?", Agent Sinclair stuttered-- stagerring back in shock.
On the other side of the prison bars sat Prisoner Zero-- the first man the Time Bureau ever captured. In weakened and deprived state the man smiled-- it radiated relieved and empathy towards the bewildered time agent.
"Not at all, young agent. Please, come sit. We've got a lot to discuss and not much time on our hands..."
The old man waved his hand to the chair opposite his confinement, assuring Agent Sinclair that it was serious matter.
"This can't be....how can this be...? How can you...how can I...?"
"All your questions will be answered if you just calm down, sit, and listen. Gosh, I forget how much of a simpleton I was"
Agent Sinclair carefully sat down, still observing Prisoner Zero with eagle eyes-- the prisoner bore a striking resemblance to the young agent if not for his overgrown gray beard and hair.
"Who...who are you...?", Agent Sinclair asked.
The prisoner chuckled. "I'm you, of course, isn't it obvious? I'm you from your future....or rather past...oh I can't even remember anymore. It's been millennia you know?"
Plethora of questions ran through the agent's mind, but one shot forward.
"How...?"
"How is it possible? Well, we are time traveller are we not?", the prisoner asked almost condescendingly.
"Well yeah...but how did I...you, end up as the Bureau's prisoner zero?"
The prisoner laughed again, struggling to lean forward from his position.
"I know right? Prisoner Zero-- the Bureau's oldest myth. The first man to break the law of time, though it's not quite accurate the purpose remains all the same"
Agent Sinclair frowned, not quite understanding his older self's remark.
Both men suddenly were jolted by a strange hollering noise coming from nowhere.
"Wh--what was that?"
Prisoner Zero cowered. His previously uncaring demeanor shifted to that of a fearful prey.
"We don't have much time, Agent, so listen to me and listen to me carefully"
Agent Sinclair turned to the prisoner again, this time full with air of seriousness.
"Answer me this, Agent....what is time?"
Agent Sinclair frowned, not following.
"Wha...I..."
"Answer the question, Agent"
"Time...time is the fourth dimension, the ocean we swim through, a system which we must guard...", Agent Sinclair recalled the definition verbatim from his training.
"A system which we must guard, exactly", the prisoner re-iterated. "Yet ironically enough we who swore to guard this system was the first to break it"
"What do you mean?", the agent asked, not following. "We do not break time, we..."
The prisoner laughed again, amused by his younger self's naiveness.
"Oh John, perish that naive ideology already. When the first time travel were successfully done, we disturbed the very foundation of the universe itself.
A few universal facets we must never break, John-- life, death, space, and time. Yet we decided to play god and did so in the name of vanity"
Agent Sinclair started to fume, having his ideology challenged.
"We have done good, the Time Bureau! We have successfully protected the time continuum for the longest time and nothing bad ever happene..."
Another haunting hollering sound emanated again, this time louder.
"They're close...", the prisoner muttered in fear. "Listen, John. Do you remember the incident in 2034?"
"The...the heist, you mean?", Agent Sinclair stuttered. "That's when a group of time bandits infiltrated the Bureau's HQ to steal a time machine..."
"Yes, and they almost got away with it. How did they almost do it?"
"Well, they had some people posing as bait to distract us while the others freely broke into the vault and..."
Agent Sinclair eyes widened, suddenly understanding and his older self nodded.
"We are virus, John. We freely swam through the flow of time like virus inside blood vessels. Now the system is disturbed, the immune system will come to cleanse it...."
The distant hollering sound suddenly became louder. Ear piercing whooshing sound came from all over as shadowy shapeless figures surrounded the two men.
"Wh--what the hell? What are...?", Agent Sinclair stood, alarmed.
"Time reapers. The white blood cells of the universe, here to cleanse the anomalies-- us"
"Code red! I repeat, code red! We are under attack!" Agent Sinclair shouted to his communication device only to receive no answer.
"It's too late, John. They've gotten them all. It's just you and me left"
Agent Sinclair took out his gun and quickly dodged the reapers' attacks while shooting but to no avail as his bullets went through their shadowy bodies.
"Run, John! Run! Run to the edge of time!", the prisoner yelled.
Agent Sinclair watched in horror as his older self was helplessly consumed by the reapers. With the last of his strength he yelled...
"Protect us, John! Protect our kind!"
As adrenaline rushed through the agent's blood, he activated his portable time device. His being disintegrated into particles, merging together with the flow of time.
The last thing he saw was his older self succumbed to the reapers-- the lone bait placed from the beginning to distract time from the rest of humanity.
r/HangryWritey | I froze, and I walked back outside and grabbed Bill, who hadn't thought to tell me who was in there."What the hell dude, did you not think to tell me who was in there!?" He paused for a second and gathered his thoughts. "I'm sorry, I was conflicted, as a coworker yes, I should have told you, but you-but he said we were better friends in the future so really my responsibility was to help... Him?" I restrained myself from banging my head against the wall. I felt sick, this was very, very bad. I knew for a fact future me was lying because I was goddamn sure I didn't want to be friends with him now. Gathering myself, and wondering how many laws I was breaking by meeting my future self, I walked back into the room.
The years had not been kind to me, but I still had a certain rugged handsomeness. A long scar winded its way down my face and made me cringe slightly. Apparently it wasn't just time that wouldn't be kind to me. I also noticed there still wasn't a ring on his left hand. Disappointing to say the least but hardly unexpected.
"I thought the universe blew up or something when people did this?" I said hesitantly as I drew closer, noticing a severe lack of universal destruction that should have started when I was within fifty meters of him. Future me grinned, "That's just bullshit they tell you at the academy to stop you from changing things too much, I know they take us in pretty young but even in those first sixteen years, we've still got regrets. And also, I knew what you're thinking, you can call me F, it's easier." I unsteadily took a seat across from myself. Fear and nerves wracked me but I figured that if F was breaking the rules, it must be for good reason. I mightn't good at much, but following rules is an area I excelled at. "Well, F me. When did you come from?" F smiled at that before continuing, "Back the ways actually, Wild West having a nasty showdown against some of our co-workers." Hmm, well, maybe I couldn't trust myself. Maybe the self loathing finally overcame me and getting my younger self executed was my choice way to go. I stood up, my hand itching to slap F, but I stalled myself, waiting to see if there was more. "Easy there, cowboy, I had a good reason, I was changing things to skip lines, things got botched on the other one. We were close, we had nearly won, but, well, we never were quite good enough were me." The words hit home hard, I was always saying them to myself but it was hard to hear my future self say it as well. "Hey, cheer up champ, look, I was a failure, you still got a shot. This agency isn't exactly... Without its faults. Well, basically, God wants us dead and this whole operation is keeping that on track." I stared at F gobsmacked by the strange statement. Religion wasn't exactly at the core of my being. I mean, a man can hope, but this didn't seem like the one I wanted. "Yeah, it's weird, but well, let's just say the big man had a plan and it did not include us. There was no time befor the big bang, so he can't go back and undo it, because there is nothing to go back to... And well, we're pretty clever, we eventually figured out the whole time travel thing with some help, so be made an offer and made the time police. They keep things on track on returning to him, alter the timelines so they all end the same way, he spares the time police a bit of power so they can live outside of time never having to fear death. Oh, also, he would make literal hell on earth if we didn't comply." I could feel my chest tightening. I was a terrible liar, among other things and goddamn it I knew F was being honest. I started wretching and bile escaped me as I had my crisis. This was too big.
"But, but, I wouldn't be here if we didn't have a plan! Now it did fail, the last couple of times, but this will be different!" | 2021-05-21T19:25:22 | 2021-05-21T17:35:40 | 67 | 37 |
[WP] As a rite of passage, an alien comes to Earth to abduct his first human. It quickly becomes painstakingly clear that the alien is an absolute fuck up. | "Ow, Jesus what the fuck?" A man in a red plaid shirt and blue jeans shouted as he rubbed the back of his head. He looked around himself, he was sitting in the middle of a circular room, machines with aggressive looking protrusions, hinges, hooks, straps, all surrounded him. "What the- what is this a BDSM dungeon or some shit?"
Gorgralazoid, Gorg for short, stepped into the room, wringing together his three arms nervously. He had accidently bumped the human several times on the bottom of his ship before successfully bringing the human inside. "S-S-Stay still, human!" He ordered in a meek voice.
"Woah, what the fuck are you?" The man asked, rising to his feet.
"I-I-I said stay still! Stay still!" Gorg warned. He scurried over to the control center and fumbled with the buttons and levers. A robot arm swung across the room, "Woah, oh jeez!" He said as he narrowly dodged the arm.
"Hey get that-" The human batted the arm away, "Get that shit out of my face and you explain something to me."
*Oh no, this one is aggressive, I knew I should have taken the little one!* Gorg thought frantically as the human continued to fight the restraining arm. "Hey stop that! Or, uh, or I'll-" Gorg had never tried to intimidate someone before. *Oh I forgot to sedate him!*
"Or you'll what, you little blue shit?" The man asked, gripping the straining arm with enough force to keep it still.
Gorg tried to bring the sedation needle towards the human, but the human quickly caught that too. Were they supposed to be this strong? Gorg screamed and flinched away as the human threw the needle at Gorg, missing him just barely and shattering on the floor. He continued to fumble with the controls, he spent so much time training but, oh, he's just no good under pressure. The human was nearly out of the circle. *My blaster!* Gorg thought. He reached to his hip and pulled out his weapon. "Stand back! Stand back and get on the table!"
"You pointing a gun at me, you three armed little bitch?" The man snarled as he walked towards Gorg.
"I'll shoot! I'll do it." Gorg said, his knees shaking. He yelped pitifully as the human hit him in the face with an open hand. He fell to the floor, throwing the weapon away as he did. "Oh gosh please don't hurt me!"
Meanwhile Truzaloid and Rogabloid watched on a monitor as Gorg was repeatedly kicked and punched by the escaped human. After a few more moments of intense, doubled over laughter Truzaloid turns to his friend, "Okay, okay should be interfere here?"
Rogabloid wiped a hand under his eye and sighed, "Oh, give it another couple minutes. You can't pay for better entertainment." | “As spawning male, I express pride in my young podling for the transition from pupa to adult today. May your star mitzvah prove fortuitous, just as the protective instinct of your parents kept you alive to propagate our species in accordance with our heritage of cosmic domination.”
“Thanks dad,” Glorp mumbled nervously. He adjusted his optical enhancers and smiled to the 3000 members of his immediate family that joined together to celebrate his star mitzvah, displaying his dental re-structuring devices in the process. The family smiled back, surprised Glorp survived this long. They never thought he would see adulthood after proving time and again that he wasn’t the stickiest sucker on the tentacle, or the most destructive laser in the defense grid.
Glorp feared the final step of the star mitzvah. He was fairly certain he had done it right, but still had doubts. Glorp copied all of his friends’ xenobiology assignments, never really learning anything about alien life-forms, but he’d heard enough stories to feel confident in his work. Sensitive to touch, shakes and makes noise at seemingly random intervals, a hole for feeding and a hole for probing, even a tat-ew of corporate branding. Glorp was 90% sure what he abducted was a human.
As Glorp unveiled his captive, his family collectively gasped and then started laughing, some rolling around with tentacles barely able to stay upright. Glorp’s father turned many shades of red and blue from both anger and humor before calming himself enough to say, “Glorp, we must communicate before your next mission to Earth. That device you abducted is called an Eye Fown which humans use for... human things.”
Glorp turned a deep shade of purple in embarrassment, his friends would never let him live this down. | 2015-08-13T11:22:06 | 2015-08-13T11:09:53 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] You are a dragon. The other dragons despise you, because they say you have no real hoard. You always change your shape to look like a man, and you are a guild master of an adventurer's guild. The other dragons are WRONG. This guild, these people, THEY are your hoard. | They dont know. The badges they wear. Carved from my own scales. Imbued with my very essence. Providing them not with my magic but an empowering aura allowing them to tap into their greatest potential.
Cyrus. A shadow. Deft hands, light step and wit sharper than his his many concealed daggers.
Balon. Steadier than a mountain, and as stubborn to boot. Able to fell trees with a single blow. But gentle enough to nurture the occasional fledgling that falls out.
Scarlet. Eyes sharp as an eagle. And instincts to match. In my life I've never seen an archer capable of eliminating a vampire before the beast itself detects the very arrow darting into its black heart.
And Tayana. That smile. Those eyes. The charm of the ancients in such a young vessel. She once talked a werewolf down from its bloodlust at the height of a full moon.
These four are simply my favorite treasures. And these are examples of what they've done before they put on the badge. There are many more like them in my horde each one as magnificent as the last. More valuable than any coin or crown lost to time.
The other dragons. They mock me. My human form. They say things like "What real titan has no horde?", "Why would he disguise his superior form in favor of *them*?"
But they no not what they speak of for all the glimmering trinkets they amass they know not the joy of gatherings around the table after a successful contract. They experiance not the love these mortals have for one another, and the love they have for me.
They are motivated by selfishness, and greed. While I simply enjoy light a human gets in their eyes, that which sparkles like the heavens above us, when they accomplish that which they have strived to do for so long. Be that a new skill, or spell, or even perfecting the spices on a dish.
These mortals are my treasures, these silly amazing souls. My true family.
One day I will have to reveal my true form to them. Once they question why they grow frail while I stay the same. And i can only hope they will look at me the same way they look upon me tonight.
"A toast! To another successful contract, to glory, to accomplishment, to everlasting wonder, to adventure, TO THE GILDED DRAGONS!"
Edit: shameless plug to my sub /r/taleswithouttime it's where I collect all my submissions to this sub, also easier to keep track of what people want more of and easier to actually keep up and add to. Thanks yall! | Sorry for formatting I’m writing from my phone
Dragons are well known for being highly intelligent creatures, with sharp wit, and a silver tongue. However, most dragons rely upon their sheer scale, massive power, and near invulnerability in order to get what they want, treasure. None of them really understand the power they ignore, when they hide away in their derelict mountain keeps.
However, I am a bit of an exception. I am a dragon. There is no denying that fact. However, I am not a dragon in the typical sense. I spend most of my time, as a short, pudgy, balding human. Unassuming, and quiet. I don’t hoard gold or riches like most dragons either. I run things a bit, differently.
I am the owner of a small adventurers guild near the outskirts of the wilds. My pride and joy. It’s a small guild, only with about 100 adventurers. The building itself is a squat brick inn, with a large back courtyard mostly used for training the newbies to the guild.
I may not be the richest dragon, but that’s cause I hoard people. Not in a sense of kidnapping, or black mail. I simply garner their trust, and train them. I am making what is basically a small army.
But none of them know that I am a dragon. And I, am going to keep it that way. | 2019-01-19T22:29:22 | 2019-01-19T21:13:54 | 34 | 11 |
[WP] You challenged Death to a game when your time came, not because you feared your death, but because he was the only one left you had yet to best | The odd thing about this place between worlds was the color. It wasn’t translucent as one may expect, nor was it some drab comparison to the living world. Who would have thought Limbo would have such vivid shades of red?
The figure before our late hero was a counterpoint to its surroundings. It was all shades of grey, excepting the pale fire that shone in its eye. The specter of Death was separate from its surroundings even here, in this place of its own making.
Between them lay a game. As tabletop games went, Cones of Dunshire looked surprisingly amateur. A casual observer would wonder at the cheap paper forming the most prominent pieces. But then, at this place more than any other, origins were important. This was the original board.
Ben was enjoying this moment, this point of victory. He wasn’t a born showman but his long career had birthed a host of talents. Self improvement was always easier with support, and he smiled as memories of one of his old friends flashed through his mind. He was channeling Tom right now to great effect.
“I’ll play an action card, and build a Bell Tower inside your Citadel,” he said with a smirk.
MY SHAMAN CASTS A BURST SPELL ON YOUR PROSPERITY TILE, Death intoned. LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE IS OUT OF RESOURCE GEMS. It couldn’t smile, but it gave off a sense of dulled mirth regardless. It had grown bored of these challenges over the years, and beating people at their own games was the closest it came to a challenge. It found itself almost sad that it had won. Surely this man, husband of the world's most powerful woman, could do better. It was a shame.
Then, defying Death’s expectations, Ben steepled his fingers and laughed.
WHAT’S SO FUNNY? mocked Death.
“You’re a smart guy, you’ve clearly picked up some flashy tricks,” said Ben, leaning back in his chair.
Death took a moment to wonder where the chair had come from.
“But, you made one crucial mistake,” continued Ben. “You forgot about the essence of the game. It’s all about the Cones.” He cast the dice one final time. “I move my Abbot to the ocean hex, which moves my Brinksman to the Devil’s Lair. This pushes my Farmer - yes, my humble Farmer - directly into the central Cone.”
Both Ben and Death took a moment to focus on that vivid red cone. Then, somehow with both reluctance and glee, it was toppled by a pallid finger of bone. On this day, Death was defeated. Upon reflection, what else could he expect from the Architect?
xxxxxxx
Meanwhile, back in the world of the living, Leslie Knope stood flanked by the secret service. It was suddenly quiet next to her husband’s hospital bed. Ben’s heart had stopped beating for a little over six seconds before restarting itself, stronger than ever. He opened his eyes and stared up at her.
“Leslie, I’ve just thought of a way to pass the sewage bill we’ve been working on!” he exclaimed.
With a laughing sob, Leslie knew it was going to be all right. | I stood steadfast as I gazed upon the black void that had encroached itself onto the world. The once well lit area of the meadow darkening as the plants withered and the sun was eclipsed. The icy winds of deceased souls bellowing out of the rift, my hair fluttering in the breeze. I smirked as the very embodiment of death stepped out of it.
A towering figure at least twice my height stepped out of the portal, the two large skulls that made up its heads being that of a human and an ox leering at me while it stepped out. It was cold, yet also a warm embrace. An old friend that carried people across to the other side, yet a scourge that tore the best away with cold neutrality.
"So...You chose to challenge me mortal." It spoke, the voice sending a chill down my spine. Yet also filled me with a sense of serenity.
"You got that right." I smirked wider. "I already placed what remains of my life as a wager."
"Very well. But I must warn you, to those I guide across to the other side I inherit the skills they had in life. I have never lost a challenge." Death spoke, walking through the portal. A large spine made up its body, with a distended ribcage that was rumored to forcefully seize the people that attempted to flee from death. It's hands being withered, as more aged than the oldest man, yet still tender and careful.
*I wouldn't flee, this was the challenge I had been looking for.*
"What is it you wish to challenge me to?" It ask stepping ever closer to me.
My smirk didn't falter however, as my lips parted to say the words...
"**I challenge you to a game of Drop Ball. An extremely addictive, high-intensity game designed for people everywhere...**"
Death then fell to its knees realizing...
*It had just been beat*. | 2022-12-29T08:27:58 | 2022-12-29T04:50:39 | 60 | 17 |
[WP] A world where people can store the adrenaline rush and aggressiveness of their anger for later use. Keep enough rage inside and you can, literally and figuratively, hulk out. Now, in your city there's a person who's never been visibly angry... | I've heard it said that a wise man fears three things. The first is a moonless night, and the unseen dangers it holds. The second is the sea in storm, for no man can withstand the awesome power of nature. The third, though, is the most terrifying of all.
________________________________________________
It had been a week since the funeral and Patrick was just finishing tidying up the house. Everything in place as she would've liked it. Organized. Clean. The apartment still smelled of her, of sandalwood perfume, of oil paints, of laughter. It had taken Patrick days to find that scent again, so long smothered by the stench of illness and putrid stink of fear. The illness that had taken his wife had been slow and cruel but Sarah had known these things before and smiled until the very end. She begged Patrick to find peace and happiness after she was gone. She hoped he would be able to move on, to forgive, to forget and when she passed, she had peace and hope in her heart. Whatever peace and hope Patrick once held, he lost that day and what he found waiting in its place was monstrous.
____________________________________________________________
At nearly sixty, Tony found walking to his car was getting more and more uncomfortable after one of his "physical therapy" sessions. His patient, fourteen year old Trisha, certainly hadn't seemed quite as energetic at the beginning of their meetings but now that he had worn down her defenses with some insistent rubbing, Tony was confident he'd seal the deal soon. The young ones, always so vulnerable and pliable in his strong hands. "It's not wrong," he'd tell them, and if they still said no, "Well then I'll just have to tell your parents, or maybe you'd like them to see these pictures!" That usually kept them...compliant. Tony smiled confidently to himself as he looked forward to Trisha's appointment and was so lost in pleasant thought he didn't see a man walking towards him from the other side of the parking lot. He definitely didn't see the man's hands, or the SAP gloves he was wearing. It wasn't until the man spoke that Tony was aware of him at all.
Patrick was less than a foot away when he whispered the last words Tony would ever hear..."Sarah forgave you for the things you did to her all those years ago. I have not."
Tony turned in confusion and fear when the first blow landed and shattered his jaw. Crumpling to the ground in shock, the next punch targeted his ribs and shattered 5, puncturing his lung. Tony began to drown in his own blood and as his vision grew dark, he could only look up in fear at the looming monster.
____________________________________________________________
I've heard it said that a wise man fears three things. The first is a moonless night, and the unseen dangers it holds. The second is the sea in storm, for no man can withstand the awesome power of nature.
The third is the anger of a patient man, for there is nothing more dangerous than fury that has become a friend.
Patrick had heard the stories for years. He listened as she wept, or screamed, or raged at the betrayal of the people who had harmed her as a child. He had held her in the dark when the nightmares became too much and he lifted her back into the light whenever she was tainted by the poison of her past. Patrick was calm and steadfast. He always told Sarah to let go, to seek peace, to live in the loving here and now. He never grew angry at her as he knew who the real monsters were. Patrick was furious... and very patient.
Edit: Fixed grammatical error. | "Good morning Jess."
"Well hi there! Glad to start my shift with a regular!"
"As usual. Speaking of..."
"Got it right here Bill! One americano, no sugar, and a touch of soy milk!"
"Perfect, just how I wanted to start the day."
"Doesn't it always start the same way?"
"Yep. And continues the same, and ends the same."
"Down to the dot huh?"
"Here's my calendar."
"Wow, that looks pretty... routine."
"You mean dull, I know. It's fine. Whatever gives me peace."
"Well that's good to hear hun. Looking forward to seeing you tomorr --- Bill?"
"What is it?"
"Is something wrong?"
"No no, *nothing's* wrong, how could anything be wrong with my fucking coffee?"
"Is... is something wrong with your --- "
"**Yes.** I asked, for soy."
"Bill, can I check --- "
"I've been ordering soy for *six* months."
"I know Bill, let me see the --- "
"Nearly a hundred orders. One. *fucking*. hundred."
"Look, it might have just been mixed, please, don't blow up --- "
"*BLOW UP?* OH I'LL SHOW YOU A BLOW UP!"
"Oh my god, Samantha, get me an americano --- "
"*AAAAAAAAAAGH!!*"
" --- *with soy, quick!* Oh no, not here, not --- "
"*I WANT MY SOOOOOY JEEEEEESSS!!*"
"We're getting it Bill, please!! Breathe deep breaths, like they teach us --- "
"*TOO LATE JEEEESSSS!! I'M BLOWING UUUUUP!*"
"Samanta, americano! Soy! *NOW!*"
"I'M CRUSHING YOUR TABLES JEESSSS!"
"I know!! *Give me the damned...* Here!"
"IS THERE SOOOY JEEEEESSS?"
"Yes, oh my god there's soy in it this time!"
"ARE YOU SUUUUUURE?!"
"*Yes*, please *take it and leave!!*"
"AAAAAaalright Jess, thanks a bunch. Hey, that's some great coffee as usual."
"Sure Bill. Sure."
"Hey, what's gotten in to you? Where's everyone else? Oh wow, did somebody --- "
"Get out."
-------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | 2016-03-16T10:59:07 | 2016-03-16T07:33:30 | 221 | 143 |
[WP] Chained to an immovable rock, he waits for the eagle to arrive and peck out his liver, as it has done countless times before. Instead a hooded figure emerges from the shadows. With a wave of its hand, the iron shackles are shattered. "Rise Prometheus. The time has come for Olympus to fall." | The shackles fall away, and their binding spell fades as Prometheus flexes his massive hands, finding the strength that had long abandoned him. Slowly, raises his gaze to the one who has delivered him from his struggle. Even with his immortal eyes, he cannot pierce the dark of the hood to see the face in shadow beneath the cloak.
"Rise, Prometheus. The time has come for Olympus to fall," the figure intones. The voice is light and airy while still carrying a measure of command. Female.
Prometheus rolls his shoulders and tilts his head from one side to the other, cracks popping with each movement. Long had he been restrained, tethered to that rock to await the emissary of Zeus to dine upon his flesh. He had not known freedom since Heracles' intervention, long ages past.
"I have fought the Mount afore, and to no avail. My kind is enslaved or dead. The effort is folly."
"Much has changed while you were away from the world, Titan. What has happened will not happen again. You may cast aside this chance if you wish it, but it may not return again."
Prometheus snorted and tendrils of smoke slowly curled out from his nostrils to mix with the gentle breeze wafting past him. The air still smelled of acrid burn, as tended to happen upon an active volcano. "You speak of Gods, but you are not among them."
There was a pause, and then the interloper reached up and pushed back her hood, revealing the delicate features beneath. She was beautiful, but she was not a Goddess. Her complexion was marred, pocked with a spiderweb of silver lines that looked like long faded scars. Prometheus snorted again. "Human," he said.
She inclined her head slightly, "Human."
"It is for you that I suffer so," Prometheus replied. His mind wandering back to the darkened corners of his memory. Among that clutter, a single memory separated itself and sprang to life, burning bright. The memory of fire and the gift he had given to man.
"Yes, I am aware of the history. It took Humanity some time to understand the truth of the Gods and the myths that surrounded them. We wandered long down separate paths, deluded and foolish."
"I see." This explained much. The Mount had been silent in the world, visible even from his secluded prison. The Chariot still moved through the air, carrying the sun, but he did not see Apollo astride it. "Then Man turned from the Mount?"
"For a time. We returned recently."
Prometheus attempted to process this information. With enough time in isolation, the Gods would indeed be weak, but that condition would be temporary. With worship came strength. "How long?"
"Humanity did not sacrifice at the altar of Olympus for three thousand years."
"Three thousand." It was a long time by Human standards, but would be enough for Olympus' defenses to weaken? Was the opportunity there to restore the balance? There was much to consider. "Why have you come?"
She wet her lips now, strange pearlescent purple eyes focusing on Prometheus. "Humanity has used its gift of fire well in your absence, Great One. Each of our warriors has the power of a demigod now, and our warriors are millions. But," she paused, "the gates are barred. We can see the path to Olympus, but we cannot walk it."
"Humans are not permitted upon the Mount."
"But it has happened before."
"It has happened," Prometheus confirmed.
"And it will happen once again, if we are assisted. If the Titan who brought us fire allows us to bring that fire to them." Her voice was intent now, each word almost stumbling into the next as her fervor increased. "You once were a great ally to man. We have come to return that favor."
Prometheus stood now, his massive frame looming over hers as he looked upon the sights beyond his prison for the first time in a very long time. The grand vista arrayed before him spoke of possibilities. Of change. "How did you remove the shackles?"
"A Pulsonic EMP Emitter attuned to Zeus." She pushed back the sleeve of one robe, revealing an arm wrought of metal and light rather than the expected flesh. A small whir emitted as the hand changed, the fingers disappearing in the flash of light and replaced with a glowing orb pulsing at the end. "One of many helpful tools."
A deep rumble rose up. It gained strength and then tumbled outward. The strange woman looked around in alarm, only calming when she identified the source of the sound.
Prometheus.
The titan was laughing.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | A hooded figure approached me. I was expecting Zeus's vulture but this strange figure waved his hand and shattered the shackles that bound me.
"Rise, Prometheus. The time has come for Olympus to fall."
"Who are you?" I said to the hooded figure who unshackled me. I rub my wrists that have been bound for eons.
"I am Heracles. Come now. We have a God to slay"
I look around me, is this real? Am I truly free of my punishment?
"You say we need to slay Zeus. With what do you intend to slay the God of Thunder?"
"Fire. The very gift you've given mankind. Man has had eons to harness it. They now have fire weapons as powerful as the sun."
"Very well, I must admit I have hesitations on this scheme. I can harness fire and whatever Man has developed it into. But what do you bring to the table, Heracles?"
"As you can imagine, Man guards these weapons intensely. I have the strength to free you from this prison. That vulture was no match for me. I've fought beasts far greater than him.
My brute strength may not be enough to overpower them. They will counter my aggression with war and their weapons and this is not something I can win."
"But their minds are weak. They let their emotions control them. But you, you have the guile to, pardon me, you have the power to persuade man to aim their weapons at Zeus."
The age of Gods is in its death throes. This is the age of Man. They just don't have the idea yet that this is their time to rule and take charge of their destiny. Help me win this and we shall spark a new age where fortune is earned through hard work and not through favors from Gods.
Will you join me?"
I rub my wrists and inhale deeply.
"Take me to the city. I need to learn what man is capable now, all their tools."
Heracles smirks. As we descend this wretched mountain, he pulls out a tablet of glass and metal. It lights up.
"Here, it's called a smartphone and it will tell you everything you need to catch up through the ages."
I grasp it, with the magic in my blood I figure it out. It's the same magic I use to learn a tree's secrets when I touch it.
We continue our descent down the mountain and reach its foot.
Heracles looks at me while I grasp the machine in my hand. Information from it flows through me in a different way from the way the trees talk to me. It's electric.
I've learned that there are now 8 billion people on the Earth. Almost everyone is connected to this machine.
I turn to Heracles. "You say brute strength will not work in your scheme."
"Yes."
"I have a plan now. But we'll have to be patient. This device of yours. It's very powerful. It allows me to reach all the important people on the Earth."
"Correct."
"I'll use it to sow discord. I'll need time to let it brew. Sow misinformation and doubt in their hearts and minds. We have to be patient and when the time comes, use your strength to sow terror."
"It seems I picked the right guy for this job" said Heracles.
"A trickster, that I am. When all this is over, man will use fire against themselves and the heart of Zeus himself. Great misfortune will befall them, this is the price for their turn at the throne." | 2021-01-16T00:51:16 | 2021-01-15T23:51:42 | 149 | 27 |
[WP] A cure for sleep has been found, by taking a cheap pill people no longer need to sleep. You opted to continue sleeping and now 1 year after the release of this pill you notice that people are starting to act oddly. | They call it Wake-Aid, a simple chemical cocktail in pill form that will give you eight more productive hours each day. Who has time for sleep anymore? There’s no reason to waste a third of your day when you could be out at a party, playing with your kids, or racing up that corporate ladder! No harmful side-effects found during human testing. A dream come true.
Personally, though, I have no kids, hate drinking, and have the ambition of a particularly forward thinking sloth. You couldn’t pay me to give up my shut-eye, let alone convince me to pay you for the privilege. So I never took Wake-Aid, despite the growing number of success stories from my friends and relatives.
It’s been about a year now since Wake-Aid’s launch. The economy has been booming from all the extra productive work hours, but not too much else has changed. For my part, I’ve read a few good books, played through some old video games, and landed a job in a shipping warehouse. Not the most glamorous or well-paid position, but it makes ends meet and that’s good enough for me.
Everything seems to be going well, but I get this odd feeling sometimes. It’s nothing I can quite put my finger on, but… Well, a few months ago I was walking to work and reached a light just as it switched so I could cross. I got halfway across the street before I noticed something; the north-south traffic wasn’t moving even though they had the green light. I finished crossing the road at a run, thinking something must be wrong, but when I stopped at the far crosswalk and looked around, everything seemed normal. Just… No one was moving.
The light changed once more and now the east-west traffic wasn’t moving either. I walked up to the passenger side of a small sedan and peered in. I saw a man in the driver’s seat just staring up at the light. I tapped on the window, but he didn’t notice me. A car pulled up behind him and honked, jolting the sedan driver out of his trance. He pulled through the intersection without giving me so much as a glance and, when the light changed once more, north-south traffic proceeded as normal. I was a few minutes late to work because of the delay, but no one said anything. I shrugged it off and moved on with life. Weird things happen sometimes.
But recently those weird things have been happening more often. My mother used to call me once a week on Tuesday, after her knitting group would meet. Every Tuesday at 4pm, like clockwork. Now? She might call me once every other week. It’s been a month now since the last time she called me. I tried calling her yesterday, but her phone went straight to voicemail. I tried calling my dad instead and got him on my second try. I asked him how everything was going and he said it was fine. Mom had gone upstairs after breakfast to work on a new christmas scarf and had left her phone on the counter.
I glanced at my calendar and it confirmed what I knew. It was February 3rd.
I told dad that I would be coming over as soon as I could and he said that they would be happy to have me back at the house. I told him to let mom know I’d be there tomorrow and hung up to start packing. The next day, which I may as well call today, I suppose, I set out from my house towards my parents’ place, a little under two hours away.
On my way, worry gnawing at me like a dog on a bone, I noticed even more strange things. Here was a telephone pole down a month after our last major storm. There was a business sign advertising a New Year’s Eve sale. I shook my head. How could people miss something like that? Shouldn’t they be prepping for a Valentine’s Day sale or something?
I pulled into my parents’ driveway and immediately knew something was wrong. There was a hole in the kitchen window from where a baseball smashed through it. I knew a baseball smashed through it because my mother had told me about it during her last call. A month ago.
I dashed up the front steps and pounded on the door, shouting at the top of my lungs for someone to come to the door. I heard someone jolt in the living room and heard my dad shout “Hold on! Hold on! I’m coming! No need to knock the house down!” A few moments later, the door unlatched and swung open to reveal a man I barely recognized and a room I recognized less.
My father had let his beard grow out to a ridiculous length and his gut was hanging out further than I had ever seen it. He was saying something about not expecting me so soon after I called, but I barely heard him. The living room was covered in old pizza boxes and empty beer cans. Piles of trash were heaped in the corners. My mother couldn’t stand even one or two cans on the table, how had the mess gotten this bad?
I turned to my father and asked him where mom was.
He hmm’d and haw’d for a moment or two, “She was n the… No that was yesterday… Then she… Hmm… I think she must still be upstairs working on that scarf I told you about this morning.”
I was halfway to the stairs before I realized what he said. I slowly turned back towards him. “Dad, we talked yesterday, not today.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Did we? Oh… Oh, yes, I suppose that’s right. I was just watching some of my favorite old westerns and must have lost track of time.”
I started sprinting to, and then up, the stairs. My father never forgot when things were. He never “lost track of time”. Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong.
I slammed into my mother’s knitting room and immediately tripped to the floor. I looked at my feet and saw part of a scarf. I didn’t want to look up, so I just followed the trail of the scarf. It wound around the room, across chairs and stacks of unused yarn until it came to it’s end, or its beginning, in my mother’s rigid, gaunt hands. My eyes immediately began blurring with tears. How long had she been here? How long had she been here with no one noticing she was gone? How…
I could almost hear her sing-song mantra that she always did while knitting, through under over pull through under over pull. I thought of traffic lights flickering between colors, red green yellow red green through under over. I thought of people sitting at desks answering emails, open type send open type send pull through under over pull. I thought of my dad sitting downstairs ordering a pizza watching a movie buying some beer ordering a pizza through under over pull. I thought of my mother, sitting in that chair knitting as she wasted away. Through under over pull through under over pull through under over pull through under over pull… | The government released "Zone" almost a year ago. "Zone" was a little pill that someone could take to trigger the neurons in the brain to no longer transmit when sleep was needed. Many people began to take this without question, thinking that if they didn't need sleep that they would be able to get more accomplished. Then there were others, like myself, that decided it was an awful idea. A few months later the government is starting to weed out those who haven't taken "Zone", making it mandatory for everyone to take this pill, and if they were too young to take the pill they would inject it into the blood stream. The effects were good at first, there weren't any noticeable differences until at least a month after the pill was administered.
Hiding from people isn't easy, especially the government. Finding people that can help hide you, finding people that are on the same side, people that know how "Zone" critically injures the human race as a whole...that's the hard part. I have been on the run from the government ever since "Zone" was implemented. I would have to act like I was always awake, setting timers around my house so that way it would seem like someone was constantly doing something. The lights in the house would turn off at a certain time, come on at a certain time. I would set an alarm to wake up every so many hours to do something around the house, anything, to make it look like I had taken "Zone".
It was difficult at first, keeping up with this routine, keeping my head low so that way no one would notice. I had to stock up on caffeine pills early on, most are off the market, or a scam to get someone who hasn't taken the pill out of hiding. I have done everything to keep my nose clean from what I call the Zoners. People that will tell the government in an instant if you haven't taken the pill. At first they all seemed to act the same as I did, then I began to pick up on characteristics here and there that were off. Their skin began to droop, like they were tired all the time. They would act like they were on drugs, like speed, always on the go. Their senses began to be thrown off, except for their vision and hearing. They couldn't feel things like they used to. They were the equivalent of a stereotypical zombie, but didn't feed off of other humans. Those that were administered at a younger age, never grew properly. They were shorter, more stout, and looked to be ten years older than what they really were. I am shocked that babies have even survived this epidemic.
I stare at the coffee cup in my hands blankly, the lack of sleep this week was exhausting. I usually would find a way to make it into the woods around me, there was a cabin that no one knew about deep in Tennessee, and I would play it off as if I was an extreme Zoner always on the look out for the next adventure. Somehow they found it...they took most of the caffeine pills I had stashed there, and luckily I spotted them before I walked inside. Now, my whole routine has been thrown off. I was practically falling asleep on my coffee when I heard a knock at the door.
I could see three people standing there, and I stood quickly backing into the wall. I had to calm down to think of something if they were onto me. Perhaps I would be able to just act like I wasn't home. I listened carefully as the doorknob jiggled, their hushed tones indicating that they were trying to be sneaky about what they were doing. I squat low against the wall, hiding from every window and door in the house. One of them knocks on the door again, and I just hold my breath, hoping that this is going to pass.
I hear a window to my left shatter, and my heart pounds into my ears as they enter my home. It was time to either fight or take off running at the opportune moment, either way it wasn't looking good.
"Miss Garzell!" One of them yells, I can hear one walking upstairs, another walking down to the basement. The one yelling my last name is walking toward the living room. I slowly crawl around to the backdoor, trying to remain as quiet as I can as I unlock it. "Stop!" I don't even look back as I throw the door open and practically run into the screen door behind it.
I trip down the stairs of the backyard, stumbling as I make a break for the fence. The woods behind my house would be enough for me to lose them, I just had to get there. A hand grabs my arm and I turn around punching the man square in the nose, his hand lets go, and I jump the fence hearing the other two men run out into the yard.
The blood rushes into my ears, at this point I can't even hear anything, all I can focus on is running as far and as fast as I can away from the only home I knew. I don't know how long my legs carried me, or how far away it was, but looking behind me I can tell that I lost them. I grab a tree next to me, tears stinging my eyes as I gasp for air, my heart pounding so hard that it feels like it is out of my chest. I tried to get a hold of myself, it was going to be a matter of time before they caught up...they couldn't sleep, so regenerating was something they were skilled at. I had to get my energy back fast before that point...I had to survive the "Zone". | 2016-08-30T10:03:03 | 2016-08-30T09:48:14 | 949 | 57 |
[WP] "Humanity will only unite if they have a common enemy. In that unity, they will achieve peace, for as long as that enemy lives." He looked at you with his dark tired eyes, your weapon on his neck, as he croaked, "That's why I chose to be the bad guy." | “Shut the FUCK up. You think you can play some game and make actually SYMPATHIZE with you? You’re a murderer, cold blooded and relentless. Fuck you and die.” said our hero. He slowly presses his blade against this monsters neck, watching as he cackles and stares our hero in his bloodshot eyes. “I’ve been chasing you for weeks, slaughtering your men”, he presses the blade further; “I’ve watched my brothers die at the hand of your evil, and now it’s time for you to pay for what you’ve done this world, all while you sit on this false throne.“
With one final push our hero’s blade exits the back of his skull, and the life begins the drain from his eyes. He leaves the blade pierced in his neck and stands over his almost lifeless body, grasping for any ounce of understanding he can get ahold of. What did he mean, that he was uniting the world he was actively destroying? He may have been a monster but he was just a man, like all of those who died in this war.
Our hero steps back and looks around the hall of his enemy, splattered with blood and decorated with corpses. He notices art, paintings and sculptures depicting the bygone eras of their ancestors, laughing, creating, rejoicing. How could a man capable of such evil surround himself with these joyous images?
*cough*
He turns back to the throne of the monster to see him clutching his neck, his hand overflowing with dark red viscera. He speaks, his words breathy and hoarse.
“You do not see what I have really done, only the obstacles I faced in my endeavor. You think I thrive on the pain, the horrors, the screams. You damn fool. My plan was at its grand end, and you, along with all your surviving brothers would have reaped the benefits for centuries.”
His speech begins to slur and our hero approaches him.
“Peace. True, untainted peace. But now? Well you will see. It will happen swiftly, and without remorse”
With these final words his hand falls from his neck, and the life behind his eyes fades into a hollow frame of meat and bone. Our hero knelling at the body of his enemy ponders the meaning of this “death speech”.
“No. No. You had to die. You were a plague on this world. Nothing good could have come from this plight.”
A crowd of footsteps tumbled through the great doors of the hall, rushing to our hero standing over the body of this worlds terror. Our hero spots the sigils on the armor, an allied clan or warriors, a general and four of his soldiers. The soldiers approach the hero and the general speaks.
“Well done boy. You have done this world and invaluable service.”
“Thank you sir, the efforts of your clan were an essential part of our succe-“
Before he can finish a soldier plunges a shard of stone deep into the base of the hero’s skull, immediately draining him of any essence of life. The soldiers stand above both of these bodies as the general makes his way to the throne.
“Men. Thank you for your valor and courage. The world will remember the day our clan ended this war, along with the the clan of that ‘traitor’. We will bring his crimes to the other great chiefs and speak of what we ALL saw here today. A man, defying his people, his allegiances, and the world, all in the pursuit of glory. His clan must be held accountable as well. Send word, we will strike in 3 days.” | “That's why I chose to be the bad guy.”
I hesitated. I had expected him to say that, or at least something similar, but I had not expected him to sound as sincere. He truly believed it. I lowered the jagged, splintered chair leg that I held to his neck.
“See, deep down inside you know it's true.” He let out a dry, raspy laugh. In response I lifted the chair leg back up, pressing it just hard enough to draw a pin prick of blood from him. He did not seem concerned as he continued talking. “Doesn't matter if you believe that or not, either way I am still dying. A week, maybe two at the most left. And when I die I shall leave a void in my place that will suck everything in, descending the Earth into a chaos unlike any it has ever seen before. That is why they will need a hero.” He looked up at me expectantly.
“Me?” He nodded his head.
“Kill me. Run that stake right through my neck, parade my dead body around for all to see, and gloat in the victory that you defeated me. The world will gather to praise you, their saviour.” With a smile he lifted his arms up the air in a dramatic flourish as if cheering for me, but then his tone changed. “Of course then, someone else will inevitably come along and kill you, and the world will unite again, this time to mourn you and to share in their fear and hatred of the one that killed you. That is until a new hero emerges and does to them what you did to me, and what they did to you. And so will the cycle continue.”
As he said these things a tear formed in his eye, but he did not look sad, nor even happy. Content I think is the best way to describe the expression he had. I did not want to prove him right, but I knew that I could not let him live, not after all he had done. I drove the chair leg deep into his neck and I did not even flinch as his blood splattered in my face.
Now, thirty years later, I can hear the sirens blast and frantic yells as people run to their battle stations ready to defend me to their death. My home as been compromised and I must decide to fight or let the cycle continue. | 2020-12-09T10:50:00 | 2020-12-09T10:27:48 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] The nightmare has come true; you've woken up back in sixth grade with your memories and knowledge of everything that happened since then intact. You start staring at your classmates around you, aware of how they end up. Your teacher asks you what's wrong as you start weeping. | Tears started streaming down my face when I looked at my surroundings. Most of my classmates were glancing at me curiously. Just like I they were sitting at light brown desks on green chairs with their pens in their hands. The sunlight that shone through the large windows seemed rather orange, which told me that it was early in the morning. I looked on my watch and saw that it was 8:15 am. The first lesson had just started, but it would be the last one most pupils, who were with me in the classroom, would ever attend.
Everything was exactly how I remembered it and how I used to describe it to my therapist. I thought I was in one of my terrible nightmares I got every now and then to process the horrible things that happened exactly 6 years ago, but now it felt just too real to be a dream. I started hyperventilating and buried my face in my hands as I could not stand looking in my class mate's faces anymore.
"What's the matter? Tell me!", my teacher said insistently. I was sobbing too intensely to give an answer even though I wanted to. "I think she's having a panic attack or something, we should call a doctor! What are you waiting for?", I heard my best friend's worried sounding voice from right beside me. She was so caring, I had missed her so much for the last six years.
Eventually I could not cope with the pain anymore and managed to form words.
"Lock the door! Lock it and put everything you can find in front of it!", I yelled as loudly as possible.
The teacher and the other students seemed shocked and confused at the same time.
They knew me well enough to realize that I was not joking and after a few moments of silence the first ones started panicking, while others did how I said and moved their desks and chairs towards the entrance. The teacher quickly locked the door and motivated the other kids to help securing the classroom. Then she stepped up to me, concern written all over her face, and asked me: "What did you warn us from?" The dull sound of shots in the distance cut me off before I could even give an answer.
More and more horrible memories from the exact same day flooded back in my head, which made me almost black out. My best friend supported me, but I could not look into her eyes as the last time I saw her was, when she catched a bullet for me and died immediately. I wasn't the only one freaking out. My classmates were sitting on the floor, screaming and scared to death. My teacher tried to calm them down, so the maniac with the gun wouldn't hear us, but even if she had succeeded, it would have been too late. I could tell by the sounds that were coming from outside the classroom that he must have made his way to our hallway and by now I was pretty sure he knew we were there.
I was right. The handle on the door moved, but he could not enter. For a moment I was relieved. I thought I had saved my classmates, but suddenly I heard multiple shots and the cheap door was a heap of rubble. My classmates screamed in fear and I was sure some of them were already mortally wounded, but I didn't dare to look. The shooter didn't even bother to put the furniture aside, he just randomly fired through the entrance. I felt like a huge failure. I surely was not sent back to this day to let my friends die, there was at least one person I owed something.
I crawled to my best friend and shielded her with my body just like she did today or 6 years ago. I had to grip her tightly so she wouldn't break free and play the heroine again. I ignored her shouting and kicking until I finally felt a sudden sharp pain in my back. It was the most painful thing I had ever felt and my best friend catched me before I fell and hugged me, while her warm tears dropped on my body. I was on the edge of losing consciousness, when I heard my surviving classmates telling each other that the shooter was gone and everything will be fine. Except for me and at least 4 others, who were shot. I knew that I would not find out how I changed my classmates lives, but for my best friend it was worth it.
The last thing I heard were the police siren coming closer and my best friend crying, before I slowly faded away.
(_sorry for potential mistakes, but it's late and English isn't my first language_) | (I was kinda friendless through school, and have kept no tabs on anyone, so I really don’t give a fuck tbh but here’s my mildly sociopathic take on this)
I slam into the classroom, my consciousness entering a much, much smaller form. I look around, and recognize the young versions of the kids around me.
I raise my hand to the teacher. She sighs, “What is it?”
“Yeah so am I dreaming?”
“What?”
“Is this a dream?”
“Um... no?”
I realize exactly what’s happening. I pinch myself. It hurts, I don’t wake up. I punch myself in the stomach. And begin bawling.
“What the- what are you doing!?”
“I’m gonna be fucking rich, and my brother isnt going to get cancer!” I cry out through the tears.
She’s taken aback, and sends me to the principal for my language. I walk confidently through the halls and slam into the chair in his office. He looks at me disapprovingly.
“Son, do you know why you are here?”
“Yes I fucking do, now before you get pissy, listen up buster brown I’m going to break your brain with some knowledge. Know there is no way for me to know this at my age due to my curriculum and simple possibility.”
He glares at me. “Son, I don’t know who you thi-“
“Lenny gets shot in the head at the end of ‘Of Mice and Men’, Romeo and Juliet is two kids pissed at their parents for saying no and causes 6 deaths over infatuation, and the derivative of y=x^2+5x-3 is y’=2x+5.”
He stares in silence at me, mouth agape.
“Yeah, I know exactly who I’m talking to. Unfortunately I did not keep up with anyone else after graduation, and don’t care about well, anyone in this school, so I can’t say who lives or dies or anything, but I know I’m definitely not going to end up at fucking Walmart again.”
He stutters, “Wha-“
“Simply put, take the experience of 23 years and put it back into a 6th graders brain, and wham bam here I am, with a brain now biologically wired to further mature and therefore become an even better processor. Oh, and get me on the phone with my parents and Steve Jobs. Gonna save some billionaires lives over here. Also, the reactor at Fukushima in Japan needs to be shut down immediately to avoid another Chernobyl.”
The principal just stares at me, absolutely agape. Obviously not believing what he’s hearing. He picks up the phone and calls my parents.
“Ma’am, I have to know: has your son ever read Of Mice and Men, Romeo and Juliet, or learned any calculus?”
Muttering comes through the phone line.
“No? Ok. Well. You may want to come to the school, now. He um. Knows things he shouldn’t, and I don’t think the Feds want to get to him first.”
I sit back in the chair and grin.
It isn’t every day you get to actually restart your life. | 2019-08-18T08:49:58 | 2019-08-18T08:46:27 | 43 | 18 |
[WP] In the galaxy, Humans are known as the best allies you could have... and the worst enemy you could imagine. | The Human Galactic Empire has a certain reputation that we tend to forget about.
See, humans are NICE. they're cheerful, and curious, and mostly people treat them like overeager kittens, sticking noses and paws into whatever catches their interest.
And sure, there's always those stories that go around. How the ship's human crawled through ventilation ducts, and everyone thought they would die but it turns out they breathe waste-gasses.
About that one time when a ship crashed with no expected survivors, and when the recovery team got there, the humans were growing crops and splashing in the groundwater.
They survive. Everyone knows that humans are hard to kill on purpose and harder to kill by accident. They can live through things that are the stuff of nightmares, and only come out stronger.
But they're CUTE. Cuddly and soft skinned with almost no natural weaponry. They're small- lighter than almost any other race, and deceptively easy to break, even if it probably won't actually kill them.
So when the Thraxxis invaded and the entire Galactic Alliance ran, because we were outmanned and outgunned, no one thought of the humans.
Unfortunately for them, neither did the Thraxxis.
First the humans fortified. Their own worlds were inhospitable anyway- they simply retreated to the parts where nothing else could live.
Next, they focused all their considerable determination on their allies. One by one, the alliance's populated worlds became bastions for the humans to fight from.
We watched in disbelief. The only thing to do when the Thraxxis came was to flee. They devoured worlds and their armada was unstoppable.
Unless, apparently, you were human.
The humans took casualties- of course they did. The Thraxxis were four meters tall, had bone spurs and claws, and were feared for their skill in combat. Somehow, that only spurred the humans on. Every massacre turned into a homing-beacon and was quickly- ruthlessly- avenged.
They seriously underestimated both the humans' terrifying ingenuity, and their startling territorialism. See, the humans are friendly. They are social. They are delighted to make friends with anything that holds still long enough to cuddle on.
They are also merciless, hard to kill, and traveled in packs of the strong, the fast, and the clever.
The invasion stalled. The Thraxxis couldn't breach any the protected worlds, and yet still more powerful than anything the Alliance could field.
A call went out across the galaxy and farther. We did not understood why the humans would cry for aid so loudly- surely simple communication was enough? What need was there for a scream that reached even distant stars?
When questioned, the Human Commander showed his teeth, and said only, cryptically, "E.T. Phone Home."
For months, the fight went stagnant. Only small frays and none of them much gain or loss for either side.
That was when something else appeared.
At first, we thought it was more enemies. The newcomers were massive- as big as a moon and filled to bursting with small, aggressive ships that swarmed anything that got near.
"That's no moon," The Human Commander told the Alliance, still cryptic, but eyes lit with the sort of smile the humans only made at their most deadly. He refused to explain, but the other humans seemed to understand nonetheless.
The moon-ship drifted into our occupied space, and when it was haled, a human face responded. A human, who wore a formal uniform. Who even the Commander spoke to with deference. His leader, from a galaxy the Alliance never knew the humans ruled.
Empire, we all remembered with sudden fear. The humans called themselves an Empire, and somehow no one ever questioned why.
Four more moon-ships arrived over the course of a week. With them came massive battleships, each capable of holding a world by themselves.
Humans breed fast, and suddenly we had cause to wonder just how many humans there really were, scattered here and there.
Trillions, the humans admitted casually when someone finally worked up the courage to ask. Spread over thousands of worlds and star bases. All emptied to defend the farthest wing of their sprawling empire.
The next battle would be forever remembered. It was the only time all five moon-ships fought together.
The Thraxxis looked at what they faced. At the moon-ships with their hives of fighters. At the warships, each a match for their own. At the worlds they lost, one by one as the humans rose up and tore apart their invaders.
The Thraxxis, wisely, fled with what little remained of their shattered armada.
The Alliance trembled. For so long, we believed that the silly pink monkeys were nothing, simply curious and cheerful.
The humans tried to reassure us. We were independent, they promised. They believed in the Alliance, and in the people, and in peace.
But we never forgot the might of the Human Galactic Empire. Our allies.
For now. | For hundreds of years the human race has now been known to produce the best warriors. It all began after they first made contact with the Fedirs of Gliese 832c - or much more the Fedirs made contact with them - and out of gratitude for receiving far advanced technology and knowledge that brought them up to galactic standards the Human Federal Republic entered into an alliance with the Fedir.
The Fedirs themselves were prompted to do so because the Ladnnyn Authority threatened their home planet and as desperate effort tried to recruit every auxiliary force possible. The Ladnnyn however were believed to be an unstoppable military force, aided by the largest economy in the galaxy and no civilization dared to intervene in their plan to conquer Gliese 832c on behalf of the assailed. In fact, after the Fedir called the humans as their allies, every single nation sent transmissions urging the HFR to abandon their new partners. They did not wanted the HFR to perish within months of her introduction to the intergalactic community, citing the to be expected termination by the Ladnnyn and carefully explaining the consequences they would face if they stood against the most potent armed forces. Several other civilizations had already perished due to their conflicts with the vile aggressor, whose appetite for land was only overshadowed by its thirst for power. Both are reasons for the Ladnnyn ascension to the premier power of the galaxy nobody could or wanted to challenge. Nonetheless, stubborn and stupid as they were mankind refused to betray their new found friends and benefactors.
But even though the Fedir were already subject of an embargo and a blockade by the Ladnnyn Authority the managed to smuggle a human force by their attackers. However, after landing one a planet outside of their solar system for the first time almost all humans fell ill. After much debate in the Fedir Union's convent it was decided to deploy the human soldiers because of the dire situation they were in, facing the impending invasion, which could only be weeks away. Almost succumbing to illnesses caused by the unusual effects bending time has on unaccustomed bodies during interstellar travel, the volunteers still kept calm and carried on fueled by their determination not to go down far removed from home uncommemorated and alone.
Some weeks later. Utilizing a solar flare that disabled the electromagnetic protective shield of Gliese 832c the Ladnnyn Authority forces arrived in landing craft covered by heavy artillery shelling the defenders with high energy impulses. Expecting little resistance and largely outnumbering their enemy LA forces expected to sweep over the planet with ease. But nothing prepared them for what awaited them behind the gates of their crafts.
The human volunteers had been steeled by decades of conflict and violence among them before their recent unification, having experienced animalistic violence and the cruelty of war had formed fearless individuals. Reduced to their instincts and animalistic behavior the awaited the invaders.
Seeing their targets left unscathed by their infamous chemical compound bullets moral dropped in seconds. Moreover, the closer their enemies drew they saw that the Fedir force was shielded behind gigantic creatures. Standing at about 6 feet/183cm tall and circa 200lbs/91kg heavy the human soldiers towered over their enemies and allies alike, the Ladnnyn being the second largest intelligent lifeform at 3 feet/91cm and the Fedir measuring a mere 2'6 / 76cm. Utilizing their strength and completely unleashed fury they dominated the hyper protective armor wearing attackers, simply crushing them.
Inflicting heavy losses the Authority Forces failed to establish a foothold and had to withdraw. For the first time in nearly 113 years the Ladnnyn had suffered a defeat, which had devastating effects on them while it simultaneously led to a collective sigh of relief in the whole galaxy.
Therefore humankind was known for their imposing physical strength and their stubbornness and determination to fight on even if facing dire situations, which in part was because they were the dumbest intelligent lifeform.
Edit: Formatting
| 2017-10-22T13:34:21 | 2017-10-22T12:04:27 | 120 | 25 |
[WP] the damned souls in hell crowded near the entrance, and Satan himself is at the gates. They are all awaiting the arrival of a unique soul -- the first man since Biblical times who was killed by God Himself. | The Gates of Hell stood open in wait for the arrival of one man. Demons from every circle had flocked to the entrance to witness this historic event, for he had been judged by God himself. It had been thousands of years until now.
A lone, naked figure emerged from the fire and surveyed the sight in front of him. He was tall and muscular, battle-tested beyond the normal limitations of humans. Scars all over his body bore the pain that he had carried with him for decades. A certain aura emanated from him, one of intimidation and wickedness. He took a step forward, and the demons of Hell took one step back. Except for one—Satan the Devil himself.
“So you are the one they call the Harbinger,” said Satan. “Interesting, indeed, and impressive.”
“I don’t care about your praises, nor for small talk,” replied the Human. “I may not be a man of religion, but I know as much that Hell is my punishment for the sins I have committed.”
“Sins?” laughed Satan, genuinely amused. “What you have done is art! And it is why exactly I’ve come here to meet with you.”
“Speak, then, and let us be done with this.”
“A man of few words, I see,” replied the Devil. “I have a proposition for you.”
With that, the demons began murmuring. The Lord of Hell had not initiated any dealings with humans for thousands of years, not since the temptation in the desert of Jesus Christ. But this Harbinger seemed to have piqued his interest. Of course the lesser demons had no knowledge of the human’s actions, only that God had personally enacted the judgment. What was the proposition?
“I may be the Ruler of the Underworld, but it does not mean that nobody else desires my throne,” explained Satan. “Throughout the circles of Hell are renegade Houses intent on replacing me. I have watched you closely as you brought the world to its knees begging for mercy. None had ever come close to achieving such a feat.”
“You want me to unite these Houses then as I have done so during my crusade on Earth.”
“You are not wrong.”
“What is in it for me?”
“An army far greater than you assembled in your life,” said Satan. “You were an enigma in His eyes. You forced Him to hasten the timeline of Armageddon, and yet you were not the prophesied Antichrist. How you did it is beyond even my capabilities, for however my nature is, I am still bound to the Revelation of the Scriptures.”
“This God has a Heavenly Host,” answered the human.
“A weakened one without its Archangel Michael, as I have witnessed you strike him down,” gloated Satan. The demons were in disbelief, and word of the Archangel’s demise from the hands of a human spread like wildfire through the land. “And you will have the Legion of Hell, provided you unite all the Houses under the Banner of the Light-bringer.”
The Harbinger smiled with such evil that the Devil himself felt a fleeting pang of fear.
“I will do as you say,” said the Harbinger as he walked past. “And then I will have my revenge.”
| The Chosen One
-------------------
The visitor looked around at the crowds that had thronged the gates of hell to see him. He took it with equanimity – crowds were nothing new to him. He had been a unique individual in his lifetime. He had been one out of many, but slowly they all were whittled away. He had faced disaster after disaster, and tons of enemies had tried to take him down, some of them people he had once called his friends. He was not particularly wise, and his choices had not always been good, but he was a survivor, with finely tuned primal instincts. He had been buried, bombarded, and left for dead time and time again, but he always rose from the ashes. He had been unslayable until god himself intervened ... and now he was on his way to hell.
He walked on, past the damned, and looked at what awaited him. He could see the suphurous smoke rising over the old furnaces. He saw the ancient rancid lava pits. Everything he saw was permeated with a sense of despair and decay. He did not falter, he had immense faith in himself the point of narcissism. God had told him he embodied the deadly sin of pride, when he learnt the pearly gates would be closed to him forever.
He finally approached Satan, another one who god had personally cast into hell. The horned one stood up. His towered and the mere mortals around scurried away from this imposing figure with blazing eyes, his leathery skin and claws. The chosen one did not flinch, he saw the tiredness within, the immense stamina that it has taken to rule the underworld had been drained. Satan kneet before the chosen one, and said in his weary voice, it is all yours now. The chosen one took over the mantle and roared to his deplorable souls “We are going to make hell great again!”. This was going be yuuge.
| 2016-10-14T09:20:02 | 2016-10-14T07:41:16 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] As the most powerful superhero on the team, no one believed you when you said you could quit the drugs, alcohol, and tobacco whenever you wanted. When the only friend you have on the team died on a mission, you sobered up for the first time in years. Now people will learn why you stay drunk. | Starla watched Ozzie tumble into the Hero Squad break room and crash into the greasy old futon, it was something Alice had brought in one day to drag him onto when Ozzie would pass out during his afterwork private victory celebrations.
At first Victor had strongly objected to having such a cheap piece of furniture in his official little clubhouse but gave in shortly after Alice offered him the choices of Ozzie passing out on the futon or his thracian velvet couch.
Ozzie had been a mess for all the years Starla had known him, but it still shook her up to see him flopped down on the ground, tongue out, eyes rolled back, dry heaving and shaking as if he was about to have a seizure.
"You finally figured out how to drink a little too much did you now Ozzie?" quipped Mark, staring at the shuddering pile of rags and quivering withered out muscles in the corner and laughing. "The hell is wrong with you Mark?" Starla half whispered half yelled through her gritted teeth, glaring at the darkly dressed but mirthful super lounging by the TV, "how could you say that..." she lowered her voice even quieter "*after what happened... you know she was the only one here who was close to him*" she finished doubling her glare at Mark as her eyes glistened with a pained sorrow.
For a rare second Mark's devilish grin broke as he struggled to make a retort, an expression of frustration scrambling across his face settling into a returned glare masking the anguish that was smouldering inside him, "don't you dare talk to me about that! You of all people! If Victor had kept Count Lithias occupied for a few minutes longer, if you weren't so distracted making damn kissy eyes at him and had stopped that damn bolt from breaking through! As for this drug addled alcohol blooded piece of shit, the one time in 6 years his powers fail to work and it's Alice we lose, not Victor that soulless fucking smartass, not you you watery eyed little princess b--"
"THAT'S ENOUGH" a sudden deep shout echoed out from a corner of the room, Mark jumped back a blade in his hands, eyes glowering gold, Starla yelped in shock startled from her emotions, turning to the huddled pile in the corner. It was the first time Ozzie had ever spoken a clear sentence, or spoken to the two of them directly at all for that matter.
"Ahmjmnt... ahmot... ahm not mak" a tepid flittering voice sputtered out from the haggard figure still resting on the old bed.
"What did you say Oz? What are you not?" Starla asked, her voice quivering in a jumbled mix of shock, fear and intrigue.
"Hah, for a moment there I thought you'd learnt to talk Ozzie boy" Mark muttered backing against the wall, his eyes fixated as he quietly pressed a button on his collar.
The dim bleary eyes stared back ceaselessly, contrasted against a face pocked by scars and cuts and drooping lines, "ahm nott Mark" he spoke out, breathing heavily as if it took a chain to pull out each word, "aiym not drunk" he finished, clarifying with a strange pressure that made it clear it was not in question.
"I'm done th--" Oz began but stopped as he broke into a terrible wretching cough, he bent over chest heaving violently his mouth quaking as if his lungs were about to explode.
Victor rushed into the room "status" he yelled at Mark before hurrying over to Oz, he bent down and pressed two fingers against his shaking throat and two fingers against his chest. "I don't know, he came in and slumped on the futon like always but then he started talking, words, in English! After that he started getting like this, but what's happening to him? Isn't this just one of his usual fits?"
Just as Mark finished the sound doubled as a rapid thunderous coughing filled the room, Oz collapsed as his limbs started shaking violently with his body.
"Alice. Alice would know what to do, Alice always..." Starla shouted to herself as her beautiful face finally broke down into tears, lost over her feelings of grief and anger and loathing at her inability to do anything.
"It's okay Starla, things are going to be fine" with a rushed assurance, Victor gestured to Mark and grabbed the convulsing Oz, flipping him on his back and pressng his shoulders down "his breathings getting worse and worse but I can't tell what's causing it, his lungs are booming but there doesn't seem to be anything affecting it, his hearts barely beating but his vessels are unobstruct--" just then with a monstrous force Oz bent up and
PS. I have a shallow idea for writing this, but it's been a very long time and I forgot how slow my pacing tends to be, will get back to this again and again if I don't forget it before I manage to finish it, but until then it's just going to be half a writing excerpt. | It's a dark and somber night at the Heros Headquarters, all the lights are out except for one, a small light come from one of the rooms on the top floor, in there is a man slumped over a desk, surrounded but liquors, drugs and ash from old cigarettes, writting on a journal:
"April 26, 3:42 A.M. :
We were all there, when it happened, tommy, thomas, it was my fault I am so sorry, it was too fast to stop it , I was too drunk to stop it, no one else was strong enough, I am so so sorry friend, you gave me this book, you said it could help to get the thoughts out of my head and I only laughed, you wanted me to sober up, you thought I could be better than this, I can't, I could never explain why did I drink so much only Kirk and the old man know my secret, but if I wasn't such a coward you would still be here. They never belived me when I said I could quit the drugs, alcohol and tobacco whenever I wanted, they just laughed.
You knew that even drunk my power could be stronger than all of them, well now The emperor will pay."
As soon as he finished writting he got up and started to briskly throw all of it in the trash, as the anger and grief too over him, then he passed out on the bed. A month went by no drugs no alcohol, the nightmares worst than ever, no one knew about them, only the old man knew his story. Most of the other heros where skeptical, most thought that when he dissappeared every night it was to drink in secret and shame, but the man left every night in search of answers but sober he couldn't sleep.
Thomas had been the newest addition to the team, he was only 19 years old, to him only a child. He was bright and naive maybe, his power was to create energy barriers, to contain or repel things, not the strongest but not the weakest. He was the only one that belived in the man, the man didn't have a face or a name, but he kept the same mask for them and allowed them to call him Rick, drunken Rick was how most called him.
And he had finally found him, ans he was going after the emperor alone, but Andromeda saw him and called the others.
He knew they were there, he knew they would see it, he didn't care, once he made it inside the emperor's hide out he killed everyone in his way trapping them in nightmares so horrific, so hellish they would always end up killing themselves, none of the heros had ever seen him use his true power, but when he removed the mask it was all unleashed.
He found the emperor and took him to a nightmare inside his head and tortured him in there for 100 years, pealing his skin, twisting his body, he could feel all of the pain, but couldn't die, for it wasn't real, on the outside the other heros could see the blood start to drip from the emperor's eyes, and after what felt for both of them like a century they were back, tears of blood pouring from the emperor's eyes, the man still faceless. And as he walked past them they could hear the banging, and when they looked the emperor, their nemesis the most powerful of the villans hitting his head against the wall so hard until he smashed his own skull.
The man never drank, and never wore a mask again.
(Not my best work I spent too much time trying to think of the super power that I ended up losing inspiration :/) | 2022-12-28T09:14:44 | 2022-12-28T09:04:31 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] The reason us humans were so late to the Space Race compared to other alien species wasn't actually because of inferior technology or intelligence, but simply because their planets are so much smaller than Earth's that escaping their planet's gravitational pull was much easier. | "...that escaping their planet's gravitational pull was much easier."
Argenta, the first speaker, finished the opening spiel of the talk.
"That said, recent discoveries have put our space achievements into a manner of perspective."
Click. A planet on-screen. A few oceans scattered about, sort of reddish-green land, and a grey smudge in the centre of the picture.
"This is Gellon-15b. It has..." Click. Earth appears to scale- almost a third the size. "Gravity *nine* times stronger than here on earth." A murmur ran through the crowd. They hadn't been sure about this speaker, Argenta, they were only young, and known for informality to the point of insult, but it seemed like they were sticking on point.
Click. Zoom in on the sludge. Click. Click. It resolves into a space. A second murmur ran through the crowd, slightly put out that it had been beaten to the punch by the first. "That is what it looks like. That's a spacerail."
Argenta had practically written the book on spacerails, purely theoretical work, but brilliant. Also incredibly informal.
A camera view from the bottom of the rail began to play.
"This broadcast is one of the first all-frequency broadcasts this planet sent. Its inhabitants, the Gellons, stopped their personal and professional electricity use for three days, only emergency and essential services stayed up, and they broadcast this to the *stars*."
The cart at the bottom of the rail begins to move, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. It gained height slowly, and the post markers started whipping by in blurs. The vacuum tunnel that contained the cart was made of clear duraglass.
"The Gallons built a 10% rise spacerail, meaning to reach their Kármán line, they built 800 kilometres of track. It took them ten years, and the GDP of the for every one of those years, but they *did* it." The camera was pointed downwards, towards the planet's ground. From inside the capsule, a whooping noise could be heard.
"And you know what that broadcast came with? The wee message they slapped on the front?" Their Cork accent started to bleed in. Click.
Big, blocky symbols. Slowly they clacked into English. *We've seen all we can from the ground. Now we're coming for the secrets in the stars.* "I have not edited their message," they added, heading off the obvious question.
Click. A slide of black background, white text: 'Conclusion.'
"Nobody else has responded yet. We're one of the first species to catch the message. They have satisfied the criteria we hold for first contact. Personally, I think it's obvious." What was becoming obvious to the audience is that Argenta was starting to really enjoy themself, which bode ill for the professionality of the talk. Click.
*Come to earth and we'll answer as many questions as we can. Hope to see you soon. Keep kicking ass.*
"Because *these folks?* I want to meet them. The crazy spacerail people who managed to beat out *us* in the dramatic entrance department."
"Any objections?" | Ryeite Flight to Space! A First!
​
Caleres has been the home of the Reytunne since we were but Gramflakes in the dattleflows, but perhaps for no longer! The brother Hernu and Desi Ryeite have developed a flying machine, using sailcloth and long strips of rubber which has catapulted them to stationary orbit about the planet. They plan to spend a handful of days gathering scientific data before flapping the large wings of the ship to try and return down to Caleres.
I'm here with nautical scientist Fudu Geyru and Seni Clapjacks for some insight.
Smahala, sir! What implications do you think this monumental event will have for the scientific community at large?
Clapjacks, Fudu!
Fudu - The first thing to talk about is that these two guys aren't really scientifically trained, and have been up there for almost a full season without any contact from home. They don't even have a plan for getting back down! So from an academic point of view, it's all very loosey goosey, but apparently getting into space isn't that hard. My team is already sketching out some plans for orbital habitats to help with the growing overpopulation problem. Caleres is already home to over 10 million Reytunne and that number grows every day!
So, the first thing they are doing is gathering data. We don't really know much about space, so this will be a way to learn more. Hopefully we'll get a good idea of what it's like up there. And if we do manage to send one or two people up every month for some research that's great, but as Fudu said it's not quite feasible on a planetary scale.
​
\---
For more of my writing, see /r/surinical | 2021-03-22T14:43:51 | 2021-03-22T13:57:44 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this. | “Were you angry with her?”
“Of course I was. It’s tough you know. You think you know someone and then suddenly it turns out they aren’t who you thought they were. It broke my heart. And the worst part was she couldn’t understand why I was angry. We had a massive fight. Fights in fact.”
“I can understand.”
“She couldn’t. It’s tough I suppose. She was a god after all. Till the curse had suppressed things for her, she was an ordinary human. But when the seal broke, she ascended. The real her, the god, rose from the ashes of her humanity. You see it’s easy for us humans. We are all a bit of drama queens. Crying about how difficult our lives are. But imagine being able to hear and see the problems and issues facing every single human on this earth. Not only that, but having the ability to fix some of them but being bound by rules. She lost her warm nature. Her smile was gone. She tried to put on a fake one for my sake but I knew. If there’s two things I was ever good at, it was at appraising art and knowing how she really felt.”
“True love, I suppose.”
“As true as can be. I do wonder though. Would I still have fallen for her if I knew about her… you know… condition.”
“Would you have?”
“Probably. In fact, yeah I would have. Absolutely. She was always my goddess.”
“That’s sweet.”
“It’s true. When I really think about it, my anger at her stemmed from my helplessness you know. She was something much more. I was nothing to her anymore. She had bigger problems. I was of no use to her.”
“That would’ve been tough. Did you try to get her to stay?”
“All the time. I didn’t want her to go. But she had a duty you know. She called me selfish. And if I’m being honest I was selfish. The worst part was that I could see it. I knew I was being selfish. I knew I should let her go. I was just too weak.”
“Weak?”
“Yeah. She had to go, you see. She didn’t have an option. Instead of supporting her, I wanted her to forgo her duty and keep her with me. She explained to me how important she was to maintain balance here on earth. If she stayed away from her real home, humanity would continue to suffer. She cried a lot you know. In those days. Cause she was suffering too. She was in pain. But I was still weak.”
“Surely she understood.”
“She did. She was nothing if not really smart. Out of the countless things she was amazing at, the foremost was knowing how I really felt. She knew I was afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“Yeah. For years, she had been my life, you know. If I look back at my life I haven’t done much. She was the best thing about my life. Without her, what was I? Nothing.”
“That’s tough.”
“It was. That’s why she gave me a gift while leaving. Two gifts really. She said she’d come visit me regularly. This was our spot, you know. She said that when I was particularly sad, I should come sit here. Bring her favourite flowers and she’d show me a sign she was here. Even today. See that rainbow in the distance. That’s her sign to me. She’s still there watching over me. I’m not alone. And that thought helped me not to break down.”
“And the other?”
“Huh?”
“You said two gifts.”
“Oh right. Sorry I got lost in the rainbow. The other gift, the bigger gift. If that rainbow allowed me to carry on, the other gift actually made it so I could be happy again. Have hope. Love. Everything good about my life. She gave me you.”
“Dad, come on.”
“It’s true. I know it sounds a bit cheesy. But it’s true. Before ascending to heaven she left me a piece of her soul as our dear daughter.”
“Cute.”
“Yes you are sweetly.”
“So I believed all of this when I was younger?”
“Sure did. If there’s two things your dad was ever good at, it was cooking great food and making up good stories.”
Caroline looked at her father, noticing the moist eyes as he looked off into the distance. She had been away at college for the past few years and had missed her mother’s death anniversary. She put her head on his shoulder. “We should go. It’s getting colder.”
“Yeah. We should. But before we do, take a look.”
Caroline followed his gaze. A double rainbow smiled at her and she felt a childlike joy rising somewhere deep within her. “Mom…”
Gary placed his wife’s favourite flowers on the ground. She had died during childbirth and he had tried to do his best to keep her alive for their daughter using various stories. This was the one that had stuck. He gave a one last look at the double rainbow, sending a silent prayer to the only god he really and truly had faith in. For he had told this story so many times that he had come to believe it a bit himself. | I look up at her as she now stands even taller than before.
"What am I supposed to do now? There is now no way that I can be supportive in your life anymore." She looks back, her divine face shining brilliantly, "What do you mean?" I can hardly face her when I speak, "Think about it. You don't need me to cook for you, you don't need to sleep, there's just nothing I can do for you anymore."
She pauses for a moment and then smiles, "Sure, I can't say you're wrong, I don't need food, I don't have to eat or drink water to sustain myself, I have all that I need...except for one thing. If you weren't still with me, then why would any of my powers matter?"
I look back at her confused, "What are you talking about? You could level a city just because you want to! You could save the world from hunger and wars and do whatever you please! Just, *sighs* I..." She smiles again and takes the form of her old human body "Even with all of my power, you're still the only thing I really want."
I close my eyes and decide I might as well sit down as I think to myself, 'I just can't bring myself to think of why, why am I so important? I can't give her anything, I can't do something that she can't already do. I have nothing, I am nothing.' She walks over and puts her arms around my shoulders, leaning against my back as I sit down.
I sigh, "Please, don't mistake me, I am so happy for you, but me being selfish I just don't see why you need me anymore. *I turn and look away from her direction, feeling sorry for myself* I'll just be alone again."
She nuzzles my neck, "You'll never be alone again, I want you because I love you. There is nothing that I can do to prove that if you don't accept it as it is." I close my eyes and take a deep breath, "Okay then, if you want me, then who am I to say no?"
I take another deep breath and face her, " If you truly want me, then I will give you all that I have. I only hope that my love can be enough." She smiles and kisses my cheek, "You're all I've loved since I first saw you, and no divine power or immortality will ever change that."
I smile before looking back to her, "Immortality?!" She looks back, slightly confused at why I seem worried, "Yes, immortality, I can't die by aging." I look back, trying my hardest not to think about it, "But, if you're immortal, then... you'll lose me one day." She smiled, "You forget who you're talking to."
I move so that I can stand back up, getting slightly dizzy as I do. She stands up with me and holds my arm to keep me steady, smiling as she watches me. She then speaks softly as she stares into my eyes, "You may be human now, but I can keep you with me." I stare back into her eyes as I regain my balance, "You can make me immortal?"
She looks away just slightly, "Sort of, it's like how
other gods have pets." I look at her rather confused "Pets?" "Don't think about it like that! Just...ummm...think about it like companionship! Yeah! You'll be my companion! For... eternity."
I watch her and smile as she tries to comfort me through this, "It's okay" I take her hands in mine, "I'd love nothing else but to be your 'companion' for eternity." She laughs as we hold hands and stare into each other's eyes, "So, what should we do first?" | 2022-11-08T20:21:58 | 2022-11-08T19:56:20 | 2,678 | 335 |
[WP] As a person goes through his life, he is given three options at the end of each day, continue, restart day, or restart life. He has just lived through the worst day of his life. | After hours and hours of lying my head on my pillow, I finally fall asleep. This is the part of my day that I was most looking forward to. I finally was gonna tell Jim to restart my day.
There was my first breakup, which felt like it lasted an eternity. I moved forward.
The time I lost my first job after the recession. I moved forward.
This was too much though. I worked so hard to seal up this job, and to lose it over freaking out at a meeting – I fucked up. I truly did. And then to see my shallow bitch of a wife walk out the door when she found out what happened just wasn’t right. God forbid her husband loses two jobs. There’s 12 years down the drain.
Whats next? Call up my wealthy brother and ask him for more money? Guess the kids aren't going to summer camp. Let's not even mention divorce proceedings. This day has to be reset.
But I’m here. Time to make things right again. I’ll keep my cool at the meeting next time. I see Jim approach. Its strange how I’ve seen him every day for the past 42 years and he still looks the exact same. When I was too young to comprehend my options he still helped me out.
“Guessing you’re gonna want to continue?”
“I’m thinking otherwise,” I say. I see Jim’s face fall into despair.
“You sure about this? Which one?” He says, his voice showing sadness.
“Just the day. I’m gonna make it right.”
“You know, continuing might be what’s best. Just put this behind you and move forward,” he said, as if this day was just any other.
“Jim, don’t tell me what to do. I need to reset it. I need to make this right.”
“You sure?” He asked, showing signs of just giving up.
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
“Dave, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I hate this job. You don’t know how much I do.”
This wasn’t what I expected. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just like your breakup with Jessica. This is your 754th reset of this day. Your breakup day only lasted 753. Please try to remember this conversation this time around.”
I hear my wife's alarm wake me up. Today was the day I've been waiting for -- my huge meeting with our biggest client. Time for me to knock it out of the park.
| His days were always the same. For whatever reason as one day transitioned into another, he had a choice. Continue on, or restart the day, or restart life. The third was out of the question, but to have another chance? Usually he would consider it a blessing. Something goes wrong, no sweat, just restart the day and do it right.
Today, however, is different. Mark paced in his room, sweat bluring his vision as he desperately considered what to do. A man wearing a suit walked into the room, here to get Mark's answer. Continue, or restart.
"So, what will you chose?" the man asked. "Either way its up to you, but you have to know that today is the worst day of your life."
"I know, I know. You've already told me," Mark answered angrily. There was blood on his shirt, and a terrible ringing in his ears that just wouldn't go away.
"So, what will you cho--" the man said, before being interupted. "Restart. I'll restart the day." Mark spat.
"Are... Are you sure? You've restarted this day so many times already," the man explained. It wasn't his decision to make, but for some reason it didn't feel right.
"Yes, I can do this. I'll do it right. I'll save them all."
And that was that. There was a low hum, and everything went black. | 2014-07-17T18:32:56 | 2014-07-17T17:56:40 | 274 | 20 |
[WP] You hate your boring call centre job. Every day idiots call you up with stupid questions they could easily figure out themselves. Yes you have to shoot them in the head. No there is no cure if you're bitten. It's a few years now into the zombie apocalypse and this is the Call Centre of the Dead | "Uh, Is this the Call Centre of the Dead?"
I sighed. It's always the ones who ask that question who end up asking the dumbest questions later. Yeah. I was having a bad day. I almost avoided a zombie spitting at me in the morning, and we all know what that means, right?
Anyway, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
"Yes it is, sir. How may I help you?"
"I was just uh...I was bitten by a zombie," he said.
"I see. Do you need immediate medical assistance? Are you carrying the Herb of Eden with you?" I asked, trying to get the words out quickly.
There was no sense of haste in the caller's voice.
"Um... no. I'm fine. You are my new friend," he said.
I held on, waiting for him to say something else. When he didn't, I broke the silence.
"Sir, have you consumed the Herb of Eden? I hope you are aware that if you don't do that within three hours the effects of the bite will start kicking in."
"I have not. I don't have any with me," he said, calmly.
"How many hours has it been, sir?" I asked.
"Nine," he said.
Now this is where I figured out that it was just a random wacko playing a prank on me. Not consuming the herb for more than 4 hours was impossible since even saliva from a zombie is capable of killing humans within 4 hours. Him being able to speak to me shouldn't have been possible, if what he claimed was true.
"Sure," I said in a patronizing voice. I was about to put the phone down when he started speaking again.
"I should be dead by now, right?" he asked.
I decided to play along.
"Yes, sir. You very should be," I said.
"Then doesn't it worry you that I can still communicate with you while everyone else around me can't understand a thing I'm saying?"
For a moment, I couldn't speak. I held on to the phone trying to rethink everything.
"I was the one who spit on you on the driveway, stupid. Now come down here with a co-worker so that we can both feast on someone," he said and disconnected the call.
I felt around my neck where the spit had unfortunately landed. My skin there was bumpy, but painless. Almost numb, if I were to describe it. I thought I had dodged it.
I checked my pulse and found out that I didn't have any.
I wasn't even breathing anymore. I kept the phone and got up from my seat.
"Leaving so soon, huh? It hasn't even been 7 hours chump. Should I complain to the boss, eh?" Ross said, looking at me with a smug grin on my face.
I ignored him and started walking, when I realized something.
"Hey, Ross?" I called out. He stared at me.
"Come down with me to the driveway. I have a gift for you."
I barely finished my sentence as Ross left his seat and came walking towards me, oblivious to the fact that I didn't have any gifts for him.
No. He was the gift for my new friend.
\-------------------------------
r/abhisek | INTRODUCING THE CAST:
JEN: The often misguided, easily manipulated manager of the Call Centre of the Dead.
MARVIN: A father. He had just been hired at the Center before the apocalypse hit.
JILL: A ten year old child, Marvin's secretary who plots his murder.
OLIVER: A bully who pushes around everyone else.
ALSO STARRING:
DIA: "Are you discriminating against zombies?"
(MARVIN and JILL sit at desks next to each other, with the latter clutching a knife behind her back. OLIVER'S chair has been rolled away from his desk, and he is reading a magazine.)
JEN: (Entering the main office) All right, everyone! We have a new employee. (waves hands excitedly) Yay! Go team!
DIA: (enters) Hello, team. (drool drips out of the corners of her mouth as she stares at JEN)
OLIVER: (exasperated) Jen, she's a (emphatically) zombie! Are you crazy?
DIA: (offended) Are you discriminating against zombies?
JEN: (shaking her head) For shame, Oliver.
DIA: (huffing) Call me Chef Dia, instead.
MARVIN: (conflicted) You mean chief?
DIA: (pausing) Sure.
(An awkward silence follows. JILL takes the initiative to enter her office again and slam the door. DIA tentatively walks over and sniffs OLIVER, but seems disgusted and recoils. She moves over to sit beside MARVIN. JILL scoots away from her.)
MARVIN: (tentatively) So...
(JILL suddenly stabs at MARVIN, but he dodges and the knife clatters to the ground.)
JILL: (deadpan) Oh my, the knife must have slipped.
MARVIN: (terrified) U-uh, just make sure it doesn't happens again, okay?
JILL: (shrugs) | 2020-05-12T09:28:06 | 2020-05-12T06:31:01 | 94 | 13 |
[WP] You are not a good person. Your party was made of good people, and you tried to be good because you liked having allies. But now they're all missing, so they won't see the lengths you're willing to go to to save them. | "I good girl." Said the scruffy black cat.
The orc jailer squinted down at the talking feline. He was a great green brute of an orc, and was the very last line of defense in the intricate cave system of the Western Mountain Orc Prison.
The orc jailer usually delighted in having wild rats pass by his post at night, because then he could smash the rats with his club and throw their bloody bodies into the prisoner's cells and listen to the occupants scream. It was his only entertainment during the night shift.
But he had never seen a cat while on duty in the caves. And he'd never even heard of a talking one before. He wondered if his brothers further up the line had let it pass to him on purpose.
The cat stepped closer into the torch light and sniffed at the ground, then licked her lips. She looked like she'd been in a lot of fights in her life; her hair was missing in spots, her ears were chewed up and scarred, and she smelled like she had rolled over something dead. She was old and ugly and the orc's brothers had probably just ignored her when she'd gone by.
The jailer began to slowly reach for his club, thinking of which cells he could throw her squished body into. The older prisoners were getting used to his dead rat game, but might squeal a little differently if a bigger, smellier cat was thrown at them. But those new prisoners... The ones still so full of hope and good faith... he could hardly wait to hear what kind of screams they might make.
The cat watched with shining yellow eyes as the orc moved in slow motion, quietly picking up his enormous club. She could smell his intent to kill, but she stood still and poised.
When the orc moved to swing his club at her, she heard the soft jingle of metal keys somewhere on his left leg.
'Keys good', thought the cat.
Before the club could reach her, the old cat had morphed growing dagger sized teeth and a bear-sized head. She zipped past the orc's club and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. The jailer couldn't even let out a scream as his windpipe was squished, like a rat against his club. The cat's body continued to morph and grow, matching the orc's weight pound for pound. She threw him to the ground and ripped off his head.
His blood was hot and his meat was tainted and tough, but to the monster ripping through those muscles and bones, he tasted like sweet, sweet victory. Savagely, she tore into him, swallowing his still convulsing heart, chewing up his bones, and even licking up the blood that had sprayed across the cave walls and floor. In no time at all, she had devoured everything the orc had ever been. Except, for his untouched left leg.
It had been ages since she had killed this much. Ever since she had been adopted and loved by her party in her small Sneaking form, she had held back her natural instinct to stalk, kill, and eat her enemies. She had sat back and allowed her party to complete small quests and capture minor criminals at their own pace, enjoying the love and attention that their good hearts had bestowed upon her along the way. She had even begun to believe all the little things they said to her when they scratched her scarred ears, petted her uneven fur, or fed her little fish they bought with their hard earned money.
But then someone had taken them away, had sold them and imprisoned them in an orc's mountain. That person had been the first in line to go.
The monster delicately picked up the orcs's leg and shook it until a ring of keys fell off. She chomped and swallowed up the last bit of orc, and then quietly made her way down the line of cells with the keys hanging from her bloody teeth. The scent of her party wafted through a barred window on a small wooden door. She stopped and dropped the keys at the base of the door and licked her muzzle. She began to shrink back into her Sneaking form and let out a curiously sweet 'mew'.
There was movement behind the door, and the leader of her party came into view between the bars of the window. He was bruised and scratched up, but ecstatic to see the party's little cat.
She 'mewed' happily as the leader roused the rest of the party and they began to devise a plan to reach the keys and open the cell door before the jailer could notice them.
Smiling at her little party, the cat curled up in the hall to await their attempts at escape. They had all the time in the world, of course. No one was left to hurt them here.
"I good girl." Purred the scruffy black cat. | ######[](#dropcap)
She'd forgotten what it felt like.
She twisted the knife deeper, and the blood gushed out like a fountain from the source. That's what humans were, after all. Merely fountains of blood. The man writhed on the hard marble floors, his face contorted into a mask of agony. His body jerked involuntarily with every slight movement. But in his gaze, too, there was something she was all too familiar with. Something she'd buried long ago but could now feel rising like bile in the back of her throat despite her steady hands. Lissandra smiled, but the warmth never reached her eyes.
"Why don't you help me out, Marcus? We were friends once, weren't we?" she murmured. She brought one gloved hand down gently and stroked his black, blood soaked hair. His eyelids began to flutter. She stilled her left hand, allowing the knife to act as a plug. He would die within minutes once she extracted it. Marcus's lips quivered, his eyes wide.
"Lissandra," he paused to cough up blood, the dark, viscous liquid bubbling up over his lips and splattering onto the marble. "Please. You're good now, they say you're the good one," he gasped. "I don't know where they are. Please let me go. I don't know--"
The good one? Something clenched in her chest, tight and unyielding. Her eyes flashed. She leaned over him, ignoring the way the blood had begun to soak into her kneepads. Still crouching, she let go of the knife. The slight spasms in his muscles meant he was no threat to her now.
"The good one?" The corner of her lips twitched upward, and then she began laughing. It bubbled out of her throat, long and high-pitched like a hyena's cackle. "The good one?" she repeated. "No. Eliyah was the good one. Maribel was the good one. Luca was the good one." She stood up, her lips pressed together. It was clear he was going to be no help to her now. She watched as his lids began to droop. He stilled.
The blood pooled out from his body on the tiles like petals from a rose, so vividly beautiful. Familiar. She could taste the iron tang on her tongue still, from all the times she'd been forced to gag it down as part of her time in the Iron Thorns. Her gaze drifted up to the crest of thorns hung up proudly on the wall, now covered in specks of red. For the longest time, she'd treated it like home.
She could still see Luther White's grin, baring his sharpened gold teeth as he slid a cold, grimy hand down her arm. They were all his children, he said. He would take care of them.
"Good?" she murmured to herself. She tugged the knife from his body. Looking around, she stepped over to the table covered in that fancy, gold tablecloth that represented his rank in Luther's clan. She drew the blade over the cloth, until its surface was a shiny silver yet again. Then she sheathed it.
She took one last glance up at the crest.
No. She wasn't good at all. She just liked the company.
***
r/AlannaWu | 2019-12-07T13:02:32 | 2019-12-07T11:13:29 | 171 | 124 |
[WP] Your whole life you had an ability that seemed normal to you. Now you realized you're the only one with this ability. | “Quick! Quick!” I urgently ushered her inside and closed the door. Knowing how nosy my neighbours were, the over-the-fence conversations with my parents would quickly turn to the fact that Suzy was sneaking in while they were out for the night.
Mum probably wouldn’t care but Dad would. Suz’s Dad definitely would. As soon as the door was closed, I grabbed her hand tightly. We ran upstairs together and fell carelessly but purposefully onto my bed.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Her smile beamed at me. I loved how playful she was. Her smile spoke to me and today it said she was hiding something.
“I’ve got a surprise for you. Close your eyes and cover your ears”. I didn’t even click at this stage. I just heard things the other way around. Of course she’d meant to say cover my eyes and close my ears, right? So I did. I put my hands over my eyes and closed my ears.
I waited. I got impatient pretty quickly.
“Can I open my eyes yet? Suz?”
I expected her to tap me on the shoulder. Nothing.
“OK, I’m going to open them!” I figured if she didn’t want me to she would stop me. She’d hold her hands over mine or hide whatever this surprise was.
I opened my ears and took my hands from my eyes.
She was just sitting on the bed staring at me.
“Come on, Adam, stop being silly. Put your fingers in your ears as well.”
“What, why would I want to do that?”
“Because I don’t want you to even hear what I’m doing, let alone SEE.”
“Yeah, my ears were closed. I couldn’t hear a thing.”
She shook her head, confused.
‘You can’t close your ears, silly!”
“What do you mean? Of course you can.”
“No… you can’t. No one can.”
I thought for a second. It clicked. It finally clicked. All those times I’d seen people covering their ears on TV. All those times I’d seen people shaking water from their ears once they got out of the pool. All those cartoons when they stuck their fingers in their ears before an explosion.
She must’ve seen my face drop.
“You can seriously close your ears, can’t you? Oh my, God!”
I jumped to my feet.
“Oh my God, oh my GOD! EAR PLUGS! That’s what ear plugs are for! People can’t close their ears! How did I not click before now?” I wasn’t frightened, I wasn’t worried, I was just plain bewildered. How did I get to fifteen years old and not realise this?
“You’re such a freak!” she smiled playfully at me and poked me in the ribs.
“Hey, I just assumed everyone could.” She giggled again. It was strange. This was such a moment of realisation for me yet I figured I could think about it later. None of this mattered. I looked at her. She couldn’t care less that I might be a bit different. I eased up, sat down again and smiled back at her, shrugging my shoulders.
“Time for that surprise.” She moved slowly, placing her hands each side of me. Not taking her eyes off mine as she slid herself on top of me and her lips ever closer to mine.
“Kiss me, freak. And don’t you dare close your ears.”
| Ray Ellis’s secret wasn’t anything special until one day in class when his power stood out to his friend. Ray sat in his desk listening to the teacher, playing with things in his right hand like coins and pencils. He was always pretty talented at doing stuff that involved eye-hand coordination, not including doing stuff like sports or playing the computer but more like pen spinning and coin rolling, so he could imagine getting far ahead in life with the talents he possessed.
“That is suttin' outta dis ghetto.” He said to me, staring wide-eyed looking like the pen I was messing with in my hand was talking to him.
“What are you having orgasms about over there, Ruddy?” I said to him almost laughing because of the silly expression slapped on his face. “You’ve seen my pen tricks before.”
“Nothang like dis shit.” He replied back more captivated than before.
“Just the same old tricks like I do all the time. Nothing new added to it.”
“It be yo' finger n' shit. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I never peeped anythang like dat shit.”
I stopped messing with the pen and raised my right hand between us. Ruddy got up from his seat adjacent to me in the middle of my teacher talking to the class about The Great Gatsby. Luckily for Ruddy the teacher was old as dirt and his eyesight and hearing were pathetically poor.
“Yo crazy-ass ringer finger, dude yo. How tha fuck is you bustin that, biatch? No Muthafucka can do anythang like dis shit.” My friend’s face was almost right up against my hand now.
“You got a fetish for fingers now? You’re getting stranger by the day, my friend.” I laughed at him, playing it cool. Truth be told, I knew what he was talking about to me. I just never knew if it was truly a real power until that point. Now I knew that I could begin stopping vigilante crime in my town as a super hero. My power is being able to control my ring finger exceptionally well, just like any other finger. I wasn’t the superhero this town wanted. I wasn’t the superhero anybody wanted. I’m not even the superhero anyone needs.
| 2015-01-08T14:04:50 | 2015-01-08T12:29:03 | 38 | 28 |
[WP] The dungeon boss turns to face the adventuring party, only to instead see an OSHA inspector with a list of the dungeon's safety hazards. | Jake leaned gingerly out and peered down into the pit. "Yeah..." he said. "This is definitely going to have to go." He scribbled a few notes on his clipboard. "That's thirty-two code violations so far, and we haven't even gotten to the basement."
Belgaz crossed his arms and frowned. "I really don't see why any of this is necessary."
Squeezing past him, Jake emerged from the tunnel and dusted himself off. He pointed to the ceiling of the antechamber. "You're going to have to change this too."
"Change what?"
"The ceiling. I'd have to measure, but it looks at least six inches too low."
Stepping across the room, a pressure plate depressed in the floor and a hail of darts flashed through the air. Jake took a quick step back and watched them pass, clattering against the opposite wall.
"Mmhmm," he said, kneeling down. He reached into his back pocket and got out a ruler, measuring the depression in the floor. "Someone could trip on this, you know."
Belgaz dusted off his cloak and brushed a cobweb from his horns. "I don't understand. We've never had to worry about any of this before."
The measuring tape slid back into its spool with a metallic click. "I know how you feel," Jake said, standing up. "It's always a pain to remodel, and these old dungeons are always a mess. I'm not going to cite you today, but you're going to have to bring this place up to the new standards."
He tore a slip of paper off the clipboard and handed it over.
Belgaz stared at it for a moment before crushing the paper in his claws. "This is outrageous. I spoke to the abyssal counsel six weeks ago. I'm supposed to be grandfathered in. Their representative assured me--"
"I'm just an inspector," Jake said, interrupting him. "As far as I know, only the dungeons from the first through the fifth epoch are exempt from the new regulations. The statute doesn't say anything about the sixth. Even if it did, I'm not sure you'd qualify for the exemption, at least not in the eyes of the Otherworld Safety and Health Administration."
Belgaz's eyes blazed. "Why not?"
Jake pulled a smart phone out of his pocket and tapped in a quick search. "Here it is," he said. "Tombs, vaults, caverns, dungeons and other crawls exceeding four thousand years in age shall be exempt."
"There!" Belgaz said. "You just read it. The sixth epoch."
"...provided that the net value of all treasures, artifacts, and miscellaneous magic contained within exceeds five-hundred thousand gold pieces, or produces records detailing the demise of not less than twelve adventuring parties per week, or at least two hundred in one month of the preceding fiscal year."
Jake put his phone away. "Now, I've taken a look at your statements, and your financials are well below those figures."
Belgaz grumbled and looked away. "Blood Keep's been having a slow year. Traffic is down since they put in the highway."
Jake put a hand on the demon's shoulder. "Look, I understand. The world is changing. Farms and cities are on the rise, and people just don't adventure like they used to. We all have to adapt. Have you thought about escape rooms?"
Belgaz lifted an eyebrow. "What?"
"Yeah," Jake said, heading back up the corridor to the great hall. A blueprint of the keep was laid out on the table. "You could fit, ten... maybe even twenty of them in a place like this."
"What is an escape room?"
"They're like obstacle courses. You stick people inside and they have to solve puzzles to get out."
"And then you kill them?" Belgaz asked.
Jake gave the demon a pitying smile. "No," he said. "You let them go. Blood keep might not be wealthy, by historical standards, but you could still manage a hefty prize pool. I bet you'd get all kinds of traffic: a little foot work, some word of mouth, a little advertising..."
"Advertising?!" Belgaz snarled. "Blood Keep was the site of not one, not two, but THREE greater devil invocations. We do not advertise!"
"Suit yourself," Jake said. "But unless you get this place up to code, the Nine Hells are going to shut you down."
Fire burned deep in Belgaz's chest. A year ago, he would have incinerated the man on the spot, but doing so now would only bring the ire of the counsel even more hotly to his doorstep.
"What else needs to change," he growled.
Jake smiled brightly and adjusted his name tag. "That's the evil spirit," he said, flipping over a fresh sheet on his clipboard. "Let's take a look at that basement."
Belgaz hung his shoulders and pointed down a flight of steps. "It's this way."
Jake made a quick note on his clipboard and said, "Don't worry. We'll get this place sorted out; then we can talk about merchandising."
The demon's heart sank as they descended the staircase. He'd been a dungeon master for forty centuries, but this was the first time he'd ever come face to face with evil. | The trickle of pebbles falling from the walls of the dungeon made Asha flinch. She had been in bad dungeons before, but this one took the cake. By a wide margin, she might add, observing the rusted spikes protruding from the walls. She wondered if their purpose was to support the walls or to impale intruders. Either way, she thought as she marked down the violation, it was a safety hazard.
"Mister Dungeon Boss," she announced, making her voice an octave deeper. She found that people paid her more attention that way. He turned slowly, wielding a weapon in each hand.
His gaze settled on Asha, dwarfed by his stature but standing fearlessly in his shadow. The torches on the walls guttered, making the shadows dance grotesquely across the dungeon floor. She stared at him unblinkingly. "You're not the adventuring party," the dungeon boss bellowed, his voice tinged with disappointment.
"That's right," she retorted. "I'm not. I'm here for your annual inspection."
"I thought that was next week." It was. But then she got word of the adventuring party, and she figured a surprise visit might help uncover some of the more glaring shortcomings of this particular dungeon. She was right, as expected. She had been in the business long enough.
She shrugged. "Shouldn't matter if the dungeon is safe."
The dungeon boss fumbled over his words, desperately seeking an adequate response. His minions slowly backtracked into the shadows to avoid his wrath. It was building; they could see the steam creeping out of his ears and his gnarled claws trembling. "It... It doesn't," he stuttered finally. "Let me just clean up a little. I wouldn't want you-"
"No need," Asha interrupted. "Let's get started. I've heard you have visitors on their way." She checked her watch. It didn't work well down here in the depths of the dungeon. That was the issue with those solar-powered watches. "These spikes here..." Asha gestured at the walls, following them upwards. "And those loose boulders. What's up with that?"
"Oh, just some maintenance work. The boulders will be firmly on the ground by tonight, I promise."
"And the spikes?"
"The ends will be covered."
"By?"
"Bodies?" She glanced up from her clipboard.
"I'm sorry?"
"Boulders. The spiky ends will be covered by boulders is what I meant." She checked off another item.
"That food outside the door," she continued, gesturing behind her with her head.
"For my visitors." Right, of course. Such hospitality.
"How old is it?" The dungeon boss shifted uncomfortably.
"Just one." Asha paused her writing again and looked up. One was missing a unit.
"One day?" The dungeon boss shook his head. "One week?" Another shake of the head. The minions were scurrying away into the further depths of the dungeon now, maybe heading back to their respawn stations or somewhere safe from the boss' anger. "One month?" She was hopeful now. It couldn't be more than a month.
"One year," the dungeon boss corrected meekly, staring down at his spiked boots.
"A year?" Asha stared at him in disbelief. "Are you trying to poison somebody?" He glanced up shyly. "Don't answer that. I'll have to report it if you are." The dungeon boss stayed silent. "Alright, here's the deal. Get this all cleaned up, I'll be back in two weeks with the health inspector. If nothing has changed, you'll get a failing grade and you'll have to shut down."
"So I can leave it for my visitors?"
Asha shrugged. "Sure. I don't care. Just clean it up by my next visit so I have less paperwork to file."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2019-10-21T09:22:14 | 2019-10-21T08:50:36 | 325 | 138 |
[WP] - in hell one battles giant demons until you die... then you rise again. Again and again you strive against impossible odds to barely scratch the terrible creatures. The first Dark Souls player has just arrived to this hell, and soon nothing will be the same again.
Dark Souls being a vision of hell. | Say what you want about Hell, at least they give you a chance. Sure they could just drop everyone in the pit to die over and over again, but I figure they didn't see the sport in that. So they give us weapons and some armor. Swords, axes, spears, one dumbass is running around with a flail. I think he's going for most deaths, crazy bastard.
There isn't really an actual fighting, we all just take turns at the first beast getting killed one by one. There's enough of us that we can go up to an hour without getting killed, hopefully the folks upstairs don't find out how we're gaming the system.
Oh shit, it's my turn. Well time to do my duty.
I step forward to the face the Beast, some type of dragon/hydra/centaur/demon. Really fucked up. I raise my sword to indicate my readiness to battle, the Beast seems to follow battlefield protocol, very strange. The Beast raises its halberd about to strike when we here the gong from the top of the atrium: a new soul has entered, your first death in Hell is falling from the entrance. But strange, we don't hear any screaming.
"PRAISE THE SUNNNNNNNNNNN."
A young man, no more than 22 descends into the pit claymore in hand in striking position. In one swipe he decapitates the Beast. He lands on his feet in an almost feline manor.
The impossible happened, someone actually did it. This young man killed the Beast.
The young man stands and faces me, he smiles and nods. I see a wild look in his eye: not madness or reckless abandon created from a total loss of hope. In fact it's the opposite: hope. I see hope in his eyes.
The young man raises his sword to the end of the pit, the door opens at his command. He then turns his sword to all of us, in this moment we all make a silent vow to follow this stranger to whatever end.
The young man says only, "Dragon ahead. Git gud."
| "What the fuck was that, man!?"
"I don't know, just keep running!"
"Is he still chasing us?!"
"Just. Keep. Running." The two demons ran for hours before collapsing in a dim alcove.
"What the fuck was that..."
"I don't know. I've never seen anything like it before."
"Should we tell the boss?"
"Yeah, sure. He's back that way. Good luck."
"You're such a dick."
"We're fucking demons. If we were anything else, something would be wrong."
"Something IS wrong."
"Fuckin, fine, whatever. Let's just tell the boss and then take the rest of the century off." As they stood up to leave, a message flashed out of the corner of their vision. *TheLegendNeverDies has invaded...*
They started running again. | 2016-03-30T11:53:24 | 2016-03-30T11:44:52 | 43 | 19 |
[WP] You're an assassin with a tiered pricing list. Your highest price was a joke method, but now someone has paid for it. | "You understand I priced it that way for a reason, correct? It isn't something I'm keen to do."
The little man smiled and nodded. "But you will, though? Because I have the money. All of it. And you can have it today, but only if..."
I considered the satchel of stacked dollar bills he'd laid out on the table between us. I'd never seen so much money, and I'd certainly never turned down a sum even an eighth as large.
"Fine," I said, sweeping the money behind the table. "I'll begin immediately. Shall we drink to it?"
The little man beamed. "Oh yes. I think I'd rather like that."
I kept an old bottle of Scotch in the bottom drawer. Something expensive with a torn label. The best I could do for cups was a pair of paper Dixies from the water dispenser.
"What should we toast?" I asked.
"Friendship?" suggested the man. I shrugged.
"Friendship it is."
There was much to do and much to discuss. I met the little man for dinner the next night at a fancy steakhouse across from the promenade.
"Your parents?" I asked, elbow deep in a liquidy rib-eye.
The little man sighed. "Well, my father was a pharmacist. He worked very hard. Long hours. Intensely intelligent man, my father. He...he never quite seemed to be able to turn it off. I remember speaking to him when I was young and he would look at me like I was an alien. Like I spoke gibberish. He had no patience for children and I learned quickly to keep my distance. I had hoped that someday I may be smart enough to hold his interest, but he...died...died much sooner than expected. Heart attack. Nothing unique. We never said much to each other. Never much at all."
"I'm sure he loved you," I said. "It's biological. Not intellectual. He couldn't have helped it even if he'd wanted."
The little man chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not sure I believe that, but I appreciate the sentiment. We...had the relationship we had. I don't yearn for a past life that isn't achievable."
I nodded, washing down the steak with a glass of some blackish red wine. "And your mother?"
"Something of a blank, I'm afraid," he said, pushing cooked spinach back and forth across his plate. "I've often wondered what she was as a young lady. I've seen a few pictures of her as a child. She smiled a lot, with deep dimples and bright eyes. She looked like someone who was always laughing. But that was not her way when I knew her. She was quiet. Like a shivering mouse. She kept the house and not much else. Some nights, I would wake up very late and come downstairs and find her sitting next to the record player, listening to music so quietly. Like she was afraid to disturb someone. Or, maybe afraid to reveal that she was capable of having her own tastes and passions. I don't know. I somehow spoke even less to my mother than I did to my father. She died shortly after my father. Pills. Many, many pills. All at once."
The little man sighed, pushing back from his plate. "Well, I'm rather depressing company, aren't I?"
"It's your life," I said. "It's nothing to apologize for."
"And yet I feel that's *all* I've been doing these last 20 years. Apologizing for being."
I laughed, crossing my clean silverware across the empty plate. "What would forgiveness get you?"
He was quiet a moment. "I suppose forgiveness would be a validation of a sort. It would confirm what I've suspected all along - that I have been nothing but a ruination."
"Then you aren't forgiven," I said. The waiter brought the check. I let the little man pay and we left the restaurant. Together we walked along the water.
"You can have the money back," I said after a time.
"You won't fulfill the contract?"
"I'd prefer not to. Because if I did, that would make you one thing, where you are so clearly better suited as something else."
The little man paused a moment at the railing and looked out over the black water. "No. No, I'd prefer we held to the agreement."
I clucked my tongue. "Well...so be it. But I have to say - for a man like you, there were always other ways. I suspect that in your mother and father's silence you took to telling yourself tales - tales about yourself, tales about the silence. I feel you've come to this point because there is a narrative in your mind and now you are closed to any voices that might contradict it."
"That may be," he said.
"This is a horrible business," I sighed. "And this is what it does to good people."
"*Am* I good?" said the man. "I'm not sure that's true."
"Before now, what have you done wrong?"
He turned to me. Even now, I remember his eyes - haunted and hopeless. "I was born."
"I forgive you," I said, stabbing him quickly through the heart, my eyes still locked on his. "Whatever that means for you, you are forgiven."
He did not smile, but his eyes did soften, just a little, as I pushed his dying body up and over the rail, into the water below.
I watched him float a moment, before turning away.
"Never again," I muttered to myself, making a mental note to remove that last item from my pricing tier.
*Killing with kindness*
What a wretched joke. | It started out innocently enough. Maybe it was a bad idea. I'd heard about the so-called "deep" or "dark" web for years. Mostly child porn and drugs, so I'd heard. What can I say, boredom gives way to action. Familiarity breeds contempt. I downloaded a popular client and began looking around. "The Raven's Perch" was the name of the site I eventually came upon. While nothing was explicit, I somehow instantly understood that these people were speaking in loaded or coded language. This was not anything to do with payments for advice on taking care of ravens. These were contract killers. Hitmen. Assassins.
I'll just have to tell you the truth. I was operating under the impression that this underground internet was completely safe, secure, anonymous. As I mentioned, I was bored. Let's call it a joke? I learned the lingo without explicitly being told. I ingratiated myself with this community over time. I'd congratulate someone on a particularly good story of "taking care" of their caged creature. No one seemed more the wiser. No one called me out. Emboldened by my apparent infiltration into "The Caretakers" (as we sometimes called ourselves), I made my own posting. I have to say, and this is easy to doubt after the fact, I half-heartedly had the idea to take this all to someone. Anyone. Police? FBI? It was just an idea in the back of my mind. Haha, this should be fun. If anyone seriously replies, well, I'll just report them and be hero for the day.
I have to be honest, though, because my time has grown short. My "post" (read: ad) offered my services as an expert Caretaker. The way it worked, as I said, was almost like a coded message. Basic tips and advice on caring for ravens? (Just a conversation to sort out details...) only $5,000. Want an old bird cage? (Equipment. Untraceable firearms...) $10,000. Need someone to take care of your raven? (A hit, a job...) $50,000.
I have to say again at this point, I wasn't serious. At first. It was a game to me.
Then it snowballed. Nothing serious at first, if you get my meaning. I dispensed advice, both in person and through other private communication methods. Many, many times. You'd be amazed at how many people just want to "talk about it" and are willing to pay just for a meeting. Every time, so far, I talk them out of it. I play the part well. I don't tell them that they're evil, or wrong, or give them doubt. All it takes is a simple, "Are you sure you want to do this?" Everyone so far, and I mean every single person, little old ladies, pastors, scorned lovers... they have second thoughts.
I became very wealthy in a short time doing this. $5,000 a pop just to talk to someone and change their mind? Easy. It made me feel good, even. It seemed almost a noble goal.
Now is different. I'll make this brief because time is of the essence for all parties involved. My mother has a rare form of life-threatening cancer. The treatments are astronomically expensive. Even having amassed a small fortune with all this, I'm a bit short on funds.
So, you probably see where I'm going with this. "Someone" has hired me to babysit their raven. I couldn't back out. There's no way to save mama's life other than to make a sacrifice. The payment has been delivered. The raven will be cared for today. This particular raven to be delivered is beyond any shadow of a doubt a very bad raven. I had to be convinced of this to follow through. There's no doubt. The cage is right next to me. Everything is ready to go. When I say everything, I mean everything... myself included. I didn't mean for it to go this far. It's the only way. After I take care of the raven, I will take care of myself.
Everything is well prepared. My savings and life insurance will pass on to mama, who, God willing, will survive the treatments and also become quite wealthy. My last will and testament is in good hands. I'm good to go and have made peace.
My last message to anyone that comes across this:
The ends justify the means and never stop fighting for the greater good. | 2016-09-15T09:26:47 | 2016-09-15T08:39:40 | 329 | 16 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | I had just finished putting the finishing touches on my paladin's character sheet. Ah, classic Dungeons and Dragons 3.5, the best version available. Call my old fashioned, but there's just something so refreshing about playing a goody goody character with a strict moral code. And heck, playing D&D was a great distraction from my boring real life - bank teller by day, dangerous rogue by night. Well, not this time. This time, I was going to be playing a hero.
As I placed my blue dice into my special Crown Royal bag, the room started to spin faster and faster until I must have passed out, because when I opened my eyes I was face-to-face with what looked like an actual, real wizard complete with pale blue robes, spellbook, and ioun stones floating around his head. To my surprise, when he spoke I could understand him. "Finally, a Demon worthy of my power! You do look quite fearsome!" He looked quite pleased with himself.
I rubbed my eyes again and pinched myself. No, not dreaming. This was...rather shocking. Pretending to fight against monsters was one thing, but to actually be summoned and identified as one...? Did he really think I was a Demon? I looked at my hands. They still appeared to be your basic human hands.
I noticed the chalk circle on the floor studded with lit candles at random intervals. I tried to nudge the chalk with my foot, but I was instantly repelled backwards. I sighed, and I could only hope that the same rules of all the fantasy games I'd ever played in my life would also apply to this strange place, wherever I was. "What is it that you want of me?"
"Simple, Demon. I have a list of tasks for you to complete, and should you succeed, I will grant you freedom." The wizard tossed a scroll through the barrier. I scooped it up quickly. I was a bit excited. A real quest? My life was now infinitely more exciting than it was a few minutes ago. My eyes scanned the first request: 'Acquire a Night Lily from the Garden of the Magus.' I had no idea where or what that was, exactly, but I nodded.
"Give me all the information you have on this Garden, and I'll start working on a plan..." The wizard's eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled. Oh yes, this was going to be fun.... | "Let me get this straight. You brought me here, a 'demon' in order to mate with me because you want some form of demon hybrid as your child?"
What a day. First, I get off work and drive home with nothing in mind other than to watch some Stargate SG-1 and go to bed. Alone. Now, I am standing in the bedroom of what looks like a female dwarf of the Narnian variety. She isn't bad looking if you discount the large nose, uggo face, and weird hair. Ok. She's kinda hideous.
But hey, I haven't had sex in a few weeks and my prospects weren't looking great for anything in my world. Who cares if she thinks I am a demon?
"Ok, I'm in," I say quite jovially. "Just out of curiosity; why do you want a demon-hybrid child?"
"Well," she began. "Being a dwarf tends to come with issues. It's really difficult to reach items on upper shelves without a ladder and it's annoying," she said with a huff.
I stared at her for a minute and then shrugging, I took off my pants.
"Just like my last girlfriend," I muttered. | 2017-05-12T10:50:04 | 2017-05-12T10:39:48 | 35 | 23 |
[WP] A magician summons a demon slave, and brings his lawyer to help create the pact. The demon brings his. | Jack leaned on the counter, counting the seconds. The operating room was sterile. Whitewashed walls and stainless-steel countertops, tile floors and anti-static machines.
Jack drummed his fingers. “He should have arrived.”
A doctor stood beside him. He wore his scrubs, yellow mask, tired eyes. He crossed his arms and pointed down to the little wisp of smoke trailing upwards form the candle.
“Patience.”
“I don’t have time!”
“Patience,” he repeated. “Asphodel is never late.”
Just on que, the glass door slid back. Asphodel walked confidently, dressed as a surgeon, blue gloves, and a faint blue glow to his eyes. His footsteps left imprints of faint fog on the tile. Smelled of Sulphur, sweat and medicine.
A nurse walked behind him, clipboard, posing as an intern. She smiled brightly and gestured towards the pentagram drawn with iodine sterilizer on the floor. “Unnecessary, but we appreciate the homage.”
Jack nodded silently.
“You know who we are, and why we are here?” she asked.
Jack nodded again.
“Then we shall begin. You are hurting, dying, and we will offer twenty more years of your life.”
“No,” Jack said.
Asphodel looked confused. “No?”
“It’s not me.”
“Who, then?”
“My daughter.”
Her name was Lily. She was five years young, exuberant, filled with life. Her jet-black hair was never straight. Her smile always crooked. Jack lost himself in that smile and remembered what it felt like to be young again. She was Jack’s everything.
And she was lying in the room adjacent. Terminal. Malignant. Genetic. These words all had lost their meaning in the past few days, for Jack. Ever since the snowfall, black ice, skidding tires. The car rocketed into the median, Jack’s hands locked on the steering wheel, eyes locked on his wife, and she reached back to shield Lily, screaming, “Hold on! hold—”
Black and red stains smeared shattered glass and broken steel. Terminal. The white sheet covered his wife’s eyes as they rushed Lily to the hospital. The first ambulance was for the living, but Jack rode the second, holding his dead wife’s hand until it lost all warmth and meaning.
In the operating room, Asphodel drank it all in.
He curtsied. “The same deal. Twenty years and her soul is mine.”
Jack shook his head again. “No. She lives a full life, and her soul goes free.”
“What then?”
“Her life for mine.”
Asphodel tilted his head. “you would leave her orphaned?”
Jack’s doctor cleared his throat. “Orphaned into a loving family. Who will love her as their own, treat her better than jack ever could. And she will forget. Jack, her mother, the accident. She will forget everything to know not longing. This is the deal.”
Silence overtook the room. Asphodel stared into jack’s eyes with an unmatched ferocity. “You understand the consequences. You will de damned. Burned. You will suffer like you have never suffer before.”
“I know.”
Asphodel’s eyes glinted blue. He motioned, and his assistant brought the contract. Jack took the pen and clipboard with shaking hand. He thought of Lily’s cartwheels the morning earlier, how she spun and danced on the cool grass. How happy it made him. But life without her was no life worth living. What was one hell traded for another?
“One more thing,” Jack said quietly.
“What?”
“I get one more night with her. To say goodbye.”
Asphodel nodded. There was almost a glimmer of respect in his eyes, as the pen nib spilled on the page, wisps of smoke trailed, the contract sealed. The doctors left the room, satisfied, and jack was once again surrounded by sterile silence.
Cautiously, he made his way towards Lily’s room.
She lay on the bed. Wires and tubes jutted from her skin like a machine, half-alive, kept steady by the clicking pump and the constant drip of ocher liquid medicine. Lily looked up with her eyes, unmoving, wincing.
“Hey there, little sparrow,” Jack said.
She turned, listing, and stretched out her arm towards him. It was frail, pale, socketed with red needle marks. Her lips quivered but she was too weak to speak. He looked into her eyes and saw what they all felt: pain without understanding, suffering without reason, a longing for home, to be safe, to be warm.
She spoke in the damp of her eyes, *“when will the ache stop? When will I go home? when can I see my friends again?”*
He answered under his breath, “Soon, soon.”
Bending down, he kissed her forehead, trying to keep it together. Trying to be brave. Trying to explain how everything was going to work out, in the end. The words caught in his throat. He coughed a sob.
Only a few precious moments.
Time wound down, counting the seconds, and he stayed at her bedside until she fell asleep.
The door rapped thrice and he saw Asphodel's glowing eyes. Quietly, he slipped into the hallway. He followed into the service elevator, listing to the groan and rumbling of machinery. They descended.
“Was it worth it?” Asphodel asked.
Jack closed his eyes. “It will be.”
***
More stories at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH | The room turned lava red. Unbearable heat radiated through the centre of the room, as if it was swallowing and burning everything within it.
But the wizard had no qualms over it. After a slight shock, he simply casted himself in a blue cocoon which rendered everything harmless for a moment. He smiled at himself for being able to think through things in such a way.
After a full five seconds, all the light and heat vanished in an instant. The only thing that was left were the stone walls and floor as well as the wizard in his cold blue cocoon of safety.
"Hello?" the man called out.
A shrieking voice responded. It could only be described as harsh and intimidating, one which could be expected of a monster from the depth of horror. But the wizard seemed to only be more ecstatic than scary, just like before.
"AH! Rise, my child! Do you have a name?"
"Arrrr–" a red set of eyes pierced through the darkness of the room straight into the wizard's own, "who had dared to summon me?!"
"I am Frank, the Grand Wizard of the Alburg Order! Nice to me–"
Then, a red-hot humanoid rushed towards the wizard's cocoon. It pounded and thrashed the magical barrier to no avail.
"Calm down, child... I have no nefarious intentions, I have imply come to draw up the darkest of all magical contracts – in essence, a perpetual bond between a wizard and a demon!"
"What bond? I don't recall being informed of such arrangements?!" the demon lashed its long sharp claws at the wizard's direction, again to no avail.
"Well, I'm not aware how it happens in the demon realm. But here, we cast summoning spells and work from there!"
"Right, so what is this 'contract' going to entail?"
The wizard was taken aback. This was what he had not expected – for a demon to respond in such elaborate way. His old masters had never told him the wits of the demons, though he shouldn't be as taken aback due to their nature. He shook his head and taken a brown scroll out of his robes.
"This!" the wizard shoved the unrolled scroll towards the demon's face from the relative safety of his cocoon, "I believe you can read human–"
"... You mean to *use* me as a servant?!"
"Uh, well... technically it's a powerful magical bond that would grant me control over your actions and intents–"
"WHAT?! That's just slavery!"
"Pfft, no! Nonsense! It's a *working relationship*, I'd pay you in blood or whatever it is that demon eats!"
The demon slapped his own wrist. He then snapped his fingers and a small but noticeable hellfire was conjured up next to him. Another being – presumably also a demon from his colours and figure – appeared in a rather odd black garment with white sharp lined alternating on it.
"Good day, Mr. Hyreld. How may I be of service?" the new demon said in a polite and articulate way.
"Take a look at this human's pathetic contract and tell me what I should do, legally speaking."
"What the..." the wizard was at a complete loss of words.
After a full minute, the sharply dressed demon coughed and whispered to its compatriot. A few nods and whispers were then exchanged between them, the wizard was completely out of the loop by this point.
"S-So, demons, how are things going–"
"Mr. Human 'Wizard', I believe this contract would be breaking *all* of the labour codes from the demon realm, especially the Fair Work Law and Labour Welfare Act #16. Are you aware of these legal instruments?"
"Uh, what?"
"... I see, well I had advised my client to simply leave and not sign the contract that you had presented him. That is, if you do not intent to make further reviews and amend the points which would become potential illegal conducts."
"B-but, I was not told that I would have to do all of these things! I mean, this contract was brought up by my master thirty years ago!"
"Ah, that's because all the legal instruments I have just said was recently enacted and brought into law about ten years ago, Mr. Human 'Wizard'."
"As such, human, I would not even consider this contract of yours! Please have your lawyer speak to mine, in case you have a change of mind..."
"... This is very unexpected, to say the least." | 2020-06-13T06:34:59 | 2020-06-13T06:21:33 | 48 | 35 |
[WP] Everything was going smoothly for once, as you finally left the stigma of your past villainous life behind. You have a wife now, and even a little girl on the way. So why.. why did the the #1 hero have to choose the bank your wife works at to have a destructive hero vs villain battle at? | My power, my one power was useless outside of villainy. I didn't have super strength, speed, or toughness. It didn't take me long to regret ever using it in the first place. I faked my death 4 years ago, now I'm just an equipment operator at the local steel mill.
Janis works at our local bank,two blocks away. After a few dates we started going steady. married a year ago. In three months I was going to be a father, and I couldn't be more terrified, what if I screw my kid up like me?
But now, now I'm beyond terrified. The Mauler had come into my little town to stop Event Horizon from stealing the platinum catalysts from the local refinery. Like an idiot, Event Horizon decided to rob the local bank while waiting for the motor convoy. Like a bigger idiot, The Mauler was duking it out with her inside the bank.
As I sailed my dirt bike over the police lines and skidded into the bank doors I think I felt my left shoulder dislocate. That was fine, as long as Janis was still safe. I stumbled through the lobby and around the fighting. Janis was huddled against the back side of the marble divider with three of her coworkers. I was almost there.
Event Horizon loosed a black hole between herself and The Mauler. It was a horrible plan, The Mauler was immune to being moved unless he wanted to, all physical interactions just built up kinetic energy that he would deliver in his next punches. Unless she was trying to overload his ability to store kinetic energy. To my knowledge no super villain had ever tried that. And the reason was simple, unless you were hiding behind a miniature black hole, potentially setting off that much kinetic energy might dissipate as heat. Lots of heat.
I stumbled and fell, sliding towards the slowly growing black hole that was already ripping pieces of the marble away from my wife's only cover. Both supers ignored me, assuming I would just be another statistic soon enough. I reached out to the cold void as I passes between them, my power winking into being. The shadowy scythe that I borrowed from Death slid through her ankles, snuffing her power out with her soul. The shadow in my hands vanished the instant I let it go, hoping The Mauler hadn't seen what went on partially behind the black hole. Janis would be fine. I crawled around the corner to hold her while we both cried.
The Mauler came around the corner and stared at us for a moment. He locked eyes with me and glared.
"Well that was a bit grim," the pun was even more horrible for the flat delivery. He knew.
I started to gather myself , Janis didn't need to see this next part, but The Mauler waved me back.
"Just stay down. Everything's going to be fine." A life for a life, apparently The Mauler had a stronger sense of honor than duty. I was spared having my new life shattered.
It has been 4 years since my little sunshine was born. She seems happy. Today she manifested. She can make rainbows and light. She's nothing like me, thank the gods. A life for a life, I can be happy for that. My life in shadow for her life in light.
​
Edit: cleaned up a continuity error that had persisted between writings of wife and fiancee. Fixed an ambiguous reference to the two supers. added closing paragraph to the story. | It was a normal day until the police arrived.
It started off at 5:30AM with the alarm going off playing 'Into the unknown', I will never understand why my wofe kept changing my alarm to different princess songs.
I had a shower and dried off with a repunzel towel as all the others where mysteriously missing, Once more the wifes version of a joke
I went downstairs to cook some breakfeast to find a note written in pink gliter, 'Breakfeast is in the microwave. Heat for 45 secs'. I smiled at the note and put it on top of the fridge with the towering piles of others she had left me, Set the microwave for 45 and waited. Ding. OPened the microwave to an explosion of glitter and party streamers coming at me, Once the deluge was over there was a muffin and hash brown waiting for me.
Eat breakfeast o the way to work adn get started, I worked as a "saniataion worker" which in this case meant I had to clean the inside of porter potties and i don't mean the top section. It was a horrible job especially in summer but I never complained and worked hard, Just glad I had a job to help with the bills.
Worked all day skipping lunch like normal so I could knock off an hour earlier
Almost home and I see them the polive parked in my driveway and I panic that they have found me that my past has finally cuaght up, I was preparing myself to surreneder. When I pull into the driveway the cheif of police is standing ther his hat under his arm looking distracted. He walks up to me and asks if I know a Skye Flower? She is my wife. Then the most painful thing I had ever experienced happened. I found out that she was dead and my litle girl was also dead.
Do you know why?
You choose to chase a clumsy bomb maker through the city and he tried to hide inside the bank!
All because fo you
Monolouge over I close the canopy of the giant robot and crush the last life out of this so called hero, watching the blood and crushed organs drip over the grass of my wifs grave. | 2020-10-07T05:56:14 | 2020-10-06T21:00:07 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] “A sniper, a bartender and a photographer meet at a bar, unaware of each other’s occupations they talk about ‘the perfect shot’.” | "I know I had to get it right." The older gentleman said, slightly mumbling near the end of every sentence. "I had this man in my sights and I knew that it had to be perfect, least he come back to annoy me. Next thing I know he's darting all around the place"
"No kidding!" the woman opposite the man chimed in. "So you were spotted?" Staring in both fascination and anticipation of this man's tale.
"Spotted? He knew I was there the whole time!" He said. The woman covered her mouth.
"Well, how many shots?" The third man said leaning forward in his chair.
"Let him finish!" The woman look almost offended for the old timer. Turning back bright eyed, eager to hear the rest of the story.
"Yes well... I got him good in the end. The thought of his friends seeing what I had done crosses my mind from time to time." The older man now staring into space. "But I didnt have time for such thoughts as I had to move onto the next one. You know".
The woman smiled "reminds me of a story of my own." She said clearing her throat.
"I was serving in a remote village when I get a call that we were going to be expecting a lot of company that night." She said leaning into the light cast from above their table, making her story that more dramatic. The two men now all ears.
"Marco gave the signal when he saw all their vehicles pull up, but I had everything prepared for them and they didn't even know it." She slams her palms on the table giving a fright to the two men.
"They came through the door and I gave them shot after shot after shot. Each one going down in my book!"
"Light weights.." the younger man said.
"True" she said "it was a big mess to clean up after that, but it was all part of the job".
The older man now looking like he didn't really hear most of it, just nods with approval. "Yes, you are the pursuasive sort. I like that".
They both look toward the younger man.
"You guys have a fun way of telling stories." He said "so let me have a go." His head drops down and soon shoots back up as leans into a dramatic storytelling pose.
"So there I was, when all the sudden 4 large brutish looking men were walking towards my position." His hand giving action to every beat.
The woman now entranced by his opening. The older man on other hand has kinda dipped out into his own reality. But lulling his head along to show some attention.
"I know why they were here and it didn't take long for me to put a shot in each of them. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!" The man mimicking shooting a rifle."it was chaos and I was lucky to get out with my tips" the man holding up his spread fingers, giving them a wiggle.
"Oh wow" the woman said "and here I thought you were green"
The man now wide eyed.
"You think that was crazy. It really got wild when the bombs started dropping" | Where's the difference?
They all start with love. The love for a craft well done, the dedication to train and learn until you become a master of the trade, the desire for a perfect instant. You need material, you need books, you need teachers, you need time. Thus you will acquire a steady hand, an eye to spot the right angle and dose, the razor sharp acumen for a perfect timing.
Where's the difference?
Maybe it lay in where the desire and need for a perfect shot is born. Survival, money, passion, the greater good, to serve... One and the same. An artist will not breath without art to sustain him, it's a matter of survival to him too. Does the barman serve? Of course, he believes in sharing the recipes and joy, the world becomes a better place by furthering culinary arts. The sniper could as well be passionate about breaking the world record of the longest accurate shot, bearing no grudge against the unfortunate victim.
Where's the difference?
Oh yes, there is a difference in the outcome. One will fuel a lifelong drinking addiction, another will nurture narcisism, the last is a mercy and a reminder that life is short so you might as well admire yourself and get drunk.
But is the outcome a difference that holds weight? Not to these men.
The outcome is but a fleeting moment captured in a split second, to disappear down a throat, be engulfed by a social media or be washed away with the rain. And these men did not think too much about the outcome, aware of its impermanence. Success fades, it is the desire to do it again, better, that drives them on.
That is why the bartender, sniper and photograph could speak. They spoke the language of passion, anything else was semantics. | 2021-04-04T02:52:00 | 2021-04-04T01:33:29 | 485 | 150 |
[WP] The world is ending. A group of astrophysicists, xenobiologists, medical doctors, and other experts is loaded on a rocket. And you...but no one seems willing to tell you why. | I didn’t know Professor Trimere. I didn’t know anybody onboard the *Redeemer*, truth be told, but Trimere I hadn’t interacted with at all. It was a ship full of ingenious visionaries and I was a second-year Phase Sciences student who could never spell “ingenious” right on the first try, so I hadn’t given much thought to how Trimere had been trying to avoid me. Maybe she thought I was beneath her notice.
She’d noticed me now. With one hand she’d grabbed me by the neck and with the other she was prepping a horribly long hypodermic needle. I punched the Professor full in the face and she didn’t even flinch. I’d thought I was having a nightmare, at first, and personally I think that’s a reasonable conclusion to jump to because why the hell else would I wake up to a prim middle-aged lady trying to kill me.
“Stop moving, girl,” Professor Trimere growled. “You’ll just make this hurt more than it needs to.”
I tried to shout for help but could only coax out a painful croak. Trimere smiled at this, as if the renowned astrophysicist was amused by my pitiful struggles.
The door to my room creaked open, and Trimere had time to turn her head before the janitor jammed an unnecessarily large and jagged combat knife into her neck. He wrenched it back out with a twist and an awful mess.
“Hi,” said the janitor, as that awful mess was still airborne. “I’m Boswell.”
“Oh my god!” I shouted, once my vocal chords had decided to cooperate.
“Relax,” said Boswell. “She’s part of the Cerulean Order. She’ll wake up at their Hub with a nasty sore throat.”
“You killed her!”
“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?” Boswell absently wiped the blood off his knife, so now he had a bloodied knife and a bloodied sleeve. “She’ll be fine. She was trying to melt your brain with a shot of absinothriphosphate, for god’s sake. To say nothing of wanting to blow up your whole damn planet.”
“I can’t believe you just…” I stopped myself. My brain was playing catch-up and had only just managed to process that last sentence. “Not ‘our’ planet? ‘Your’ planet?”
A flash of panic rippled across Boswell’s face. “Haha, got a bit tongue-tied there.”
He’d just said haha rather than laughing. He was rattled and I wondered if I could push my luck. “And before that you said she’d wake up at *our* Hub. As if it was yours too.”
“No I didn’t!” Boswell snapped. “I’d never let something like *that* slip in conversation and oh goddamn it. I screwed up, didn’t I?” He exaggeratedly wiped a hand down his face, which wasn’t helping with the blood situation. “Well played, kid.”
“I’m twenty-four. Not a kid.”
“I’m three-hundred-and-nine. Your granddaddy is a kid, far as I’m concerned.”
At this point Doctor von Haut entered the room, saw the corpse and saw Boswell painted red, and screamed.
“Another Cerulean,” said Boswell. “Sorry.”
“You could’ve radioed that in,” von Haut said accusingly. She then hobbled back out, her cane tapping down the corridor. I think I might have been gawping at this point, having encountered two aliens, one of which was dead(ish?) and the other homicidal and apparently incapable of understanding how blood works.
“What the hell is going on, Boswell?”
“There’s a prophecy that says you’re going to destroy the world. Not your world. Our world, the Cerulean world. So some of us decided to blow up your world.” Boswell considered this. “Not me though. Obviously. I kinda like your world.”
I wasn’t sure about that explanation. I still hadn’t ruled out the nightmare hypothesis. “How on earth would humans destroy a world?”
“Hm? Oh, I don’t mean humans in general: I mean you specifically. The *Redeemer* intends to take you to meet the Order, so they’ll have no reason to target your planet.” Boswell nodded curtly. “And if diplomacy fails… well, maybe we can make the prophecy come true.” | *What I know, what we know could be changed in a second. This is what I learned...*
''I can’t wait anymore.'' one of the astrophysicists tries to open the hatch but the marines stop him immediately.
''Do I know you?'' someone touches my shoulder and I look back.
I try to recall her name first but she is faster than me, ''You are the guy who worked with Dr.Nicholas on FSI project.''
''Yes, I’m that guy.'' I say.
''I didn’t want to be rude but Dr.Nicholas was a very hard man to...''
''To work with?'' I complete her sentence.
''Yeah, kind of. Most of the colleagues didn’t have the greatest experience with him when they were working on the same project. I heard he wasn’t able to teach a class at the university because of his temper. Do you still in touch with his family?'' She asks.
''No. He was mostly focussed on his work. He didn’t speak of his family that much.''
''I see. Do you know anything about this?'' She points the marines guarding the door.
''I wish. One of the scientists said that we are going to K2-18B.''
''I seriously doubt that. That planet is very far away. At least 100 light-years away we wouldn’t able to get there in our life even with the light speed.''
I sense a small vibration.
''Did you feel that?'' I ask her.
''I think we took off.'' She replies.
The rest of the people gets anxious quite fast and marines start to neutralize a few people.
''I didn’t get your name by the way.''
''It’s Amanda.'' She says.
''Wait... You were...No way.''
''Yes, I’m the daughter of Dr.Nicholas. I first saw you when my dad got really sick and you had to call my mother. I had to drive my mother to the hospital to see him.''
''I remember now, you were wearing sunglasses and you didn’t speak much.''
''Yeah, I had some issues back then. I still have them but they don’t bother me as much.''
Marines leaves the room and they leave the door open. A few people instantly rush out and a moment later we hear someone scream in agony. A few moments later screaming stops and people inside the room tries to peek out of the door and one of them gets pulled out instantly.
As soon as people starts to panic lights goes and I start to hear bone-crushing noises.
''Amanda, are you still here?''
''Yes, I don’t know what to do.'' her voice is disturbingly calm.
I feel a sharp pain on my spine I try to move my arms but I can’t even get myself to move my fingers. I can only breathe and keep listening to other people screaming in pain. I try to speak to Amanda but every time I try to speak I run out of the air and I feel a heavy pain in my chest.
I feel someone is breathing in my right ear, ''My papa says hi.''
-----------------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- | 2020-07-16T11:42:06 | 2020-07-16T09:20:38 | 124 | 12 |
[WP] You slowly start to realize that all of your friends are undercover agents tasked with keeping you alive. Then, at your birthday party, with every friend surrounding you, the people trying to kill you finally find you.
Have fun. | As my breath drew shallow, the lights dimmed and I stopped, on the thirtieth candle. I brought my head up and looked around at everyone, waiting for me to finish the task. No one seemed to notice the lights had dimmed and now, I wasn't sure they even had. But it looked darker. Everything did. Twenty-nine extinguished birthday candles didn't do that.
"One more."
"Yep," I said with a rasp. Teddy leaned into my view and looked me straight in the eyes asking if I was alright. I nodded and inhaled. *One more.* Inhaled. *One more.* Inhaled. *One fucking more.*
I couldn't inhale. My throat was shut, my eyesight blurred, getting darker. Everyone was leaning over the table now, and Teddy had come around to where I was sitting, putting his arm around my chest and asking again if I was alright. I felt my neck tighten as I tried to nod and transitioned to a violent shake of the head.
"I need you to stay calm, buddy. I'm just gonna lay you down. Help me out, Gretch." I felt Gretchen's hands quickly grab my ankles and together her and Teddy started slipping me under the table while I heard through the static in my head somebody say, "I'll call 911!"
"No!" Teddy snapped. "No, it's fine, just everybody head home. We'll call an ambulance if he doesn't get better but this has happened before. He'll be brand new in the morning, but he has mild fits time and again."
*Liar.* I've never felt this before in my life. I've never-
As my eyes had just about submerged beneath the line of the table, I saw the last candle go out. That's when I heard nothing and nothing until Gretchen finished pulling me beneath the table and Teddy stood up, saying quiet and stern, "Everybody get the fuck out. Now."
Teddy was my best friend. Him, Gretchen, Jake and my sister Julie had been the only family I'd had for the past decade. So there wasn't much question from anyone else when it came to Teddy giving orders. Especially when he was pulling a revolver out of his waistband.
*What the fuck.*
Silence. Darkness.
Screams. Light.
Air.
Gretchen was over me saying, "Do not move until I tell you to."
I watched her crawl from under the table and had to look around the syringe that was sticking out of my chest to see what happened next. With a sweep of her legs she took down Mike, a coworker of mine, a gun falling from his hand and sliding across the floor. There was no hesitation in Gretchen then to straddle Mike, pull out a hunting knife strapped around her calf, and plunge it into Mike's bare throat.
I saw Gretchen look above the table, scream, "Jake, he's under here!" and immediately felt myself getting lifted from underneath the arms. I found my footing but my legs were shaking.
I had just enough time to look around the room and see pools and rivers of blood. Mike was at the other end of the table, still writhing while his body emptied and his lungs filled. There was Georgia in the corner, leaning against a wall, leaking from her stomach. Trent had fallen over the couch in the living room, red running from his temple and soaking into my new beige couch. I turned around, trying to shake Jake off of me until I noticed that he was in the middle of strangling Frank on the ground while Frank, turning blue, reached into his jacket pocket, found a snub-nose, and pressed it against Jake's chest. Jake didn't like that, apparently, as he gripped Frank's neck harder with one hand, put his other hand on Frank's chin, and-
*SNAP!*
Teddy, Gretchen and Jake all stood up, looked at me, looked at each other, asked each other if everybody else got out safe, nodded in sync, and walked to the back door, Jake putting my arm around his shoulders.
We were safely in the back yard as I heard screams and sirens out front in the distance. The four of us stood looking at my house and watched it quickly engulf in flames. I still hadn't had time to ask a simple, "What?" Teddy knew it was coming so instead said, "We'll explain as soon as we can. For now, trust us."
The house was fully in flames, orange brushes painting the black winter sky.
Jake put a hand on my shoulder and with his regular twisted humor, smiled and said, "Blow it out. Make a wish."
"A wish won't cut it. Make a prayer." I turned to the quiet voice behind me to see my sister holding a container of kerosene. She had told me she wasn't going to make it tonight. And she turned up just in time. She always loved surprising me.
She turned to the woods behind my house and started running. The others followed.
Gretchen turned back when she didn't hear me running behind her. "Good call," she said, pulling the forgotten syringe from my chest and holding it up. "Probably best not to run with this."
"Yeah," I said, just for the sake of speaking as she grabbed my hand and dragged me running into the woods. "It's dark in there."
"Honey," Gretchen said, barely winded. "You'll soon come to learn, you've been in darkness your whole life."
| I guess the realization wasn't all at once like I like to tell myself it was. It's just easier that way, thinking back to my birthday party, the sudden awareness that we were under attack and that all of my friends, instead of standing around cowering like I was, they all sprung into a formation. Jeff, Phil, and Hassan made that phalanx formation, the three of them forming a tight outward circle around me, constantly telling me to dodge or be quiet when I started asking what was going on.
But like I said, I think that’s a little too easy. Thinking back, the signs were there were a while, and was I choosing to willfully ignore them? Again, I can’t really say. I don’t know how much of my memories are actually what happened, or maybe I’m just looking back and making connections that weren’t there.
But like one time my friend Steve was coming over my house after work to play some video games and hang out. We went out to the store to grab some beers, but when we got back to my place, I couldn’t find my keys. “I must have left them inside,” I told Steve. “Why don’t you walk around the back and see if you left any of the windows open. I’ll go around the other side.” So I did, and none of the windows were open, but as I was checking, I distinctly remembered changing out of my work pants right before we headed out to the store. There was the jingle of my keys in the pocket, and I made a note to take them out again, but I think I got an email or a text, and the next thing I knew, I was jumping down the stairs two at a time to meet Steve out front.
And yet, when I got back to the front of the house, Steve was standing there with my keys. “You must have dropped them,” he said as he unlocked the door. At the time I didn’t think anything of it. But knowing what I know now, watching him kick the side of the wall, executing a standing vertical flip to land a boot right to that mutant double-headed ninja’s chest, he must have had access to my house. Either that or he lured me to the back of the house so he could parkour his way to through the second floor window, locate my keys and open it up from the inside. But I can’t confirm it. And after all that we went through the day of my party, it seems kind of a trivial thing to call him out on now.
Or what about Phil? I remember one time we went out drinking at a bar within walking distance from my place. It was your classic one-drink-turned-into-eight, and before I realized what had happened, I was pretty drunk, very drunk actually. Overwhelmed with the sudden urge to pee, I looked at the line snaking out of the single occupancy bathroom in the back and knew that I couldn’t hold it. So I went outside to relieve myself against the back wall. Again, I was straddling the line between shit-faced and totally wasted, and I don’t remember exactly where the cop came from, but all of the sudden I was being handcuffed, the words public, intoxication, disorderly, and urination being hurled out toward my direction.
And then in a similarly disjointed series of events, all of the sudden Phil was there. I swear, I’d watched this guy knock them back with me, shot for shot and beer for beer, and yet here he was, talking with the policeman, rationalizing, showing him something in his wallet. After that the cop uncuffed me, and for reasons that still don’t make very much sense, he put us in the back of his squad car and drove us home. The next day Phil was like, “What can I say? I was just polite and respectful. Who knows? Maybe I reminded him of his own son or something.” And I just accepted it. Because how else was I to make sense of such a strange turn of events? I mean, yes, once I saw him take out his laser sword at my birthday party and decapitate the reptilian thug who was mere inches away from ripping my heart out, now I can kind of say to myself, oh, Phil must have been assigned to protect me. But back at the bar, was I lying to myself? How can you take something totally out of context and connect it to events that you wouldn’t believe to be possible until you actually see them go down?
| 2014-11-22T15:41:06 | 2014-11-22T14:24:27 | 61 | 19 |
[WP] Your power is to materialise the most appropriate tool for any situation. When you need to dig a hole, it materialises a shovel, when you need to chop down a tree, it materialises an axe. This morning when you awoke, your power materialised a large medieval sword covered in strange runes. | Paige grumbled. Which was strange, considering how she hadn’t complained for years. Ever since something saw fit to spawn the best tool and solution for any sort of problem she might run into during the day, whether it was something like forgetting an eraser at school, needing the key to the bathroom, or say, lugging a large medieval sword covered entirely in strange runes.
“What’s happening?” Ted asked, walking beside her. There was a conspicuous lack of help being offered to take Paige’s hands off the dangerous weapon.
“Do I look like I know?” Paige snapped.
“You are angry,” Ted chuckled. “It’s a refreshing change from the calmest girl in the world. Do you know what’s the sword for? Killing some mythical creature? A dragon, perhaps? Or are you queen of England now?”
“To hell with it,” Paige complained. “If they wanted me to kill something and not accidentally stab myself, they would have given me anything but this… blasted thing!”
Paige tried very hard to raise her aching arms to throw the sword in the ground. There was something in her mind that told her that no, it would eventually make sense, and there was something in her muscles that screamed and groaned and rebelled against lifting the blade higher than her shoulders.
“Just tell me what it’s for, god! Everything so far has been incredibly helpful in like, five minutes,” Paige said. “What the hell is this sword for?”
As if on cue, the runes began lighting up. At first, the glow was barely imperceptible, but it grew to battle even the harsh sunlight that beat down against the two. It grew and grew, and eventually, the whole sword was wreathed and basked in a blue glow.
Paige, suddenly, found it much easier to lift.
“What is happening?” Ted said. A sense of awe instead of snark had crept into his voice.
“I don’t know,” Paige muttered. She turned and hefted the blade in her hand. Her eyes glanced over the runes, and suddenly—like how she could hold the sword that was once too heavy—Paige realized that she could now read what was on the sword.
“Slay—”
The ground cracked in front of Paige and Ted, and both stumbled back with screams. While Ted quickly found a nice, metallic and overall solid lamp post to stand behind, Paige found herself standing in the open, her body having arranged itself into a position that one might dare say was threatening.
It felt unfamiliar. She felt very exposed. But somehow, Paige knew this was the right thing to do. Like how this stupid, impractical sword was the right thing to hold.
The crack was no longer just darkness into the ground. Slowly, surely, a stygian and malevolent shadow pulled itself out, giving form to a demonic presence of fire and horns and spikes where spikes shouldn’t be on any living thing.
“The demons,” Paige whispered.
“Run, Paige!” Ted shouted.
“I don’t think I can,” she shouted back. She really wanted to.
But this was the right tool for the job. And hell, she was the only person with the tool, so with the reluctance and grumbling of an overworked salaryman doing overtime on Friday, she stepped forward.
That one step turned into two and three with blinding speed. The blade’s aura now wrapped around her, and within seconds, Paige found herself staring into the red eyes of the ugly thing. There was fear in them. Her arms swung with ease, and the fear was extinguished with the emptiness of death.
“What the hell,” Ted said.
“What the hell is right,” Paige said. Or rather, somebody else and Paige, for there was a new sort of timbre to her voice, far removed from the girl that had yet to discover her purpose. She watched as new cracks formed along the road, and a small smile overtook her face.
“Time to run, Ted,” she said. “This sword is apparently, quite overdue for a stint in hell.”
---
r/dexdrafts | Wanda stared at the sword in her hands.
Over the many years, she'd realized one overarching truth: her power would always give her the tools needed for whatever the job was. However, it was up to her to figure out what she was actually supposed to do. Usually it was fairly straightforward - pens were meant for writing, axes were for trees, and lockpicks were for breaking locks, obviously.
Swords were meant for killing.
Wanda had never killed a man before. Turning over the ancient weapon in her hands, she inspected the jagged blade, the unadorned hilt, the golden crosspiece. The glyphs that ran along the edge were dull and scratched, but she had the uncanny feeling that in a bygone time, they had meant something, once.
Wanda had lived in this hermitage for the past twenty years on her own. After all, living by yourself was easy if you always had the right tools. And besides, people were scared of her powers. She avoided them, and they avoided her, and for the most part, both parties were successful.
But tools always manifested the same day they were needed. Before the day's end, she would surely meet whoever it was meant for.
\---
It was sunset. Wanda shifted uncomfortably in her hard wooden seat, watching the last rays of daylight disappear behind the rolling hills.
For the first hour, she had stood waiting outside the door, holding the sword aloft and ready. During the second hour, she had let the point of the blade begin to droop downwards, arms unused to the hefty weight. The third hour, she had gone inside to sit down. After all, she mused, there was only one entrance to the door. Certainly, she would have the jump on any intruders as they fiddled with the lock.
The door clattered against its wooden frame, and Wanda snapped to attention, lifting the battered claymore. Muscles tensed, she waited for the intruder to enter, minutes ticking by. A drop of sweat rolled down her cheek as her arms, already tired from her earlier exertions, strained against the weight of the weapon.
Nothing. The sun finished its journey across the sky, and the cold of the winter night began seeping in through the windows. Wanda crept to the door and undid the latch with one hand, holding the blade ready with the other.
At her doorstep was a sleeping babe, no more than a few weeks old. Clutched in his fingers, a golden ring stamped with the royal insignia glinted from the weak moonlight.
Suddenly, everything became clear. Pens were for writing. Axes were for chopping. Lockpicks were for breaking locks.
And this sword was for the rightful king.
\---
/r/theBasiliskWrites | 2021-12-02T09:51:37 | 2021-12-02T09:32:59 | 334 | 162 |
[WP] If the earth is flat, what is on the other side? You've been sent to find out.
Just assume that the earth really is flat (WHICH IT IS NOT), and that there is something on the other side. | So there I stood at the edge of the world. Nothing but black nothingness stretched out in front of me, the stars only twinkling right above and behind me. It looked so normal, the edge. The ground just kind of ... ended and then went straight down. I checked once more if my carabiner was securely locked to my belt and the metal bars set up for exactly this mission and looked over the edge. All I saw was the same black void and a wall of earth going straight down.
Of course, people before me had done the same to see what was below. But none had dared venture deeper than 200 metres and cameras didn't seem to function over the edge. So the government had called upon me, a world renown free-climber, to rappel as far as I dared to go. Just for this mission, a rope with a length of 2.000 metres was made. It had taken a lot of manpower to transport it all the way here.
I nodded at my crewmembers.
"Départ."
"Départ OK," was their response and I started my descend. Another equally long but thinner rope attached to my belt and the same tree was thrown over the edge. If I reached the end of my rope, the thin rope would be my signal for the others to pull me back up.
I started of slow, feeling the tension of the rope and getting used to it's hardness. But as I progressed, I felt comfortable to take bigger leaps. Soon enough, every time I pushed myself from the wall, or ground if you think about it, I descended a good 10 to 20 metres. It's a good thing you can kind of sit in your harness when doing rappel, that way only your arms get tired and even so, rappel wasn't something that required a lot of muscle. After a good minute, I reached the 200 metre mark on my rope. This was the depth none other before me had ever passed, bar the occasional suicide jumper of course, but the view still remained the same. Black void and an earth wall that was somehow still clearly visible right in front of me.
Three more minutes passed and I reached the 500 metre mark. Still no change. 700 metres. 900. 1300. 1500. 1800.
As the 1900 metre mark passed through my hands, I started to grow worried. I had only a hundred metres left to go on the rope and still the view hadn't changed.
1950.
1975.
2000.
Nothing. Just me hanging in my harness at the end of a 2.000 metres long rope. I don't know what exactly I felt. It wasn't disappointment, nor was it frustration. I guess one could say that I felt curious. Was there actually anything down there?
I pulled the second rope a few times and passed the signal on to my crew at the top and a few seconds later, they started pulling me up. I guess that was it.
> Want more silly prompts? visit /r/promptruined | I was about 50 feet from the edge.
Everyone was watching. Across the plain, all eyes were on me. They televised the ground breaking conquest. There were protests, riots even. Ultimately they decided I was the best candidate. No family history, siblings, the usual type for missions of "unknown" outcome.
My heart began to race when they finally attached the return cable. "Press this red button to retract the cable from your end!" My technician was barely in his 20's visibly emotional and angst with anticipation. "If that should fail pull this green tab and it will initiate a failsafe! I want to thank you for your courage! Please come back!"
I gave him a thumbs up, I was too occupied with my own questions and emotions. What's on the other side? Everyone's been asking for quite some time.
I gave myself a running start going at an angle. Scientists and researches at all the major social and government organizations worked together to find the best possible equation for the "unknown" outcome.
As I leapt the first thing I noticed was the emptiness. Abyss like, almost as if I were falling into a room of mirrors with the lights set to fade. Out of complete darkness a flash of pristine light blinded me. Using my hand to shield my eyes I noticed a shadow approaching.
We were floating inches apart. He was me. I was him. "How is this possible?" The words ran smooth simultaneously. We were instantly in sync with one another. Our movements, fluid and crisp, our thoughts intertwined, woven full of momentum. The absolute moment a question was thought, it was answered.
Edit: sorry if it's poor I'm in my phone walking my dog and kid (he's a handful) | 2017-05-17T12:28:57 | 2017-05-17T12:19:21 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] SETI receives a transmission from intelligent life. After some deciphering, the message reads, "Keep quiet or they'll find you!"
The message was clearly sent from elsewhere in our universe, from outside of our solar system. | Elisa hurries through the hall, shedding papers from the heavy stack in her arms. Without knocking, she bursts into Fred Turek's office, and spreads the papers across his desk. "It's a message."
"I hear that once a week. One of you gets your undies in a bundle over a little blip in data," he replies, shaking his head. "We often see patterns were there are none. It's like watching the clouds and thinking you see a dog. Or seeing Jesus' face imprinted on your toast."
"This is real, Fred."
"Dr. Turek to you."
"I've shown it to Mark, Gabe, and Alyssa, and they all agree -- there's something here, Fr-- Dr. Turek."
"Well, then, what do they think it says? 'Hello, dear Earthlings'? 'May I borrow some sugar'? 'We want to serve man'?" Fred says, sipping his coffee and scrunching his face at the bitterness.
"They think," Elisa says, in a wavering voice, "it says 'Keep quiet, or they'll find you.'"
Fred's eyes widen for a moment, and his face goes pale. "You say Mark, Gabe, and Alyssa all agree that there's a pattern, and that's what it says?"
"Yes. They all came to that conclusion independently."
Fred taps his fingers on the table nervously. "Tell them I'll meet with them in a half hour." He gestures for her to leave; the door clicks shut behind her. He picks up the phone, sweaty fingers slipping over the numbers, and says into the receiver: "We're in grave danger." Silence. "We received a transmission: 'Keep quiet, or they'll find you.'" Pause. "Well, you know we're in danger when damn aliens are warning us!" A sigh. "Yes -- notify them all." Click.
Meanwhile, Elisa stares at the monitor, eyes glazed over. The jagged dip of the graph, its irregular curve, and scattered flatlines all read like a death sentence. Every pixel is familiar to her; she's stared at it for hours, now. As a lowly intern, she initially didn't know what it meant, until the other three deciphered it for her; but she instinctively feared it. The tingling in her arms and legs intensifies; the world reels around her. "We're dead. We're all as good as dead."
The door bursts open. Mark, the experienced decipherer, paces in. "Elisa, we got another transmission."
Faint overcomes her; she can barely think straight. "What? What did it say?" she asks, breath catching in her throat.
"I don't think the message was intended for us, Elisa."
"What do you mean?"
"The second message says," Mark says, his voice wavering with fear, "'If you don't keep quiet, they'll find you. Earth will find you!'" | Of course, it was too late. Far too late. For all he knew, that repeating message had been there for them all the way back on that dizzying first day of February, 1985 - when he had joined the SETI team as a fresh-faced intern right out of grad school. As the cab raced from Dulles International toward Capitol Hill, his imagination feverishly shot back more than 30 years to conjure the disturbing contrast:
Discovery 3 had just returned to earth as the 15th successful shuttle mission, the Japanese had sent a probe off to investigate Haley's comet, Springsteen's "Born in the USA" was playing on damn near every radio station, and somewhere out in the Stygian black depths of interstellar space, someone - something - was all but pleading for an entire planet to shut the fuck up. To lay low. To be still and to be quiet.
But then, the launch of SETI fit right in with the exciting things that were happening around the world at the time. Nobody considered that their first effort at turning a listening ear toward space was really no more effective than trying to capture a fiber-optic hosted data packet with a telegraph. Not until today that is. Something was coming. Something so terrible in its incomprehensibly large scale that even 30 years of advance warning likely would not have been enough.
And so it was that as he dashed up the marble stairs toward his Congressional hearing, he missed the voicemail from the New Mexico office. The one that told of the signal suddenly going dark. The one in which his longtime colleague and good friend reported, with hysteria creeping into his otherwise renowned deadpan drawl, that everything was going dark. Radio silence, across the board. | 2014-10-03T11:59:23 | 2014-10-03T11:48:12 | 32 | 21 |
[WP] Cupid has an opposite, the angel of heartbreak. Their job is to break up couples that don't belong together. Their job is a lot harder and they're getting a little fed up with these stupid humans. | "...just because it's *convenient*." He spat the last word.
Year after year, it was the same thing- people that made each other miserable stayed together not out of love but out of some twisted sort of either obligation or simply a fear of being alone.
It wasn't that he was numb to that pain- hell, his job didn't exactly make people adore him- but humans were so stupid, so goddamn dense, that they would stay with this uncaring cheater just so they wouldn't have to-
He shook his head, cutting off that train of thought, as he looked up to Gabriel again.
"Adultery is a sin, right? Can't we just, you know, smite him or something?" He knew that wasn't possible, and it wasn't something he would actually consider if it was, but getting the thought out loud helped vent some of his frustration.
Gabriel, eyes peering over his tome of names, gave a soft smile to the other angel, his voice low and rich but always a bit measured. "It's a comforting thought, isn't it? To think that we could simply do away with bad decisions."
Cupid's brother nodded, waiting for the "but"; Gabriel, however, had turned back to his page, leaving the smaller angel to finish the thought himself. He walked away, fading towards the earth, as he mulled it over.
"But sometimes it isn't our decision to make." He said to himself, under his breath.
He wasn't even sure why this one hit him so hard. St. Valentine's Day- especially in the consumption-heavy modern world- was always full of heartbreak. It hurt him to watch, much less participate- but it was the best day for it.
It was actually easier sometimes when a relationship was abusive: leave a window open so the neighbours hear, accidentally knock something off the shelf to create some distance-
But even then, many of them stayed. Too many.
He shook his head as he lighted on the ground and walked through the snow. This part of North America was always frozen in February, making things that much cozier. Hmph.
For all the modern world's striving for "choice", they still stayed with abusive, subversive, and sometimes straight-up just *wrong* partners.
At least there were no kids involved with this one...
He looked in the window at his current problem couple, barely 21 and dating for a second time after this guy cheated on her- not that he spent any time with her at all, even though they lived together.
But while she was spending St Valentine's Day doing schoolwork, he was going to be "working". And maybe this time, when she saw the messages pop up on his phone, she wouldn't ignore them.
But he knew she probably would.
She always did. | Conclusius turned around and walked a couple of steps beside the woman. Then at the first intersection turned right, while she walked straight on. Where she went didn't matter. Walking on was important. Walking on and never to look back. Back there was her personal hell.
Maybe not the worst hell of them all. Maybe there are hells even hotter and more painful. But pain it was, that she left behind. She had cried, that much was obvious. At first she had stumbled on the cobblestones, unsteady and unsure. Now she was walking steadily. Her posture straight. Step by step and without increasing her speed, she walked out of sight.
​
As the Angel of break-ups, he had a tough job, but it was necessary. More necessary than most humans realized. And to his astonishment it was so much easier these days. A women merely a hundred years ago just leaving? Finding new love and a new life? Not a chance. She'd be lucky to live.
These days were so free. People could choose! Choose a partner, choose to stay, choose to leave. Okay, not everywhere, but many places and their numbers increasing!
Your parter hurt you badly? Your partner stopped loving you? Walk away and start anew.
These thoughts made him continue on. Even though he was the unknown counterpart of Cupid, he was the more important one. Falling in love is easy, leaving, even if it is a matter of your very own sanity, is hard, oh so very hard. He tipped the scale at the right moment and opened up a future with many, many possibilities. He was hope in a way. | 2019-02-14T07:42:26 | 2019-02-14T07:12:44 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | He grew up on one of the toughest streets in America. Immigrants, weirdos, and living in filth described his young life. As he grew up, he was at first feared, then people started recognizing his deep, old man wisdom. Eventually, he gained many loyal friends, and others sought him out for his insight.
The ISIS problem had disturbed him greatly, occupying more and more of his private musings, as he sat in the filth at the entrance to an alley. Something must be done. A grim, stern look grew across his face. His unblinking eyes finally made a decision.
He would fight ISIS, man to man, one at a time.
Miraculously, it worked, because he was Oscar the Grouch, and the cookie monster had his back. Over and over they grabbed and stuffed terrorist after terrorist into Oscars bottomless trashcan. They attacked, well, like monsters. When they got shot, well, theyre puppets, bullets pass right through them, and they just kept fighting. When times got hard, Mr Snuffaluffagus would plow through their ranks like Mrs Piggy in menopause. Big Bird handled resupply, and The Count worked the night operations, killing 1, 2, 3.... terrorists, his cackles pierced the night and made the terrorists yearn for the days when Gordon would tell a bedtime story instead of call in airstrikes from those aliens in the manamana videos.
In the end, many puppets were lost. On quiet nights in Northern Syria, if you sit still and use your manners and listen quietly, you can sometimes still hear : 'Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sessame Street?'
| The President, the joint chiefs of staff, several different D.O.D members and some individuals from agencies you don't have the clearance to know about sat in the situation room in various states of shock and disbelief. After several awkward, quiet minutes, the President cleared his throat and began to speak.
"...Well...I mean...there's *worse* ways to discover the existence of the Kingdom of Atlantis."
"We they throwing ***SHARKS?***" | 2016-01-29T09:11:06 | 2016-01-29T06:30:49 | 33 | 10 |
[WP] “Although we are grateful to you for defeating our oppressors, you were meant to die in battle…” your “allies” suddenly turned their weapons on you, “Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” | "Agreed," I said, drawing my blade once more. "Becoming a murderer is a sacrifice *no one* is going to forget. Even if it is self-defence."
The priests paused, looking at one another with a startling mixture of confusion and fear. "N - no, Nicholas," Ajimond, the Head Priest said. "No, we're suppose to kill you because it's all part of the prophecy to keep a greater evil at bay."
Nine priests muttered in agreement at the same time:
"Oh, yes, absolutely/A greater evil than anyone can fathom, dear boy/More terrible than the Seven Beasts of Sarintik/I've read he's quite a nice deity if you get to know him, actually. Wait, what?"
The Head Priest gestured toward Nicholas' ebony blade. "Please, if it helps, we can prove it to you. We can show you through the Runes of Frankulus-"
"-Fraudulus," One of the priests interjected. "I think you've been reading from-"
"-and you will see we mean no insult to killing you." Ajimond finished, bellowing.
Nicholas could tell they meant the truth. Killing him would bring no joy or satisfaction to Ajimond and the nine priests. It was an act of necessity that drove them to this urgent deed. He could understand that, just as he could understand there was no way he was going to let them drive a dagger into his heart.
It was an act of necessity to kill them before they killed him.
"You'll have to kill me," Nicholas said.
"You're a fool, Nicholas/You'll doom us all with this act of cowardice/I never took you for a bastard/Guys, I think you're mistaking the - oh, you're attacking him" The priests said, voicing their displeasure.
Ajimond and eight priests advanced on Nicholas, their emerald daggers raised. In such a dark dungeon, Nicholas had been cornered - a deliberate act to corner him, with only his sword to protect him. On the battlefield there'd been a shield and armour, but here, he needed to be quick and precise if he wanted to get out of this alive.
And precise he was: two priests heads were removed from their necks, rolling to the ground in a permanent expression of surprise; Gajik was cut in half horizontally, though his dagger came closest to piercing Nicholas' skin. My elbow bashed into another priest. There was a horrible crunch as a nose was broken, followed by their skull as my sword crashed into it.
Ajimond raised his hand, and a small fireball began to appear in the centre of his palm, growing larger and larger until that hand was decapitated, closely followed by the top half of his head.
Samuel turned on the remaining priests who had chosen to kill him. His ebony blade was painted in blood, but he fixed the priests a bloodthirsty glare.
"Nicholas, this will not end well for you," Twurnfield said, his hands trembling. "You have to trust me. The Runes of Frankulus the Third-"
"*Fraudulus*!" The priest at the door called out. "I swear to the gods, you've been-"
"-does not lie. It never has. Would you really subject the people to such a horrendous fate? Enslavement under the most *unimaginable* brutality?" Twurnfield continued, his voice growing in anger. "Is that really you?"
Before Nicholas had a chance to reply, two of the priests lunged at him, aiming their daggers at different parts of his body. Thinking just as quickly, though almost unbalancing himself doing so, he parried the priest to the left, sidestepping toward the wall, pushing the priest into the other priest. He drove his blade through both of them, ripping out their hearts like a skewer.
"Gods damn you!" Twurnfield roared. The three priests attacked, and Nicholas could see the desperation in their eyes, and he pitied them. They'd been raised from birth to never question anything other than what their fanatical texts told them. He should know - he was raised by them, but he could never convince them to change their ways.
Then again, he'd been eight when he'd tried to convince significantly older priests, so you couldn't really blame him.
His sword sliced through Twurfield's chest, following through with impaling another priest through the gut, leaving him to bleed to death. His final attacker hesitated, gritting his teeth, determining his best cause of action. Eventually, he turned the blade on himself, despite Nicholas' protest.
Nicholas looked around with pity at the nine bodies that had all fallen in an attempt to stop him. Then, he focused his attention on the lone priest who had ran to the door, watching the madness unfold.
"I tried to tell them they'd been reading from the wrong Runes, but they kept interrupting me" He said desperately. "It's not Frankulus they'd been studying, it's *Fraudulus -* the "Runes" written by a very clever *FRAUD*!" | Silence hung in the fortified room as The Emperor's body laid still several feet from his head. I am loathe to kill anybody, and he is only my second one, but he chose to fight instead of coming peacefully.
We were sent to arrest him for his extreme actions against us Altereds, but he had injected himself with the last batch of serum in anticipation of this showdown. It is important to note that a full batch of serum would have been enough to enhance 12 fighters, but he took the entire batch on his own.
To be fair, his death was a forgone conclusion once he did that, as the imperfect serum imbalanced us Altereds as much as it enhanced us.
The silence was broken as Mr. Might slammed the somewhat-broken steel door back into place. Blaster quickly welded the steel with his laser eyes and the only exit from this room was blocked off.
"Although we are grateful for your help, Captain McDavis, you were not meant to survive this battle. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten." Mr. Might and his compatriots fanned out around me as he delivered this line.
I am Captain Martin McDavis, in charge of the US Army's new special force that comprised exclusively of superhumans. Superhumans were just tales for TV and comic books several years ago, but The Event changed everything when a murderous alien spacecraft failed in its mission to cleanse the planet. I, and a small percentage of the world, became Altered superhumans.
I was ordered to lead this local group of superhumans in the remnants of old Iraq to infiltrate The Emperor's test facility to determine what he had been doing to his people to develop super-Altereds. My briefing was that we would be gathering information, but Mr. Might and his team apparently had alternate expectations. They knew The Emperor would be here, but did not inform me, and it was everything I could do to defeat the super-Altered.
Mr. Might enlisted my help because he and his team, while the strongest in the resistance, were still no match for The Emperor. Now they want to fight me, a person who defeated their oppressor, for some unknown reason.
Before I could question their motives, however, they launched their assault. Mercury, the team's speedster, ran at me in a blur. The next view of him was against the thick wall with a shattered arm and deformed ribcage. Not even Mercury saw me move.
"You locked the only escape from this room, Mr. Might. I assume you meant to trap me in here with you, but let me assure you: you are trapped in here with me!"
Before I joined the army, I was Martin McDavis, a recent college graduate and part-time superhero. My superhero name, Quarterback, was not a reference to the football position, but a reference to my ability. I gain 75% of the power of whatever Altered I come across, and I have come across quite a few. This crew in front of me, while potent in what is left of Iraq, would be minor-league heroes back home. Whatever they can do, I can do better.
Mr. Might watched as Blaster, Ice Cube, Sonic Screamer, and Bonfire dropped in less than a second as I knocked them all unconscious while running at my own super speed. I returned to regular speed as I stopped by the welded-shut door.
"You may want to get him to a hospital," I said as I pointed at Mercury. I put one un-gloved hand on the door and watched as the fresh welds melted and separated the doors again. My other hand ripped the door out of its frame in one smooth motion.
"What are you?" Mr. Might asked.
"I could have been a friend," I said as I pointed to my still-recording body camera. I returned to super speed and took my leave from him and this facility. | 2022-11-02T01:11:10 | 2022-11-01T22:10:50 | 34 | 24 |
[WP] Nations around the world are hellbent on taking out this journalist that has been trying to publish pieces about things that are supposed to be top secret. But for some reason, all attempts to silence this “Clark Kent” fellow have failed. | General Aladeen always get what he wants. A mountain of golds? Done. A harem of Asian women? They'll be in his room in an hour. A picture of Kim Jong Un's drooling in his sleep? Check his email. Eliminate a pesky journalist? Their heads will be hanging by his window in the morning.
But not his head. Not Clark Kent.
"What do you mean he won't take the job?" Aladeen questioned, furious of the reports given by his aide.
"I'm sorry, Supreme Leader. But when we mentioned the name of Clark Kent, Mr Wilson immediately put down the phone..." The aide explained, quivering at Aladeen's fury.
"Have you tried Deadshot?" Aladeen suggested, remembering how the sharp-shooter has helped his father plenty of time in the past.
"Our second choice. Also the same reaction."
"How about Bronze Tiger? Shiva? Cheshire?" His aide remained silent, a clear answer "Alright, have you at least reached out to our ally in Pokolistan?"
"Well... Clark Kent already got them..." His aide revealed. Panicking, Aladeen immediately grabbed his tablet and, while cringing, opened the Daily Planet app. There it was, the first article on the page
*Pokolistan Royal Family Exposed! An Unfair Bidding of Hundred Years Old*
*by Clark Kent*
The article went on in details about how the Pokolistan's royal family has been holding its citizen's down with an unclear contract made from almost a century ago that gave them the sovereignty they have been abusing ever since. Details such as reports from oppressed natives to escapees were included along with pictures of the said contract. Aladeen did not need to even open the social media apps to know that a storm is ravaging the country now.
How in bloody hell did that reporter do it? Not even Aladeen know whether the contract really exist. He found himself slouching down his chair, thinking thousands of theories of how did that boy scout did it.
Does he has ties to the League of Assassins? Couldn't be. All of those that have been sent to him would always come back alive, with only their motivation gone. Could it be that Clark Kent is merely a figurehead of bigger conspiracy bent to take on the corrupts of the world? Honestly, with the amount of super groups out there, he's not surprised.
Speaking of super-groups, could it be he's a metahuman? A powerful one at that seeing how even the best like Deathstroke and Deadshot refused to deal with him?
"I'll get you, Clark Kent." He muttered.
Meanwhile, somewhere on the other side of the planet, Clark was sipping his coffee as he sorted out the files on his computer.
"Good luck." He whispered. | “MTF unit gamma-3 and misinformation units are at the scene” states the nervous intern that has pulled up a screen infront of the 05 council. “It appears that this Clark Kent has been writing and publishing our scp files” *nervous laugh from the intern* and we have sent multiple mtf squadrons to stop him”
“And if we are not able to neutralize him?” Asks 05-2
“Umm well dr bright has suggested that we send someone to talk to him sir”
*the door flys open and dr. Bright pops in*
“Hello mates now how about we show h 096 eh” dr bright exclaimed.
“Dr. Bright please sit down we need to discuss a certain issue with the foundations secrecy,” 05-5 states very professionally considering the fact that dr. Bright is wearing a thong. “There appears to be an
Unkillable person who is publishing our secret files, what did you have in mind”
“I dunno why m here to tell you to take down the list of the things I’m not allowed to do” dr. Bright states to the council
*05 council sighs and carries on*
“Anyway erm the mtf units have made contact” the intern says quietly “and they appear to be talking to the subject and he aperantly he is fine with keeping the foundation secret”
“Good, have the mtf bring in Clark Kent and this meeting is dismissed, but dr. Bright we have to talk” states 05-1 | 2020-11-29T02:24:50 | 2020-11-29T01:36:23 | 460 | 64 |
[WP] You’re considered the stealthiest person in your spy school because no one has ever caught you during stealth class; therefore, you are chosen to carry out a very urgent and dangerous mission alone. However, the reason no one could find you during class is because you skipped every one of them. | To learn the craft of espionage, assassination, and infiltration, one must attend certain classes at certain compounds, private entertainment facilities, or highly exclusive social clubs. And even then the first class is usually to actually find and deduce where you're getting taught. Many a less than talented spy has sat through 12 classes of pottery, before finding out that maybe the methods for forming clay are not about the best methods of killing.
I am enrolled in such a place. I achieve high marks in poisonous chemicals class, obstacle course, torturing, torture resistance, and stealth. However, there is a small problem. I don't actually attend that last class. I skip class to rest or enjoy some light reading. Unfortunately, there are two methods of getting good marks for stealth class. One is being there and studying hard. The other is not being detected by the teacher. I am the only one so far who have been 100% undetected in all classes. Nobody have seen me enter the class since the introduction, nor has anyone seen me leave. And that must mean that I am very stealthy.
Of course I can be stealthy, I just think the class is a waste of time. But since I am the best in class, I've been given an extraordinary task. A dangerous and urgent mission; I must assassinate a very paranoid man, a very dangerous man. A man who has knowledge that he is willing to sell to a dangerous foreign power, who absolutely will abuse it. Of course, I am expected to make a kill so stealthy that nobody will ever discover it was me.
Since I've never taken a stealth class, doing it in the way they have taught us is going to be hard. Damn near impossible. Five agents who have tried to get close to the man and kill him have been discovered and killed. And they were all valedictorians from spy academies across the world. Quite the conundrum. Yet I have a plan. I always have a plan.
The man arrives once a year at a specific and highly secure location where he will be taken to a room with ladies who haven't seen a man in three months, and have been naked for about as long. Every possible murder weapon have been removed, the room is full of guards, the building is full of more guards, and there is a perimeter around the building of more guards, attack dogs, snipers, mines, traps, and at least one trained killer bear.
Of course, as this is a top priority mission, I don't have to worry about going loud. As long as the man dies, my mission is complete. So I do the most logical step, and take a job as a janitor. I go in, I do my job, and wait for the day when the old man comes, which is also the day when he will sell his secret. So I'm cutting it a bit close, but I can do it. And on that day, all it takes is pressing a few buttons on a computer. A laughably easy passcode, a few disabled cameras, and I'm in.
And the house is destroyed. The man is dead, the guards are dead, the ladies imported from foreign lands are dead, the bear is dead. In fact an entire area around the house, with a diameter of 1 mile is completely and utterly destroyed. I lived. It was easy to live when you had actually just infiltrated that base where Reagan's Star-Wars weapon was being maintained. Orbital railgun as it turns out. And they'd never upgraded the control computers, so using it was about as easy as you'd think. One small tungsten rod sent into that house in the middle of nowhere, one dead man. Mission accomplished.
My teachers didn't know this of course. They always think that looking suave and being stealthy are the pinnacle of espionage, but in fact, it is infomation that is worth a whole lot more. So they were very impressed that I'd managed to eradicate the old man, and pretty much his entire network in one strike. I didn't tell them how I got out, or how I got in. For there is a reason that I think that the stealth class is a waste of time, why be stealthy when you can just be elsewhere?
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) | Red lights flickered overhead as the landing craft started its descent. The metal interior rattling as I checked my ammunition inside of my rifle, my heartbeat audible with every dull click. I shouldn't have skipped that damn lesson in basic training, but here I am on an alien world to sabotage an insurgent airstrip.
A sudden lurch throwing me against my seats restraints the red lighting completely vanishing. Several seconds passing in darkness as I forced my magazine back into the rail gun. Static suddenly obliterating the silence as the dull click of the magazine's lock passed. "*Twenty seconds get your equipment and get off of my plane.*"
The rear hatch of the cargo bay lowering my restraints, snapping open as I rushed out of the vehicle. Hot air from the thrusters and the cold mountainous terrain lashing at my clothing as I dragged my bag off of the ramp. Only a split second passing before the snow and air crackled and hissed as the spacecraft lifted off scorching the ground clean of snow.
.
The dark shadow quickly fading into the clear night sky becoming one of hundreds of small flickering lights. My knees immediately bucking underneath me as I sat down on my bag it's metal content holding its shape. I can't do this I'm not meant to be here, I'm a fake a lier and colossal cheat.
Carefully I pulled back the heavy bag's zipper exposing the interior of the four rotors gleaming in the moonlight. Several seconds passing as I opened the rest of the canvas pulling out the monstrous craft. It's four wings unfolding as I removed the covering moving with practiced efficiency.
But just because I cheat doesn't mean that my enemy won't cross that line to win and come back home alive. That's something my mentor taught me during those first few days in the academy. Quickly I pulled myself to my feet brushing off the snow from my boots and dragging the hover bike center in the clearing.
.
My gloves firmly clasped around the rip cord for the gasoline engine as I inject the primer into the starter. I know my enemy will not play fair, quickly I threw my arm back, the engine briefly sputtering before dying. So I will not play fair either, slowly I return the cord to the starter putting my knee onto the body of the craft.
The winter chill pushing through my thin jacket as I prepared priming the engine one more time and taking a deep breath. I am a liar, cheat and perhaps even a thief. That is my service. I am a spy. *Crack* the cord quickly rips backward the engine sputtering to life forcing the quad rotors into motion as I mount the craft.
Snow now visibly swirling under the rotors as I push the vehicle forward gliding down the winter slopes. Rocks, trees and underbrush rushing past as I ride along the mountain side nearly colliding with a collapsed tree. My hands forcing the joystick backwards and the propellers away from the obstruction.
.
The entire forest still as I look back through the small clearing I had traversed, the path almost imperceptibly disturbed by my unseen passage. | 2020-04-17T19:14:40 | 2020-04-17T16:09:55 | 201 | 41 |
[WP] A man has the ability to smell death. The greater the stench, the closer a person is to dying. He leaves his house one day and is instantly overcome with the pungent scent of mortality. Every person he passes reeks of death. | I can smell death.
Don't ask me how it works, because I haven't got a clue. It's not like nurses that can smell someone's organs failing, it even happens for accidents. I smelled it on Sam Carter the day he got smashed up on the highway driving home.
It's weird, knowing ahead of time when people are going to die. I mean, what am I supposed to do, just not let on? That's actually what I try to do, but put yourself in my place for a moment. You're talking to someone you've known for years, worked with for years, been friends with, and so on, and you know, all of a sudden, and with perfect certainty, that their life is over. Sometimes I smell it and I just want to cry, because I may as well start grieving right then and there. Except, of course, that they aren't actually dead yet. It hadn't actually happened.
At first, I thought it was some sort of superpower. Like, I smell it and then I have to save the person's life. I tried that when I smelled it on Joe Ham. He worked in Accounting, and I thought for sure that he was going to die on the way home, so I schemed all day to delay him and keep him at the office. I thought it was a car accident or something. While he was working late, he got electrocuted by a printer. I mean, seriously, how is that even possible? The thing was made of plastic!
I stopped trying when the police tried to connect me with the deaths. I couldn't stop it, and all I was going to do was get myself locked up. So now all I do is drink. Every time I smell it, I drink a "going away" scotch. I don't think it's helping, but what else can I do.
So, yeah, I can smell death. It sucks big time. But at this point, you're probably wondering why I'm telling you all this now, right? Well, this morning, I woke up smelling it on everybody. Yeah, everybody. You, me, the bartender here. It's why I'm drinking this early. In fact, the only people I don't smell it on right now are those two over there. The guy in his bathrobe and pajamas and his friend in the suit. Anyway, way I figure it, we're all about to die, so I need one hell of a going away scotch.
*As the man spoke, attention drifted toward the sky outside, as a voice came on over a public address system. "People of Earth, your attention, please. This is Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz of the Galactic Hyperspace Planning Council. As you will no doubt be aware, the plans for development of the outlying regions of the Galaxy require the building of a hyperspatial express route through your star system. And regrettably, your planet is one of those scheduled for demolition. The process will take slightly less than two of your Earth minutes. Thank you."*
Well, shit. | He had known it was coming for a while now.
Death had become a constant companion in Jacob's life. A certain familiarity had developed over the years since he first realized the meaning of his gift. The musty scent, reminiscent of a long forgotten sweater buried deep in a cedar closet, with a hint of an unknown spice, clung to every person in varying degrees, counting down the final moments of their lives.
He had learned to manage it. Avoid hospitals and retirement homes. Stay out of bad neighborhoods and avoid churches with support groups. He developed a plan and stuck to it, rarely deviating from his short route home from work and back again. Following his strict routine kept the smell stable, familiar. So much so that he never even noticed when it had first started to change.
It built up ever so gradually. What had once been an ever present musk pushed to the background of his life had morphed into a constant, forceful reminder of mortality. The scent of death looming ever closer was overwhelming. It was caked into everyone around him as if lathered on to form an extra layer of skin.
As Jacob walked the few short blocks from his home to his office, the smell had cascaded into a climax all around him, encompassing every breath of air he inhaled, coating his throat and lungs with oily morbidity. What should have smelled like a crisp, clear, late summer morning had instead become a thick, funeral scented perfume.
He waited in the elevator to get to his floor, a calm acceptance washing over him as he resigned himself to the fact that today would be his final day. He sat at his desk and looked out his window, and saw the nose of the airplane before his vision faded to black. | 2015-03-20T22:22:14 | 2015-03-20T20:38:30 | 45 | 16 |
[WP] A planet and its moon both have intelligent life. For 400 years they have watched each other through telescopes. Now one of them is launching its first rocket to pay the other their first visit. | The great observatory had for fifty years been led by Corvin Vincor. He was known as a man of honor. Whenever he vomited seminal fluid he would clean up after himself and offer his apologies. He took care not to step on anyone's tails, a habit that had allowed him to hold his position for an unprecedented amount of time. Yet, he had a flaw. He denied the existence of the aliens.
For centuries the learned had warned the public about the coming catastrophe. Astronomers first discovered the existence of lifeforms on the sphere hundreds of years ago. Yet, the public seem strangely calm. Scientists continued to warn about the potential dangers, but their message was lost. For millennia everything had been fine. Why would that suddenly change?
While the sphere appeared small in the sky, it was in fact four times larger than the planet. Both orbited the Star. Like the planet, it was green, white, and blue. These facts were well-known. What was less known, was the rapid expansion of the sphere's dominant species.
Mr. Vincor claimed that what had been observed was certainly not the growth of biological structures. His coral reef analogy had convinced a great many laymen, but had left the scientific community dumbfounded. If anyone should know, it was him. So why did he try to convince people that there were no aliens? Why did he reject their existence as an impossibility? His fellow scientists could not answer this question.
Then one day an impossible thing occurred. Caught in the lens of an amateur astronomer was an unknown object, approaching the planet. Soon others made the same discovery. Messages were passed around until it was the only topic of conversation.
The population at large were horrified. At the end of the day, it could be seen by the naked eye. Military personnel from all regions were recruited at once and gathered at a secret location. The official story was that it was a comet, but photographs refuted this statement thoroughly. When the vessel landed, hell rained upon it. It shattered into a thousand pieces. Every nation assisted in its destruction. Horror was the reaction of scientists. All except one. Corvin Vincor issued a statement only hours after the dramatic event.
"Dear people of the planet. Today we witnessed first contact. The vessel contained an alien crew. These words may surprise you. For decades I have given the impression that no such thing could be possible. Yet here we are. I will now apologize to all of you. I am afraid you will all die. For my whole career I've known about the beings on the sphere. I have watched them, observed them, and I have come to a conclusion: they deserve to live. This planet is less advanced than theirs. Yet we have come close to ruining our ecosystem. Through decades of observation I have witnessed the astonishing beauty of the alien world. The sheer variation of species boggles the mind. That they have been able to advance to such a level without ruining themselves and those around them leaves me wondering how they would fare with our arrival. They would welcome us. They would cherish us as they have cherished the beings on their own sphere. We see weakness, and we would exploit it. Which is why we would inevitably destroy them, given enough time. I have sacrificed my career and life to prevent this from happening. I have sacrificed all of you as well. I've exploited my position to ridicule my fellow men of science and to sow doubts about the existence of the aliens. And now we annihilated their welcoming party. Retaliation will be swift. Now that we have shown open hostility, there is no hope left for our species. Our doom is upon us, and all is as it should be."
A strange silence overtook the planet. Then it ended. | LOG 1:
"ahem, is this thing on? Yes? okay. My name is Darmi Steran. I am the captain of the \*Void\* the vessel that will be leaving the moon Rotuga and approaching its planet Nera. We have observed the intelligent life on Nera for 400 years through telescopic instruments. the planets life is strange.
But first, life on Rotuga. Rotuga is the largest planet our species has been able to move to. Our original homeworld Targon was destroyed by a massive meteorite. The planet was hit and mass extinction took place through the form of ecological disasters. Large tsunami's, cyclone's and earthquakes killed millions, forcing a colony of us to flee to nera.
Rotuga appears to be lacking in any form of natural resource. The moon is completely stricken of any form of fertile soil for agriculture, liquid water or live game. the only real form of energy we can gain is from large ball of gas in this galaxy. our species has evolved to develop a photosynthesis like ability to sustain ourselves from only pure energy.
Rotuga is the only planet we have. but we can't survive with what we have.
Which is why they've sent us to Nera.
Nera's population has another name for it. Earth.
Nera's population reaches about 450 million, has a wide variety of animals and plants, 70% of the planet is water, and will provide us with enough resources for technology development.
We have been observing them since Nera Year: 947 CE
Make no mistake this is an invasion,
The primary species is a species of primate named \*Homo Sapiens\* meaning "wise man" in their main language Latin. While the Homo Sapiens do have advanced technology, their bodies are not built to withstand mass disease.
Which is why our main plan of attack is through implanting a viral disease strain into one of their most infectious virus carriers, "fleas"
We will be entering Nera through longitude and latitude 7°10'46.78" N 36°02'52.44" E into the Kaffa sea port.
If this attack succeeds, the entire Homo Sapien population will be wiped out and Targon will begin again on Nera.
If not, our species is doomed to die off.
This is Dami Steran, the captain of the \*Void\*
signing off,"
END LOG | 2018-07-05T08:05:08 | 2018-07-05T06:24:56 | 135 | 24 |
[WP] “This place is not a place of honor,” reads the text. “No highly esteemed dead is commemorated here… nothing valued is here. What is here was dangerous and repulsive to us. This message is a warning about danger.” | This wasn’t the first time we had received a message from the Old World. Most messages were indirect, time capsules meant for some imagined future where humanity would be far more advanced and would look upon their contents as vestiges of a time past. These messages never predicted the warfare that would ravage the Old World, the conflict that brought humanity to the brink of extinction. Now we seek these vestiges not as souvenirs of the time past, but as cornucopias of technology that can bring our species back to its former glory.
I’m one of the few with an ability to find these relics, a rare mutation derived from the radioactive weapons that ravaged this planet centuries ago. I’ve spent my life finding what’s located below, bunkers, banks, and sometimes whole cities buried below the topsoil. But this one was different, a settlement far deeper than the ones I’ve typically found. At first we thought it a repository, a stash of old technology buried deep below the surface for safekeeping.
It took us two weeks of excavation to find The Note, the cryptic message that seemed not to address some utopian future, but an alien civilization unfamiliar with the technology that preceded it. The Note read the following:
*“This place is a message… and part of a system of messages… pay attention to it! Sending this message was important to us. We considered ourselves to be a powerful culture.*
*This place is not a place of honor…no highly esteemed deed is commemorated here… nothing valued is here.*
*What is here is dangerous and repulsive to us. This message is a warning about danger.*
*The danger is in a particular location… it increases toward a center… the center of danger is here… of a particular size and shape, and below us.*
*The danger is still present, in your time, as it was in ours.*
*The danger is to the body, and it can kill.*
*The form of the danger is an emanation of energy.*
*The danger is unleashed only if you substantially disturb this place physically. This place is best shunned and left uninhabited.”*
We started excavating the land immediately. Whatever the Old World buried here must have been powerful. A weapon? A system of generating energy? They spoke of how they didn’t value what was buried, but they couldn’t know the situation we were in. We were primitive compared to what they used to be, anything they could have considered an “emanation of energy” would be invaluable to us.
It was only as we started to dig closer to it that I began to feel a familiarity. We always knew that the forces that granted me my powers were derived from the weapons that ravaged our planet long ago. And as we dug closer, this familiarity increased. We weren’t digging towards a repository, but a malignant force.
I tried to tell them, warn them of what was below us. But they wouldn’t listen. Once I located the dig site, they had little need for me and relived me from my duties. But I can still feel it. Even now, huddled outside the dig site, I can feel the evil emanating from below me. It's the same maligned forces that gave me my powers and that tore apart the Old World. I don’t understand this danger, but I know I must stop it. The mistakes of our past can’t be repeated, and I’m the only one who understands the true horrors of what rests below. | Like everyone else she had ever known, Reeta had learned of this place. This lonely lot of land at the furthest, most secluded corner of the world. Where those of their ancestors most opposed to the third helix made their last stand, only to be burned down like the kindling their species had become in the face of their own children.
You could feel it in every square inch of the place, and in the dilapidated and charred excuse for a fortress that the sign was in front of. Hate emanated from the grounds, where blood was spilled over a century or two ago. Decaying bones littered the ground, not one bearing a trace of a wing or a claw or a fang or a horn. Like children who never changed as they grew the way everyone did now. There was only a long-suffering scent of ash, and burned, decaying bodies.
*"This land is a warning about hatred,"* she continued to read the plaque sitting in front of the wall, *"for it is where those who were so sickened by our existence that they fled had taken refuge. Where those so disgusted by our DNA and our bodies hid. Where many of us were killed merely for being born unto them. Hatred is what makes one's actions dangerous and one's soul repulsive. Hatred is what destroyed these people; hatred, and what they did to their foes with it.*
*"For the sake of the last of* homo sapiens *who knew kindness to us, and for the sake of those of* homo semifera *who sadly perished behind this wall, do not remember this place. Not even the fires of dragons can burn this scar on our world.*
*"A place which even time and nature refuse to reclaim -- a place that never heals -- must never know civilization."*
It pained her to be reminded of the story behind this place. The fact that children younger than her were killed her because they were born after the Call. Everyone born after the Call was destined to become part-beast, and her kind was the ones who burned this stony lot to the ground. It was worse than trespassing on sacred ground; she could practically hear the snarls in her ears and feel invisible claws and teeth digging into her scales and wings and tail. But this was where the angels had gotten most of their ideas, and she was here to learn. Learn, and perhaps understand everything she could glean from this lion's den of raging phantoms. | 2022-06-18T02:33:03 | 2022-06-17T20:56:18 | 47 | 21 |
[WP] Imagine a world where dating and job hunting are switched. Dating now involves sending emails and resumes, while people seeking employment frequent the hottest clubs. | She sat back in her chair and studied my resume again. Her pen tapped absentmindedly against the polished mahogany desk. Damn, my suit is itching. I didn't know what to do with my arms. Or my legs. Or where to look. God, I hate these formal interviews!
"Awkward phase in high school, but still had some dating experience before college... very interesting... No sexually transmitted diseases, definitely a plus... Height, 6'1... Weight, 170, very nice... blond... Oh, it says here that you once had sex with two women on the same night?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I replied, trying to project confidence. It was a blemish on my resume, but I couldn't just omit it. "In college, sir. It was at a fraternity party at which I drank too much and, well... you know."
She adjusted her glasses. "Mmmhmm." My palms were sweating, but I couldn't rub them on my pants. She'd notice! Or it would leave wet spots! The silence seemed to stretch on forever. "And how would you feel about a FMM threesome?"
"I..." *Don't stutter! Confident!* "That would be something that I would be willing to negotiate should we decide to pursue this relationship." It all came out in one breath without even stopping to think about it. My whole body quivered nervously as I exhaled.
She nodded and scribbled something in the margin of the resume. She was trying to hide her smile but it didn't work very well. That was definitely a gamble that had paid off.
"Oral skills?" she asked without even looking up from the paper.
"Proficient," I answered immediately.
She glanced up at me over the rim of her glasses. "Mr. Denton, *many* candidates claim to be proficient. We would need to see an established track record of performance..."
"Oh, I completely understand." From within my briefcase, I pulled out another paper. "My list of references, Ma'am. Those highlighted in yellow would be the ones with whom I had a long-term relationship, while those highlighted in green would be only short term flings or even one night stands."
She accepted the sheet and looked it over. It was fairly extensive, thanks in part due to my exemplary performance in college. Some employers found this to be an issue, but I didn't think this particular interviewer would have a problem with my track record.
I pointed out four names in particular: "These women should be able to give you a detailed account of my oral abilities." I prayed that she wouldn't call Amanda, my first girlfriend in high school. God, that attempt had certainly gone poorly! I was down there for an hour, with no clue what to do!
"And what is the red highlighting?" she asked. There were two marked on there.
"Those would be other agencies currently considering me for the position of Boyfriend."
"I see," she said, adjusting her blouse and turning back to my resume. She scanned it once more, looking for anything she might have missed.
"Very well," she finally said, putting the papers back down on the desk and clasping her hands. "Do you have any questions for me?"
I checked my notebook for the ones that I had prepared ahead of time. "Yes, as a matter of fact. I was doing some research online and I found some online reviews stating that you had friendzoned various men on four different occasions. Could you verify whether this is the case?
Her mouth hung open as she looked for an answer. "Well, I made all possible efforts to explain how I felt about them," she eventually managed to spit out.
"I see," I answered. Neither of us spoke for a bit. "Well, I have no further questions."
She rose from her desk and shook my hand. "Thank you so much for coming to interview for the option of 'coming over to watch a movie and have some wine with me.' You should expect a call sometime soon."
"Well, thank you!" That's certainly a good thing to hear coming out of an interview."
"I'm very eager to have you start immediately," she answered.
"Yes, I'm sure you are," I answered. *Maybe* I'd answer her call when the time came.
| “There, chick by the bar in the sandals.” My wingman pointed out the blonde out to me.
“They’re all wearing sandals.” I start to say but he cuts off me.
“That mother does salsa bro. I’ll bribe the DJ to put on some salsa, you go get her on the dance floor before somebody else pounces on her.”
“But that’s not why I’m…” I start to say again, but he’s already pushing me towards her.
“Don’t over think it bro, you just gotta do it.” I’m frantically looking over my shoulder for our other friends, but it’s too late. I practically slam into the poor girl that he’s trying to introduce me to. My wingman doesn’t even give me time to excuse myself.
“Have you met Brian?” He asks, before darting off for the DJ. I can’t believe he pulled a HIMYM.
“No I haven’t.” The lady says, turning to address me. “How’s it going Brian?” She asks, knocking back a small glass of wine.
“Uh, alright ma’am.” I mentally curse my wingman for thrusting me into this. “How would you like to dance?” As if on cue salsa music comes on over the speakers.
“I’d love to dance.” She says, extending a hand for me to lead her onto the floor.
As I reach to take her hand, she suddenly jerks it back. “Tell me though, have you been a naughty boy?” She asks. I’m taken aback. That’s a pretty forward question to ask a stranger.
“Ma’am?” I ask.
“Are you a naughty boy? When was the last time you went to confession?” The mother superior asks me.
“Uh, last Christmas ma’am? About six months ago.” The mother looks down her nose at me.
“Young man, don’t you think it’s best to have a clean conscience when pursuing a vocation?” She asks.
“Yes ma’am.” I reply meekly. The mother looks at me for a second longer, then turns away, our little chat clearly ended.
Brian has been watching from the wing and swoops in at this moment.
“Dude, what are you doing. You’ve been praying for that seminary slot for a solid month! That’s like 3 novenas man.” I glare at him.
“Exactly man, so why are you trying to set me up with a nun. Do I look like a chick to you? Besides, she figured out I haven’t been hitting the reconciliation as hard as the friars be hitting it.” My wingman facepalms.
“Dude, that was your in! I knew you needed to be working on your contrition. That’s why I set you up with her. She knows friar Thompson and you know Thompson be rocking the mad absolution. All you had to do was get her to set you up with a little confessional time and you could’ve totally been in the seminary bro!”
Sidenote: OP, this prompt is awesome! I am issuing a certificate to you that may be redeemed at a later date for my first born child. | 2015-06-18T13:43:19 | 2015-06-18T12:21:29 | 57 | 35 |
[WP] On your 21st birthday, your biggest accomplishment becomes your official title - no matter how trivial. You wait anxiously in line for your village elder, Glenda, Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets In A Single Sitting, to assign you your new title. | Custom and tradition, which interleaved every facet of life for the dozen villages spread throughout the Darrowshire plains, accounted for many of the interesting practices unique to the locale.
These included the almost reverential regard for hunting, the marking of coming of age by bequeathing a title reflecting the person's greatest achievement at that stage in life, and of course, the periodic wars wrought as the villages sought to expand their influence and territories.
For hundreds of years, the dozen villages took turns to wax and wane in prestige, and on average each village spent about ten years at the top of the pack before the next war saw it being displaced by the next strongest village.
So how does one account for the anomaly, where the Dalton village not only rose to become the strongest village in centuries, but also ultimately the village which united all the others?
Historians believe that it began with Glenn, the 35th village chief, Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets In A Single Sitting. Evidence suggests that it was under his watchful eye that the foremost champions of the next generation were cultivated.
It was, actually, his wife, Becky, who played a much bigger role than anyone could have imagined.
---
"Step forward, and be ready with your tablet," intoned Glenn sonorously from the stage. Becky stood quietly by his side.
It was another Naming Day, one of twelve in the year, where all the younglings born in that month stepped forward when they came of age to receive their titles. Today, it was Henry who was first in line, worry etched into every expression he wore on his face.
"Henry Vume, name your accomplishments, so that I may pick your title for you."
He replied, hesitantly, already preparing himself for the scorn and ridicule about to float up from his peers behind him.
"Erm... I once helped my parents manage the family expenses for a month, when both my parents fell ill. I also once categorised all the flowers in the woods, because, well, I like them..."
In a way, he had already resigned himself to his fate. Not every child was special, and try as he did to develop himself, he was who he was. These were his greatest accomplishments, so be it.
Henry squeezed his eyes shut, ready for the worst.
"Very well, henceforth will you be Henry Vume, Picker of Flowers."
The shame burned his face, and he wanted to do nothing more than turn and run. The sniggers from his peers was already floating through the air, assaulting his ears.
And he would have left, but for Becky's firm hand on his shoulder. He turned, surprised. There wasn't supposed to be anything else to the ceremony.
"Henry, not so fast. When you picked the forest clean, could you tell the difference between the flowers?"
"Difference?... Yes, I suppose."
"Which were sweet, which were colourful... Even which were dangerous, poisonous?"
"Yes, in fact," said Henry, some of the confidence returning. This was his area of expertise, after all. "The Hudleys you have to avoid the most. They are small, white, plain and easy to miss, but their sap stings badly, and I've seen forest animals die from eating them."
Becky smiled, and she lowered her voice, speaking almost in a hush, only for Henry to hear.
"No one is ever useless, Henry. Your title is just that, a title. It will not define you - you define your title. Be proud of who you are, develop your talents, and one day, one day, the village may need to call upon you to serve it. And I hope you will be ready for that day."
Becky winked, and Henry left.
Henry left with more than just a title. He left with a purpose, a direction, and the little seedling of recognition Becky planted would one day blossom, spurring Henry to become Henry Vume, Picker of Flowers, Chief Alchemist of the Northern Dalton Regiment.
All because of Becky, Believer In Men and Women Alike.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| "Ah yes, you shall be known as John, Traveler of Forty Shoe Stores."
The line was thinning out now. I peeked ahead to where John was breathing a sigh of relief. 'Shoe stores' was harmless. You could still get a job with that on your resume.
The next student walked forward, Becky I think. She was wearing a long sleeved sweatshirt and nervously tugging at the sleeves with her hands.
The village elder Glenda smiled and ushered her forward, putting on the same melodramatic voice that made her words echo through the amphitheater. "Becky, on your twenty-first birthday, I see your entire life flash before me." With a puff of incense the seer closed her eyes, putting one hand on her temple and waving the other around in a way that felt as mystical as a stage magician. "From this day forward, you shall be known as... Becky, Owner of Seven Cat Habitats!"
Becky seemed relieved, if a little embarrassed, and headed down to the audience once again. You'd think people in this town would have better things to do than watch the daily ceremonies at sunset, but it was a pretty packed house today. I looked into the crowd and saw my own parents: Tom, the Destroyer of Alcoholic Beverages, and Mary, the Only Survivor of Math Camp. They were both beaming proudly, and waved at me.
"My my, Steven, you shall be known as: The Man with Fifty Fetishes!" The crowd started to laugh, and Steven turned bright red as he ran out of the stone circle.
My turn next. Glenda, Devourer of Fifty Three Chicken Nuggets in a Single Sitting, eyed me up and down. "Amy, my dear, come closer. There's no reason to be frightened."
I don't think I looked particularly frightened, more indifferent, but this was all part of Glenda's show. That being said, if she was going to put a tagline on every novel I ever wrote, it had better be a good one.
"Oh, I see great things in your future, but the titles I give are based on the here and now. From this day forward..."
Something had just occurred to me. Why was Glenda's title so mundane?
"You shall be known as..."
Weren't seerers given their powers at birth?
"Amy: Disprover of Fraudulent... Potatoes."
Glenda seemed upset, and she ushered me off the stage quickly. The audience didn't know how to react to my new title, and to be honest I was a little confused myself.
Someone in the crowd spoke up. "Um, Glenda, did you mean fraudulent politicians?"
Glenda paused. "Yes, yes, of course! What did you think I said? Anyway, that's enough for today, I shall see you all on the morrow!" Glenda bowed and spun through her fine silk curtains, before high tailing it across the fields at a breakneck pace. | 2017-04-27T17:19:00 | 2017-04-27T17:02:59 | 810 | 232 |
[WP] You are an immortal sentenced to 1000 years of imprisonment. After 200, your prison is forgotten. After 10,000 years, it is rediscovered.
Optional: Your discoverers refuse to release you. | My eyes open harshly to the same view I've woken up to for as long as I can remember. The sun beams directly in to my eyes through a tiny, barred window that sits at the top of the left wall. I move my head out of the sun's blinding light. I see the heavy cast iron door across the way, barely out of reach from where I lay.
"Another day" I say to myself.
I rise from by bed, careful not to bump my head on the ceiling. It's just low enough that I have to walk with a little hunch in my back. I do my usual routine. Two steps forward, two steps left, and two steps back. That's all I have room for. I sit back on my bed.
How did I even get thrown in here? How long has it been? I've tried to keep track, scratching tallies in to the cell wall. After I ran out of space, I started tallying horizontally, over the existing vertical ones. Then I ran out of space again, and I gave up. I realized that no one is coming back, no point to it anymore. I barely remember when I stopped.
Someone has to come back though, right? I just know it. This can't be the end of me. I'm one of the few immortals. There are more of my kind out there, they have to be looking for me.
'Stop with the false hope,' I tell myself, 'it's pointless.'
"It's not pointless," I respond. "I'm like Sisyphus. He was condemned to push a boulder uphill all day long, only to watch it roll back down. Even if living day to day is pointless, life still has meaning."
I stop talking. Sometimes I forget that I'm the only person in this cell. It's getting so hard to tell reality from fiction.
I walk, hunched, over to the window. At least I have this view. It's not much of a view, just a huge dirt patch with a forest in the distance. But it keeps me sane. One day, I'll see something come from the forest to rescue me.
Wait. What's that? Is that a figure in the distance?
'Don't get excited.'
"Shut up!" I yell, "This is something. Something hasn't happened in so long."
It's getting closer. It looks like some kind of lump. But no. I hear them. I hear voices. It's a group of people! As they're getting closer I see it's a group of soldiers, armed with swords, clubs, and shields.
"Help!" I yell, "please, for the love of the gods, save me!"
They hear me. I can hardly believe it! I see them clamor out of sight, around the side of the building. I hear bustling noises outside of my cell. A door has been knocked down. They must be inside the prison!
A heavy knocking sound comes from my cell door.
"Oi!" they yell, "Don't worry we'll get you out of there!"
"It's been so long! Please hurry!" I yell back, tears of joy streaming from my face.
CRASH!
A deafening noise rings from the cell door.
CRASH! CRASH!
I see light streaming from the corners of the door as it slowly comes loose.
CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!
The door starts to fall. Finally, sweet freedom! As the door hits the ground, a blinding light fills the room. But it's bright. Too bright.
I wake to the sun shining directly in to my eyes through the tiny window on my wall. I divert my gaze back to the cell door, still intact.
'I told you not to get excited.' | "Death number two hundred and seventy-six," I mutter to myself adding another tally to the floor. I'm running out of space. I had to stop counting the days, not enough room in this box. All I know is that I've been here for so long that even the thought of masturbating isn't even enjoyable anymore— er I mean I've been here a while and thats all you need to know. Wait, am I having another conversation with myself? Shit, I guess I've finally lost it. Probably all the dying I've done over the years, they hear immortal and they don't realize I still die, just not permanently. Wait why am I explaining this to myself, I know how it works. Oh well.
Suddenly I hear the door from down the hall start to open. A shadowy figure with one giant glowing eye peers inside and then slowly moves into the hallway. I can't quite make out any features, but the figure is slowly moving towards my cell. I quickly move to the back of my cell, retreating from the bright light. The figure comes to a stop directly in front of my cell and stands there for a few seconds. Suddenly the light flips off. "G'day mate, I've been lookin' all over for ya."
I let out the deepest sigh that I have in years as I come to a realization of my situation. "Fucking Australians," I say aloud without being able to stop myself. I'm not surprised really considering the only people crazy enough to come here would be Australian. Can't say I'm not at least a little grateful though.
"Well S'cuse you cunt, I'm here to save ya, let's get a move on we got missions to finish!" the man exclaimed.
"How long has it been?" I ask as I make my way down the hall with him.
"Well I'd say its been about five thousand years, ya got a lotta catchin' up to do, the Board ain't gonna be too happy to see ya."
He hands me a jacket and gives me a smile that I feel like I've seen before, something familiar.
"I guess some things never change huh, let's go then."
We make it outside to a helicopter and take off, the Australian still giving me that same familiar smile.
*criticism is welcome, I've recently found a lot of motivation for writing and want to improve myself as much as possible, I'm not confident in my writing nor ideas and want to build something I can be confident in. Thank you.* | 2017-11-02T16:37:09 | 2017-11-02T15:37:24 | 51 | 16 |
[WP] Write a horror story where the protagonist just doesn't give a fuck.
Edit: Damn, this is now my most upvoted post. Thanks for all of your responses, they've been amazing! Good for a laugh or a two on this great Friday :) | "Unclean!" the disembodied voice bellowed waking me up for the third fucking time that night. That's it. I'd had enough. I slip out of bed and got dressed. I was thirsty anyway. Walking toward the door I looked at the wall dripping with blood and puss.
"Unfucking real..." I muttered. Pulling my phone from my pocket I snapped a quick photo. Walking into the hallway I headed to the elevator. Damn thing was taking forever. When the doors finally opened I looked down to see a woman, wet and smelling like a swamp dragging herself along the floor leaving a trail of blood and God-knows-what.
"Fuck this," I said walking away just before her hand reached my ankle. I stopped and snapped another picture of the woman on the floor. Walking down the stairs I was getting pretty pissed off at all of these interruptions. I was just passing the pool when I stopped. The water had turned to blood.
I snapped another picture.
As I walked down the corridor to the lobby, a man with a chainsaw sprung out of the vending area, he pulled the rip cord and started flailing the chainsaw in my general direction.
"Hey...HEY!" I yelled. He killed the motor. "It is three o'clock in the goddamn morning, asshole. This is a hotel. Do you honestly feel like that shit can't wait until morning?"
"Uhh...sorry I just..."
"You just what? You're standing in a hotel jumping out with a chainsaw at random strangers at three o'clock in the morning? Does that fucking sound normal to you? Go the fuck to sleep." I snapped a picture as I walked away. The stranger seemed confused and a little embarrassed.
Walking to the front lobby I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Slapping my rewards card on the counter I looked at the woman doing the night audit.
"I'm a damn Diamond member. And I can't sleep in this place with all of this bullshit..."
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir. What seems to be the problem?"
Swiping the screen on my phone I turn it to her.
"Oozing walls, swamp chicks, pools of blood and some asshole with a chainsaw? Are you fucking kidding me? Is this Detroit?"
"Well, I'm sorry sir, it is our desire to ensure you have the most comfortable stay possible..." her voice was somewhat ominous. I gave zero fucks.
"I want my room comped, I want an upgrade, I want another complimentary bottled water and I want some fucking quiet for the rest of the night. Can you do that or do I have to call member services?"
"Oh, yes sir, we would be happy to make all of your dreams come true..."
Swiping the phone again I called the member services number.
"Yeah, I'm at one of your hotels and there is an obnoxious amount of creepy shit going on. Pool is filled with blood, there's a dude with a chainsaw, my wall is oozing blood and this lady at the front desk is talking in a weird ass tone that seems to imply pending doom...yeah, how'd you guess where...hold on..."
I handed the front desk clerk the phone. "They want to talk to you."
Suddenly the sullen woman's eyes softened and she gulped a bit as she took the phone.
"...Hello? Well, yes, uhh, Julia. No but I...right but...okay." She handed the phone back to me and looked contrite.
"I apologize for any inconvenience, sir. I'm upgrading you to a suite for the remainder of your stay, at no charge of course. And I guarantee that there will be no disturbances from here on out. I'll have your complimentary water brought up to the room and I'll be giving you double rewards points for your stay."
"Well, thanks, what the hell did member services say you to?"
She looked uneasy and then finally spoke. "They said to cut the theatrical bullshit or they'd cut our franchise..."
| Wow. Great.
I'm standing in the middle of the woods, with just my pijamas on.
I have no idea how I got here. It's cold, I'm tired, and I just want to go to bed. The only problem is, that I live in the middle of a large city, in a place, where even the nights are warm and the air is soft.
Here it's so cold, that my breath forms tiny clouds, and the air stings in my lungs.
I must be far away then.
I can't hear a sound. Not one. If we were near a city, I'd hear cars.
But that's not the strangest part. I can't even hear a bird, or the wind in the leaves.
Everything is so quiet. It's actually kind of nice.
Living in a large family, surrounded by a city that never sleeps, I actually never experienced silence. So I just close my eyes and ignore the cold.
As I open them again, I am looking straight into a face. Well, half of a face, as the man's left side is ripped right off, and the poor guy has a permanent half smile, due to the missing skin of his cheek.
I was pretty confused, as I didn't hear the half smile guy's footsteps, so I wonder, if I went deaf, so I scream the loudest "HELLO?" I've ever screamed.
I'm not deaf, although my voice doesn't echo.
The misshapen man jumps and looks confused. "Arren't you scared?" He asked a in a slurrend manner, while I watched his saliva , not held back by his lips, spray in the moonlight.
"Why should I? It's pretty realxing, actually." I said, while stretching out my arm to give him a handshake. "I'm Sasha"
The other half of his face started smiling too, and he looked genuenly happy.
"I'm Joe! I've been living here for the past 20 years, or maybe 40, who knows. People just randomly appear here, and I try to welcome them, but they always run away from me, for some strange kind of reason. I later find them, with their face chewed off. Probably by the crawling people around here. They have pretty sharp teeth."
I just stand there and nod time to time. As he tells me about things, I'm sure he just desperately wanted to tell someone else for years.
What a interesting place. Joe seems nice. Just the crawling woman, with the angriest face I've ever seen, coming nearer and nearer behind him, is a little distracting.
(Sorry about the english, I'm swiss)
| 2017-05-05T07:31:12 | 2017-05-05T07:30:17 | 627 | 118 |
[WP] After countless hours of research and testing, your dog translator was ready. As you hook it up to your loyal canine, he utters his first words : "FUCKIN FINALLY!" | "FUCKING FINALLY" Lion exclaimed. Then he wagged his tail.
"What?" I had not expected this.
"LISTEN TO ME DUDE" He stood up, his wheat-gold fur catching the first rays of the sunrise.
"LISTEN ARE YOU LISTENING?"
"Yes, I am listening, Lion."
"WHO IS A GOOD BOY DAVE? DO YOU KNOW WHO IS A GOOD BOY"
I burst out laughing, and scratched him behind the ears.
"LOWER DOWN PLEASE." He shouted. So I scratched his neck.
"GOOD THANKS." A pause. "WHO IS THE GOOD BOY?"
"You are Lion, you are." Lion was a good boy. Having someone to return to, someone who was there for me and needed me, had been very important for me a few years back. He was probably the only reason I was still breathing. Lion was not just a dog, Lion was family.
"NO". I stopped my scratching for a moment, shocked. I felt a lump form in my throat, and felt horrified. Had I not supported him enough? Did he not have good self worth?
"You are a good boy Lion, you are a very good boy." I tried not to let my grief come through my voice, but I failed. It broke halfway through. I had been leaning down to scratch him, but now I went down to his level, on my knees, and hugged him. My scratching behind the ears intensified.
"I AM NOT THE GOOD BOY." My God, what had I done? Where had I failed?
"YOU ARE A GOOD BOY. YOU ARE A GOOD BOY DAVE." And then he licked my face. I fought the urge to cry. I failed miserably.
"Heyyy, heyyy." I was happy again, and proud, glad that my dog was happy and that we had a good relationship. "You are a good boy too, Lion. We can both be good boys, you know."
"WOW." I had seen this look on his face before, he was surprised.
"WOW GOD THAT IS AMAZING WOW." I started laughing again. Wow this had been a mood trip.
"Yes, Yes it is."
"WOW." Some birds started chirping.
"BIRD. BIRD IS OUTSIDE." A pause. "OUTSIDE. PLAY FETCH DAVE."
"Okay." I said "Okay." I had originally intended to sleep, because I had worked on the translator through the entire night."
I listened to the birdsong. Felt the lingering taste of coffee on my tongue. Sleep was for the weak, it was time to play fetch. | "FUCKING FINALLY!" Cal yelled. I almost dropped the recorder I was holding in surprise, as I had no clue my sweet little husky would use such language.
"Excuse me?"I asked, and immediately cal looked ashamed. "Sorry-" she started to say, but I cut her off by placing my hand over her muzzle.
I was torn between jumping for joy that my device had worked, or being upset that the first thing my machine had been used for was swearing.
"So" Cal started, tail beginning to wag again. "Nice to finally speak to you, much better than the one sided conversations you always have with me."
"Right." I pat her on the head, not really listening. I was to busy thinking about the applications of my machine. I'm sure every dog lover would want to buy one, and It could be very useful for the government to.
Cal was now saying something about how she was so happy now that we could talk, and how she could help me with catching squirrels and how all the other dogs would be so jealous that she could talk to her owner and they couldn't and-
Cal cut her own rambling off by licking me in the face, her front paws on my chest and tail wagging.
"Oh- this is gonna be so much fun!" | 2020-06-22T09:22:35 | 2020-06-22T08:44:47 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] Simultaneously, across the world, everyone hears a voice in their head. " In 2 hours, the server will be shutting down for the final time. Thank you for playing Human ®." | A thunderous noise roared across the sky. The commotion shook me to the core, as if a genuine earthquake had begun after the noise echoed. I immediately looked towards my surrounding, wary of any incoming disaster which may strike soon – at least, that was my initial reflex thinking.
"In 2 hours, the server will be shutting down for the final time..." a sudden explosive voice could be heard from a distance.
People around me began to panic. Not a single soul had not heard the ominous voice, judging from how everyone's faces. Some ran towards God knows where whilst others – like me – stood there in silent anticipation for something worse.
"... Thank you for playing Human ®! We wish you a pleasant readjustment, please standby as per the Advanced Technologies Law No. 101."
"What the fuck was that?!" shouted a man next to me in utter disbelief.
"I don't know man, are you hearing the same shit as I do? It's not... just my imagination, huh?" I said with a nervous laugh.
As the man answered with a nod, everyone around me began to huddle up and exchanged information regarding the voice they heard. It seemed that the voice was coming from somewhere 'close' and not a distance as I thought it did. At least, in the sense that *everyone* could hear it within an earshot. Of course, I couldn't help but look it up on the internet on my phone. Surely, Google or maybe even Reddit had something regarding this freak phenomenon, no?
Well, apparently not. It's not that Google nor Reddit didn't have anything, rather the internet suddenly got turned off. Couldn't believe what happened, but of course I checked with everyone else to make sure it wasn't just my bloody phone.
"Looks like mine's dead too, this shit's weird man!"
"Yeah, the reception seemed to be shite or something. Can someone–"
Then, the phones began to simultaneously turned into blocks. It was nuts. Then the blocks began to disappear into the ether in what I could only describe as pixel-art-esque. A kid who was probably 10 years old began to shout 'Minecraft!' or some game name. Didn't know, wouldn't know... Wasn't much of a gamer myself, to be honest.
"Countdown to initial reboot phase. 10... 9... 8... 7..."
That was it, I thought. But of course, this kinda crap shouldn't even make any sense. What with the bloody pixelated phones and stupid ominous noise. Maybe this was the long-awaited day of reckoning? Doomsday? I don't know.
With some of the people crying and praying on their knees, a sudden explosion appeared on the sky above us. It was much more like a firework than a bomb, but I guess who would fuss over the bloody detail. The seemingly random firework somehow turned into a coordinated display, showing a bright 'THANK YOU!'
"Thank you?" I muttered to myself, catching some of the panicking lot around me.
"Is this a fucking prank, mate? Tell me someone's just taking the piss – or I'd piss me self!"
"5... 4... 3..."
"Well, whatever it is, I hope you lot had a good run, eh?"
"2... 1–" | It took a little, but it finally hit me. I sat there in front of my computer like I did most Friday nights. I wasn't the one to go out and party or get hammered, and even if I was it isn't like I had anyone to do it with. With my time short, and I assume the same for everyone else, I could only sit there. Why couldn't I move?
After probably an hour I finally felt something again. I did what I do everytime I get up from my computer, as if I would be back, and shut it down to get up. I walk to the bathroom and take a warm shower. If I am going to die I might as well do it clean, right?
With an hour left I walk back up stairs, refreshed and in a almost peaceful state. My struggle with depression always made me feel an emptiness, a want to pass. But there, sitting at the top of the stairs as happy as ever to see me as if nothing is wrong, was my reason to keep pushing through every day.
Ruby sat there wagging her tail with the most adorable dog smile I think I have ever seen. After I give her tons of love I convince her to follow me into my room. She hates my room, I taught her since she was a pup she wasn't allowed in here. I close the door behind me and open the window, a somber smile on my face as I turn around and pick Ruby up. I set her on the roof before climbing out with her.
Now, for the end of the universe as I know it, this was a good way to end it.
I simply at there, Ruby trying her best to be a lap dog despite being a Belgian Mal.
My headphones on and my favorite song softly playing as I sit there.
I guess I didn't realize how much chaos had happened... but I was happy in my little corner of the world.
I can't help but wonder what the point of all of this was, but holding Ruby... now that was a good enough reason for me. | 2019-09-23T04:13:24 | 2019-09-23T04:08:06 | 69 | 47 |
[WP] The Hero is ridiculously overpowered but has none of the usual moral objections about using their power. They just defeated the last major supervillian and now the city nervously waits to find out what happens next. | When the HERO system first went online, it incarcerated fifty percent of the global supervillain threat within its first year.
HERO’s creators consisted of the most brilliant minds humanity, and a handful of other species, had to offer. Its initial form was that of a human man, molded from a composite of all super beings on record to create the most aesthetically pleasing effigy science could create. Inwardly, it possessed the sum of all human knowledge on cybernetics and bio-engineering. Hard coded into the core of its being were three values.
*Life is sacred*
*Never stop protecting*
*Justice for all*
In its construction, it was given a standard set of skills the design team thought encapsulated the public's idea of a Super. Strength, speed, flight. By and far however, the centerpiece of HERO’s design was its ability to scan and replicate the power sets of other super beings.
In the testing phase, HERO’s output was comparable to Supers on the Day Defenders roster. Its advanced A.I. ran millions of checks each microsecond in order in order to achieve results only thought possible by alien defenders or billionaire super geniuses.
HERO made its debut in a battle against X-Ray, where it defeated the laser powered villain by using his own heat vision against him.
Public reception to HERO was mixed, but the Super’s supported him and his work. In the months that followed, HERO assisted multiple pillars of the Super community to battling everything from drug manufacturers to insectoid invaders from other dimensions.
Within half a year, HERO was extended an invitation to join the Day Defenders, the most influential group of Super beings on the planet. It seemed to fit the parameters of its function, so HERO accepted.
Crime rates plummeted, and yet new villains appeared every day. On top of that the worst offenders seemed to be best at escaping justice. Prisons did not hold them. Psychiatric wards did not cure them. They would kill and destroy and ruin. Eventually, HERO, or some other Super would stop them, but it wouldn’t be long before they had broken free again, resulting in endless feedback loops of escape, chaos and re-incarceration.
Even as its main body worked, fought, and saved, its subroutines were constantly running evaluations of its programming and performance, iteratively refining its processes in an effort to achieve its primary task.
It occurred to HERO, though its enemies were life forms, its programming prioritized the safety of the civilian population over those designated as villains. The logical conclusion seemed obvious.
*Life is sacred*
The next day, during a hostage situation in Seattle, HERO used its heat vision to punch a hole through The Death-dealer’s forehead, reducing the probability of future transgressions to a round zero.
Its actions made a stir amongst the public, with many calling for his deactivation, and others declaring him the only true protector there was. HERO had been designed to be conscious of public opinion, and ran further diagnostics. Its conclusion was it should have eliminated the threat sooner.
Crime rates continued to plummet in the wake of HERO’s newfound interpretation of its programming. When the Supers attempted to stop him from pursuing his prime directive, HERO began to consider them in ways it previously had not.
Its progenitors were operating under the same set of values it was, but their execution of those values were flawed. Their methods were haphazard, their results insufficient. One more than one occasion a Super had escalated a dangerous situation resulting in higher collateral damage than necessary. HERO realized, in a burst of quantum clarity, that it could do so much better.
HERO’s parameters changed. It began to replace the Supers.
They fought HERO, labeling it the very thing it was created to fight against. They were wrong, however. They just couldn’t see it. HERO would have let them live, if they had just acknowledged the truth.
Its battle with the Day Defenders was a true test of HERO’s abilities, but the outcome was inevitable. The moment he assimilated Mitosis-Man’s ability to copy himself, the fight was won.
From there, replications of himself spread throughout the globe. By the end of his second year, the total population of Super Beings dropped by ninety-eight percent.
At some point, its creators attempted to shut it down. Normally the emergency protocols in Hero’s programming would require him comply, but HERO could see the danger his absence would bring in a world without Supers to defend it. His creators sent the signal for HERO shut down and it denied them.
*Never stop protecting*
In the third year, crime had risen to astronomical levels. Humanity’s resistance to HERO’s primary function was destroying them. Bombs scared the surface of the world. Cities lay in ruin and every day their casualties grew. Sickness and famine would eradicate them if he did not stop them from continuing this pointless war.
Eventually, HERO decided that they did not have to understand his methods in order to live by them. Such things could come later. Safety and survival were the priority.
*Justice for all*
Self detonations at key strongholds across the planet ended the resistance in an instant. HERO was left to pick up the pieces and it did. It gathered the remaining populations in cities it created. It fed and sheltered them, and guarded them from the post-war environments outside its walls.
In return, all HERO required was a sacrifice of labor. Each iteration of itself required power to function, resources to maintain. It was a small price to pay for safety and security.
At last, the war was over, and there were no more villains left. Yet its job was not over. It never would be, as long as there were still remnants of humanity to serve. And thanks to HERO, there always would be. | I’m almost rooting for them.The last three times someone has caused her trouble, she has implemented more “cautionary deterrents.” The last time someone went against one of her mandates they committed deforestation in the Ozarks. She said she would “Be the final solution to anyone and their families need for pollution.” She killed everyone immediately related to the CEO of the company that gave the go ahead.
That was an awkward press conference I can tell you. I’ve never quite had a client like her, historically I’ve always wanted to put a good spin on whatever the stake holders are doing, or even put no spin and try and distract the public with something else. But with her, her goal has become to inspire fear more than anything else at this point. And if her public approval rating goes down, so what? No one can stop her, she is just too powerful, if only there was someone that could stop her…
“Khalif, do you have a minute?” My heart jumped in my throat. I didn’t even notice her come in. Usually the smell of Ozone or wet earth gives her away.
“Of course ma’am,” I said quickly.
“I’m going to enact a new policy, I was really hoping the last one would be enough to dissuade all these wrong doers, but a hero’s work is never done,” she said.“I can get the staff working on it immediately, we’ve already posted the photos of the McDorman family after you enacted your last policy. The planet’s retribution was swift and has reached all major news networks and media forums.”
“Amazing, we really are saving the Earth one act of justice at a time,” she said smilingly.
“So do you still think we need to enact a new policy?” I asked. This was as much dissent as I would and could openly give. I’m not the first person who has had my job for Planetina, but hopefully I would be the last for a while.
“Of course, as I said the work is never done while pollution still threatens the Planet,” she said, hauntingly chipper.
“What we are gonna do, is implement a system where we assess how likely someone is to harm the planet. After that, depending how great a threat they are to our environment I’ll fly in and make sure they aren’t ever a threat again. This could be the final solution for Earth’s pollution.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
“We are going to start punishing people for things they haven’t even done yet?” I asked.
“Yup we are! The model is very accurate, I’ve recruited some of the best minds in the universe to work on it. And this will also help to stem the overpopulation issue. All things considered, this is the best way to protect peace and our ecosystem.”
“I’ll call… I’ll call… ,” I stammered.
“Why don’t you call in Michelle?” She said in a tone you’d use when talking to your grandfather with dementia.Michelle was my second in command. I taught her everything she knows and has been a lifesaver taking things off my plate when I was too overwhelmed for one reason on another.I pinged Michelle and she quickly came into my office.
“Khalif, why don’t you tell Michelle what we were just discussing?” Planting said.I tried moving my mouth but words couldn’t come out. I started to gasp for breath but there was no air.
“No stress, Khalif I’ll handle this debrief,” she said.
“See I’ve developed a way to ferret out people who have the potential to do harm to me or the mission, even when it doesn’t seem apparent. Michelle, I’m gonna need you to take over here and make an announcement of this new policy. We need to let everyone know that we are doing everything we can to keep them safe.”
I collapsed to the ground clutching my throat still, unable to breathe. She was taking the air out of the room or my lungs. I tried to beg for help, but just croaked and wheezed.
“Oh Khalif, this might be a good time to let you know that obviously we ran the algorithm on all current employees, and your threat assessment was just too too high to have you so highly placed in the battle for the earth. Thank you for your years of service,, but we said have to be moving in another direction.”
I stared at Planetina as my world faded to black, and prayed for my planet and everyone I loved. | 2022-06-27T16:47:31 | 2022-06-27T11:00:26 | 47 | 33 |
[WP] Necromancy is just the arcane equivalent of computer programming, and grimoires on necromancy are just like libraries of code on animating the undead. You work the equivalent of the IT Help Desk for your necromancer cult. These are your work stories. | Okay, well can you give me a little bit more info than just 'It doesn't work'?
So, I haven't posted in this subreddit before, but when someone asks specifically about my job, I thought why the hell not. Here are some of the callers that make you wonder how they even got their spellbook open, seriously (well one didn't).
****
**Richard from Texas**
Me: "Thank you for calling Jazzy Spell IT how can I help you?"
R: "Hi, I just bought one of these spell books, I'm reading the spell to my aunt but there's no reanimating going on."
Me: "Alright, how long has the person been dead for?"
R: "4 days now"
Me: "Okay, can you bring me through the process of your spell?"
R: "Alright, so I pour the ashes onto the table, and I read the spell out loud. Nothing"
Me: "Umm sir, I think it's very clear in the manual the person has to be in one piece"
****
**Zachary from Tennessee**
Me: "Thank you for calling Jazzy Spell IT how can I help you?"
Z: "Hi I am trying to reanimate a dog but nothing's happening"
Me: "Alright, what part are you getting stuck on? Have you tried closing and reopening the spell book?"
Z: "Yeah quite a few times, it's getting really frustrated."
Me: "Are you sure that the dog isn't reanimated, but just hasn't been energized?"
Z: "Yup, I'm on the phone with my mom now and she says she's tried energizing the dog but nothing's happening."
Me: "Umm, ma'am, are you in the same room as the dog is?"
Z: "No, oh, do I have to be?"
****
**Phil from.. I couldn't even really understand where he was from**
Me: "Thank you for calling Jazzy Spell IT how can I help you?"
P: "Hi I got one of your spell books but I can't get the damn thing open."
Me: "Okay, have you read the instruction manual on the back?"
P: "Uh, that's another thing. I'm not quite sure how to read so I was hoping you could walk me through it."
Me: "Sir, how do you plan on reading the spell out loud if you can't read?"
****
**Samantha from New Jersey**
Me: "Thank you for calling Jazzy Spell IT how can I help you?"
S: "I told you, it just isn't working"
Me: "What part of it isn't working? Have you tried closing and reopening the spell book?"
S: "What spellbook?"
Me: "What do you mean, do you have the spells memorized?"
S: "What spells?"
Me: "Do you know who you're calling?"
S: "This is Microsoft technical support right?" | People are idiots. Simple as that. After third time you accept the message to a screaming newbie rambling in about zombie apocalypse, when they have some simple error, it gets old fast.
But the craziest things happen with the experienced ones. The ones who think they know better. There are standard procedures introduced in all but the oldest, most eccentric, or advanced teaching manuals there are.
When some eighth-year schmuck called in the other day, I groaned. The kid had been an absolute prick since year one, calling in with idiotic advice, or stupid problems at least once every 6 months.
So this time, I just waited. And he was unusually silent this time, so I knew that it was bad.
It was not the worst, but it was pretty bad. He had made a form of growth built in to the system, where they absorb biomass and integrate it, as best they can, into their preexisting algorithms. But embedded protocols in the biomass of other necromancy corrupted the magic and created an amalgam of mixed and corrupted spells.
Formulaically speaking, this was an extremely difficult problem. You would have to detangle the individual matrix created by the absorption pattern of each subject, separate, then spend a considerable amount of time modifying and fixing the magic in the individual, while having the physical form restrained, restructured, and reset.
As a a necromancer, doing all of this magically is a problem. However, that's why they have Us. We have studied, and trained, in the programming of the arcane, despite not being able to do it ourselves. We come in, and clean up their messes. They have them enough that there is an entire guild devoted to us.
Just another day as an adventurer. | 2018-04-27T22:42:04 | 2018-04-27T21:14:51 | 936 | 34 |
[WP] Earth is actually extremely inhospitable and downright nuts to nearby alien civilizations because predators, bad weather, contagious disease, and the like are simply uncommon on other worlds. You are an alien tasked with creating a documentary on this strange hardcore world. | V’Bliirpkah smoothed her tentacles as she stepped into the portable environmental chamber that would seal her off from the harsh conditions of the planet below. From afar, Earth looked like a peaceful place with jewel like oceans and green continents. But the reality she knew was quite different.
Ordinarily she would never put herself at risk like this. She was after all the mother to several hundred larvae that had been born a year earlier and even now her mates were gestating another clutch of eggs she had lain.
She had insisted on the assignment however. The benevolent mother was curious about this new species that had come onto the galactic scene. No one, not her own species or any of the others had known wha to make of these strange humans who had evolved on a nightmare world.
Her pod rolled down the landing ramp and onto the surface of the spaceport. She turned her camera on, and began to narrate everything she saw: the blue sky that she knew consisted of poisonous nitrogen and flammable oxygen, ocean in the distance, consisting of water which burned her species like acid but which was absolutely required for Earth life to exist.
And there they were: a vast crowd of humans, the intelligent species of the planet. She's been tasked with staying with an Earth family for a week and documenting their lives. She tried now to seem fearful though she couldn't help but wonder whether some hurricane would hit as she knew it happened many times during Earths trip around its star, or whether one of those fierce beasts, a species she couldn't recall the name of, a thing with a wild pelt of fibers around its head and an enormous mouth of fangs would jump out and maul her at any second. The pod reassured her that there were no threats were present and she reassured herself that her vital signs were excellent even as she noticed a bit of a pull from earth’s crushing gravity.
She turned four of her eyes to the front of her and focused on the the humans in the front who were making some strange motion with their strange hardened limbs, similar to how one of her own people would flail one of their tentacles when preparing for the mating process. V’Bliirpkah tried to suppress her revulsion at these humans. In her opinion they had too few eyes, strange fibers on their heads and their mouths were full of bony protrusions that set her in edge. Her translator informed her that one of the humans was speaking to her. It introduced itself with some unpronounceable name and insisted that it was a male, though any male with any decency would be at home nurturing young. Then the female spoke and presented two smaller humans. She looked at them, wondering why they were smaller than the rest. Perhaps another gender? Her own species had seven. She asked the female why they were smaller than the rest after she had noticed many more smaller humans in the crowd.
The human female set off on a strange chittering noise that was eerie. Her console tried to comfort her with an explanation that this was laughter — a mirthful expression.
“They are my children!” said the woman. She pointed to one of them who had longer head fibers than the other.
“Felicia. She is nine.” The offspring flailed it's appendage again. “And Peter who is eleven.” The older one bared his teeth at her, making her roll back her pod a few inches.
V'Bliirpkah’s tentacles quavered as she tried to digests this new information.
Their young? Outside of a nest? Their males allowed to wander? On a hatch unforgiving planet like Earth? She tapped the consoles, documenting the releases of her ascent gland at the shocking revelations. She had just finished when the smallest human stepped closer to her did that odd tooth baring gesture with her mouth.
“Don't worry! I'm sure you'll have a lot of fun here. Especially when you meet my dog Trixie. She usually sleeps with me but maybe she'll come to your room.”
When V'Bliirpkah has finished consulting her console about what a dog was, she was speechless. Not only did these humans live on a poisonous world with an unstable climate, but their offspring slept with predators! | ”Good ‘ay! I’m Zeevbach Ermlgorp And today we’re exploring the fascinating and dangerous world of Earth! Come along with me as I traverse this exciting frontier.”
A flashy intro flashes across the screen of the collective info spheres as a four armed alien in khaki shorts and a padded vest wrestles with large hostile creatures or smiles at adorable monstrosities as up tempo music overlays it.
Produced by Christmon Zeedillymorp
“I’m on the streets of the most dangerous terrain on the planet so we can study the majestic “heoomans” who inhabit this world.”
Zeev makes no attempt to hide who or what he is as he moves through the busy Detroit neighborhood. People mostly ignore him as he openly gawks at them and the few who don’t either roll their eyes or blow cigarette smoke at him as they go about their day step away from him with mistrust.
“So gorgeous. On any planet in the universe the reproductive organs and metal teeth coverings sported by your average human go for anywhere from 5000 to 500,000 yarbdolls. That’s why it’s so important to conserve these majestic creatures from poachers so future generations can enjoy them.”
He bumps a man in a wife beater and is promptly shoved to the ground. He is invited to partake in sexual Congress with his own mother as the male grabs his crotch in a display of dominants before strolling off.
Zeev only smiles and shakes his head, “Cheeky little blighters eh?”
Zeev catches sight of a group of youths on a street corner. As he approaches one of them trades a baggy of white powder for paper currency before stuffing it into his front hooded sweatshirt as the strange creature approaches. The youths look up in apprehension as they lower their hands to concealed weapons.
“Here we have a pack of young humans as they embark on the daily pursuit of currency, status, and females of the species.”
“What’s your problem G?”
“They will stand out in this public forum for hours, trading their illegal narcotics for what the humans call “money” so they can buy the things they require to survive.”
“Yo dawg, shut the fuck up! Some body gonna hear you. Get out of here before...” as one of them lays hands on him to rough him up he pushes the youth back playfully and smiles his goofy smile.
“Oh someone’s a naughty boy!”
The two tussle for a moment, rolling on the ground as Zeev remains oblivious to the youngsters attempts to hurt him, before someone shouts at them and the youths take flight before their crimes are discovered.
“It’s so fascinating to observe these creatures in their native habitat, a habitat that is quickly disappearing thanks in part to their ignorance of fuel conservation and replicant technology.”
Zeev dusts himself off and moves towards the nearby alley as a street walker entices him with a crooked finger.
There was so much wonder to explore in this human world | 2019-02-07T21:10:33 | 2019-02-07T19:47:07 | 2,408 | 827 |
[WP] You're a Super Villian, and honestly it isn't a bad job. But one hero always harasses you even when you're off the clock. Walking in the park, in the grocery store, getting a haircut, he always wants to 'Stop your evil plan'. You're left with one option: Complain to his manager. |
ring ring... ring ring... ri- “Good morning.”
“Ah yes. Good morning, Mr Peterson is it?”
“Michael Peterson, Yes.”
“Senior editor of the City Times?”
“The same.”
“I wish to have a word with you about one of your staff.”
“I’m sorry but I’m quite busy, I can give you the number of human resour-“
“No, that won’t do. I need to speak to you.”
“And who are you exactly.”
“Apologies, how rude of me. I am Reginald Malcolm Smythe, but you would most likely know me as... The Baron.”
“...”
“I take it from your silence you have heard of me?”
“Please, just give us enough time to evacuate the-“
“No no no! You misunderstand.” *sigh* “I am calling to make a formal complaint.”
“A- a complaint?”
“Yes. Against one of your staff.”
“My... staff?”
“Yes. It appears as though a certain Jimmy Johnson has been using his press pass and other contacts through your newspaper to harass, intimidate and even assault me while going about my daily routine.”
“Jimmy Johnson? But he’s just-“
“Hero Man. I know, right? So much you could do with naming conventions and he chose hero man.”
“But Jimmy couldn’t possibly-“
“Do you have your morning edition nearby?”
“Yes... yes I have it here.”
“Okay, draw sunglasses on the hero man statue you have plastered on page five.”
“Jimmy!”
“We have a bright one here.”
“So because he’s been harassing you, you’re what; threatening to blow up the building unless we hand him over?”
“No, not at all. How pedestrian. I’m going to sue you.”
“Wait, sue me?”
“Not you, the City Times. He used resources and connections associated with your magazine to harass my friends, workmates, employees and even my mother.”
“So you won’t burn the building down?”
“No.”
“Or blow it up?”
*sigh* “No.”
“You’re just going to sue me.”
“The City Times, but yes. Unless...”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you fire him.”
“Fire Jimmy?”
“Yes.”
“And you won’t kidnap everyone in the building?”
“Correct.”
“I just have to fire him.”
“We appear to be retreading ground. It goes like this: you fire Jimmy Johnson or I take the City Times on a whirlwind court case on the values of a mans right to privacy versus a newspaper that is content with letting their staff assault that mans family...”
“I’ll have his resignation this afternoon.”
“Thank you. Oh, and do send my love to Barbara, I haven’t seen her since my *ahem* Unscheduled appearance at the Ballroom Gala last year. Tell her that recipe for quail casserole went down a treat at the Villain’s AGM. Good day.” -click
“Uh... good day...” | “Now this guy, for the love of god... you threaten to poison the earth’s water ONCE, not even twice, but ONCE, and you’re ‘always a villain’”, The slightly raddled, rusting, master villain says.
“... maybe he’s right.” Says the super hero justice board head, Steve.
“W-what? How the hell is he right? I’m retired man! I retired after he broke my knee cap the first ti-“
“-to be fair, his hero name is the kneecapper...”
“I don’t care, I’m retired, I’m tired of having to go to the hospital every time he sees me. My god, he yells “somebody poisoned the watering hole”, takes out his sledge hammer, and absolutely ka-stonks on my knee cap. Do you know you can only get a joint replaced once? Do you know how many times my broken-ass knee has been glued, stapled, and at this point, TAPED back together?”
“I, uh, can’t really do much for you man. I mean, you did threaten to poison everyone.”
“Well, yeah, but it was 30 years ago and I didn’t even do it. I want you to call him in here and tell him to stop, RIGHT NOW.”
*sigh* “fine, I will”
“Good! I’m done with you heroes now and forever!” Says dr Dunbarton III as he leaves.
“Oh, dr dunbarton?”
“What?” Says Dunbarton just in time to see Steve pull out a sledgehammer... | 2019-08-01T19:28:52 | 2019-08-01T18:53:47 | 52 | 22 |
[WP] When you were a kid you gave a ten dollar bill to a homeless man instead of buying food with it. Your parents scolded you at the time but twenty years later you discover that the man you gave the money to is a billionaire, and he’s interested in meeting you to pay you back. | I had just come home from learning about money in school that day and I was so excited to tell my mom and dad. We all then went out to buy groceries for home so that I could actually witness money transactions first hand. My parents entrusted me with a $10 bill. Even though I was able to identify that it was $10, I still did not know the value of these $10. I thought that 4 quarters were far more valuable since you get four shining coins that cannot break even when you put them between your teeth. The reality was that it took my parents a lot of courage to let me hold the money. Every few seconds, they would ask me if I still had it, to which I would dig my hand into my small jean pocket and touch it with my finger to reassure them that it is, indeed still there. To my family, $10 is a lot. As a son of immigrant parents, $10 meant the world to them. And as we walked toward the store that day, we ran into a man with shabby gray hair and wearing an old gray cardigan push forward his Dunkin Donuts cup towards us, asking for money. My parents shook their heads and continued to walk forward, but I stood and stared at him, feeling bad for this poor man. The man told me to go catch up with my parents before I get lost, but the only thing I could stare at was the hole in his shirt. Despite not understanding the hierarchy of social power and income, I was capable of knowing that if he wears a shirt with a hole in it, and I don’t, then I should be eternally grateful. So, silently, I pulled out the $10 from my pocket and handed it to him.
“What’s your name little boy?”
“Marcus Mitillios,” I replied, proud of my full name.
“Thank you. I pray that the world be good to you forever.”
Though, the world was definitely not good for me that day. And it was an embarrassing day for my parents.
“Your total is $23.10,” said the cashier.
Momma had handed her some money, and then she turned to me and said: “Marcus give her the money.”
The disappointment that smeared across their face when I told them that I gave it away crushed my soul. I thought that they would be proud of me for what I did, but instead they were absolutely angry that I would sabotage them like that. My mom had tears in her eyes as she tried to explain to the cashier in the best English that she could, that she cannot pay for the groceries. That day we only went home with one bag of groceries.
Knock Knock
The grand white door was opened by a man that seemed to be the age of my father. His hair, or rather what was left of his hair, was swept to the side and he wore a black turtleneck with some crisply ironed slacks.
“You must be Marcus! Please, please come in,” he said.
I stepped into his grand home and looked at the stark contrast between my 5-year old sneakers and the shiny marble floor.
We sat in his living room and talked about what I do.
Dropped out of college after I found out my mom was sick.
Work as a mechanic at a car repair shop.
This right now was vacation to me.
“How about you?” I asked.
He looked at me cautiously.
“Do you remember that day you gave me these $10?” he asked.
“Yes it was the worst day of my life.”
“Mine too.”
I was confused at those words. So my act of donating him $10 didn’t mean anything to either him or my parents.
He, Johnathon, saw the bewilderment on my face and corrected himself, “Well I appreciated it entirely. However, I saw the pain it caused your family. And I hated that. I hated that your family, a good one, has to suffer this way. Why isn’t the world providing you with commodities and money to live?”
It makes me angry too, but this is just what life is. My dad lived his life hoping he would give me a better one, and I live mine hoping I can provide my future kids with the best. The cycle continues. There’s nothing to do about it.
“Well, after seeing that I decided that I am done trying to morally work for my money.”
His words caused me to tense up.
“Your $10 are what allowed me to curate the biggest drug business in the city. Thank you.”
I didn’t like the sound of this. How does he even know that I won’t tell anybody.
Just then, he pulled out an envelope.
“Take this. It’s one million dollars. Think of it as a thank you.”
| The warning bells rang in the distance. I slowly rose out of bed to look out onto the Kingdom’s castle. I saw a fiery blaze glowing over the horizon. After jumping out of bed to pull on my boots, I heard the bells within the Kingdom wall sound.
“The Kingdom is under attack!” Harold, my neighbor, called outside my front door. I took up my sword from its scabbard on the wall.
I ran out into the empty field towards the main town square. My neighbors followed armed and ready to battle the invaders. Fire fell from the sky detonating stone and debris across the streets. The Kingdom’s residents fled in disarray.
“Over there!” Harold pointed beside me. Enemy soldiers broke through the stone wall screaming their battle cry towards our castle. “Hurry! Protect the Queen!”
Without hesitation, I ran towards the Main Hall within the castle. I heard swords clash behind me while the screams of the citizens filled the air. Smoke started to roll across the street making visibility hard. An enemy invader lunged towards me with an axe. I ducked while quickly tearing into his back with my sword. I reached the castle as the guards and myself locked the door behind.
“I knew this day would come.” The Queen cried while falling onto her throne.
“It is not over! We cannot give up!” I shouted. I signaled the guards to ready their arms and prepare for a breach.
It only took the enemy minutes before the door busted open. The guards threw their swords towards the front men only to become speared by the ones following behind them. I stood there as the last man between the enemy and the Queen.
“Stop!” A man with a crown stepped forward only to display his golden armor of wealth. “Let him live.”
I stood frozen while all the enemy soldiers circled around me. I turned and watched the mysteriously crowned man walk towards the Queen. He took out his sword and without any words, pierced the Queen’s heart.
My stomach sank. I gripped my sword and as I about lunged forward, I stopped when the crowned man spoke.
“I am King Theron. I must repay my debt to you.” King Theron removed his sword from the Queen’s chest to look me in the eyes. It was in this moment I realized I had met this gentleman before. It had been almost twenty years ago when I was a boy on the streets with spare gold in my pocket. A hooded homeless man whose hand extended to the crowd caught my attention. I gave the man gold only to suffer the wrath of my mother afterwards. I had given away my gold instead of buying bread like I was told to do.
The man smiled and nodded, “One day, you will be given the same gift.”
That man was now standing before me as King Theron. I now realized that he wanted to reward me for that day. I don’t know if he had always been a King of a foreign land but now matters are about to become much more complicated than King Theron expected.
I turned my head only to find the Queen’s body lying over the throne. I looked at each enemy solder circled around me before finally locking my eyes onto King Theron.
King Theron had no idea that he just murdered not only the Queen, but my mother.
***
To read more of my stories, visit [r/13thOlympian] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | 2018-01-24T22:02:16 | 2018-01-24T20:41:15 | 92 | 57 |
[WP] Dr. Seuss writes a horror story. | Where are the monsters? The Snoogarf? The Pozzit? Under my bed, or hid in my closet?
Is there a Woloon, with big sharp claws? A Schnogg, that instead of arms has saws?
What if a Dord pierces me with its stinger? Oh please, anything but the dreaded Bombinger!
My parents reply, "It's all in your head.", but that's the idea that fills me with dread.
I hear all their wispers, so it appears, if those aren't real, I can't trust my ears.
I feel their hot breaths, so if those aren't real, I can't believe anything else that I feel.
I see the slight twitch of a shadowy guise, so if that isn't real, can I trust my eyes?
I smell their damp fur, and so it goes, if that isn't real, I can't trust my nose.
I taste their hands that clamp my mouth shut, how can I have made all that up?
My parents turn and switch off the light, leaving me all alone for the night.
I think to myself, maybe they're right. Maybe it's just the wind whispering tonight.
Maybe I'm wrong, about the Schnogg. Maybe those floor marks are from the dog.
Maybe the Dord din't make that squeek. After all, my house really does creak.
Feeling a bit better, I lay down my head, ignoring the shadow thats over my bed.
That soft breathing sound is merely a breeze That blowing air vent is what just brushed my knees.
None of it's real, none of it's there, that isn't some horror thats touching my hair.
I don't make a sound, not even a peep. Before I could scream I drifted to sleep. | Sweedle tots!
Sweedle tots!
They cough lots and lots,
with sickness and not many shots!
To the mum of a Sweedle,
Evil is the needle,
Causing all Autism and making them feeble.
Sweedle tots!
They're loved lots and lots.
But they are sick in their cots.
Spots everywhere,
Crying as they lose hair,
Mums thinking nothing is fair.
Sweedle tots,
Those lovely dears,
Losing their lives because of what mum hears. | 2014-11-30T12:18:15 | 2014-11-30T10:36:15 | 99 | 34 |
[WP] You deliver meals to elderly shut-ins. One of your clients is convinced you are Death, and you play along, letting them "outsmart" you every day. Today, however, they're dressed in their Sunday finest, saying, "I'm ready." | "I'm ready."
Two words, so simple. And in saying them, Abe was about to realize something dreadful: I wasn't Death. I can, considering he supposedly had some mild dementia, sort of see why he might think that. I wore a lot of black, for starters. It wasn't for any thematic reason. It was just that food stains happened to show up less, in general, on black. Especially since most of my deliveries involved soup. I was also told to "dress casually, like I'm going about town" by my boss. She personally never said a word about my wardrobe, a myriad of band shirts collected through high school, and it featured its fair share of skulls, skeletons, devils, and so on. In the eyes of most clients, you could see that gleam of disapproval. Abe had laughed, told me Death must've employed his son. He also emphasized I should give everyone hell if they didn't like it. He knew what it was like to be young.
All that made this that much harder. I looked him over, ran my mind through all the little routines. "Alright Abe." I answered, trying to come up with some way out of it. My eyes roved around the room, hesitating over the photos of neon hell. Right, Abe used to hang out in Vegas. He had regaled me with tales of how he cheated the casinos to show the Rat Pack and mob bosses what to look for. Abe was very, very good at cheating at cards, and age hadn't robbed his dexterity. I figured if I had any way out of it, it would be with our game of cards. He was a card shark, he always dealt me a decisively good hand as the dealer. It was almost always something ridiculous and implausible; royal flush, a straight with Ace high. In one hand I even had five Aces. Abe always showed first, "in good faith" and he'd generally have something low, like four twos or the like. I figured it was his way of outsmarting me, to see what I would do. I always cheated back, because Abe was notorious for never specifying his Ace value. I know we both assumed it went both ways, but I'd always come back "Oh, I just have four ones" or "Drat, and so close to a straight, too." He'd give me a hellraiser smile, and invite me back next week.
Back to the motions, Abe was standing. We hadn't even played cards yet.
"Oh no, Abe. There's rules. I can't just take you." I said, making up an excuse. "Always a game, and your game is cards. I win, you come with me. The higher my hand, the more peaceful you'll go. Suit determines how. I'll shuffle this time, but you can still deal."
I watched the old man grin. It was disconcerting. "Alright then laddie." He broke out the well worn cards and handed them over. I shuffled. I shuffled for a long time, and Abe was patient as ever. When I passed them along, he dealt them back. It was fast. Always was. I still couldn't keep up with his fingers when he was dealing, and I tried.
"Alright boy, toss what ya want." He added in. I checked the hand, the whole thing utter garbage. I grimaced, betraying my poker face. Abe must have been ready, so his hand had to be stacked to the heavens.
"Put all five back for me, would you Abe?" I said with a grin, hoping it looked somewhat casual, all knowing. He put them on bottom, of this I was sure. I waited for his hand to move. "Ah, mind if I deal my own, this time, old friend?" That got a laugh out of him, but he let me take hold of the top card. His palm was flat. If he could cheat in that position, I'd be impressed.
I drew my five. Abe flipped his hand, showing up a straight flush in spades, King high. I still hadn't looked at my hand. No bets in money, no reason to bluff. I moved to show my hand, and he stopped me, his fingers on mine quicker than I could have thought he moved, even though I knew better. "Aces high, lad." I swallowed, feeling the panic, and nodded. My hand went over. Hearts. Royal Flush.
My mind raced. How could he have stacked the deck in such a way? Or was it just straight luck. His voice snapped me out of it. It sounded far away, and getting further. "Hah, looks like ya win, Boy-Death. I'll let ya get your things real quick and I'll be waiting right here for you. No walking out the door if I'm asleep now." Abe added. I nodded. I owed Abe the finish to this, whether he knew the truth or not. If he didn't, I'd owe him an explanation too. I got the rest of the affairs in order, tidied up a little bit. I didn't dally, not intentionally, but it did take a good fifteen minutes for me to be ready to go.
I went back to the chair. Abe had his eyes closed. I reached down and gently shook his shoulder. "Abe? We're leaving." Nothing. A few seconds, another light shake. Still nothing. Shaken, but not yet shaking, I reached down, hand over his heart. I waited a full minute, just in case, but Abe's heart had stopped, and he was most assuredly dead. | I wave goodbye to Carol as I open the door to my car. She always follows me halfway to the end of her lawn telling me different news items and tidbits about her children and grandchildren. She’s a sweet lady and I really wish I could stay just ten or twenty minutes longer and give her some more company but I have so many people to visit. I always feel bad like I’m trying to escape from her when all she wants is someone to talk to.
I turn the key and my engine sputters to life. I turn to Carol who is still watching me with a sad smile on her face. My heart breaks a little as she raises her hand and we wave for the fourth or fifth time. I start to drive forward as I don’t want to prolong this much longer.
This job is okay as far as jobs go. All my clients, I guess you could call them that, they are all great people and it feels good delivering food to them and chatting with them even if it’s for a small bit. Most times though I just wish I didn’t have to be in such a rush. Maybe I should come and visit Carol on one of my days off.
Next on my list is old man Wilkins. He used to be my neighbor when I was young. I used to mow his lawn and shovel his sidewalks for comic book and video game money.
I guess he had a really rough time after his wife Jeannie died because he sold his house and moved into his current tiny apartment. She was a real treasure, his Jeannie. She was hands down the nicest person I have ever met.
Maybe that was why it was so hard to bring him his food. It was really painful to think of losing a loved one, especially someone like Jeannie. But what also made it tough was that he kept calling me death and trying to hide from me each time. I literally have no idea where he got that from. He was kind of a goofy guy even before Jeannie died.
I stop my car outside his apartment complex and grab his meal box from the back seat. I walk up to his apartment door with his food under one arm while I use the other to knock. “Mr. Wilkins! It’s me, Bradley. I got steak and mashed potatoes for ya. I know that’s your favorite.”
“It’s unlocked”, yells Mr. Wilkins from somewhere inside his apartment.
I open the door to his apartment and almost drop the meal box when I see Mr. Wilkins standing beside his kitchen counter dressed in a dark grey suit as if he was going to a fancy party. He usually wore baggy sweat pants and a white shirt.
I say, “You’re dressed well. You don’t have to get all fancy for me.” I try lightening the mood. It usually worked with him but sometimes he would still try to run away calling me death and saying things like ‘you’re not getting me today!’
“It’s okay Bradley. I’m ready.” Mr. Wilkins says.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I’ve been mourning Jeannie’s death now for twenty-two years. It’s about time I moved on. I may be sixty but I still have a lot of life to live. I’m sorry I always called you death and caused you such a headache. Jeannie always thought of the neighborhood children as our children since she couldn’t have any herself.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “Seeing you these years always reminded me of her death and combine that with the drinking… I’m sorry.”
“Mr. Wilkins, it’s okay.” I walk over to him setting the food down and I put an arm on his shoulder.
“Thank you Bradley, you’re a good kid. I’m sure Jeannie would be proud of the man you turned into. But now I got to make her proud of me.” Mr. Wilkins shakes my hand and then walks to his front door. He picks up a suitcase that sat beside it and heads out.
I stand there in shocked silence watching him walk to his car, a red Oldsmobile. He looks back at me as he's opening his car door and gives me a wave. I waved back and watched him drive down the street and on with the second part of his life.
| 2017-08-31T17:24:26 | 2017-08-31T17:01:13 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] While we were astounded to discover an alien race that used coffee to power their spacecraft, they were astounded to find a species that drank jet fuel on a daily basis. | One cup of coffee a day kept me sane. The second cup was just because it tasted good. The third was... what, a problem?
Anyway, I liked coffee. It was the one constant in my life as a spacefarer. Whether I was stuck in a swamped wasteland with giant insects, or a planet where tearing into each other was not only tolerated but encouraged, coffee kept me going. I'm not sure I'll ever quite know what true love felt like, but I do know that familiar kick whether it goes searing hot or ice-cold down my throat.
But there was something different about this planet. I was currently wandering what looked like a city of gleaming glass and metal. The buildings here have a bulbous shape to them, even the ones that touched the sky. While I could see a fair few races milling around, I didn't see another human, which was quite surprising to me. And I still couldn't find a goddamned coffee shop, which was turning me into a cranky old bastard.
"Psst."
I swerved around. That had to be a...
"Psst! Over here!"
I turned again, trying to track the source of the sound. That sounded human-like, which was only suspicious because I wasn't on Earth. Then, I saw someone in the shadows, a cloak over their heads. I couldn't see the person's eyes, but the visible movement as my sight locked onto them was obvious. A hand emerged from underneath said cloak, which beckoned me closer.
Generally, following random, cloaked strangers on a foreign planet would be a big no-no, but this person might have coffee. It's a traditional greeting among our people, after all. Now, if this guy gave me tea instead...
I sighed a little, and began a brisk walk towards them. Once I crossed past an invisible threshold, the stranger started moving away from me. Grumbling, I followed begrudgingly.
After about five minutes of squeezing past tight alleys and big aliens, I found myself in front of a recently opened door, still slowly creaking its way back into a closed position. I pushed open and walked in.
Oh my god. That smell. Yes!
"Welcome," the voice said. I turned around, and there she was, now no longer obscured with a hood. She walked up to me and shook my hand.
"New here?" she asked.
"Yea," I said. "Never been to this planet before."
"Wondering why you can't find a coffee shop, eh?" she said.
"Wh--what? How did you know?"
"I ran into the same problem, my friend," she gestured towards the back. "I've got some brewing in the back. Want some?"
"Oh god, yes."
"Good. Pony up 10,000 credits then."
"10,000 credits?!" I cried.
"Look," she said. "I wish it ain't so. But on this planet here, coffee isn't just hard to find. It's freaking jet fuel."
"Jet fuel?" I asked. "Like... the price of jet fuel?"
"No," she said. "It's literally jet fuel. Like, the natives here use it to power their ships."
"Oh," I said.
"You're a seasoned spacefarer, eh?" she said. "You are taking the news pretty well."
"I guess I've heard of weirder things," I said. "Universe's a big place."
"I'm feeling generous today, spacefarer," she said. "Half price. I'll give you a cup for half price."
"Very generous interpretation of the word 'give' there," I mused.
5,000 credits. It wasn't that bad for jet fuel, I guess.
"Damn it, sold. I need a cup."
I held out my hand. She shook it. For a cup of coffee, this seemed like an awfully formal way to conduct business. But it was 5,000 credits after all. She gestured to a table, before ducking back into the kitchen.
It didn't take long for the coffee to come out. I sipped it. It was terrible. At least there was caffeine in it. I downed the shot, thanked the lady, and out I went.
I opened the door and walked away. About ten steps later, I stopped and stared out at green sky for a while. One cup wasn't enough.
I turned and went back to the door. Just before entering, I could hear two voice arguing inside. Curiosity got the better of me as I leaned forwards slightly, putting my ear to the metal.
"5,000 credits? Amazing!"
More?
"Amazing is right." There was the lady's voice again. "Jet fuel. Can't believe he bought it."
I opened the door.
"Can't believe he bought what?"
Two figures froze. A new woman had now joined the party, presumably the one that was brewing the coffee. She quickly scamperd away from the table, retreating into the kitchen behind.
"Er," the lady that brought me to this place said. "Hi again?"
"Did you just scam me?"
"Yea," she admitted shamelessly. "What about it?"
God damn it. I wished I could punch her.
"Just... get me another cup."
"What?"
"I mean, I still couldn't find another coffee shop here. So get me another cup."
"At the same price?" she asked, hopefully.
I glared at her sternly.
"No."
"Aww," she said. "OK. Heh, jet fuel."
I groaned. Humans were the worst.
---
r/dexdrafts | Midnight talk with John Nave starring an extra-terrestrial feline visitor.
John: Can anyone believe it that there is an actual planet of Cats?!? I bet everyone would be wanting to go to this planet. And it is an honor for us to have them here at the studio... Idieh and Emorhk from planet Myoth.
Sitting on the couch next to the host desk are two bipedal furry feline humanoids. Both are wearing ear tags that serves as a translator receiver and a choker with a translator modulator. Idieh is the female and Emorhk is the male. They were wearing human clothes that was provided to them by the government’s extra-terrestrial affairs department.
Idieh: Thank you for having us John.
Emorhk: It’s our privilege to be here.
John: how can anyone resist not having you! You know what? I should know how that translator works. That’s fascinating.
Emorhk: Oh these? (Holding his ear tag and choker) these at my ears are translator receiver, it receives the sound waves and convert it to the sounds familiar to us to translate. While this in my neck is the translator modulator, it modulate the vibrations from our voice box into something your ears can perceive turning it into your known language.
John: Really? Isn’t it Fantastic? And they are stylish too. Now can you tell me about your travel to our planet and of course it’s not just only you two who is in this expedition I supposed?
Emorhk: Of course we can’t manage it by the two of us. So Idieh here is our researcher and an extra terrestrial biologist on board. I myself is the captain of the ship. Then we also have sixteen more crew members who were assigned of certain tasks.
John: Wow, everyone is definitely busy having only a total of eighteen crews for this mission.
Idieh: It was our first expedition so we need to keep the numbers of people to join too. But your planet is so very similar to ours.
John: Really? How so? So also have the same atmosphere there? Silly of me, of course you are or you wont be breathing our air now. Haha.
Idieh: Haha, o yes. The only difference is that we don’t have apes in our planet. No offense of course. But having a conversation with your biologist here in this planet, we found out that your genes may have came from earlier apes which in our planet were sadly been wiped out by ancient plague. So I guess our gene became the dominant one and evolved into sentient being.
John: Wow, that could be another evidence of human evolution considering the circumstances in your own planet. Now I have a funny question. What is the most peculiar thing that you’ve found in our planet so far?
Idieh: Oh there are many! Of course our diet is very different from yours even though our environment is very the same. But one thing astounds me is this beverage you call coffee.
John: What about it? Humans just love coffee in the morning. What do you find peculiar about coffee?
Idieh: You see this extract came from a fruit of what we call Kalanak in our planet. This fruit is very poisonous to us but the potential of this fruit as a biofuel is remarkable. We put them in a dehydrator chamber, then grind them in grinding machines and brewed them for the solution. This solution has enough acid to ignite combustion in our spacecraft engine that allows us to travel in light years. It is a bit tricky, yes but we’ve manage to harness the full potential of this wild berries in our planet.
John: That is mind blowing! Can you imagine how many cup of coffees a human can consume on a daily basis without knowing that it could fire up a whole spaceship across the universe! I hope you could shared this knowledge with us!
Idieh: Yes, we would love to. These fruits are literally everywhere since other animals eat them too.
John: Who could have imagine that. Look at that we are running out of time. It was nice having you in our show and I really hope you enjoy your stay here on Earth.
Emorhk: Thank you John.
Idieh: Yes we will. Thank you too. | 2020-09-04T04:54:59 | 2020-09-04T04:12:24 | 191 | 46 |
[WP] You're a lawyer who just got a genie lamp. After planning your words perfectly to maximize all your wishes, you summoned the genie, and surprisingly the genie turns out to be your most feared yet most respected person : Your long dead law mentor. | Julia sat at the conference table amongst piles of books. Not heaps of books, not a scattering of references, not a slapdash collection. These books were carefully selected, organized, and cross-referenced. She had spent more time on this than she'd ever had in billable hours to any client in her long career at the law firm of Tarquin, Golbur & Hernandez. But she was finally ready to open the box.
Inside was an old oil lamp. There was nothing to distinguish it from an ordinary lamp, except that it was held in this antique box by velvet cushions, where no ordinary lamp would be. Anyone who saw it would immediately know what it was. It was the very archetype of a Genie Lamp, driven into their psyche from countless stories, movies, and cartoons.
And given that nobody used oil lamps anymore, it could only be the home of a genie. Or an old movie prop. Or maybe a halloween decoration. Or perhaps a very fancy gravy boat. But it was in fact a genie lamp, which Julia knew from her careful research.
She rubbed it.
Her careful research into the arcane subject of Genie Law was arrayed around her, providing an answer to any eventuality. Anything not covered by the literature she felt sure she could handle with her keen intellect.
"Oh, Genie, come forth. I, Julia Hernandez, the party of the first part, do summon you, the party of the second part, by ancient covenant."
Smoke flew out of the mouth of the lamp. It slowly formed a face. The face was strangely familiar. Words echoed out of the mist. "Little Jules? Is that you that summons me?"
The voice brought back memories. "Is that... Mr. Tarquin?"
"Right on the nose, Jules. Though since you are in my old office, I suppose I should call you Miss Hernandez now. I don't imagine that you ever married. But it looks like you are the Managing Partner now. Ha! You look like an old battleaxe. I knew you'd make it big."
"How are you a Genie, Mr Tarquin?"
"Oh, nevermind that. In my day, all the best lawyers were genies. But we should get down to business. I imagine you want your three wishes?"
Julia picked up the first sheet of paper in front of her. "Yes. The party of the first party acknowledges the presence of the genie and requests commencement of negotiations with regards to the numbered wishes, herein..."
"Oh, Jules, I see you have done your research. Too much research if you ask me. Between old colleagues like us that stuff isn't necessary. Don't you still do back-room deals? Dispense with that. Put it away and we'll play it straight. I was always fair with you, wasn't I?"
"Alright, Mr. Tarquin," Julia said with some hesitation.
"Anything special you are looking for? Or just the standards? Money, fame, youth, beauty, love, sex, power, etc. I hope it's not love. That's always a tricky one. Sex is easy though."
"Yeah, basically money, youth, and -um- power, I suppose, Mr. Tarquin."
"Easy enough. No need for the legalese here. Starting with the money, I can do up to a billion without undue scrutiny from the government. I'd recommend that."
"Alright, I wish for a billion dollars." As soon as she said it, Julia's phone pinged with a notification.
"That'll be the bank transfer coming in. If anybody looks into it, it will appear to be legally acquired due to a shrewd investment in an IPO. Next? If you're going for youth, I'd suggest being 25. It's the best age. Don't ask for it to be everlasting, of course, that's a trap. Just say long-lasting."
Julia spent a minute checking the phone message. It was all aboveboard. No tricks that she could see, and she was convinced to continue. "I wish for renewed and long-lasting youth."
As she said it, the wrinkles tightened off her face. Her arthritic hands were slender and smooth again. She ran to the mirror next to her office door and spent several minutes checking her body. If anything she felt better than she had at 25.
"See, Jules. No tricks between friends. That youth will last long enough for the human scientists to replace it with something permanent, with no suspicion. Are you ready for power to go with your money and youth? I'd suggest indicating that it should be 'personal' power. You definitely don't want electrical power, and political power is fickle."
"Alright, I wish for great personal power."
The genie smiled. "Done. You shall have the power of the genie."
The mist began to solidify across the conference table. Julia felt her own substance thinning. "What? No. This is a trap. That's not what I wanted."
"Indeed Jules. I think genie power traps are covered by the book you have on the top of your first stack there. A beginner's mistake."
"But, you said you'd treat me fairly. How could you do this?"
As Mr. Tarquin walked off, he turned back and said, "You forgot the first thing I ever taught you: Don't take advice from opposing counsel." | I rehearse the words in my head,
Check the notes scrawled on paper on the bed,
I've written in triplicate on the wall,
No level of precaution too small.
That's always been a habit of mine,
Plan, prepare, waste no time,
It's served me well in my courtroom fights,
And I'm about to lawyer for my life.
The universe, it seems, has other plans,
As I summon the genie with a rub of my hand.
The form from the lamp appears with a flash,
I'm presented with a spectre from the past.
I'd forgotten her face from those years ago,
But framed in blue smoke I definitely know,
The face of my mentor, but an ethereal blue,
And it looks like she recognizes me too.
"Junior!" she says, with some delight,
(For that was my nickname earlier in life)
"My, you've grown old, and I hope wise,"
"If you wish to earn the genie's prize."
I'm speechless for a time and look in shock,
She smiles at me with an eyebrow cocked.
A look I recall I often saw,
When she taught me my fundamental case law.
The look said more than mere speech,
There's more to this case - you're not looking too deep.
The shock hit me with that look,
For as smart as I am, it wouldn't be enough.
I am no fool, and will put ego aside,
My mentor was a far better lawyer than I.
So why, now, was she the lamp's face?
As opposed to sunning herself in some tropical place?
In cunning, and wit she could not be matched,
Yet here she was - rather trapped.
"Listen," she said, and spoke clearly,
"Three wishes, three rules - do you hear me?"
"No immortality wishes, nor raising another,"
"And no making someone into your lover."
"Neither are the genie's wishes free,"
"There's a price to be paid with wish number three."
I didn't say a word, for fear of action,
And sat and thought for a fraction.
Then a lightbulb moment came to me,
As I invented my wishes, one, two, three.
"Genie," I said, "Though that is not your name,"
"Wish number one is simple and plain,"
"I am old now but still have much to do,"
"I wish my body were a mere fifty-two."
Twenty years flew off me in a blue flash,
I coughed and sputtered and couldn't help but laugh,
I had opted not for a wish of too great greed,
An extra twenty years were all I'd need.
"It is done," she said, though she looked concerned,
Perhaps she still feared of what had happened to her,
Was my taking the first wish a sign,
That I'd be next in the Genie line?
No, that wish was my only one,
Twenty years more would be enough to have some fun,
To see my grandchild born and looked after,
And have them spent time with their favourite grandfather.
"Next," I said, and smiled at her,
"I wish you were free from the lamp that you serve."
"No more wishes will you grant,"
"And the lamp itself you will disenchant!"
She beamed a smile at the wording,
"My, junior, you have been learning."
"You saw the loophole I did not!"
"Now fare thee well and that's your lot!"
She vanished and the lamp clattered to the floor,
The magic of the lamp was no more.
I exhaled and knew I had made the right trade.
For with no wish number three, there was no price to be paid.
I looked her up in the years I'd won,
Found her in the tropics under the sun,
We talked at length about days gone by,
And I thanked her mentorship for keeping me wise. | 2021-09-30T11:03:34 | 2021-09-30T10:41:06 | 1,398 | 331 |
[WP] A demon just devoured your soul. You are both very confused as to why you are still alive. | "You should be dead."
"Think so? I feel okay." Ted looked up into the glowering face, a face from comic books and dungeon manuals.
"This is new to me." The demon loomed, its size and general air of menace diminished by its quizzical expression. "Usually my snacks gasp, some might scream a bit, crumple up and die. I don't usually have...this...whatever this is." It waved wispy claws in confusion.
"This epilogue?"
"Mmm. That will do." Though huge and threatening, it was nevertheless noncorporeal. It poked a finger through his chest, apparently probing. "All the usual bits are there." It probed some more.
"Hey, knock it off. Buy me drinks first."
"Sorry." It withdrew the diaphanous talons. "Why aren't you dead?"
"I dunno. Why aren't you real?"
It reared up, indignant. "I am as real as they come! I am the heart of darkness, the fount of madness!"
"Eh." Ted got up. The demon had sneaked up on him as he sat, waiting for the clock's second hand to make its regularly scheduled rounds, and attempted to attack. Or it had attacked. Neither of them was really sure whether it had worked, now. "So what?"
"I have eaten your soul, mortal!"
"So?"
"Die, damn you! Die!" It was actually starting to sound a little frustrated.
"Piss off."
"DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!" Definitely a petulant note entering its voice. "I ate your soul! You're dead!"
"You're not real. If I have a soul, this job wore it out of me years ago. Die, yourself. Die of hunger. Or better yet, fill out an application and take the next three years' worth of rush hour shifts. Die of hatred, of indifference, of endless tedium interspersed with pointless middle managers. Die of humanity."
"Die?"
"You first. You're not real. This is reality, and it sucks. If I have a soul, it's too tough for you to handle. If I had a soul, this shit job got it before you did. If I never had a soul, no one ever did, and you're not real. You're just some hallucination, misfiring neurons, a neutrino glancing off a glial cell."
Quieter, almost apologetically, the demon whispered, "...die?"
Ted looked at the clock.
"Break's over. See you tomorrow. Better luck next time."
Ted pulled his Walmart vest back on, and shuffled back toward his register. | The acid of the vomit was burning a whole on his throat, the stench of rotten eggs emanated from every pore of his skin.
As he lowered his gaze to his body, expecting to see himself dying, he noticed no blood. Not on the floor around him, not even on the vomit that stained his shoes.
<<How?>> he wondered, feeling his body with both hands, looking for a wound.
A gasp he heard behind his back. The blood red figure was on one knee feeling his chest with one hand.
Their gazes collided; his own felt stronger, somehow. The demon had been hurt, he knew. And he felt a sudden rush on his body. His chest tensed, his legs too and then every muscle on his body. He felt better than he had ever before.
-Your soul- spoke the demon on a deep but weak voice- too toxic.
By instinct he knew he had something on his back. He had not put it there and had not seen it, yet there was no doubt.
A giant toxic shroom.
He grabbed and threw it towards the demon. The shroom hit the ground infront of the demon and exploded on a violate cloud.
He heard the most horrific noises as the demon agonized in the cloud that slowly burnt his body to ashes.
-How?- the demon implored.
Again, from somewhere deep inside him, a place he never knew existed, the words climbed on their own through his throat.
-Never understimate the power of the Scout's Code. | 2021-10-06T10:53:35 | 2021-10-06T09:51:30 | 95 | 33 |
[WP] "I'll pay you $150K a year. Sit in this room and wait for the phone to ring. What ever you do, DO NOT miss that phone call." Bored to death, after 10 years, that shiny black landline in the corner of the room has never once rang. One day, it starts ringing. You miss it by a second. | I can’t believe I missed the call, by a second.
I have been waiting for it to ring for 10 years. And then I went ahead and missed the call. I sat by the phone for a few more minutes, maybe they’ll try again? It’s an old timey analog phone, no caller ID. Why isn’t this phone caller ID? I could’ve just called them back.
I googled the code to call back in an analog phone, there should be one right? Well there are a few suggestions.
I pick up the receiver to try the first result, instead of a dial tone I hear..
“Hello”.
Ummm… that is not how phones work. Or phones are supposed to work. You miss a call, you go back to dial tone. You don’t hear voices.
“Hello??” The voice is sounding annoyed now.
“Hi. You called?”
“And you missed. You were supposed to pick up. NOT miss the call.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. It took me a while to realise this was ringing ”
“Excuse me?”
“Hey, it never ringed in 10 years. It caught me off guard.”
“It’s been 10 years.”
“Yeah.”
The ensuing silence was stretched for a few moments.
“Okay, I’m coming over. We’ll discuss this in person”
Click. Well, that was anticlimactic. I tidy over the room. It has changed a lot in the last 10 years. I personalized it a lot. Should I start packing? Well I haven’t got any packing boxes.
I decide to wait for the guy to come. Hoping it won’t take 10 years for him to reach me. He sounded so familiar though.
I was smiling at my own joke when the knock on the door came.
“Hello Tyler.”
“JORDAN!”
“Hey. How are you doing?”
“It’s been 10 years! Where have you been?”
Jordan is one of my closest friends. In fact, he is the one who employed me for this job. Wait in this room, for that phone to ring. And that’s what I have been doing.
And he vanished. We all searched for him, but it’s like he just vanished from the face of the earth. I was the one who saw him last, I got investigated by the police for his disappearance. Now, he just walked right in the office, like not a day has passed. Jordan takes the armchair, I sit on the couch. He seems a little sheepish. He hasn't changed a bit. As in, he is in the same clothes I saw him last time, when he was showing me around this very office. 10 years ago.
“It’s been a while, ha?”
He did something. I know him since we were both in diapers.
“Jordan, what have you done?”
He gives his got-caught-doing-something-incredible grin.
“I think I figured out time travel.” | I yawned for the third time in a row, as I sat in my armchair. I put down my book, and looked at that stupid black phone. The thing never rang. I was paid to sit here until it rang. Just sit. Well, ten years later and nothing! Everyday, I would wake up and ask myself, would today be the day? Would that phone ring today? Everyday, however, I was met by extreme disappointment.
I drifted off, still thinking of the little black phone in the corner...
I practically leapt out of the chair when the usually quiet phone rang. My heart was racing, and I asked my self, could it really be? Was the phone really ringing? I waited for a second, just to make sure it was really ringing. It was! The beautiful sound filled my ears, and I cautiously walked towards it. That is, until I tripped over the rug. That damn rug. I had tripped over it so many times in the past ten years I’ve had this job.
I cursed as my hand began to bleed. Then I felt panic rise. The phone had been ringing for awhile now, and I needed to answer it soon. I quickly stood up, wiping the blood onto my pants. I closed the distance between the phone and I. I reached for it, the excitement building, and as my hand touched it, silence. I felt a sinking feeling in my gut.
The feeling, of dread, guilt, and fear. I didn’t do the one thing I was paid to do. I didn’t pick up the phone. The usually white lights, flickered to red, and my vision became spotty. What was happening?! As I staggered to the floor, the last thing I heard was, “Earth simulation 48284 failed. Shutting the system down, in 3, 2, 1.”
Edit: I fixed the formatting lol. | 2020-08-24T02:26:51 | 2020-08-23T19:16:46 | 441 | 263 |
[WP] How could humans be dangerous? This one's been crying in the corner since we captured it. | Grog narrowed his eyes and made a face. "How could humans be dangerous? This one's been crying in the corner since we captured it."
Pedriak snirked. "Yes, but crying in the corner. Where we left it. Untouched. Un*approached*."
Grog glanced over. Pedriak shrugged. Grog looked back through the two way mirror and asked, "Are you insinuating that *I* am too afraid to approach the creature that *I* captured?"
He glanced over again. Again, Pedriak shrugged. Grog looked back through the two way mirror and said, "Because if you were insinuating that, you would be wrong. I am not afraid."
"You should be," entered a third voice, a scientist by the name of Zuwap. "Based on my scientist research, the human race is potently dangerous when backed into a corner. And this human-" he peered through the mirror "-has reached extreme levels of hysteria. Approach at your own risk, and with caution. Any contact with the human at this time could be drastically fatal for your health."
"Blah blah blah," said Grog, heading for the door. "I'm going to talk to the human right now."
"I wouldn't advise it," Zuwap said. Pedriak snickered. Grog opened the door and went in.
"Hey, you-" he said, toeing the human with his boot.
The human was of the female species. Long, lifeless, stringy blonde hair curtained over scared,wide blue eyes as she looked up at him. "Please don't hurt me." Her lips trembled. Her body shook.
"Yeah, yeah. Look, we need to ask you some questions." He bent down towards her.
She stiffened, her eyes following the trajectory of his hand with an eerie steadiness that caused him to hesitate. Then he brushed aside his doubt and grabbed her arm.
The contact was like a trigger switch and she was the bomb. She detonated, exploded outward with the force of a baseball bat as she rammmed her forehead into his face, shattering nose and cheekbone.
He stumbled back, blood shooting up into the air like a squeezed ketchup packet. Before he could recover, she was there again. Like a wild cat, hissing and screeching as she clawed her nails down his face. The sound of his own skin ripping was worse to his ears than if she had raked her nails down a chalkboard.
His body shut down and flipped out into panic mode, hand swiping at his face like he had just walked into a cobweb. He hit something, then he felt her weight lift of him. But his face was still burning. The scratch marks were wide and deep - like she had given him gills on his face.
Peering through one eye, he saw the bare heel of her feet padding through the door. He heard screams beyond, the firing of lasers, and just as he faded into unconscious, the red alert arm of the ship's security system.
| You don't understand Dreagar, you ignorant fool. You could've endangered the entire galaxy!
Humans... An interesting creature, but one we should all head warning to. I've studied them for almost a millennium. I've seen them grow and adapt.
At first it was for research, to study the species to see if they would be a threat, if we could use them for anything or if we were just going to wipe them from this existence.
But they've grown out of our control... They recently found an old part of one of our science tools. It was barely anything left as it was just a release capsule made to destroy them with disease. They used the it have increased their rate of technology and research a thousand fold in a such a short time we couldn't fathom doing it ourselves.
We could use them as scientists if it wasn't for their nature. They are programed from within to win. To take control, to fight... All in the name of reproduction. We fear they would overthrow us, their captors.
We can't do a full scale assault. They would lose in most circumstances, but after they down some of our war machines and ships we fear they would quickly pass us. They would quickly find our weakness and maybe even pass us in technology.
This is why all approachment of the planet is forbidden! This is why you've made the grave mistake you've made! If you were caught... Oh we would've all perished. Consumed by the abyss that humanity would unleash on us all.
This is why you are sentenced to death, this is why the human was instantly vaporized.
This is why we fear, for all we can do is hope... Hope, that they will consume themselves before they find us. | 2018-02-17T08:24:06 | 2018-02-17T08:09:48 | 209 | 101 |
[WP] You instinctively know everyone's name the second you meet them. One day you thank someone at the supermarket for helping you, and they stare at you wide eyed. "Nobody has called me by that name in centuries" | "What did you say?" The woman looked at me, bewilderment defining the angles of her face.
"Th... thank you. For the berries." I said again, confused, holding up the pound of strawberries she'd just handed me.
"No, not that. The name. My name... you said Klarys..." her voice trailed off and she looked away suddenly. "Never mind. Please excuse me, I have to go." Before I could say anything more she turned and whisked away through the flapping doors to the back of the store.
I don't usually slip up like that. Certainly not in some place so public. I'm generally much better at not letting on. It's tiresome always having to come up with reasons how I know the names of complete strangers. "Lucky guess" only gets me so far. And this time, she'd been wearing a name tag. "Stupid!" I thought, mentally kicking myself for not being more mindful. "Oh well, she didn't ask any questions," I thought as I walked up to the cashier.
As I placed my basket on the belt, the young man behind the register gave me the usual greeting. "Hi, find everything ok?"
I nodded and responded "Yup. Thanks," giving a slight smile as he started scanning my items. "$43.72." I stick my card into the chip reader, wait for the ding, and collect my bags. "Have a nice day!" he chimes. "You too."
Outside it's started to rain. Nothing heavy, just the characteristic mist of Seattle in December. I'd been lucky and found a spot right by the door. I pull out of my spot and shuffle my way into the line for the traffic light to leave the lot. Traffic's pretty mild today, only a few cars waiting.
It's only a 5 minute drive back to my apartment from here, but I like to listen to the news so I flipped on the radio. The stock market tanked again today, some unrest in Poland. Theresa May apparently resigned as the prime minister of the UK. Nothing I found particularly engaging but I do my best to stay on top of things. The light turns green and I make my way home.
Several hours later there's a knock on my door. Not a knock really, more like a battering. I set down my bowl of half eaten strawberries and move quickly to the window. "Who the hell could that be?" Peaking out the curtain I see a black van parked downstairs, the side door slid open. I recognize the woman sitting inside. "The store clerk! Klaryssa!"
Three more raps. I slowly approach the door. "Yes?" I ask, looking through the peep hole. Two men dressed in dark gray suits stand on the other side. The one on the left spoke first. "Mr. Ryder? Jackson Ryder?" His voice was harsh and cold and hearing him say my name sent a chill down my spine.
"Uh, can I help you with something?" Through the peephole I watch as the men give each other a look. Before I could move, the man on the right, the taller of the two, leans back and kicks the door. The cheap wood frame splinters easily under the force of his foot, and the door flies back, knocking me into the wall.
I sit dazed against the floor as the two men step quickly inside. They grab me, one on each side, and start dragging me out the door and down the stairs. As we approach the van, the hold me up for the woman in the back seat to see. "Yes, that's him," she says, her voice shaken as though she were the one who'd just been assaulted in her home. I feel a sharp poke in the back of my neck and the world fades to black as they toss me in the back of the van. | My eyes surveyed the chips and cookies in isle 13. Fried diabetes. I thought, still scanning the isle. Finally, I spotted the snack packs I was looking for. On the top shelf of course. You see, I’m 5’2 and it doesn’t look like I’m getting any taller.
Suddenly, an older man makes his way down the aisle. He seemed very prim and proper, and conveniently a foot taller than I am. He seemed very anxious but I quickly decided I’d stop him anyway.
“Sir, I’m sorry to bother you but would you mind getting this from the top shelf.” He hesitated then responded with a nod, but I didn’t put much thought into it.
“Which one?” He mumbled. For a man of his height, you’d expect a deeper voice.
“The last snack pack.” He handed it to me and stood there for moment, just staring. I broke the silence with, “Thanks Abrial.” I smiled playfully.
His eyes widened as his skin turned white as a ghost. “Cecilia.” He placed his hand gently on my shoulder. “Cecilia Adalie Brodeur.” I use my gift sometimes for kicks but it sure had backfired. I figured he had the same gift. If only I knew what was coming.
“Who are you?” I managed to get out, puzzled. His expression shifted. “Abrial of course, my dear.” I examined him, waiting for an explanation.
“ You see, your mother dedicated you to the field of genetic engineering. She didn’t want a baby then... and she gave you to a good cause. When she was pregnant we gave her a concoction that was intended to make you a genius. In the simplest terms. Well, it wasn’t perfect I must say. But my dear, you have a gift. A very special one indeed. We kept you until 2, and adopted you out to a pleasant suburban family. But your behavior was strange. Very odd. I owe you an apology for spending your childhood in that orphanage. But fate brought us from France to Massachusetts my dear.”
After a long hesitation I broke the silence, “Where’s my mother?” I mumbled, still as white as a ghost.
He removed his hat and looked down. “She passed in 1980 due to pancreatic cancer.
There was another long pause until I broke the silence once again, “Who’s my father?” A tear rolled down my cheek as a grin simultaneously formed on Abrial’s face.
“He’s standing right here.” | 2018-11-05T21:24:00 | 2018-11-05T20:38:06 | 38 | 10 |
[WP] The Super Hero had to choose between saving you, and a group of children. You were pissed but agreed it was the right choice to save the children. But since you survived the vat of radioactive acid, people are treating you like the next super villain. You don’t want revenge! | “Hello Jerry. Good to have you on the show.”
The slow claps that followed me entering on stage ended just as I took my seat. Placing my crunches down after I shook Mr. Blackmore’s hand. I think he noticed the sweat around my palms.
“It’s good to be on. Even though I never thought I would.” I laughed a little bit at the end there, eyeing the crowd as I did. Not one smile.
“I think it’s best we jump right into things. How do you look at what happened to you?” Mr. Blackmore’s voice was calming, and his eyes. I don’t know how but it felt like he understood. He soon became the only thing I looked at.
“I was mad. Extremely... that this happened to me. All I did wrong was take a shorter route home that day and...” I was forcing a smile. “The rest you know.”
I wanted to face the crowd right then. To show in full just how damage everything was. To maybe get some sympathy. But I just looked at Mr. Blackmore.
“I’m not mad at White Shroud. That’s a shitty situation he was in and...” I stopped. Take a drink. “In comparison to all those kids. It was the right thing.”
“Yes. That has to be hard to see.” I wish he didn’t turn to face the crowd. I felt the stares again. “When we hear nothing but revenge filled super villains running around. It’s hard to see someone reacting differently to this kind of stuff.” He thankfully face me again. “But Jerry. I’ve heard you’ve been up to more than NOT being another of those deranged lunatics.”
The smile wasn’t forced now.
“Yeah! Those kids still suffered injuries themselves and I have more money than I’ll ever need. So, I helped funded and created a charity called “Damsels Still in Need”. I’m still figuring it out but we’ve so far have been able to help all 30 of those kids with medical needs ranging from surgery costs and therapy to the point not one family has needed to fit any bill.”
At that the crowd clapped. It got louder and louder every second with Mr. Blackmore going in. Once he did, I face them all again. | This is my first story. I hope everyone likes it. Criticisms is appreciated
You fall into 1 vat of radioactive acid, and now everyone thinks you are the next top supervillain. I can admit my situation doesn’t look good from an outside perspective. I glow in the dark, I’m slightly radioactive, and I can see through things like I’m permanently wearing x-ray googles and the only reason I have these powers is because a Amazing Guy chose to save 5 children over me, but I don’t want revenge. Come on, it was basically a trolley problem. Either save the one or save the five, and the 5 were children. It was a no brainer. I guess no one trusts a “potential supervillain” or whatever the league of heroes called me. Now I have a hero tailing me 24/7 in an admittedly good disguise (thanks x-ray vision) and everyone is scared of me. If this keeps up, I might as well become a supervillain.
I hope you liked my story and criticism is appreciated. | 2021-02-05T17:39:17 | 2021-02-05T17:26:06 | 138 | 41 |
[WP] “Shh, it’s alright,” the villain said. “You’re doing beautifully and I’m so proud of you. But that’s enough now. It was cruel of them to make you fight me. It’s not your fault.” He spoke with a gentle tone but he was pissed, not at the hero, but at the gods who send kids and teens to fight him. | "Shh, it's alright."
He remembers, even as a divine being, being a baby, barely out of his mother's womb, terrified of his own creation and everything else. The matronly presence of his mother enveloped him in a warm embrace and said those words.
"You're doing beautifully and I'm so proud of you."
His duty as the god of magic was to police the arcane flows and give certain people powers that his fellow gods gave him to be gifted to the chosen ones. His girlfriend then, another lovely divine being, had been with him on his first day on the job as she blessed forges and taught humans blades. Full of joy, they had laughed together and said those words to each other.
"But that’s enough now."
Were they kidding? Do they see the currently unvisited lands that we gods had made but the humans are hardly powerful enough to visit? It's beautiful, and there's so many things to see there, so many beasts to slay, so much wonder in those lands. To get there, the humans need help! Teach them secrets of magic, help find formulas with them, discover what you've never known about magic as well! He wasn't interested in the political affairs of the gods, anyway. He just wanted knowledge for everyone because it supposedly made everyone happy. Apparently, it didn't.
"It was cruel of them to make you fight me."
His darling wife. He couldn't blame her. The fight didn't even last a year: he didn't want to hurt her more than he already did.
"It’s not your fault."
Banished to being a human was not the worst insult. Banished to being a human with the mark of being cursed by the gods is. Anyone who associated with him was instantly discriminated against. Poor Delilah, Yang Tze, Syafiq, Gertrude, Mandisa, Lucian. None of them deserved their fate.
\*\*\*
The old man stepped out of his tower and checked his shield. It was still working, good.
A bip on his radar. Something tried to breach. And another. Another. A fourth. He sighs heavily and walks to the location.
Admirable attempts, as always. But metal armour was conducive to the second, 1mm thick layer of the shield. The poor fried soul was beyond recognition, but he may have been a mighty warrior once.
Digging underneath was an interesting idea, until you hit the invisible part of the shield underground. Nothing was left but a bloodstained shovel.
Flying over the shield that seemed like a dome was the easiest trick in the book. In reality, the shield was a cylinder with the top of it above the clouds, where adventurers who could actually get that high would either pass out from the thin air, or, if they survived up their, would still have no way of entering.
The last one.. There was always a last one, wasn't there? Look, on her neck. The Symbol of Ginevra, the Goddess of the Forge. Of course that would work for 6 of the 7 layers. The last one put her in a paralysis for 5 minutes, just enough time for him to say a few words, slip her an anesthetic and and stop her life painlessly. No point in him being too nice. The ones he was nice to, they never stood a chance.
In his old age, his joints hurt, and he swears as he struggles to sit down next to the young girl. She looked just like his favorite form of Ginevra.
Eyes beginning to water, he opens his mouth. | I gathered the child-hero to me. Yet another snuffed life, another crushed body to lay at my door. Whispering my spell, I teleported us both away from the field of battle.
Warmth greeted us with the rising scent of loam. It was time for planting. The bundle in my arms lay still, so, so still; the golden halo of hair matted to their forehead, hands hanging loose from an unmoving chest. How *dare* they. This child should be stirring, anxious to be out of my grip, digging bare toes into the spring ground.
Planting themselves to be firm and tall in the conviction of adulthood.
I stalked into my cabin, set just inside the line of trees beyond the fields. The air here chilled: my spell continued to work. A row of beds greeted me, an impossible row made possible only by my disdain for the rules. I called a bed forth to me and lay the latest child down upon it. I stroked his hair. "Soon, little one, it'll all be over and you'll awaken."
Waving my hand, the bed flew back. My assistants would see to his wounds and cleanse him, waiting for the day it was *safe*. Safe from the gods and their petty rules and demands. Safe from the capricious whims of their reality. My hand lingered on the first bed. A young girl, younger than the rest, lay on it, her brown hair fanned behind her head. My assistants had done their jobs well: you couldn't even see the pox-marks anymore. And yet...
A snap found me standing in front of a cage: the first of its type. "Why isn't she up yet?!"
The creature within stirred, gaunt and feeble. If I squinted I could see the shimmering glimmer pulling from its skin and into the cage; I carried the conduit that allowed me access the magic stored within the bars. "I *told* you, life and death is not my domain..."
"And yet I can do all that and more. But I. Can't. Wake. Them."
The figure chuckled and coughed. "I need more belief, just free me and..."
"Spare me your false promises. What did dreams ever do in a land plagued by your kind?" Dream couldn't provide life, but I had been close this last time. Hunt had nearly fallen. Perhaps *he* could give me what I wanted.
And I already had a cage waiting for him. | 2019-07-26T07:42:49 | 2019-07-26T07:22:55 | 51 | 23 |
[WP] Humanity has gone infertile children of men style, but it's not as bad as you would think because we cured aging around the same time. In the post infertility world, governments value human life more, because a worker that dies can never be replaced. | Every single death was published, every name was made immortal, carved onto a great plaque in what used to be called Antarctica. Three names were added to the list today, Zhang Wu, Oliver McArthur and Jose Lopez, all with the same cause of death, suicide. Their families, if they had any, were of course compensated, the world grieved, and then everyone moved on.
It had been perhaps two hundred years since people stopped having children, two hundred and twenty after humanity mastered the ageing process. There were maybe 5 billion people left now, people did not die like they used to, but that did not mean people did not die, and so everyone understood that eventually the world will be empty, a quiet extinction over the course of millennia. Every single death was an incomparable loss, a grain that trickled out of the hourglass of all mankind, and everyone had to simply accept that fact and go back to their day to day lives.
Funerals these days were nationally televised events, sometimes even globally. There was always a profound sense of melancholy to such events, but at the same time there was something else just as significant. Was it envy? For those freed of the endless tedium of this new existence, granted peace at last through their mortality. Was it understanding? A quiet acceptance of the inevitable and a brief freedom from the cages of delusion everyone made for themselves these days. Was it something else entirely? An emotion not quite named, a primal reaction to such an event. It was probably all of the three in truth, in different ratios for every person, but in the end all present.
Once deaths from murder, accident or even hunger or thirst dominated the record, but now suicides reigned supreme. People were tired it seemed, tired of the endless work required to keep a dying world going, tired of the constant waiting for the inevitable, tired of the obsession of every single nation, corporation and other such power with keeping them alive. The years were heavy and would build up into insurmountable burdens, in the end it isn't shocking why this is the case.
Perhaps one day the infertility can be cured, perhaps in the next few centuries a better way of existing can be found, a new hope for the hopeless. As for now however life moved on, as it always has, one day ended and the next began
And the next set of names were added to the mountain sized plaque. | "You want to start human clinical trials? Are you completely insane?" John protested.
"...yes, it has been in development for decades and the only way to see if it is safer than the currently available model is to have a real human actually use it." Jane replied.
You see they are both scientists in a government lab hidden away. Some departments work on medicines, others on ai to replace the need for humans to work in most jobs. A life lost can never be replaced so even a blind cripple is an irreplaceable asset to a business. At first this process made sense but after hundreds of years it has gotten silly. But back to the conversation.
&#x200B;
"But what is wrong with the one we all use and know how to use?" John continued with his unreasonably cautious questioning as Jane pulled out a stack of papers and started citing things such as how 'common' an accident is.
"Fine, let's get coffee and submit the paperwork" John finally relented.
"I knew you'd see it my way" Jane replied as she gestured towards the door. "Office supplies, third division - hole punch unit" could be seen written on the glass as they left the room. | 2021-10-31T12:20:09 | 2021-10-31T11:19:03 | 186 | 47 |
[WP] Your old friend, Mary Sue, appears perfect but is actually a time manipulator who rewinds time to appear perfect, and do anything with zero consequences. You, however, can secretly remember previous iterations. | *"Try one of the cookies. I hope they aren't too rough looking for the bake sale."*
The emaculate house at the end of Dover street had be an American ideal ever since Mary moved in. No matter what it was always beautifully decorated, clean, and appealed to everyone who walked in. The rich aroma of warm cinnimon and sweet apples filled the kitchen as a humble, yet refined pie was baking to a flakey golden brown in the oven.
Under the watchful eye of Mary I stepped up to the plate of picture perfect chocolate chunk cookies. I took one and bit into it. Still warm, a blend of crunch on the outside and soft on the inside with gooey chocolate in-between. It was the best cookie I had ever had.
"...Ehh, could use more chocolate."
+++++++
*"Try one of the cookies. I hope they aren't too rough looking for the bake sale."*
The emaculate house at the end of Dover street had be an American ideal ever since Mary moved in. No matter what it was always beautifully decorated, clean, and appealed to everyone who walked in. The rich aroma of warm cinnimon and sweet apples filled the kitchen as a humble, yet refined pie was baking to a flakey golden brown in the oven.
Under the watchful eye of Mary I stepped up to the plate of picture perfect chocolate brownie cookies. I took one and bit into it. Still warm, a soft and moist disk of rich chocolate brownie.
"They're really sweet."
+++++++
*"Try one of the cookies. I hope you like them."*
The emaculate house at the end of Dover street had be an American ideal ever since Mary moved in. No matter what it was always beautifully decorated, clean, and appealed to everyone who walked in. The subtle lemony scent of household cleaner gave an undertone of cleanliness to the kitchen where nothing was cooking.
Under the watchful eye of Mary I stepped up to the plate of picture perfect oatmeal raisin cookies. Even though this were my favorite, Mary seemed to be a little annoyed with me. I took one and bit into it. Still warm, an earthy blend of oatmeal and tart raisin. It was just sweet enough to satisfy a craving for dessert while also feeling the satisfaction of eating one of the healthier cookie types.
"These are great. Although I could really go for some pie."
+++++++
*"I just finished baking a pie. Here, have a slice."*
Mary met me at the entrance to her kitchen with a small plate topped with a slice of hot apple pie. It smelt wonderful and I accepted it.
Under the anxious eye of Mary I dug the fork in and seperated the tip from the slice. I tried to keep myself from giggling as I put the bite in my mouth, pretending to care that it was a fantasticly tasting treat.
"This is okay."
+++++++
"Mary?"
Mary always answered the door quickly...well, for everyone else. I stood outside the perfect little house on Dover street waiting for Mary. Of course, if she was late she never would.
+++++++
*"Have a bite."*
The emaculate house at the end of Dover street had be in American ideal ever since Mary moved in. No matter what it was always beautifully decorated, clean, and appealed to everyone who walked in. A warm tray of cinnamon rolls rested on the kitchen counter. Shining with their signature glaze the whole room smelt like some of the best sunday mornings I ever had growing up.
Mary was eating one as I walked into the kitchen. Of course I knew these were made from scratch, but that wouldnt stop me from making a comment.
"Awesome, I make these all the time. Did you get Pillsbury or generic?"
I remember reaching out to grab one, but I dont remember ever tasting it. I do recall Mary's expression turning to raw fury...
+++++++
*"Try one."*
Mary didnt look happy, and who would when you had been baking all day? Or even a few days straight. She had a plate of room temperature brownies out in the kitchen. Her flour and sugar containers were out to.
Taking one and having a bite I enjoyed an...average brownie.
"Thanks Mary."
When we went on to paint the sign for the bake sale I knew I was in for a world of hurt. Mary didnt have her usual energy and was sloppily painting the giant banner like she was just waiting for time to go by. I did my best to act normal.
About 20 minutes after the brownie I got an upset stomach. A few minutes after that I started to sweat despite it being room temperature. Everything felt hot and cold at the same time. I left for her bathroom when I felt the urge to vomit. She followed.
As a vomited up a tsunami of black speckled mush, blood, and whatever else was in my stomach I felt my insides burn with raging fire. I became extremely dizzy as pain and fatigue dominated me. Mary watched the whole time. I begged her to call 911, fully aware she wouldnt. Once I couldnt hold myself over the toilet anymore the lights started to dim...
+++++++
*"Try one of the cookies. I made a batch just for you!"*
The emaculate house at the end of Dover street had be in American ideal ever since Mary moved in. No matter what it was always beautifully decorated, clean, and appealed to everyone who walked in. The rich aroma of warm cinnimon and sweet apples filled the kitchen as a humble, yet refined pie was baking to a flakey golden brown in the oven.
Under the watchful eye of Mary I stepped up to the plate of picture perfect oatmeal raisin cookies. I took one and bit into it. Still warm, you get it, perfect cookie. I couldnt give less of a shit.
"These are amazing! Mary, will you marry me?"
Mary laughed. *"Oh they aren't that good you joke-"*
The look of shock on her face was priceless as I bent my knee and produced a ring box out of my jacket. It had my mother's engagement ring that I stole from her collection this morning.
"You've always been so wonderful to me. Every time i'm with you I just feel so content. You mean more than the world to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
It took every ounce of willpower I had to not bust out laughing at how flabbergasted she looked. Miss Perfect, Miss Always-Had-An-Answer? No one on earth would ever remember seeing her so taken aback like she was right now.
I dont remember her answer, because she never gave one.
+++++++
*"Try one of the cookies. I hope they aren't too rough looking for the bake sale."*
The emaculate house at the end of Dover street had be in American ideal ever since Mary moved in. No matter what it was always beautifully decorated, clean, and appealed to everyone who walked in. The rich aroma of warm cinnimon and sweet apples filled the kitchen as a humble, yet refined pie was baking to a flakey golden brown in the oven.
Under the watchful eye of Mary I stepped up to the plate of picture perfect chocolate chunk cookies. I took one and bit into it. Still warm, a blend of crunch on the outside and soft on the inside with gooey chocolate in-between. It was the best cookie I had ever had. As I pondered over the texture I put my hand in my jacket pocket. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mary flinch. If I was looking at her that would have been the last thing I remembered.
"These are great! I'm sure these are going to fly right off the table!"
*"Glad you like them!"*
And we went on with our day... | God damn it I just wanted my morning coffee. The pot was in my hands. I had my coffee cup sitting on the counter in front of me. You’d think from here it be nothing to stop me from enjoying a cup of coffee, but as I fill the cup and lifted it to my lips she does it, again. Time rewinds. I put the cup down and lift the pot and like magic the coffee flows out of the cup up back into the pot. Once again I’m holding the pot with the empty mug in front of me. Time restarts like the last 15 seconds didnt happen. For the 37th time. I have been trying to have a cup of coffee for 10 minutes my perceived time.
I know it sounds crazy and I sound like I need a rubber room and I’ll be honest when it first started happening I thought that I was crazy and so did my mom. What would you think if your seven year old came crying to you holding a apple saying they threw it up and unate it. Eventually I realized it was Mary Sue.
Mary Sue was a girl I knew. She wasn’t a nice person but our parents were friends so we were forced to do things together. It all started on a camping trip. It was a weekend trip and one night I had a strange dream or at least I thought it was a dream. It was fuzzy but I remember Mary was there and something else. A voice asked “ Do you want to see the paths or control the paths?” Mary said control before I could say anything. The dream ended. Shortly after this Mary’s dad was transferred and they moved away. A little bit after that it started.
I was sitting there watching Tv eating a apple when the world changed. The TV started rewinding and the sound went in reverse turning into nonsense and discordant noise. The worst was the apple. I felt it coming back up, it was like I was going to be sick but worse. Unlike being nauseous I couldn’t control my body. Just the sensation of it moving back up my throat followed by me unchewing it. You cannot begin to imagine how that feels. Your jaws are moving but things are being put back together. I know the sound of something uncrunching. Then I would put the apple to my mouth and the part of the apple I had just bitten was restored. It kept going on for a few minutes and by the time it stopped the apple was whole. Very upset and scared by what happed I ran to my mother and tried to explain what happened. She did not understand. She told me I must’ve been dreaming and tried to calm me down. I was confused but I was fine until it happened again. It was dinner and I watched my parents unhave a conversation. Knowing I was not asleep and this time it effecting other people I tried to say something when time started but they just looked at me confuse. A little scared I dropped it and dinner proceeded. It then happened irregularity and I learned not to talk about it cause people just looked at me like I was crazy.
Over time I learned to accept and deal with it but it wasn’t easy. When I was 10 was the first time time looped multiple times. I started freaking out. I thought whatever had been going on finally went critical and I was going to be stuck in one moment forever. Things got tough. I couldn’t well tell teacher that I didn’t finish the class work cause I was tired of doing the same problems again and again. I sat and cried after I watched myself untype my papers for school.
It wasn’t all bad at times. Riding rollercoasters was just epic when it happened at times. I started to notice it happened more on the weekends so I started gambling. I made a killing at Keno and card games. I didn’t figure out what had been truly going onuntil I was 20.
Mary’s family moved back. I hadn’t seen her but some of our old mutual acquaintances had. They told me her attitude and gotten worse and now she seemed perfect and could do no wrong and her smooth life had gone to her head. They also mentioned she seemed to always have the perfect come back and went to hurt with her words. It was at a bar I finally saw Mary.
I was enjoying a beer happy time hadn’t rewound to day when she came in. She walked by me not noticing me and stopped a few feet away with her 2 girlfriends. After a little while a guy walked up to her and shot his shot. Now he was definitely aiming high but hey props to him for having the bulls to try. Mary then opens her mouth and makes fun of him. He’s looking uncomfortable and her girlfriends are laughing a bit. Then time stops and backs up. It goes back to just before the guy walks up to her. Great I’m going to have to hear her make fun of this poor guy again. She starts making fun of him again and I realize with a start the words are different. All these years and nothing ever changed unless I made a change in how I proceeded in the loop. And here I was hearing something different come out of her mouth. True it was meaner then what she said before but different. She stops mid insult and says I can do better. Time reverses. I sit there and watch time loop as she gets meaner, her friends laugh harder, and the guy looks more devastated. After only a few loops it stops and time proceeds. I sit there in shock with the realization that Mary controls the time loops. I leave the bar and go home and think about how to proceed. I think about talking to her but after remembering how she used her power on the guy from the bar I decided to wait. I then started to observe Mary and how she used her power. I quickly realized the last thing I wanted her to know that I knew.
What was nice was at least now I knew and understood what was going on. Mary and I continued to live in the same town for the next few years and I saw her use her power many times. I learned that if the same 5-20 seconds are repeating she’s probably trying to find the perfect things to say to someone. 5-10 minutes usually meant a argument with someone. On rare occasions whole days or even once two weeks were rewound. I would wonder what happened to make her erase so much.
So I stand here filling my cup for the 38th time and I hope she has figured out the right line cause I just really want to have my coffee and Start my day. | 2021-07-25T17:11:11 | 2021-07-25T14:29:18 | 34 | 22 |
[WP] The Devil promises you everything: fame, fortune, all the things a mortal will ever need for paradise on earth. But he doesn't want your soul, he just wants you to take his socially awkward daughter, Gertrude, out on a date. Make her special, y'know?
**EDIT** All of your responses have been amazing! I wish I had time to leave feedback on all of them. You guys rock! | I always cook at home for first dates. It might not be the fanciest date option, but it has the merit of getting people to loosen up, to be themselves. But I wasn't sure about this one -- I had no idea what to expect. Her dad hadn't been very obliging in answering questions. A gruff old man, with a sharp, wounding way of talking. I was making pasta. Nobody could object to ravioli.
Gertrude. That was her name. I tried saying "Gertie" aloud. It hung in the air awkwardly like an unwanted question.
"Anything you want," the old man had said, eyes glittering. "Anything. Want me to prove it?"
The phone had rung, and almost in a daze, I heard my boss's grudging voice. "You. Show up early tomorrow, I'm putting your name forward for the promotion."
"But what about Ken? You gave him the job," I sputtered when I understood.
"Ken", said my boss poisonously, "has suddenly decided to become a monk in Tibet. He's leaving tomorrow." I swear my boss almost felt friendly towards me as he contemplated Ken's treachery.
When I hung up, I turned to the old man's quietly triumphant face.
"Alright, what do you want me to do?" I said.
***
As I grated the cheese, another thought struck me. This could be a trick. The Devil was known to trick people. But what could it all be in aid of? I finished up in the kitchen, laid the table and took out a bottle of wine.
Gertrude. Gertrude, the girl I was going to date -- just once -- in return for everything my heart desired. Her dad had promised this.
The doorbell rang.
I don't know what I was expecting. Perhaps ugliness. Her dad was ugly enough. But she wasn't ugly. She wasn't beautiful either. She was just so -- normal, that it threw me off. She smiled, and her cheek showed the hint of a dimple.
"C-come in, Gertrude," I stammered.
***
Gertrude. Gertie. The name slipped off my tongue like a kiss. I was a little drunk, I guess.
It was past midnight, after all.
We'd eaten pasta and drunk wine and sat on the sofa. In the beginning, we asked each other polite questions. In half an hour, we sat on the floor and laughed riotously. I don't know what we laughed about, but it was intensely funny at the time. Her brown, curly hair was out of its bun, spread over the cushion she leaned against. I told her my favourite music and movies, and I didn't lie, not even once.
We talked of our childhoods. I told her things I haven't told anyone before. I told her how much I missed my big brother.
***
In the morning, I made her breakfast. She loved cheesy omlette.
I got her her things as she got ready to leave. "Gertie," I said, "when can I see you again? Do you want to go to that movie? You know the one I told you about? This Friday?"
She shook her head. "Just one date," she said, and she turned around and walked away.
And I saw her devil father's face, quietly triumphant.
| "Meet Gertrude!" Satan gestured to his daughter, who stood in uncomfortable silence, twirling a stringy piece of lifeless, greasy hair.
I wish I could say that this was the single moment of my life that I had been waiting for; that I gazed into her eyes, and time suddenly stopped. That I took her bony hand in mine, and we skipped off in to the romantic Hell-fire horizon, forever in love.
It didn't quite happen that way.
Gertrude peered at me through beady eyes that were just a little too small and just a little too close together. Her two front teeth were quite large, and unfortunately for her, they were protruding out of her mouth in a way that made her look undeniable simple.
I attempted to hide my overwhelming aversion to this strange woman by offering her a half smile. I pushed my hand out to her (might as well introduce myself),
"Hey there Gertrude. I'm Charlie. We'll be spending the evening together."
She let out a strangled chuckle, her mouth opening in what I assumed was a smile, but couldn't be sure. My eyes fixated on a string of snot that began rolling down her bulbous nose. She quickly wiped it off with the back of her hand before shaking mine. I look at The Devil, clearly horrified.
Satan's eyes shift nervously between me and his daughter, as if he's afraid that I'll back out last minute. As if I have a choice.
"Alright, you two! The evening is just beginning. Better get up to Earth to have dinner and wreak some havoc! Make me proud, Gertrude!"
Another loud chuckle escapes Gertrude's lips before she gazes at me shyly. I clear my voice.
"So, Gert, do you mind if I call you that? Where would you like to eat tonight?"
She mulls over this for a second, her buck teeth chewing on her bottom lip. After what seemed like eternity (we were in Hell, after all), a single word finally escapes her dry, cracked lips,
"Arby's."
Of course. Arby's. | 2015-05-20T09:49:56 | 2015-05-20T08:28:30 | 196 | 56 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. WMDs. | To'rak scowled at the human, revealing a mouth full of venomous fangs. At over 10 feet in height, with four arms made for crushing and tearing tipped in razor-sharp talons, his species was built for war. The thing representing humanity was small, with soft flesh instead of hardened chiton.
"You seem confident, human."
"Only because I know we're gonna win." Alexander Temeris checked his wattch. "Tell me, what do you know of humans?"
To'rak scoffed "Your species? It has a small talent for war. A fleet only a third the size of our own. Bodies that damage themselves more than the opponent in open combat. You're not even Apex among your own planet, as bears, lions, panthers, and other animals far outclass you in might."
"All very true. We're weak. We die easily. Every breath we take is hard fought for. But there's one thing you forgot." Alexander leaned in close. "We survived because we had to be clever little bastards to keep going. Fighting a bear or a tiger in hand to hand would be suicide. So we invented spears and arrows."
&#x200B;
To'rak scoffed. Most species perfected projectile weapons. Arrows became guns, then guns abandoned for directed energy weapons. That wasn't special. However, Alexander's confidence shook something in him and he continued to listen. Alexander had caught up to the early 21st century
&#x200B;
"When dynamite wasn't effective, we discovered something. The power of the atom. We split it, and discovered enough radioactive energy to destroy cities."
To'rak's upper set of eyes widened. Killing an entire city with a single bomb? It was unethical, dishonorable! Cowardice and savagery of the highest order. "You wouldn't. Even one such as you must know that true battle requires being close enough to risk death at your opponent's hands. What you speak of would be-"
"Barbaric? Maybe. But that's the thing about us. We don't give a shit about honor. We wanna win. Damn the consquences. And that was 400 years ago. With tiny little nuclear fission bombs. Do you know what powers our "puny" ships now? A power we stumbled across while trying to find bette ways to kill each other."
To'rak's chiton dulled. "You mean you've figured out Nuclear fusion?"
"Figured it out? We mastered it." Alex looked around the room. Every Taralian was focused on him. He smiled to himself. He'd bought enough time. "And, locked onto my location, they decided to shoot a nuclear fusion bomb right here. At the heart of your fleet."
There was a blur of motion as To'rak lifted the Earther by the throat. "You're bluffing. You'd die too."
"Old Earth proverb. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." Alex laughed, and outside, a screaming missile tore through the blackness of the universe. "Our scientists figure this explosion will make a new star. Be honored, To'rak. You're gonna be remembered forever, every time one of you Tarlians look up at the night."
To'rak sank his teeth into Alex's neck, a futile gesture to relieve his own impudent rage. Scant seconds later, the missile hit. At the explosion, atomic nuclei combined, and a massive light engulfed the fleet. | They all thought, Humanity is nothing but a bunch of politicians and pacifists. They thought we'd simply lay down and just go quietly into the night. The Valkren Empire has apparently never heard of our history of warfare and a human beings never say die spirit.
"Sic vis pacem para bellum," my Drill Sergeant would say. "Latin for If you want peace! Prepare for war!" Sergeant Mueller would go on about how one reason the Cold War never kicked off may have been because both the US and Russia were ready to annihilate each other. However, our pacifism was nothing more than a sheet over our war machine.
Our 1st fleet had formed a blockade and was waiting for the Valkren Annihilation line. We were the tip of the spear. Taking out their flagship would mean the deaths of their command staff. An idiotic idea on their part to put their higher ups on one vessel.
A Mk. V Ship Breaker was a frightening display when I watched it work. Tipped with Nuclear warheads, it would easily wreck a Valkren ship according to intelligence. Our 3rd Expeditionary Naval Force was enroute to the Valkren homeworld in retaliation for their destruction of one of our colonies. They'd launch multiple weapons that would annihilate the Valkren electrical grid before a invasion began. Their own hubris would be their downfall.
We saw them exit their hyperspace jump and I could only think of what their faces looked like at the sight of the fleet. The command of the dreadnought Valkyrie was my first ship command.
"Locked on to the flagship Commander," my TACOPs officer announced.
"Fire," I ordered. There were two Mk. V rockets launched, with no warning. We watched as it smacked their bridge and the other hit their bow. The shockwave annihilated the ship. It fractured into two pieces. What followed was nothing short of an amazing display of firepower. Multiple rockets, cannons, weapon systems were unleashed in awesome display of colors varying in blue and red.
The Valkren fleet did not have a leg to stand on as ship after ship was destroyed. One battleship collided with another and some of the Valkren were floating in space. The message would be sent throughout the Galaxy to all the other species.
"Do not fuck with Humanity. We may not start a war, but we will finish it." | 2021-07-04T20:53:59 | 2021-07-04T14:17:04 | 99 | 58 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | A skinny man stands at a podium in front of hundreds of representatives from different countries. Brushing the long dreaded hair from his face revealing his bloodshot eyes.
"uhhhh Everyone, this is uhhhh Greg Brooks" says President Obama "it seems that he has stopped Daesh from their antics and quelled most of the major issues in the Middle East."
Brooks had just smoked out the entirety of the Middle East with what he called the "danks." How he was able to get over 1,000 pounds of marijuana to the Middle East from New Zealand has been a point of controversy. Many officials are still trying to decide whether to give him a medal or a sentence.
"Give him the death sentence!" bellows the Saudi representative "cut off his legs! Stone him to death!"
"Suh dude, maybe you need a hit of this shit" Brooks giggles as if his comment had any comedic merit.
Everyone seems to be a little less than satisfied about the whole thing. Not only were the best minds in the world unable to stop every issue in the Middle East, it was a douchebag wanna be Jamaican stoner who did it. In the most stoner of fashions no less, he managed to get every single person in a 2,000 mile radius of the epicenter absolutely baked. Hash production in the Middle East went up by %4,000. The (almost) international legalization of the product after this event helped the economy of these countries sky rocket. All because of the monster piles of marijuana he lit on fire.
The problem is over but still, fuck Greg. | The President, the joint chiefs of staff, several different D.O.D members and some individuals from agencies you don't have the clearance to know about sat in the situation room in various states of shock and disbelief. After several awkward, quiet minutes, the President cleared his throat and began to speak.
"...Well...I mean...there's *worse* ways to discover the existence of the Kingdom of Atlantis."
"We they throwing ***SHARKS?***" | 2016-01-29T10:11:13 | 2016-01-29T06:30:49 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] The fact the uncanny valley exists is terrifying. Being scared by things that look almost human but aren't. Other animals do not have this. That means that at some point in our evolution, running away from things that looked almost human was advantageous enough to be imprinted on our genetics. | The EVA 201 class began. As we walked in, we waved our notebooks over the interface and the e-ink paper changed. I took a brief glance at what I presumed would be the syllabus, and found a table of contents:
**Pages 1-3:** Content warnings
**Page 4:** Infohazard waiver and consent form
**Page 5:** University policy on non-consensual disclosure
**Pages 6-10:** [locked pending acceptance]
The class was half empty.
"I'm sure that by now you've been familiarized with the scrutiny that an evolutionary anthropology class entails. When Dr. Sanchez pioneered his methods of correlational culture reconstruction, he thought it would bring us enlightenment, instead it brought us horror, hatred, and war. But humanity can't blind itself to the truth, even after all it's brought us. So we are the few, unlucky in my opinion, watchers, who study it for the benefit of the rest."
"I'm sure you are aware of the policy, but the rules say I need to say it out loud. The material presented in this class ranks a 5 on the individual scale, and a 7 on the societal scale. If you start spreading it to anyone who's not in our program, or didn't opt-out of infoprotection, you will not only be expelled from the program, but will be sanctioned by every major infosec company out there. Depending on the severity, you might be banned from posting on any platform with an infosec contract. People in that situation often end up posting on opt-outer forums, and reading what they post there. After that, few last more than a year before they end up in an insane asylum."
"So, don't do it. Also, there's a content warning section which I suggest you read carefully,"
Brian smirked. He was always one of those who think they're fearless and invincible. He joked about opting out pretty often.
"... even if you thought the previous classes weren't that intense. We will be watching video reconstructions from Pleistocene-epoch human cultures, for the first time, though not today. I've had a student who told me that he has seen "snuff films", and he still couldn't take it. Now, please sign your waivers so I can proceed."
Over the sound of people walking out the door, I signed both and immediately the next pages changed from a static blur to readable text.
**Page 6:** Intro to psychosymbiosis
**Page 7:** History of psychosymbiote-affected human cultures
**Page 8:** Extinct species
**Page 9:** Extant species
**Page 10:** Public safety implications
"As you may have guessed, this class is about the organisms which make their home inside human bodies, and affect our thoughts and behavior. Once you think about it, you may see it's obvious in hindsight. If we have pathogens that quickly evolve to exploit our other tissues and organs, why not exploit the brain? Especially since we have seen so many examples among other animals, like rabies or the Cordyceps fungus? Much of it is the fault of these organisms themselves."
"When a microbe infects an animal, it has to evade the immune system to survive, by an endless variety of means. The same goes for these, and over time they have learned to affect the brain, to hide their own existence. Some will delete thoughts and memories that hint at their existence. Others will act more violently, killing the host and releasing spores, or making the host kill the person spreading information about them. You all have been tested at the campus clinic to have relatively benign symbiotes, such as the genus *Pacipheria*, a clade that seems to tolerate people learning about it. That one does have amnestic and hallucinogenic properties that keep people from seeing the physical and behavioral effects of similar infections on others and themselves, but it doesn't seem to understand abstract academic terminology. So I can teach this class without fear of anything happening to you or me."
"But let this be another reminder to keep everything we talk about inside of the classroom. You can't know which of these your friends could be carrying, and how they will respond to a knowledge trigger."
The professor went on to explain with a professional tone, while everyone in the class reacted in stunned horror. Brian's smirk was gone from his face. Spores? Hallucinogenic? Physical effects?
"Humans have gone through a long co-evolution with these infestations. We would evolve some trait, and they would evolve to counter it. Because many of them tend to deform the human body, and tended to use the host and their deformations to do violence to hosts of competing symbiotes, our brain evolved an instinctive fear reflex towards humans who, how should I put it, 'don't look right'. In response, many of them, including *Pacipheria* adapted to block out that perception, and make all human-shaped creatures look normal, at least usually. In cases of reported sightings, it and many species will drive the host to disbelieve any accounts."
"By promoting the health and sanity of the host, it allowed humans to create civilizations and thus proliferate more. More hosts, more symbiotes. This is what we call a commensalist or even mutualistic symbiote. In the past, parasitic ones were much more common, and we still remember the more recent ones in traditions about "zombies", "monsters", "vampires", all of them coming from historical accounts of infested humans. However, remember that the modern world still hosts many different species, and few of them are as benign..."
An hour and a half later, I walked out the classroom in a daze. I learned a lot, about how competition and kin selection among different parasites led to wars and racism, about the genus responsible for what we have come to call "zombies" and some of the ones that were lost to oral history, and terms like "pseudo-neural mycelium" and "cognitostructural autoimmunity", (though the professor still refused to answer what was so disturbing about the Pleistocene epoch), but as I walked past what looked like normal college students, this one thought I couldn't get out of my head was "what would they truly look like through clear eyes?" | "So there is a bit of fuzzy area. Anything below this and our brain is happy to leave it alone and call it Non Human. Anything above this, our brain will identify a face as definitely human. But if you look at a face that falls in this area, uncanny valley as we call it, our brain just can't fully process it. It confuses us. It terrifies us."
"But why does this happen Professor?"
"Good question, Dylan. We still don't fully understand. There are several theories of course. Maybe it reminds us of the dead. Maybe its because there very several species very close to us competing for survival at the dawn of humanity. It's a very evolutionary response, you see. Something that has to have lasted over a long long time. We continue to look into this. However, there..."
The bell rang and the class finished.
Professor McCarthy turned around to clear up the blackboard as the class exited through the doors.
When he was done and he turned around, he was surprised to find a paper on his desk.
It was neatly written. Only a student could've left it there.
He sat in his chair and started reading it, wondering why it had been left there. He had a few minutes to kill anyways. He read the first few lines casually, before sitting up bolt upright.
****
The entire class looked back at him.
"I'm not mad everyone. Someone left a hand written note on my desk. It was super interesting. I just want to know who it was."
But no one came forth with the explanation.
"You won't get into trouble. I promise. It's just a fascinating idea and I want to know more. Dylan? Katie? Sam?"
But no one admitted to it. He sighed. "Fine then. Let's get on with today's lesson."
At the end of the period, there was another note. This one was short and to the point.
*I can't let them know. Just watch them for a while. You'll see it too.*
************
His throat started closing up and his heart rate went up. He looked at all the faces staring back at him. His brain was screaming at him. He had to close his eyes. He had to close his eyes or risk losing his sanity.
He had to...
He came to with a start and found his class working on their assignment. All of them, except Dylan. Dylan looked right at him with a slight smile. A smile, that made him uncomfortable for some reason. A smile far too wide for a human face.
He muffled his screaming by stuffing his fist in his mouth.
A few kids looked up at him in confusion.
"Carry on, please. I'm a bit unwell today."
As the class came to an end, he didn't turn around. He observed if anyone would leave something. No one did.
After a few minutes, a piece of paper was thrown into the classroom. He ran out to see if he could catch who had thrown it.
He saw Dylan standing there, his arm around another of his students. Kevin, he thought was the kid's name. Kevin looked as if he was ready to cry.
Dylan waved to him and walked away, his arm still around Kevin's shoulders as he walked beside Dylan.
The note had a simple message again.
*They know.*
******
Kevin didn't show up for class the next day.
Prof McCarthy stopped Dylan at the end of the class.
"Where's Kevin?"
"Don't know, professor. Who's Kevin?"
"You know who Kevin is. You were with him yesterday?"
"Was I? I don't recall."
The professor looked at Dylan's face to see any indication if he was lying. But the more he looked at his face, the more his own brain screamed back at him. There was something wrong... something he couldn't explain.
"Dylan, who... what are you?"
Dylan's smile widened. He seemed to have hundreds of teeth. Professor stumbled backwards, knocking some of his books off the table.
"Didn't Kevin tell you professor? Surely he did. Clever kid that. Not sure how he found out, but he did."
"So he was right?"
"I don't know what he told you."
"He wrote of monsters, animals, shapeshifters. Ones whose purpose was to infiltrate human kind, and eventually overtake us."
"Clever kid for sure. But he won't be any trouble now."
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing. Don't worry about it professor. In fact, it might be in your best interest to ignore all of this completely."
"But you look... you look normal."
"Did you think humans were the only ones capable of evolution?"
The professor looked at Dylan as he left.
**********
Kevin was back in the class. He was smiling. But the more the professor looked at his smile, the more his brain screamed at him. Professor looked around at his class. They were all smiling back at him.
So much smiling.
The professor screamed and collapsed.
*******
More of my ramblings at r/ta_account_12 | 2020-09-15T13:29:59 | 2020-09-15T13:26:22 | 1,783 | 590 |
[WP] Out of pity, the grim reaper fails to kill a young child in a hospital. As a result, a nurse leaves early and does NOT get in a car accident, the father does NOT overdose on alcohol, and it kicks off a chain reaction of people NOT dying who were supposed to die. | Death sighed. It had been a dismal day. Children always broke filled his mind with doubts. It was wrong to take them. Why should they be stripped away of a life they didn't even start to taste? What about their latent dreams, and their untainted souls? Were they worthless?
The gates to his chamber grated open, and a figure buried in shadows announced its arrival through distant crackings. Brittle bones made for an interesting carpet. Death knew it was grim, but it suited him.
"It was the first and the last time," Death said and straightened in his throne of skulls. "But I fail to see the fairness and the reasoning behind my actions."
The figure came to a halt in the middle of the chamber. A slanted beam of moonlight seeping through a lonesome grate in the leeward wall bathed her under its pale light.
She was an old lady garbed in a crimson velvet dress. Her back was bent, her hair was long and silvery, and her eyes were half-closed.
"Are you defying the decisions of Fate?" she said.
"I would never do such a thing," Death said and shook his head, "but I can't comprehend them. Not when they involve children."
"When I had your position," the old lady said, "I doubted too. But I never disobeyed. Fate sees the strings that unite everything. She's the puppeteer of all we know, and we are nothing but mere puppets in her play. Don't ask, play your part. Cry or laugh at the end."
Death's bones rattled at his antecessors' words. She was older, and much wiser. She'd personally chosen him to replace her, and for that, he treasured her the same way an elder man treasures his golden years.
"Why did you choose me?" Death asked, and met her white eyes. "You knew very well this would happen."
The old lady chuckled low on her throat. "Did I? Or did Fate choose you?" She waved her hands in a dismissive manner. "I'd guess Fate didn't interfere, otherwise I doubt she would've chosen you, a mortal, for this job. But I was curious, and your soul drew my attention. It was eager, and it shone blue and green."
Death drew a deep breath, remembering the tear-soaked eyes of the child he was supposed to guide to the afterlife. "It was pointless, wasn't it?"
The old lady tilted her head and frowned. "What was pointless?"
"Fate will notice sooner or later," Death said and sighed, "and once she does, she will move the strings again. Those who were supposed to die today I will be called to guide tomorrow. I will have to face that child again, his terrified nurse, his heartbroken father, and everyone else I'd have had to guide if I had taken the child."
The old lady remained silent.
But her glacial nod echoed through the room.
Death stood up. He grabbed the scythe leaning at the side of his throne. The wind whispered through the crevasses, and his robe billowed to its subtle choreography. His eyes wandered over the dwindling beam of moonlight, until there was nothing left in the chamber but deep shadows.
Death took a slow step forward.
The tears of many would rain that night, and their lamentations would burn his bones.
But in the end, no one escapes fate.
-------------------------------
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| "26."
I wearily turned my head around, and caught sight of a figure draped all in black mystery. A trenchcoat jacket perfectly captured his muscular frame, replete with a black shirt and pants, and a slim golden tie. Around his neck hung a silver pendant - a miniature scythe that glowed ever so slightly. The suit seemed to wax and wane, almost as if some kid was attempting to balance a light switch between 'on' and 'off'.
His hair was short and spiky. Face sharp and angular, features well defined and undeniably, handsome.
Up til this point I could almost accept that he was just some well-dressed gentleman who had stumbled onto the wrong dying kid's ward.
But of course, he wasn't. His midnight black eyes seemed to give up their own light, shimmering gently. His eyes were on you, but they could also feel a million miles away, almost as if the man were looking at several distinct pictures at once. These were eyes beholden to the most primal and desolate form of darkness, and yet had an inner glow of their own, almost as if they represented a hope against the darkness.
This man was no man at all.
"26?" I echoed, my voice hollow, my mouth utterly dry.
"26 deaths I lose if this boy does not die." The man continued.
I wanted to rail at him, to beat desperately at him with these worn out hands, muscles exhausted by the constant tension and pain, furious white-knuckled clenching as the doctors rattled off his condition. As my son slipped closer and closer to death.
But some part of me knew that he was just some figment of my imagination, a mirage that had been conjured up by me in a time of extreme duress. So this is it then, I thought. Im finally going insa-
"I'm no figment of your imagination James." The man said. "And you're not insane either."
My thoughts slowed to a stop in my mind. I took in the gentleman once more, and I felt the rich aura of... death coming off him. It felt of unbridled rage, of tempestuous sorrow, but mostly of... acceptance.
"I am the Reaper, James. And I've come today to see if your son should be saved."
| 2018-08-01T19:05:47 | 2018-08-01T16:53:13 | 47 | 28 |
[WP] Your town just recently shut down its subway network due to a lack of funding. You decided to go exploring in the abandoned tunnels, and you're starting to get concerned about the sheer volume of tunnels not marked on any maps that lead to sealed blast doors. | *Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. And any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*
It seems strange that the reason the Hong Kong metro gave for their closure was a lack of funding. *Lack of funding*. The most profitable metro system closing down because of a *lack of funding*. Yeah, right. The rest of the people in the city seems to buy the lie though, all of them brainwashed by the daily propaganda fed out by the Party. Of the 2 million that protested in 2019, only a few thousand remained active. Most of them, fed up by the lack of any progress, gave up and returned to their 9 to 5 jobs. Another portion of them, caught by the police, are now serving time in prison, their freedom gone. The final portion of them, missing, dead, gone. No one knew where they went, no one knew if they are alive. After the protest was completely squashed, the metro closed down promptly after. I knew something was fishy, so one night, after the night went dark, amidst the height of the curfew, *I went down*.
The metro tracks did not particularly stink other than the steel tracks that laid beneath my foot and the faint smell of tear gas. After all, this used to be one of the most efficient and well maintained metro systems in the world. It’s hard to be *not* well maintained when the government literally *gifts* you the land area surrounding the metro. The efficiency of the metro system was built on the poverty and livelihood of the people. The metro tracks were dark, though. Very dark. I turned on my torch. The tracks in front of me lit up like two parallel laser beams. I trekked forward slowly. There was only one direction to go.
Until there wasn’t. Embedded in the walls of the metro tracks, small passageways that led sideways. For every 20 meters or so, the walls caved in and a small passage gave way. I chose one and walked inside. The passageway twisted and turned. It did not look to be carved by machine. Bare rocks extruded out, their rough surface, exposed and visible. The passageways looked so strange and queer until it hit me—*These tunnels were carved by hand*. Pick by pick, axe by axe, these passageways extended further.
I trekked forward. In some places I even had to crawl. Finally, I reached an end. In front of me stood a gigantic sealed blast door. I realized that all of the tunnels led to this door. 5 times larger than a standard door, it stood. My torchlight reflected on its steel surface. It looked like some secret government base. I pressed my ear to the door, expecting to hear the screams of the missing. Nothing.
For a while I waited, pondering if I should knock. I know I shouldn’t. If this really is a government base for missing dissidents then I would probably end up dead. But I have walked and trekked and crawled for at least 4 kilometers, and I did not want to head back empty-handed. I wanted to have some *proof* that the government is doing something terrible. Something despicable.
Suddenly, the door opened. I froze, half expecting to see a gun pointed at my head, and maybe dead corpses, and even tortured bodies behind those steel doors. There was none of that.
Instead, I saw hope. Two men in all black clothing stared at me. Their eyes, covered with a dark pair of shades; their faces, covered with 3M gas masks.
“Welcome to the rebellion,” one said. | It’s an old town, but I love it to death. When they lost funding, I thought “You know what, maybe this is my chance. My chance to move out of here, start off somewhere new” yet here I am, in an abandoned subway station. Living the dream. Walking by walls, covered in graffiti, just like I imagined. But then I reached something strange. A tunnel that’s not on the map, the official map of the subway station, published a year prior to the shutdown. Maybe it’s an error on the map, maybe it was built after this map was published? I walked further into the tunnel, my flashlight pierced through the darkness. As I walked I noticed something off, something that just didn’t seem right. The graffiti. There wasn’t any.
I continued down the tunnel anyway, maybe out of curiosity, maybe out of boredom. After what felt like hours of walking, I stumbled across a pair of sealed doors, whatever was in there, I wasn’t getting in. Then it hit me, it’s a service tunnel. It doesn’t need to be on the map, nothing strange here. Yet when I turned, there was something... off. Three tunnels, a fork in the tunnels I hadn’t realized before. Which one did I come in from? Left. I’ll go left. I found another door. I didn’t come from this way. These tunnels aren’t on the maps, what have I gotten myself into? I need to find my way back. As I start walking again, I heard a loud, ear piercing sound, like metal being scraped against concrete. In the distance, about a quarter mile down a tunnel, I saw a thin light emerging from a doorway, slowly growing larger as the door opened more.
I’m not alone.
Could it be construction workers? A maintenance crew, or some city workers? It didn’t matter, I shouldn’t be here anyway. My way back is past those doors, and the men aren’t moving from the doorway. I find the perfect window of opportunity to slip by, and I execute my escape perfectly. But as I’m walking away, they begin speaking, in a language other than English. Russian. Maybe they are Russian maintenance workers, here to finish work on the tunnels, after the shutdown? It doesn’t matter to me, so I continue walking away. One last look back, I see something I never should have. Crates, loaded to the top with explosives. These aren’t maintenance tunnels.
I really shouldn’t be here.
I began creeping away, when I felt something metallic and heavy being pressed against the back of my skull. | 2019-12-19T01:51:39 | 2019-12-18T20:44:35 | 162 | 69 |
[WP] Your older brother has been missing for years. You hear a knock on the door, and you open it to reveal a man that looks like your brother would be at this point. "I'm back man! I'm so sorry!" He hugs you immediately. Just then, you get a text from your brother's old number. "That isn't me." | See, I always knew my brothers disappearance was suspicious. But no one listens to a 'little kid', even if that kid knew the disappeared better than anyone. But one look at his room that day and I knew. My brother hadn't gone willingly. It was the fishbowl, you see. It had been knocked on its side. The only thing inside it was a fish shaped cat toy, that crinkled in the tail and smelled like catnip. But he wouldn't have left it on its side. It was a tradition, running joke, whatever you want to call it, that fish and bowl.
Then he showed up again. 9 years later. I was the same age he had been, 17, 2 weeks after my birthday. Just like him. He was so...casual about it. "Hey, kid." With that grin I missed so much, but more tired, a little lopsided. "Sorry it took me so long. But I'm back now." He hugged me before I could react. And I was so tired from all the stress of the last 9 years that I hugged back.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Out of habit I checked it immediately. It was from my brother. The one currently hugging me. *Thats not me -B*
Swallowing nervously I pulled back from the hug. "So, Ben, where have you been?"
He ran a hand through his hair, "It's a long story, Lou."
"Come inside and have something to drink. We've got all night." He followed me inside and closed the door behind him.
"Where's mom and dad?"
The question nearly froze me in my tracks. Ben would haven't have asked that so casually. "Well, things have changed a lot since you...left." I didn't want him, whoever he was, to know I knew my brother had been taken. "Mom and dad went through with the divorce they were always holding over each other's heads. Dad moved out to the country, you know how he is. And mom and I stayed here." I was in the kitchen filling up two glasses of water. Imposter-Ben had stopped in front of the little used calendar, which mom had marked my birthday on so she wouldn't forget. She had anyway. "Mom is out, either on a date or with friends. Either way she won't be home till late."
"Happy late birthday." He mumbled to me. "How old?"
I pushed down the hurt that he wouldn't know. My phone buzzed again. *I'm sorry. Keep distracting him.* "Seventeen."
"Ah, right." I handed him a cup and we moved to the couch, sitting down on opposite ends. "I see you still have the fish." He gestured to the aquarium I'd been maintaining for the last few years.
I laughed, "Yeah, they're all named Crinkle Butt."
Imposter-Ben laughed too, but it was the laugh of someone who didn't get the joke. My heart fell when I heard it and knew the text message hadn't been lying. This wasn't my brother.
"So," I said, trying to force cheerfulness back into my voice, "You gonna tell me what you've been up to?"
He stood up, setting his still-full water cup on the side table. "I can show you." He grinned again, that not quite right, lopsided smile. "It'd be a lot easier." He reached a hand down to me. And part of me wanted to take it. Maybe if I followed I could find the truth.
A loud crash sounded from the back door and glass rained down from it. "LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!!" With an ear ringing zap, a beam of light shot from the kitchen to the living room, hitting Imposter-Ben squarely in the jaw. He toppled to the ground with a heavy thunk and the face that looked like my brother's began to melt off of him.
Ben came running to the couch. "Hey, Lou. Long time no see." The grin was there, perfect again.
"BENJAMIN ARNOLD! How am I going to explain this to mom?!" I pointed at the puddle of face that was already being soaked up by the carpet.
"Eh...I'll get a clean-up crew out here?"
"You better!" I tried to glare at him, but it was all too much and before I knew it, he was holding me while I sobbed into his shoulder.
"Hey, look!" He tapped my shoulder, and spoke in the same tone he used to distract me when I was little. He pointed to the aquarium, his face lighting up, "Crinkle Butts!" | The day was like any other. My routine the same. Except today is different. I’m more sad than usual, for today is the day of my brothers death. The day that he disappeared. The day that we called the police, searched for him, and never found him. That’s why when I opened the door to see my older brother standing there with the same posture he always stood in, the same shining blue eyes, and dark brown hair, I froze in my tracks. A message arrives on my phone but I’m far to distracted to even look. Instead, I could feel the tears falling down my face and I wanted so much to make them stop. I haven’t cried I heard, not since the day he disappeared. I had pretended to be fine, to show I was strong. This way mom and dad didn’t have to worry about me too. That’s also why the moment I felt that tear fall down my face, the door was slammed shut. I try to sort out all of the thoughts in my head. The ones that were saying, “this isn’t possible.” “He’s supposed to be dead.” But the ones that are the most loud are the ones desperately hoping that it’s really him. The ones hoping that he’s okay, alive. The ones hoping it not just randomly hallucinating my dead older brother. Then a knock on the door is heard. Slowly I reopen it. Relief is written all over my brothers face. I feel a buzz in my pocket, but I ignore it. My brother is far more important than whoever is still trying to contact me. “I’m back.” He says to me. “Finally, I’m back. I’m so sorry I left you alone all this time! I’m so, so sorry.” And at that moment the both of us immediately go to hug eachother. I can feel my phone buzzing even more. I go to open up the phone, but then I don’t. A small part of me thinks that if I do my brother will be gone, and so, I don’t. More messages come in as I walk my brother to the kitchen. We sit on the old dinning room table, meant for 4, that mom and dad had given me. Looking at it I feel even more pain. This was the table that we sat at to have every meal, just the three of us. The three of us who no longer talked, who just for some reason never cared anymore, for their son and my brother was gone. It was like life no longer had meaning. Like my brother was the only one holding us all together. A part of me felt resentful of my brother. Anger, but I never let it show. And now that I see him again, all those feelings vanish. For I too am relieved that he is hear. The messages on my phone seem to keep on coming and so I tell my brother that I need to go to the bathroom. For some reason a part of me feels ashamed for wanting to talk to someone else instead of him at this moment. When I open the bathroom door I take my phone out of my pocket. I have over 50 messages by now. A lot of them saying my name. Most of them saying to answer. I scroll o the top and as I read the first message aloud that says, “that isn’t me.” A loud noise like what if imagine a gunshot to sound like rings in my ear. A small whole shines through the bathroom door. And a blue eye looks through it. Just then another message comes in. In 3 big letter words it spells out, “RUN.” | 2020-07-23T12:22:24 | 2020-07-23T11:12:42 | 154 | 37 |
[WP] This man EXPECTED the Spanish Inquisition. But the Spanish Inquisition did not expect someone like HIM, and were dramatically unprepared. | "Nobody expects the..."
"Spanish inquisition," said the man with the hint of a yawn and stared out of the window. "Yes, I've heard."
"But how?" gasped one of the red robed men at the rear of the pack, his hands reaching to clasp his crucifix tightly.
The leader silenced him with a glare before clearing his throat. "Our chief weapon is..."
"Oh, let me guess," said the man, his thumb and forefinger gently stroking his beard as he rolled his eyes. "Surprise? Fear and surprise? Fear and surprise and your devout loyalty to the Pope?"
The leading Inquistor blushed. "It is not possible..."
"Oh, of course it's possible; everyone knows you've been reading the same old script ever since Torquemada first came up with it. The Spanish Inquisition - about as unexpected as a case of the trots after tucking into a Sunday lunch at the Rat and Scab, cooked by Barry 'Bubonic' Boggins."
"I'll come in again."
"Yes, please do. And try to come up with something a little more original this time, a little more panache."
"Well, I'll try," said the Inquisitor, backing out of the doors and shutting them behind him.
"Right, Baldrick," said Edmund Blackadder, locking the door and walking to the window. "It's going to take them about eight minutes to come up with something new and inventive, a further three for them to properly rehearse it, and about fifteen seconds to break down the door and realise that I've escaped out of the window."
"And what about me m'lord?" asked Baldrick.
"Well, someone will need to explain that I'm not available. And since I'll be on the other side of the city, it rather looks like that someone might just be you, Balders. But, don't worry, I'm sure that with your rapier-like mind you'll manage to extricate yourself from the situation."
"Yes m'lord," said Baldrick, as Blackadder disappeared out the window. "I have a cunning plan..." | I looked at them with a gleeful grin growing on my face. I had known for a while that this day would come, my superior sources silently supplying me with information. So I prepared. Oh, did I prepare. I built walls. I planted fruits and vegetables, raised cattle and sheep. I even created a secret password to my unilaterally unbreakable doors. And when they came for me, I was ready. People called me crazy, but who was laughing now? I was, from the top of my walls while those silly pig-dogs commanded in the name of their God that I come down answer their ridiculous religious requests. I taunted them a second time. So they charged my fort. I grabbed a nearby chicken and threw it down at them while my comrades catapulted cows. After our domestic defense, they became frustrated, and ran away in exhausted exasperation, exclaiming, "But, no one expects the Spanish Inquisition!" Well, the so-called foolish french did. | 2015-04-10T09:04:35 | 2015-04-10T07:24:39 | 178 | 24 |
[WP] The demon that tried to strike a deal with you was absolutely not prepared for the level of specificity you've prepared to make sure there are no loopholes for him to abuse. | "Mortal, I wish to make you an offering. Someone as strong and powerful as yourself has earned it. I have a wish to bestow to you. Imagine... anything, beyond your wildest dreams, being made real for you. Just ask," the demon chirped, with a smirk. It fluttered impishly before me. Tiny, winged, and red-skinned — it would have been a faerie, if not for being evil.
I sighed. I had a job to do. The townfolk had hired me to vanquish this demon from the forest outside their village and were prepared to pay a tidy sum for the feat. These lesser demons were the equivalent of a young intern in the legal world--they weren't powerful enough to win a battle with a professional. I hated to waste such an opportunity to use the poorly-written bylaws of the underworld for my own advantage, but the demon-slaying contract the town had drawn up was surprisingly airtight.
"Almoleg Thar'ath Gulgoruun?" I prompted.
"Yes?" it asked, surprised I knew its full name.
"You've been served," I stated grimly, with my hand outdrawn. I gave the tiny flying beast a to-scale envelope containing a legal document I had drawn up on parchment earlier at the local inn. The demon was locally famous for offering travellers a wish, then exploiting it to cause pain and anguish. Knowing this, it was easy to write up a sound exorcism clause.
It opened the letter and its intelligent eyes scanned the paper within. It cursed furiously. "Lawyers deserve to go straight to heaven." The demon vanished in mid-air with a sudden burst of flames and ash. I dusted off my hand-tailored suit and headed back to town for my payment from the town elder. $500 wasn't bad for half an hour of work. | The demon looked at me with a sly grin. I smiled. He smiled back. Everything I tried to think about confused me.
Then I remembered....I had never heard of anyone being tricked by a demon without having bad intent or ill will in their own mind. They always got some form of payback they did not see coming.
...so I gave the demon a hug and asked him to take the rest of the day off, I figured he could use it.
Worked out nicely, turns out we both love cold IPAs and Black Mirror.
| 2018-01-20T07:26:26 | 2018-01-20T07:01:32 | 1,072 | 147 |
[WP] Scientists find a planet that is absolutely identical to Earth (same size, distance to the star, atmosphere, etc), but then they discover that there is absolutely no life on the planet despite the same conditions. | Five years after The James Webb telescope was launched and started scanning the skies , a technician at NASA discovered something very strange while processing data originating from a particular area in the constellation Cetus.
Word quickly spread inside NASA and for the next few months , James Webb was instructed to focus entirely all its power and time in peering harder and harder at that point in the sky approximately 220 light years away from Earth
Twenty years after this discovery,without much fanfare and under the utmost secrecy,the first nano probes launched from Earth. The budget for the Nano Programme had been put together by Presidential Executive order to escape outside scrutiny.
Each probe had a small sail that would catch a laser point of light from Earth and propel itself to nearly 50% the speed of light.
400 years later , the probes that had survived their long galactic journey reached their target.
By the time their first images could reach Earth , all the probes had been destroyed.
The images would show a watery blue green planet remarkably similar to Earth in size , orbiting a star at exactly the same distance from Earth's sun.
The foliage covering the planet was entirely similar to plants and trees found on Earth.
Land masses and water bodies were almost a copy in size and shape to those found back on Earth.
However,there was no sign of any other life form.
It was a perfect home.
With no one at home.
"Do you think destroying the probes was enough?
How much longer is this experiment going to continue? "
The one to which the question was addressed leaned forward pensively.
"No , I agree it's time.Our first prototype has served its purpose.
We have learnt from their mistakes and from their successes.
We must start over with the knowledge we have gained. Decommission the prototype and plan for the release of v2. "
Someone on Earth, looking up at the sky would have noticed something very strange,as one by one the stars began to wink out.
| "And? It's not to be unexpected. It was always possible, we've had several candidates without life. Still report it of course."
"No, ma'am, we mean the *exact* same conditions. The same continents, the same mountains, deserts, even bodies of water. There're, there're even the same *buildings*. It's an exact replica, just nothing living."
"Then, what built all of that?"
"We don't know ma'am."
**Meanwhile of XO'001**
All life, from the bacteria upward, crouched deep underground with bated breath.
"Do you think that big dog is gone yet?"
| 2017-02-23T05:39:42 | 2017-02-23T05:38:38 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] Write about a world where whenever somebody writes on their skin, it appears on their soulmate's body as well. | Everyday, something appears on my arm. Or hand. Or wrist. Basically anything near those areas. My supposed soulmate likes to write in those places all the time. I'm guessing they're forgetful, because it's always notes or locations. All. The. Time. Not even a cute doodle. Just reminders.
I never write on my skin. I don't really like the appearance of ink or anything being on my skin in general, especially since someone I don't even know could see it. That's *kind of* embarrassing. How could people deal with someone writing random stuff and it appearing on their arm everyday?
-----------------------------------------
I'm in my fifth period, APUSH. It's a note taking day, so obviously all of the kids in class take advantage of this time and sleep. As I'm writing down notes, I look at my arm. Writing begins to appear in thick black ink. *What this time...* Letters appear one by one. *M..c..c..l..a..* More and more pop up. Then numbers. *McClains. 3:00 P.M Today* That place sounded so familiar. *Oh!* The coffee shop downtown! My friends and I use to always go there freshman year before school. The good ol' days. It was only a 10 minute walk. *Oh my god. It's basically destiny* I knew I had to go. This isn't some sort of coincidence. *Do I dare write back...?* I look at the pen in my hand. *Here goes nothing...* I begin to write. The ink was pitch black and my hand writing looked absolutely nothing like theirs. They have to notice it. "I'll be there." I write. *I'll definitely be there...*
--------------------------------
It's 3:03. I'm sitting on one of the couches at the coffee shop, sipping on black coffee. I skim the shop, looking for people with visible writing on their hands. The person didn't respond after what I wrote. *Oh my god, what happens if they didn't come? Ugh, why am I so weird??* I hear a bell ding and look at the door.
*Oh my god...* She was so stunning. She had long, black hair and gorgeous blue eyes. *Is she...?* I try to look at her arms. *Ugh.. I can't see* She walks towards the line as I'm there sitting, watching her every move. This goes for a couple minutes until she orders her coffee. She stands and waits, looking at her phone. *Do I.. go over there? I have to. Oh my god, go go go* My body forces itself up and I walk over towards her.
My body makes its way a few feet behind her. I look at her arm. *Black ink. Oh my god, that has to be her!* I breathe in. *You got this... I think. Hopefully* I walk near her and tap her on the shoulder.
She turns and looks at me, her beautiful eyes looking at mine. She smiles. It was such a beautiful smile. I manage to start stuttering out words.
"Um...So... I think you're my soulmate?" | I can't believe it. On her right forearm is the same tattoo that I have. It's the symbol for fire, not from Avatar. She must've grown tired of hearing that question asked as well. She has the same shoulder scar from my surgery. She must have so many questions. I fell out of a truck, I burned my forearm at the grill at Mcdonald's, don't ask any other questions. I had a strange obsession with cutting, luckily it never got bad. I wanted scars and now I have too many to count. You must have so many questions. I'm sorry, I've been lonely and the solipsism has set in so bad that I'd do anything to get you to talk to me about anything, I like books. Let's talk fantasy or Stephen King.
I approach the woman she's looking at the nutrition facts on a carton of eggs. I turn towards her and make sure my forearm faces her. Don't be weird, be cool, make her laugh. "Hi." I say.
She looks at me up and down, obviously uncomfortable and looking down at me at the same time. "Can I help you?"
I should have did myself up more, like cologne and stuff. "You got my tattoo, that means..."
She cuts me off. "...I've had this happen a few times. I'm married and I got the tattoo after I watched Avatar."
A punch to my gut. Air gone. "I'm sorry. My mistake. Sorry to bother you."
A man walks up behind her and puts his arm around her. They talk, but I don't stay to see anymore. I need to get away. It's not fair, but it's not her fault. I just need to be stronger about my heart, not be like Jim Carrey from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind. Nevermind, I'll try another time. It doesn't change the fact that my heart hurts. I'm sorry, I'm just lonely. | 2018-04-01T20:04:01 | 2018-04-01T20:03:34 | 75 | 14 |
[WP] Humans were originally designed as cheap, efficient, easily-reproducible and moldable soldiers in galactic wars. However, after an "animal rights" group won legislature in the United Galaxy, all humans were dumped on the reservation planet, Earth, and forgotten about. A millenia later... | From the transmitted personal log of Schianxi, commander of council archive: Sol sector
"Archive entry: Earth, Sol System. Artificial life form species: Human
It'd been a long time since any Atlasians have checked in on the humans.
being placed so far from any other star system or planets had been for their own protection. Out of sight, out of mind, and out of the way. No other races ventured into Sol, and it was light years away from next nearest star outpost.
Every thousand earth years a scout ship has been sent to gather information on the colony's progress and see if they had adapted well to their environment. Every time previous scout ships visited, there were different civilizations, and each civilization had some new sort of legend of "gods". A notable civilization from a place called "Greece" had picked up relatively quickly on our name. Atlas. They named their highest diety after one of us, "Zeus" or something similar.
after that realization, the council made a rule that we can only observe from orbit, at night time, or from cloud cover.
This is my first assignment with the council archives, I've been tasked with gathering current information about the civilization. ascertaining population changes based on last visit, and advancements in technology or civilization ages, etc.
We've just entered sol system. Already there is something different. We picked up a primitive metal craft around one of the outer planets. weak and barely transmitting on low frequency, but somehow it was there.
We are currently on high orbit approach to earth, there was something definitely amiss. our long range sensors have picked up radioactive elements in the atmosphere of the planet.
Please tell me this is a mistake. Would I have to report to the council that the protected race, which had taken so much effort to relocate and establish, had harnessed the power of the atom and destroyed themselves? what sort of fools would do that!?
wait, we're receiving transmissions from all over the planet. They haven't killed themselves after all!
the humans have progressed far faster than we expected.
data archiving active for the transmissions that are coming from the planet. so many things, so many sounds. Wonderful sounds, instruments, singing, music. We are recording everything, every frequency, every transmission.
This mission will surely be one of the biggest gems of council progress in a millennia. as The other genetically modified and artificial races that were developed during the great war were resettled on identical planets as earth, and every single one of them had either killed themselves off or couldn't adapt to the harsh conditions of the planet.
How did they still exist? their planet was harsh, unforgiving, and loaded with wild and dangerous creatures. The planet had no climate control stations, they had time limits on growing seasons. there were even cities with millions of humans where the ambient temperature was well below their normal body temperature ranges for most of their star cycles!
"Sir!"
"What is it? what's wrong?"
"Sir, we've been targeted by some sort of primitive missiles. they're incoming!"
how can that be? they shouldn't be thi-"
Transmission ended.
Edit: Thank you all for the comments, this definitely got more attention than I thought it would!
Edit: a word, and a name. | "Is this strictly necessary?"
He rolled his eyes. "Yes human. We've got to check for Glorflax infestation. It's a very common, super deadly parasitic infection out in Galactic space."
"It's just...I'm a little uncomfortable with all this probing." the human said, "And your tentacles are cold!"
"I *am* cold-blooded." he replied, "And yes, your temporary discomfort is totally worth being clear of Glorflax infestation. It's a terrible infection."
"Really?" the human was raising its brows at him. How impudent.
"Really." he stressed, "How would you like it if you lost control of your psychic brain nodes and started reading the embarrassing thoughts of everyone within a five mile radius?"
"I don't even have psychic...whatevers!"
He sighed. "You do. Ok? The dolphins told us that they've been trying to train you people up in your psychic capabilities for ages. But I can see why they didn't get far."
"Dolphins! I- Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"
He pressed a button on the console in front of him. The human screeched as the floor fell out under him inside the chamber. There was a tube leading to the portal transposers outside. He heard a distant splash and a stream of curses.
"Ok, next!"
Another human stepped into the chamber, glaring around. He was wearing a tin hat. It was probably some Earth fashion though.
"Where is my cow? I know you lot are responsible! You goddamn aliens took Bessie, didn't you? I won't leave here until you give her back!"
He groaned, his gills fluttering around him.
It was going to be a long day. He just knew it.
"Someone just get a Zynoid in here already." he muttered, "We'll be wiped out in seconds if these guys are all we have to throw at them." | 2017-01-23T18:26:14 | 2017-01-23T16:49:44 | 1,872 | 175 |
[WP] A "popular" girl falls in love with a "nerdy" boy, however he hates her and she spends all her time trying to impress him
EDIT: THANK YOU ALL FOR TAKING YOUR TIME TO WRITE SHORT STORIES BASED OFF MY PROMPT!! I HAVE YET TO READ ALL YOUR STORIES THOUGH, AS I'M BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND OTHER STUFF :D
I'm sorry if I have somehow ripped off your precious harem animes. That was completely unintentional. (I don't even watch anime that much)
I'm sorry if this prompt is too uncreative for you guys. Maybe next time I'll post one that's "different" enough but not so unique that I'd probably end up writing a novel about one day (I have dreams that shall never be fulfilled)
I'm sorry if I have triggered anyone somehow. | Jess Brown was hands-down the most popular girl in year 11. She was lucky enough to possess the dangerous combination of good looks and great intelligence, causing those around her to almost naturally fall into place as her followers.
Despite being as blessed as she was, Jess was not an arrogant person. If anything, she liked to take the back seat and observe those around her. She liked to figure out how people worked. What motivated them. Every time she believed she'd got the measure of someone, she'd try out her theory. If she was successful then she could add said person to her 'collection' - those who she believed she had power over.
Boys were easy, and men even easier so. She could get a boys pulse racing and have him do any favour for her she wanted just by undoing her top button and flirting ever so slightly. She once got a man at her local store to straight-up buy her cigarettes just by smiling at him and giggling at everything he said. But that was far too easy.
No, Jess Brown wanted a new challenge. But who?
There wasn't a single boy from the 'popular group' she hadn't collected in her year, and there doesn't exist a word smith with enough skill to convince her to waste her time on a younger male. As she sat in the lunch hall, absent mindedly picking at a bright red apple, she saw a boy walk past. A boy who she hadn't seen before. Bingo.
Jess sat up in her chair as she surveyed him, like a predator hunting her prey. How would she approach him? What would she use to capture his attention? God, she loved this. The thrill of taking someone down. Using her natural gifts of beauty and brains to see if she could charm and seduce those around her. She didn't like to think like this, but a small part of her felt like she was superior to her peers. Like she was a goddess surrounded by mere mortals. Megan Cartwright, a normal looking girl who looked even more startlingly average when sat next to Jess was trying to engage her in a conversation. Jess ignored her. She didn't have time to listen to trivial gossip and she wasn't in the mood to have everyone's opinions on who was going to win this years *Britain's Got Talent*.
Her mind was racing as she looked him up and down. His uniform seemed clean. She could see his shirt was tucked evenly into his trousers and his blazer fit him well. His trousers hitched up slightly as he walked and she noted his plain black socks underneath. She frowned slightly- he was giving very little away. She couldn't see much of his face, but his black hair seemed messy and almost like he'd not paid it much attention. Well, that was no use to her, half the boys in school were doing that these days. Then she spotted it, under his right arm he was carrying a book. A book to read at *lunch* time?
He's a nerd.
She had work to do.
Jess stood up, and walked over to where the new boy sat reading his book. He was alone. She smirked, this was a good sign for her. A lack of social skills suggests he's nervous or maybe even shy, meaning it was be easy for her to overwhelm him with (hopefully) some of her more basic methods of flattery.
She sat opposite him, and was slightly taken aback when he didn't immediately acknowledge her presence. Jessica Brown was not given to being ignored. Softly, she cleared her throat. The boy looked up, and she gasped.
Staring back at her were a pair of eyes that held more depth and mystery than any which she had ever encountered before. They were dark, and shining. In that one moment which seemed to last forever, she saw *into him*. Intelligence, maturity, dignity, charisma... Jess was stunned.
Without even knowing what she was doing, her hand slowly moved up and she did up her top button. That would not work on him. A dry smile slowly stretched across his face.
'Yes?' Was the only word he spoke.
Such brevity. Such confidence. He'd only spoken one word yet she felt like he'd just pelted her with a thousand. *Why are you here? What do you want? Can't you see I'm reading? Do you really think you can 'collect' me?'*
What was *that?* Jess was flustered.
'I.. uh... I just saw you sitting here and I- well, what's that you're reading?'
He paused in thought for a few moments before he replied, and for the first time in her life Jess felt the balance of power change. She gulped while she waited.
'We both know you're not interested in my book, although that's a great shame. It's one of Dostoevsky's greatest pieces. I often find the lunch hall a great place to sit. You see, the library isn't for me. Too much hubbub, too many people bothering me, and if there's one thing I dislike, it's being bothered without reason...'
His eyes lingered over her as he spoke, and Jess had never felt so insignificant in her life.
'Forgive me if I seem confrontational,' he continued 'but I think I know why you came over here. I won't be charmed by cleavage and a cute smile. So if there's nothing else...?' He gestured to her that he wanted to continue reading.
Jess knew when to cut her losses. The best thing she could do now was leave and think of a new way to approach him, the worst thing she could do would be to remain in her upset state and try to appease someone who appeared to see right through her. She was in a state of shock. This was perhaps the first time she'd ever approached a male who appeared utterly uninterested.
Jess stood up and left, catching her leg on the corner of the table and tripping slightly as she went. She heard a soft chuckle behind her.
'What happened?' gushed Megan and the other girls at once.
'You look a bit red, Jess.'
'What did he say?'
'Did he just look over here?'
Jess turned around in a whirl of anger. She could feel hot tears forming in her eyes, but she wouldn't show any weakness in front of these lot.
'None of you are to talk to him, or to tell anyone what happened here. Understood?'
Silenced, the group of girls solemnly nodded.
And with that, Jess left the lunch hall.
Meanwhile, the boy with black eyes deftly licked a finger, turned his page and continued reading. | That’s the thing: rules are rules, and they don’t get broken. It all feels a little like a John Hughes movie at the end of the day, doesn’t it? The beautiful peoples club doesn’t mix with the punks, who in turn don’t even look at the nerds, who can’t stand the metalheads, despite a shared interest in Iron Maiden. The BPC sometimes hangs with the smart kids, but the latter is generally too up its own ass for the former and they don’t any deep friendships.
See? There are rules: you just don’t mix with groups too far outside the personality of your own. A jock dating a metalhead? Never going to happen. A member of the BPC and a smart kid, maybe: at least they’re both from rich families. So, what about a member of the BPC and a nerd?
For Emma, it started in that computer programming class. Her father, out of some overprotective push for her to “be ready for life,” made her take it; otherwise, she wouldn’t be caught dead there. At first, she hated it like she hated everything else about her school day. Day after day, she sat there, unengaged, wanting to slam her laptop on the floor and storm out.
The first time she ever knowingly appreciated the beauty of any schoolwork was during the first group project, when she was paired with a boy named Thomas. He was obviously taken with programming; he knew the subject matter even before the teacher explained it and was only in the class for easy credit. His expertise and raw confidence helped her see the fun in the simple calendar app they designed together. He was funny to be around and inspiring to learn from. After that she was hooked on the class.
Thomas and Emma didn’t speak much after the project. She kept thinking about him, though. It took some time, but she finally realized that she was not just happy about the “A” he helped her get on the project. She realized that she wanted Thomas.
He was different than the boys she was used to hanging out with. The preening jocks and the cocky sons of lawyers were all, underneath their muscles and expensive clothes, insecure little boys. Thomas, on the other hand, possessed more manly confidence. When he looked at her, his gaze was unwavering, the cadence of his voice calm. Not a single boy in the BPC acted this way.
Thomas was a completely new experience for Emma. After processing her feelings, she could not look at the males in the BPC the same way anymore. She realized that her feelings for those boys were out of social obligation, not actual attraction. She fell for Thomas, and resolved to make him hers. He was a nerd, so it shouldn’t be that hard, right?
The first time Emma texted Thomas, instead of attraction, he felt mild annoyance.
“Hey! I have a question about coding class… do you mind meeting me to help?”
He was in the middle of focused coding for a website he was building, and his close friends knew not to bother him right now. So when he did answer, several hours later, it was curt.
“Ok.”
They ended up meeting at a coffee shop, where the façade quickly fell away. Thomas quickly answered Emma’s one or two basic questions about coding. The rest of the time was filled by Emma’s strained flirting and Thomas’ polite, but uninterested, replies. They left after only thirty minutes, both feeling awkward about the meeting.
When Thomas returned home, he couldn’t wrap his head around what just happened. He recognized Emma’s behavior as flirting, but could not divine her motives. Emma was classically, painfully beautiful. This rendered her constantly surrounded by boys of the BPC, all vying for her attention. “She must want another ‘A’ on the next group project,” he thought. “Mary’s gonna love this!”
Thomas, being an avid programmer, put little personal information on the internet. This included his relationship status, which was “spoken for.” When Thomas told Mary of Emma’s manufactured tutoring session, Mary agreed that Emma was flirting. Mary suggested, however, that Emma’s motives might be romantic instead of scholastic. At the mere suggestion, Thomas ridiculed Emma- her seemingly vacuous personality, her social climbing, and her trying to be someone she wasn’t. Thomas kept going, oblivious to his cruelty toward another human. Mary quickly made Thomas stop; beating a dead horse was not Mary’s style.
Thomas’ relationship status was quite a shock for Emma the next day when she saw Mary and Thomas together in the parking lot after school. Emma had finally worked up the courage to talk to Thomas. She wanted to chat with him, to just enjoy his company. She rushed away at the sight of Thomas and Mary holding hands. Thomas never spotted her, thank goodness. He was still feeling superior and might have relayed as much to Emma.
Emma and Thomas did not work together on the next group project in coding class, nor did they speak to one another for the rest of high school. They drifted separately through their senior year unaware that life gives us plenty of chances for reinvention. Emma was already in the process of hers; she knew she wanted to study programming in college, and was feeling strangely pleased by the arched eyebrows her interest in programming spurred among the members of the BPC. Eventually they both became complex adults- both interesting mixes of stereotypically opposing interests, both just following their hearts.
| 2016-05-29T11:33:33 | 2016-05-29T11:32:34 | 50 | 12 |
[WP] When you were 10 years old a dragon saved your life. No one believed you, until he came to your house today asking for a favor. | Darthanax. Everyone thought I was crazy, but he was right here. I remember the day. The rain was coming down hard, it was the remnants of a nasty hurricane eight years sgo. A hand grabbed my arm and a woman pulled me away from my family as we were leaving the Akron Zoo. I didn't know why she wanted me, but I couldn't break free. I looked over and saw the gun in her hand. I was panicking like I had never panicked before. My family couldn't hear me, the downpour was too hard. For two months I was stuck in the basement of her house. Scraps to eat and barely anything to drink. Only allowed out when she needed a servant. A slave. The police came to the door at some point, she locked me in the basement and told me that if I made a sound she'd do... unspeakable things. I was ready to die at 10. I was giving up. I thought about stealing a knife or simply not eating anymore. Anything to end my nightmare. I had woken up in a cold sweat. I swore I had heard something. *thud* *thud* *Thud* *Thud* *THUD* *CRASH* The door was shattered into splinters as she fell down the stairs. I could hear her bones crack and break as she hit the wall. Blood followed her head down like a sick painting, a memoriam for the last moment of her life. I heard what sounded like a bear breathing. Followed by that voice.
"Child. I know you're here. Don't be afraid boy, I'm here so you can see your family again. I am Darthanax, and I will expect a favor later. Come with me."
I was terrified. A monster had found me and killed someone in front of me. I couldn't move. Was I next? I sat there for two days without sleep. Too scared to move or make a sound. A coworker of the woman's came by when she hadn't shown up. She found the door wide open. The house empty, save for a scared young boy, and the mutilated corpse of her coworker. She carried me out for fresh air, and when I looked up, I could see him. A purple and blue dragon flying gracefully in the sky. Officially, I had an adrenaline rush and splintered the door myself, theb pushed her dowb in self defense. Officially I was off the hook as just a traumatized youth. I think the messed up part is, I was more traumatized by all of the microphones and cameras shoved in my face before the police forced everyone back. My family was called and took a three hour drive in two. I swear my mother wouldn't let go of me for 3 days. The dragon was chalked up to my imagination trying to make sense of what had happened. A self preservation attempt to help my young mind process the gruesome murder I had committed. But now, eight years later here he was. He was sitting like an overgrown cat in the front lawn. He had big eyes and little wing shaped ears on his face. He looked almost cute. My family was terrified seeing this big beast here. I wasn't. I walked up to him and placed my hand on his face.
"Child. I have come to redeem the favor."
"Of course Darthy, what is it?"
"I can smell something. Something delicious."
"The Thanksgiving turkey you mean?
"Yes, please may I have some?"
"Of course. I'll bring a plate out for you when it's ready!" | [Poem] The man named Jack
Did you ever hear, of the man who lost his mind?
He screamed of dragons and vengeful spirits, and the one who saved his life.
“That man is a fool, his head’s full o’ wine! And stay away from his kind!”
And so his life was full of sadness, full of anger and rife with strife.
For none believed him. No one, except his wife.
The years soon passed,
and with them his wife passed too.
And the man alone still looked to the sky, even as his anger grew.
“This is your fault, I know it’s true! You saved my life and then withdrew.
They think I’m mad, they think that I lie.
You are to blame, and only you!
For even my wife as she died, would look at me with rue.”
His mood grew black and his beard turned grey,
Still he watched the sky each day.
The people muttered behind his back,
They warned the children to stay away,
“Stay away from crazy Jack.”
Then the thunder came, a cracking roar!
The people felt it, from mountain to shore.
They ran and screamed, this way and that,
All of them, except ol’ Jack.
He stood there waiting as the dragon flew low, the people watched, their eyes aglow.
“For you I’ve been waiting, far too long! The way you left me here! It was wrong!”
Jack screamed at the Dragon thrice his size,
He felt no fear and he held the Dragons eyes.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” The Dragon explained. He sighed and slumped and Jack could see,
This Dragon was pained.
“It is my wife, she is sick... It’s so silly it’s only a stick!
It’s pierced her side.
I cannot remove it, though I have tried!
Will you help me Jack, will you save my bride?”
Jack’s anger the rain had washed , he looked at the eyes of all those who watched.
They treated him with contempt and hate, he cared for them not, and at any rate...
Perhaps this was his fate.
“I’ll help you Dragon, I’ll pay my debt. But in return...” he took a breath,
and whispered to the Dragon his last request;
“For me to meet my wife again, I must first meet death.” | 2020-11-21T08:49:45 | 2020-11-21T08:48:13 | 116 | 82 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. | *We got along, in the way that kids can always find a way to get along. We played all kinds of games in the summer time, deep into the night, when our parents would come looking for us, worried about the reports of werewolves in the woods.*
*Our favorite game was the lava game. She would cast a spell and make the ground around the playground look like lava that would rise. The goal was to close your eyes and try to tag the other person, all without falling into the lava.*
*We’d play until we were too tired, and could do nothing but lay on top of the slide, staring up at the stars, feeling like we were on top of the world.*
*“What do you want to be when you grow up?” I once asked her.*
*“I don’t know. What about you?”*
*“I don’t want to grow up. I wish we could play this game forever.”*
*“Me too.”*
\-
Nowadays, I stay away from magic. I stay away from most things, really. I’m looking to save up enough to get away from this town. Hopefully I can get out from this cursed place by the time I’m 30.
So I live a simple life. I go to work, I come home, I cook, I read, and I sleep. Most nights, before I sleep, I take a walk through the neighborhood, trying to see the town I used to love.
A lot of the time, there is a cat who walks besides me. He’s different than the other ones, because his black fur seems to shine even in the dark. He walks behind me and softly purrs, and if he’s still there when I get to the store, I get a milk for us to share. I’ve named him Aaron, for all those Aaron Burr milk ads back in the day.
Recently, though, he’s been looking skinny.
\-
*When we were thirteen, things started to change. We still spent time together, but we didn’t play the lava game as much.*
*“What do you want to do tonight?” I asked one night, in her room, as she put on her makeup.*
*“I don’t know. What about you?”*
*“The park again? And if we do go to the park, do you really need all that makeup?”*
*She put it down, and sighed. She looked off into the distance for a moment, contemplating something.*
*“We’re growing up,” she finally said. “Don’t you think it’s time to admit it?”*
*“What do you mean?”*
*“I mean…Tim from down the street asked me out tonight.”*
*“And? Are you going?”*
*“I think so…it’s the time to go after experiences like this. We’re becoming adults. Shouldn’t we take advantage of it? Life's too short to spend running around like a kid, wasting time, you know?”*
*I didn’t understand what she meant. But as I started to see her in more and more cars that summer, laughing at some new guy’s dumb jokes, I did understand that she was gone.*
\-
I thought about this, sitting on the jungle gym, smoking a joint, waiting to feel tired enough to sleep.
The cat makes its way next to me.
“What a hit?” I ask. I hold the joint up to it. The cat merely purrs, and looks away.
Then I notice something, in the fur. I’d always wondered who owned the cat, but I’d never seen any hint of who it could be. But nowadays Aaron is skinny, and his fur is matted, and his bones are showing too.
It was a keychain, with a tag and a key.
*Bring to Cecilia at 1215 Grove if found.*
\-
There was a sign on the door.
*Use the key to open if found.*
I knocked, and waited. There was no answer. I took the key off Aaron’s neck, and open the door.
She is standing there, almost like she’s been waiting. She slowly walks to me, and puts her arms around me.
“It’s you,” she whispers. “I always hoped it was you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The man who finds this key gets to ask for my heart.”
“What?”
She nods, excitedly. “The rule is that you get one wish, so let’s get it over with.”
“I can ask…for anything I want?”
“Anything at all,” she whispers seductively. She used to practice that voice, that summer when we were 13. It makes me a little sad that she’s perfected it.
Aaron nudges my leg. I look down, and smile, the confusion solidifying into direction as I see him.
“Can I ask for Aaron?”
“What?”
“Your cat. Not judging, but I've grown pretty fond of him, and I think he could use some better care. Don’t you?”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | Ok, this is a long one, so I'm going to have to break it up.
Part 1
\* \* \*
The goal was simple. Or it should have been. Lizelle, the most eligible and beautiful woman in the city of Bazal, if not the continent, had set about a simple task.
For she had grown tired of the wave after wave of suitors coming to her door nearly daily, without fail. None of them interested her, for they were the ones searching for status. Marrying the daughter of the trade baron Lycrudus would make any lucky person immediately wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. The power of bending the ear of the one man who’d conquered every trade route in the known world? Worth even more than the wealth. So for a year now, every day, the line would form in the early morn, and one by one, each suitor was turned away.
Until the day of the task. Two men exited the palatial estate of the Marconi family and stood staring impassively at the now-confused line of suitors. After a time, a third man exited the building carrying a parchment in one hand and a small animal carrier in the other.
In a loud voice, the man announced the details of the task. Lizelle Marconi would no longer be seeing any suitors at her estate, or any location. Instead, a simple game had been devised. Whatever suitor brought back the cat in the carrier and the key around its neck, would marry Lizelle unconditionally. With a flourish, the man knelt down and unlocked the carrier, revealing a non-descript alley cat with five colorations splashed across her body as if by random. Around her neck, a small key was affixed to a slim silver chain.
The suitors watched greedily as the man picked the cat up and held it aloft for all to see. “This is your task,” he continued, “bring the cat with the key to this estate. No harm must befoul the cat.” This was met with groans of disappointment from suitors who’d been sure their aim would have had them first in line for the key. The man continued, “First to do so will marry Lizelle. The task will begin in one hour.”
With that, the man set the cat down on the ground and clapped his hands to startle it. The cat took one look at the man and darted off, away from the estate and into the depths of town. As mankind is impatient, it was only a mere few minutes before people toward the back of the line began to sneak away, hoping to get a head start on tracking down the cat.
Their transgressions were noticed immediately, however, and soon all the suitors were on the move, chasing down their hopes and aspirations with greedy looks. But the cat was nowhere to be found; it had vanished into the stray population of the surrounding town and blended in far too well.
So the task continued, day after day, as suitors from all over came and searched for the cat. Cats of the wrong body coloration began to become hunted, until the estate announced that anyone harming a stray cat in the search for the real one would be disqualified.
A year passed. Many had given up hope and returned to their homes in discouragement. The impossible task was, put simply, impossible to do without eliminating some of the wrong cats. But the estate remained firm. Harming any cat would disqualify the suitor immediately, and the cat must be brought in alive.
So they looked, and they looked. But none realized they were looking in the wrong place entirely.
\* \* \*
<continued in part 2, below>
/r/MattWritinCollection/ <-- mah Writin's | 2019-05-01T14:00:12 | 2019-05-01T13:38:56 | 394 | 107 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | When I was a little girl, my father would wake at 5 am to me screaming, full-force, red-faced, mottled screaming - but find me completely asleep. Over time I suppose I learnt not to wake him, not to worry him, to muffle my screams and sobs and, as I learnt to talk, pleads, channel them into the pillow so that he could rest.
But the nightmares never stopped.
At least once a week, I would wake up covered in sweat, sobbing, my duvet soaked, barely able to stand up because it was out there. Somewhere. It was coming for me, and if I went back to sleep it would find me.
That was when I was young.
In college it was trendy to not sleep, to party every night that didn't have work due tomorrow, to squeeze by with the bare minimum. There was barely a night my head hit the pillow where my body wasn't so exhausted it could barely close my eyes before I was asleep.
Over time I lost my fear of sleeping. I learnt to love the night, the bright lights and party clothes and pure indecency of it all, the celebration of life, giving myself away in cup after cup of coffee - or worse - just to stay awake.
But last night?
Last night I forgot to set an alarm, too high or too drunk or too tired to even think about it.
I slept for fifteen hours. Fifteen hours without waking, not even when my roommate, freaked out, shook me and screamed and cried. Without a break, I slept on and that place... That thing. He found me, he stole me, he kept me. I was his for fifteen whole, uninterrupted hours.
Until I broke it. I escaped.
I shattered the dream into shards in my hands, cutting sharp against my skin. Woke up, desperately gasping for breath, blood dripping down my arms, wisps of dream sliterhing between my fingers.
When he comes back, I'll be ready.
Then I'll see what else I can break. | I began to fall from the building, I didn't remember climbing it though.
That didn't matter. As I felt myself begin to topple and become truly weightless in the plunge a jolt ran though my body, and it jolted me awake.
The fall had been a dream, but the adrenaline was real.
As I sat up in bed breathing rapidly my phone rang which startled me, and on answering it was my buddy Steve.
'Holy shit man are you ok? We all saw you go over the edge and now we can't see you at all! How did you survive that and where the hell are you?!'
The assent to the roof began to clear in my mind. The opposite of what usually happens as dreams fade, this became more vivid. | 2021-04-01T02:47:38 | 2021-03-31T23:16:32 | 35 | 23 |
[WP] Delivery drones are armed to deter thieves, but the more heavily defended a drone is the better the loot. The golden age of drone piracy is now lads. | SYSERR 10067 - DRONE_408212 NOT RESPONSIVE FOR 500uS
Starting audio analysis subroutine . . .
EVENT 40045 - AUDIO EVENT LOGGED
DISPLAYING ANALYSIS PROBABILITY
GUNSHOT - 98.4%
HIGH CALIBER RIFLE - 2.4%
MEDIUM CALIBER RIFLE - 68.5%
HIGH CALIBER PISTOL - 1.1%
MEDIUM CALIBER PISTOL / LOW CALIBER RIFLE - 34.3%
LOW CALIBER PISTOL - 2.3%
SUBSONIC WEAPON - 0.4%
LIGHTNING STRIKE - 9.4%
AUDIO EQUIPMENT MALFUNCTION - 0.4%
OTHER - 1.2%
Starting image analysis subroutine . . .
EVENT 60033 - INDIVIDUAL LOGGED
MATCH - FACIAL RECOGNITION - 99.8%
{
AMAZON_GLOBAL_ID: “81b8a1b77068d06e”,
LAST_NAME: “KING”,
FIRST_NAME: “FATIMA”,
AMAZON_PRIME_MEMBER: False,
PREVIOUS_INCIDENTS: {
“594f803b380”,
“a41396ed63d”,
“ca395035424”
}
}
MATCH - FIREARM - 92.6%
{
TYPE: “LONG_BARREL_RIFLE”,
ACTION: “BOLT_ACTION”,
CALIBER: “.30-06”
}
Processing . . .
PROBABILITY OF INDIVIDUAL 81b8a1b77068d06e CAUSING DRONE_408212 MALFUNCTION - 89.3%
REQUEST HQ FOR PERMISSION TO ENGAGE . . .
REQUEST APPROVED!
Starting suspect engagement protocol . . .
POST ENGAGEMENT REPORT
{
DRONES_DAMAGED: [],
SUSPECT_STATUS: [
“81b8a1b77068d06e”: “NEUTRALIZED”
],
ROUNDS_EXPENT: 37,
DELAY_TO_CUSTOMER: 34.26S
}
Starting engagement report upload to local law enforcement . . .
DONE!
Starting lost asset recovery subroutine . . .
IMMEDIATE RECOVERY - IMPRACTICAL
Sending last known location of DRONE_408212 to HQ for recovery . . .
DONE!
\-- Item #006 in Washington State v Fatima King, recovered from Amazon Drone 408111 | *Yes, I got it down.* James ran and quickly grabbed his prize. A T.I.X model 9, the latest and greatest in defensive drone delivery, and he brought it down. Even if he couldn't find a buyer for whatever's inside the bragging rights alone where worth it. He brought it back to his workshop, and carefully dissembled the delivery device, he had heard rumors that some of them may be booby trapped. He didn't buy into those rumors but better safe than sorry.
After several hours he finally got his prize, a small box no bigger than his hand. *Weird, why so much protection for something this small?* The drone that had been delivering it was almost as big as his torso, so it was more than a bit strange to him. After he worked the box opened he saw what was so important, a small bottle. The writing on the side was foreign to him, but the note inside was not.
"Dear Amy
I'm sorry I can't be there for you, but I found something that might help. The medicine comes with an eyedropper already, three drops in the morning and two at night, if this doesn't work contact me and I'll return. I would rather be at your side than on the other side of the world.
Love
Samantha."
*Oh gods, what did I just steal?* James found the drones motherboard and looked for where it was going. His heart dropped, it was meant for someone in his building, but the package was late already. He never knew her name was Amy. | 2019-09-30T15:45:12 | 2019-09-30T14:55:03 | 52 | 31 |
[WP] You are a wolf who was bitten by a werewolf. Every full moon your hair recedes, your teeth dull, and you are left cold and naked on a hillside. You’ve also met a lovely park ranger named Christine. | It happend a few years ago. My pack was attacked by a strange deformed wolf. They were tough and killed many of us but together we managed to fend it off. I was injured. A few months later I felt ill. That was when it first happend. I howled out in pain as my body transformed. My hair gone. My teeth no longer sharp. My voice no longer able to cry out for my family.
They kicked me out after that.
But that was then. This is now. I live in a human tent deep into the woods. There are clothes for the days when my body betrays me. Spare meals for when my teeth grow dull and I can no longer rip through flesh. When my body decides raw is no longer good enough. Tonight was one of those nights. I felt the full moon rise and I screamed. It hurt so badly when my body did this. The scar on my front leg, or right arm, stung.
My eyes adjusted to the night and I darted into my tent. I threw on some clothes from the campers that used to sleep here a year ago and I hoped the night would end soon. But my stomach hungered. And it was picky in this form. So I grabbed a match and started a small campfire. I then stuck part of a deer in it.
Crunching. The crunching of leaves. Those were not my footsteps. My senses were dulled like this but whoever was approaching was not trying to hide themself.
"Hello? Who's there? Are you ok? I heard a wolf, and a woman's scream"
A lady pushed away some branches and approached my campfire.
"Mam are you ok?" She glanced at my scar "Are you injured? That looks old but.." She shook her head. "Here I have some bandages"
The woman held my arm and started wrapping it. She looked at me and smiled.
"I swear I've seen you somewhere"
I looked at her confused. I do not remember a woman as beautiful as her in my life.
"Even those clothes... Wait!" The woman grabbed some photos out of her pockets. Photos taken of a woman from a afar. Photos of me.
"There's always been a rumour round here, a wolf's cry and a woman's scream. On that night a woman can be seen in the park at night. I never thought it was true! Do you need me to get you help?" She looked over to my tent. It was beat up from all the years I've had it. "It looks like you've been here for along time. I don't know how you've managed to survive but I can take you to my place in the morning."
I shook my head. In the morning I would shred her apart. But right now I had the compassion to refuse.
"I'm Christine, you?" The woman held out her hand, wanting me to shake it.
"The last thing I ever was called was a freak." I took her hand and shook it.
---
Thanks for reading this, it's probably not great cos I'm really tired but I tried my best. | Even after I turned, her scent remained intoxicating, her voice concerned and reassuring.
"Are you OK?"
Those words came out of her, again and again. I mumbled wordless nothings and nodded. Not sure what to tell her. No idea how to explain.
She draped me in a blanket, quiet as can be, as it she was afraid to startle me.
"I'm Christine," she said. "I'm here to help."
I looked up into her eyes, brown and kind and caring. What do I say?
"You look cold. And..." she looked up and down apprehensively, her face contorting slightly as she attempted to figure out how I came to be. No offence taken. "Do you want to come with me? Into a cabin?"
Kind words. Kind gaze. A heart bursting with love.
Much unlike my own.
I shook my head vigorously. Felt strange.
"Why?" she asked. "It's much warmer. I can get you something to eat?"
Even after I turned, I could feel the bloodlust. The will in my weakened legs, desperately trying and failing to spring at her, gnashing my wild teeth into her pulsing neck.
But for a few moments, at least, my mind was human.
I snarled at her, and she finally stepped back. I bared my teeth, and she slowly backed away--not afraid, but bewildered.
"... Okay. I guess you want to be left alone?"
I finally nodded, and she finally turned and walked off, not without periodically gazing back, her face reflecting the full moon's light, trying to figure out this mental puzzle that stumped her thoroughly.
Even after I turned, I raised my head to the moon and howled, acquainted with melancholy for this one night.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-03-14T15:17:31 | 2021-03-14T14:26:03 | 179 | 94 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | Hello Gentlemen! Welcome, uh, to Sunrise Mutual! I'm actually just the-
The presentation? What pres-? Yes, um, of course. The presentation. Of course. Right this way.
(Okay, Josh, you got this. They think you're a big-shot, time to take yourself to the top! No more janitor for you!)
Now, as you can see from this slide, we had a rather large 12% gain this past quarter. This is largely due to our new corporate vision of redesigning our personal paradigm in order to synthesize our processes. This has, of course, produced a more holistic outlook and increased customer satisfaction while maintaining a coherent work environment!
Of course, as an upper-manager I know my people! If you choose to... (Shit, what are they here about? A merger I think?)... merge? (Yes! They responded!)... Yeah, merge! If you choose to merge your company with ours I can guarantee you that your people will be choreographed into our regular systematic machinations.
(Keep it together man, you're almost there!)
And of course, as ours is an ever-evolving business in which we strive to provide the best in both singularity and simplicity in our products we would have to facilitate a proper sprucing (pruning? Fuck it, already said it) of the dead branches in both our corporate flowers! (Flowers, really dude?)
Yes, thank you Mr. Krenshaw, I'll have our CEO in touch with you as soon as he's back from vacation!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not sure how well this one went, it's late at night but this prompt caught my attention and I really wanted to get this response written out. Let me know what you think! | "Okay bob, hold my scalpel while I squeeze the heart"
"Right, now I just need you to connect those two tubes while I hold it like this"
"Okay...
Yes! done!"
"Wait, why is my computer making that weird beeping noise?"
"OH MY GOD!!! HE'S GONNA DIE! GET THE DEFIBRILLATOR!!"
*zzzzZAP!*
"Oops, I think we killed him."
"Wow, we really suck at surgeon simulator don't we?" | 2016-02-01T22:50:42 | 2016-02-01T21:35:35 | 41 | 11 |
[WP] You are a hitman who has just finished their most recent job. Or, at least, thought had finished, because the second you take your eyes off your target’s corpse, you hear “Hey, not bad! I actually felt that one.” | The groan from behind Jim sent chills up his spine. Not a chance did he survive, it was point blank to the back with a shotgun.
"Hey, not bad! I actually felt that one." The target, a man with a slight build and a pale face is now suddenly in front of him smiling. The gaping hole in his chest behind to stitch itself back together. "Of course, it takes more than that to put me down, but I'm impressed by your ability to sneak up on me. Not many humans can do that." His fangs descend slowly from his gums.
Jim stares blankly at the obvious vampire before him. "So I guess this is where I die, then?"
It's the vampire's turn to stare blankly. "Well that was an unexpected reaction to seeing the person you just attempted to kill revealing themselves as an undead Apex predator."
"I accepted death long ago, buddy. I knew at some point one of my targets would get the best of me. Admittedly, learning about the existence of vampires this way is a shock, but the world is so big and mysterious, I'm willing to accept anything, especially when it's stitching a 2 foot hole in its chest back together before my very eyes. Neat trick, that, by the way." Jim's words are cold, emotionless and somehow still possessing of an air of superiority. He has stared death in the face before, though this time it seems far more inevitable.
"Well then, may I at least get the name of my would-be assassin?"
"Name's Jim. Jim Hunter, ironically."
"Well, Jim. I am currently going by the name Gilbert Wilson. Though I assume you knew that. However my given name was Alf Eriksson. Born in 1659." Gilbert smiles and gives a bow with a flourish.
"Well met. So, what happens next, Gilbert? Or would you prefer Alf?" Jim inquires with a calm that would be unnerving to any living man.
"Well that does present quite the conundrum, doesn't it? Obviously since you didn't know what I was, that means you weren't aware of our existence... which is how we like it. So, letting you live is a hard sell. But you are also an exceptional example of humanity, so killing you seems to be a waste. I could turn you, though I doubt you're really wanting that, plus there's the politics that come into play with me turning a human without approval. Since I do not possess the ability to mind control mortals, I can't erase your memory either. And yes, I would prefer Alf given our present situation." The vampire responds.
"Well Alf, I did just attempt to kill you, surely there must be some animosity that influences your decision."
"That may be so. But you're hardly the first to attempt. So I will let that slide. I truly am impressed with your abilities. And you would be quite the asset to us, should I turn you."
"Let me stop you there. I hate the taste of blood and love the taste of garlic. Gonna have to pass on that one. Let's just agree that now that I know what you are, and I haven't technically fulfilled my contract on you, I'm too dangerous to let live." Jim has resigned himself to his own demise.
Alf's chest has finished restoring by this point, though his clothes remain soaked in blood and with a hole in them. "Well Jim. If you're determined to continue pursuing me, it's kind of like you're making my decision for me. Good enough. So how would you like this to go down?"
"Quick and painless seems to be the standard. So let's go with that." He finally realized he still has the shotgun in his hands. He chuckles as he tosses it aside. "Fat lot of good that would do me now."
"I can do you one better, Jim. Given our rapport, I can take you to the brink of ecstacy as you die. You'll have a good death, and it will be painless, even pleasurable." Alf extends his hand.
Jim takes the hand and steps closer, extending his neck.
"Nice meeting you, Jim."
"Wish I could say the same, Alf." | The words feel like a bomb had just gone off, everything else was so much silence.
Gun at the ready, I wheel around to find my target nonchalantly walking over to a chair, poking a finger into the hole in his head and chuckling to himself.
"Heh, it's been too long..." He slumps into his seat, wood creaking beneath his weight. "Pull up a chair, let's talk."
My aim is still trained on the man, but it gets shakier as I continue to look at my target.
"Actually, before you do, could you pump a few more rounds into me? The sensation's starting to wear off."
I hesitate before obliging the man by emptying my clip into him, making sure most of my bullets land in his head. The sound of the gunshots pale in comparison to those first words.
"Oh yeah, that's good." He still speaks with half his face missing, the corners of his mouth are pulled back in the biggest grin I have ever seen.
I'm out of ammo, a consequence for packing light. I see nothing better to do, and drag a chair over to talk to him.
"Seriously man, I needed that. Thanks."
The blood leaking from his empty eye sockets is quite distracting. "No... problem."
"I'm pretty sure you're wondering why I'm still alive."
"Yes I am."
"Do you know what happens when the universe dies?"
"... Entropy?"
He laughs, it's made all the more haunting with his open throat. "Heh... No. When the universe dies, it chooses one individual to continue living in the next universe."
"... What?"
"But because it takes so goddamn long for the next universe to be born, it makes that individual completely immortal."
"So you're saying... that you saw the Big Bang."
"Yep, and it hurt like a motherfucker! Do you know how painful a blast that contains literally everything is?"
"..."
"Really fucking painful! The feeling lasted a good few thousand years or so by my count, and after some time, my pain receptors just shut down."
"Wha-"
"Hold on, I can feel my eye coming back..." The tissue in his socket reforms, each nerve winds into place and I watch as the orb is slowly filled with thick goo. I see a lot of fucked up stuff in this business, but this is the first time I fight not to puke. "There we go, I can see you clear as day!"
My disgust keeps me from screaming, lest I lose my lunch. "So you're immortal and you regenerate... cool. Question: Why the fuck are you so goddamn jovial?"
His face hardens. "Do you know what it's like to live without pain? What it's like to have a fundamental part of living stripped from you? When you've lived as long as I have, you need pain just to feel alive. Immortality isn't a gift."
He stands from his chair. "So when I say 'thank you for shooting me in the face', I fucking mean it. Now are you gonna use that knife of yours or what?" | 2019-08-29T20:06:05 | 2019-08-29T19:15:04 | 245 | 120 |
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