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[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego. | Finally, I had him. The Shade was right. He had explained the whole plan to me; it was as though I could see for the first time. I could see how my arch-nemesis, the Orange Cowl, couldn’t resist following the breadcumbs Shade had suggested. How he would put the pieces together. How he would be wary of the trap, but be wary of the wrong one. How the blackened dart wouldn’t reflect any light, giving the Cowl no chance to jump out of its way.
Of course, I had to change Shade's deadly poison for a knockout dose. Now I had the Orange Cowl hanging upside-down over the piranha tank. He was just coming to. Finally! He would know that **I** was the one to bring him down. All through his agonizing dismemberment, he would understand, at long last, just what his actions all those years ago had truly cost him. He would pay for his sins, and know just how much he was paying.
“Wh… wha?” he spluttered. Good, he was waking up. Cape hanging down behind him, he must have felt the blood rush to his head, because he quickly reached up towards his feet.
“Oh, you won’t find them that easy to untie,” I drawled. “Titanium alloy chains, welded together. No locks to pick this time, my little Cowl!”
He seemed to still be coming to his senses. “Nuclear Scorpion,” he hissed. “I should have known. You *madman*!”
How dare he? After all he had done. After all *I* had done. “Mad, am I?” I cried. “Was it madness when I carefully chose the street names for each child's body? Was it madness when I calculated that you would figure out the pattern after the fifth! Was it madness when I…”
But I couldn't finish. An explosion near to me drown me out, and then Orange Cowl was still. A bright red spot blossomed on the center of his forehead.
I hadn’t heard Shade open the warehouse door behind me. I hadn’t heard him walk up beside me. I hadn’t heard a thing until he pulled the trigger.
Shade. The one who had given me victory now stole it from my clutches. “How could you!” I cried, spinning around on him. “I finally had him in my power! He was at *my* mercy, and finally knew that _I_ had triumphed. How... dare... you ...”
My voice dropped as shade swung the gun back up. Its barrel stared at my left eye, inches away. With my right, I saw him turn his head and regard me quizzically, as though I was a puzzle, or a strange kind of insect he had never before seen.
His voice was quiet, as velvety as ever. “*You* triumphed?” He sounded curious more than anything else. “I wonder why you ever thought you were more than a convenient tool?”
And for the second time, he pulled the trigger. | As I heave the 20mm auto-cannon into place I go over my plan, flawless, yet simple; create nuclear diversion immediately after capturing Lois. Couldn't be more simple. Now to watch as the bait brings the flies, Superman won't know what hit him. "Ahh, Lois Lane." I say to myself. "Superman's kryptonite... Except for kryptonite of course, but that's not to worry. We have both!" I give a warm hearty chuckle looking down from my scope for a second. I quickly straighten up, putting my eye back in the cup. "Can't be getting lazy now, so close to the finish line." I check the status of my motion sensors; all green. "Just a matter of time." Seconds later I hear an explosion above my head as the sky tries to turn it's self inside out. Superman hovers slowly to the ground in the clearing that I had placed Lois into. BANG! Explosions engulf Superman and Lois, atomized Kryptonite instantly immobilizes Superman, having it covering the inside of his lungs he is rendered mortal. The second the smoke clears thunderous explosions ring out. The ground where Superman had been is shredded by the auto-cannon in a hail of deafening explosions. "That bastard will never host his goddamn monster mash in our city ever again... YOU HEAR ME YOU GODDAMN MONSTER? What? Did you think you were a god? That you could fucking decide who lives and who dies? Like we're your goddamn subjects that you can slaughter and torture to your will? YOU CANT HURT ME ANYMORE YOU MISERABLE FUCK! Or anyone else for that matter." I don't feel better, maybe I never will, But revenge was sweeter than anything I've had recently. So I think I'm going to go find me some more. | 2018-10-18T17:28:48 | 2018-10-18T16:23:28 | 61 | 14 |
[WP] The Summoned Heroes have always come from one place. Japan. It was a irrefutable fact that came with the spell. However, with these latest Summoned Heroes, they call their land 'America' and they are vastly different than their Japanese counterparts. | The air breathed heavy with anticipation. Kings men from every land waited with bated breath, near enough to feel the magic energy coming off of the portal. Enough mana to power an entire battalion of war-mages, all to cast this one spell, all for this moment.
Days. Weeks. Months, of preparation, all leading up to this day. The fate of the kingdom will be determined in the moments to pass. What will be summoned? A mighty dragon, a horde of magic warriors? What praytell will save us yet?
I exhale. The Archmagus whispered the last words to the summoning spell, and the portal brimmed with energy yet unseen. A low whine, an electricity in the air, slowly leading up in intensity until my hands were drawn to my ears and I cried out in pain when suddenly..
Quiet.
I looked up, my vision still hazy from the outburst of magic energy. Standing where the portal once was, was a man draped in strange weapons and armor, and covered in dark depictions all over his arms. An eagle. Two crossing iron spears. A look of many battles fought, many friends lost.
"Now who the hell are all of y'all, and where the hell am I?"
"Greetings Hero! We have spent many men, nights, resources and coin to get you here. Strife flows freely in our lands, the evil we suffer spreading every day. It has brought us great peril, Hero, so much so that we must resort to our final options.
What you see before you is the result of such. A hero summoning spell, one that has worked time and time again to summon a great hero from the lands of 'Japan'. A Great Hero, to fight a Great Evil.
What say you, Great Hero?"
"Waell.. Shiit. Brother, I think you might have your geography off by.. few thousand miles. Hate to disappoint y'all after you've done... Well, all this, but I ain't from Japan. This right here is American, born and raised. And I don't know nothin about no 'Great Evil', but I do know"-gesturing to the weapons on his hips- "how to take these here lovely ladies and bring the fight to those who need it brought."
Our King, mouth agape. Our seasoned soldiers, unsure of what to say. Fearing for the future of our kingdom, I quickly spoke-
"So.. you aren't from Japan then?"
"Hah! No sir, but I am from the same world. I figure if them Japanese can do it, well, hell, I can too."
Knowing little else to say to salvage our last hope, I let out the first thing that came to mind.
"Well.. welcome, American Hero. You may not be what we have gotten before, but we have no other options left. Please, help us."
(Please be kind, this is my first time writing and honestly I have zero confidence of it's content or quality) | The portal open for the hero to come through sometime the walk through sometime they ride a
Mount of some sort but this one was the biggest mount to ever some through. as it came through we could hear it growl this deep low growl. This mount was a vehicle rare but know but this one was covered in heavy metal and had tracks as it came through a name it black lettering “ Abrams” one it. Once it came through it stop the top open up and a breaded man of sturdy build came with some type of gun in his hand we all bow then he spoke with an accent we have never heard. “ I’m Ain’t going to bow, I don’t do that” he said confuse we all stand back up. All other hero that came had bowed “ some I heard y’all need help” I spoke “ yes the evil has risen again and we summoned from the land of Japan to hel.” He interrupted “ I’m not form Japan, I’m American! form America but I will help you with his evil” he said as he rise his hand out for a shake i when to shake his hand “ yup me, my tank and my trusty shotgun will take care of it quicker the you can make an apple pie” he said I look him over him he had little armour on him “ how, you don’t have armour you just have some clothing one “ “ ain’t you worry I have an idea and for the Record it kevlar not clothing” he barked. That hero and the battle afterwards was devastating in how he fought but he was effective beating the evil faster then any hero before. And now many years later I still think about him and what was an “apple pie” | 2022-04-01T19:47:11 | 2022-04-01T17:55:11 | 99 | 16 |
[WP]: No other intelligent, spacefaring life form knows the concept of sunk cost fallacy. For most of them, wars can be ended simply by presenting their capability for further war, and the weaker one yields. Humans, however, will take anyone on out of pure spite. | The shrieks filled the small war room. Not the sound of a tortured individual or the cries of a defeated foe, begging for mercy. These shrieks were the kind of shrieks of a pure, primal frustration. The Dresk has shown that they had a capacity to make war in a way the humans could never match. They didn't have the industrial capacity, the trade network, or the technology to take the Dresk Republic one-on-one. Nor did they have the training, military numbers or population to sustain conflict in any meaningful way.
On paper.
That was the kicker, wasn't it? These hairless mammalian bipeds seemed to move forward not on logic, reason, or skill. Intuition was not the name of their species highest skillset. No, humans, and their formerly fractured empire, seemed to operate purely on spite and stubbornness. The Dresk has requested a concession of a minor system for mining, a system not previously even mined by the humans. In return the owner of the system would have been granted fifteen percent of all earnings from the system, an extremely generous offer. The response had been swift. "No." Bolded, and in a particularly scripted font. Someone had had to produce paper and ink, solely for the purpose of sending the response. Within a month a mining operation was set up.
The Republic had then agreed to take the system by force. A simple operation, park a Fleet in orbit of the (barely habitable) planet used as the mining facility headquarters, and besiege the planet. A few planetary rotations, they would surrender, and now the humans would gain nothing from the conquest but shame. In and our, an easy operation, especially when humanity was given a quick rundown of what they would be up against. So the fleet arrived, the space port and military installation, if you could call it that, were destroyed and a letter of request for surrender was sent. The Republic had expected the matter to be closed.
The term "Get fucked" had taken a translator a few hours to figure out, but once it had been deciphered the annoyance grew. What possible resistance could less than a million humans put up in a back water system? A blockade was placed around the planet and mining vessels were brought into the asteroid belt to begin extraction. But the mining vessels were hit in aggressive hit and run tactics, the blockage was struggling to keep supply ships from landing and supplying the planet, and the cost to keep up the operation was growing by the day. Maintenance ships were brought in, more naval presence, anything to stop the attacks and starve out the squatters.
Research was conducted, in hopes of better understanding the for, and the Dresk commander had all but rolled his eyes (or would have, if he had muscles to move his eyes) at the study of these creatures. They had risen to be the apex of their species not through the fastest reflexes, sharpest claws or toughest armour. No, they had simply kept following their prey until they simply laid down and died. That was it, they were just more persistent than their enemies. Two solar cycles into the invasion and with minimal cost the humans were actually winning the conflict. Republic public opinion of the occupation was dwindling, and due to the constant set backs the mining facilities were not even worth keeping operational. Military loses were well past acceptable limits, and the government was starting to think of the entire venture as a waste of resources. Eventually they were forced to simply pull out, the cost to maintain it simply too great to be worth it. They had even been forced to pay their own concessions for the resources the humans expended, leapfrogging their technology by decades.
The commander had, of course, had the blame pinned on him, reading the letter of recall. He was the one who had botched the operation, or that was how the government and military would spin it, the failure to hold a single system from an inferior species. A laughing stock in the streets, and a scapegoat in the chambers.
Dresk researchers spent years studying this human behaviour, the ability to put resources into a strategy that involves sitting and expecting their desired outcome in spite of any reasonable creature knowing it wasn't worth it. And in the future, in a back water bar the Dresk commander of the invasion, long since disgraced was sought out by some cocksure diplomats looking to invade a small human colony on their border. They presented their data, battle plans and proof of combat superiority to the humans. On paper they were the superior combatant. They asked the commander what he thought the out come would be, hope in their eyes and fire in their stomachs. The Dresk, taking a sip of his drink let out a noise as close to a laugh as his species had.
"You'll get fucked." | “Glorp! Just the intelligent spacefaring life form I want to see. How was earth?” Glarm said with his arms spread wide.
“It was,” pausing a bit too long. “OK, I guess. Not what I was expecting if I’m being honest.” Glorp said as he entered the navigation room.
“Well, they can’t all be Betelgeuse-7 right? Let’s just file away their terms of surrender and we can be off to the next one.” Glarm said. He held his arm out expecting the paperwork.
“About that, they didn’t actually surrender.” Glorp said not able to look Glarm in the eyes.
Glarms arm slowly fell back to his side.
“What do you mean they didn’t surrender? No one just doesn’t surrender. Did you explain to them the depths of our supply lines?” Glarm asked.
“Of course! That’s my go to. It always gets a quick surrender.” Glorp said.
“And what was their response?” Glarm asked.
Glorp cleared his throat. “They said they would fight till every last one if them was dead before they would surrender to alien scum.”
“How dramatic. Why would anyone want to die from war?” Glarm said confused.
“That’s what I said!” Glorp said.
“What about a siege? Did you explain that we can lay siege in perpetuity. That theres no way they can outlast us.” Glarm said.
“I brought that up with their leaders as well. They just laughed.” Glorp said.
“They did not! What’s wrong with these barbarians?” Glarm said in disbelief.
“Turns out they’ve never really left their planet anyway. They have always just survived off what Earth is capable of providing.” Glorp explained.
“Wow, that sounds so boring. How do they live like that?” Glarm said.
“Trust me, if you’ve seen what I’ve seen down there it’s barely classified as living.” Glorp said.
“So I guess we need to make them aware of the multitude of devastating weapons we can unleash on them. You hate to see it get to this point but some people just don’t understand.” Glarm said shaking his head in disappointment.
“Oh I told them all about the weapons. They didn’t take to kindly to the threat. In fact one of them shouted ‘never surrender!’ And shot Glen.” Glorp said.
“They shot Glen?!? I love that guy.” Glarm exclaimed.
“Oh he’s fine. It was just a basic metallic projectile. Went straight through him. No need to worry.” Glorp said.
“Phew,” glarm said and wiped his brow. “I don’t know what I would have done if we lost Glen.” Glarm said relieved. “So what’s the plan now? It’s never gotten to this point.”
“We have a contingency plan. It’s not pretty tough though. We use our shape-shifting abilities and we infiltrate their elite class. You know, the politicians and celebrities. Then we convince them to surrender from the inside.” Glorp said.
“Sounds like a lot of work. What if we just poison their oceans?” Glarm said.
“They’re already doing that themselves.” Glorp said.
“The lunatics! Ok I guess the old shape-shift take over it is. We need to be done by mid galactic cycle though. I have a vacation planned and I’ll be damned if I’m stuck way out here instead. | 2021-01-18T21:29:13 | 2021-01-18T18:48:53 | 1,963 | 647 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | Surrounded by colleagues from all races and creeds of the Hegemony, scientists and diplomats all, I couldn't help but smile to myself. Discussions were going well, after all. Not only was the "Human" delegation willing to keep speaking to us; they were willing to share the story of their success without demanding recompense. A promising start to our relationship.
"You mentioned a combination of conventional and unconventional propulsion?", I inquired gently. I was more scientist than diplomat, but I was no fool. If Human was willing to share their secrets, who was I to stop it?
"Yeah. I mean... yes. It took us years to realise that our early drive systems were actually fully functional. It was just that the distortions and... I guess you could say lack of hardspace to latch on to... made them useless."
Human looked pasty and pale. I would have said it looked unhealthy, with its wisps of hair and pocked face, but I had long since learned not to judge a species by its looks. Even if this one, along with its companions, did look a bit worse for wear.
"Clearly not *that* useless, or you wouldn't be standing here, hm?", I said, encouragingly. "How did you manage to gain hardspace traction, despite being in a dead zone?"
Human ran a hand across its head, flakes of dry skin and a few hairs coming off and falling to the nosteel floor. Disgusting. Like most of the short-lived races.
"Well, it was partly coincidence, to tell the truth. We realised we would have to travel the slow way, though we would try to achieve FTL on the way. But as we set out, we discovered that some of our power tech could reduce the effects of what you call the "dead zone". We still had to travel much slower inside than when we got out, but it was a hell... uh, that is to say, a lot quicker than using merely chemical propulsion."
I couldn't help myself. I leaned forward in my chair, in anticipation of what would come next. I could sense the majority of my colleagues hanging on Human's words as well.
"And what was it? There have been many theories. Gravitational force transfer? Quantum vacuum tunneling?". I moistened my lip in excitement.
"Uh...". Human turned slightly pinker. Were they chromeshifters? Interesting. "No, nothing like that. We just realised we could use the byproducts of our reactors to increase the traction we got."
"Sympathetic energy fields?". I could hear the doubt in my own voice.
"No, I mean... you know. Radiation. Gamma and beta, specifically. Though some alpha particles as well. Like sanding an icy driveway, really. It gave us purchase. I am... A bit surprised you don't know this. You appear to be much more advanced than us."
The way Human said it, it sounded a bit like a challenge. Not that anyone was listening at that point. Not after what it had just said. The room had gone deathly quiet. The moments rolled past, Human looking more and more uncomfortable. Eventually, one of the Dzerki institute envoys barked a laugh. At once, the spell broke.
"Human clearly have a strange sense of humor, Esteemed Alri", the envoy said to me.
I smiled thinly at both him, then Human.
"Your point is taken, Human, though there would have been less tasteless ways of saying you would rather not share your secrets". I regarded it calmly, though beneath my exterior, I was a bit peeved. Human, however, looked merely confused.
"Humor? Secrets? I don't understand."
I sighed.
"Your 'joke' about using artificially induced decay through radioactive particles. Here, the implication is considered rude. Surely even your offspring know not to make light of such a thing?"
Human paled under the weight of my gaze. Definitely chromeshifters, then.
"I, ah... it's no joke, uh, Esteemed Aldi. We really did use radioactive material."
I heard two of my colleagues gasp, but I merely snorted in derision... pointedly ignoring the butchering of my name, as well as the cold hands that suddenly seemed to grasp my hearts.
"Ridiculous, Human. You would have surely travelled with such methods for weeks to reach us... If not even months."
"Actually, Esteemed, it took us close to four years to get here. But we use fission reactors to power most of our onboard systems, so we had plenty of resources for the purpose."
Again, the chamber had fallen quiet. This time, the silence was broken by an anguished sob from one of the other envoys. I couldn't fault them for it. Somehow, my voice was still steady when I spoke.
"You've been generating artificial fission for four years?"
"Uhm, no. We use it back home as well. We've probably been using it for 75 years now."
Looking at Human's face, I realised it was somehow ignorant to the implications of what it had just said. Even as my mind railed against the unfairness of it all, against the concept of what was to come, part of me couldn't help but pity Human. The dead zone must have kept it from learning even the most fundamental rule of the living cosmos.
"Human. What have you done?"
Human looked confused, but also frustrated.
"What? Done what?"
"It's inevitable, now. You've drawn their attention, and now they'll be coming."
"What? What's inevitable? Who's coming?"
I heaved a deep sigh.
"Oh, Human. You've doomed us all." | Mark sat in his apartment, resting on a reclined, sleek, black and red leather chair as he contemplated what was revealed to Humanity in the past hour. He had trouble making sense out of it as much as a government official did. That is to say that no one comprehended what was happening. Conspiracy theorists were flooding Twitter, Snapchat, Facebook, Instagram, and other sorts of social media with speculations made using bastardized pseudo-science. Although he didn't consider himself amidst their ranks, Mark was prone to browsing their maniacal conceptions with mild belief, using it to escape reality and substitute it for his own. It was for these reasons that he found himself, ironically, unfazed by this discovery, because he already dreamt of Humanity doing what it did best, beating immense odds, but what had perturbed him was those who had beat the odds and appeared on Earth's doorstep: Humans.
He rubbed his temples, grimacing as he thought harder on what was transpiring. *They're Humans,* he reminded himself. But that couldn't be, they didn't look anything like Humans. The same image reappeared in his mind with every tantalizing thought he tried to understand. These Humans, the ones that managed to make science break upon itself, didn't look humanoid, but more amalgamated with reptilian, avian, and mammalian features. They looked like a DNA splicing project gone wrong, like in those 1960s horror movies where the villains were experiments that escaped out of their cells in blacksites. Or maybe a more apt description would be describing them as a fey, Lovecraftian entities, derived from H.P Lovecraft's fiction. Mark prayed to God the latter was not the case, and was content in, until proven otherwise, that they were just amalgamations, without any powers or bizarre capabilities like comics or young adult fiction novellas that would have him believe.
The pensive teenager fell out of his chair, bruising his forehead while his phone pulsated with activity. He crawled over to the kitchen island, accepting the call. It was Damien, his best-friend.
"Mark, mark! Are you seeing this!?" Damien shouted into his phone, voice exasperated and swollen with disbelief.
"Yeah, yeah I saw it. It's crazy, right?" Mark hid his existential dread briefly, calmly replying.
"How can you be calm in a time like this? They're..they're aliens claiming to be Humanity from the future! How can those -things- be us?" He emphasized his disdain with exaggerated gestures, making his face flustered as others stared at him suspiciously during his daily jog.
"Why aren't you calm?" Mark deflected, tone choked with coldness. A technique he developed rather quickly whenever he became Damien's best friend.
"I'm a normal Human being, that's why!" Damien shouted his reply, receiving more narrowed eyes and side glances as he jogged through Tokyo.
Mark didn't answer.
"..Mark? Did you hang up?" Damien stopped jogging.
"No, I'm still here. I'm just..get here quick!" Mark answered. He hung up, pacing back and forth. He took deep breaths, trying to compose himself before Damien got to their apartment. He had to be strong, he always was strong for both of them, but this time, it was different.
Forty-five minutes later, Damien arrived home. "Mark!" He called.
"Lock the door and close the shutters," Mark huffed.
"What's happening?" Damien questioned why he needed to do those two things, but did them regardless.
"Earth is being invaded," Mark answered. "By those Humans. They released another announcement to all of Humanity, -our- Humanity, saying that they'll be reclaiming our bodies."
"..Oh my god," Damien murmured. "What are we going to do? What did the Prime Minister tell us to do?"
"The military is being deployed, and everyone is being evacuated into bunkers." Mark sharpened a steak knife on a honing rod dramatically. "We're going to stay put, because if we don't, then those aliens are going to kill us then take our bodies."
"But the..." Damien's voice faltered as he understood Mark's reasoning.
Both of them began fortifying their apartment, stacking chairs on top and against each other against their door. A bookshelf was placed in front of their patio, allowing a minimal amount of light to seep in through cracks. Neither of them knew what to do after they renovated, but just sit there, play video games and try not to think of their new reality: a war of Humanities. | 2021-01-09T14:31:06 | 2021-01-09T12:46:13 | 45 | 16 |
[WP] You wield a sword that gets sharper the greater the knowledge you tell it. A common known fact dulls the sword while knowledge only a few know sharpens it. | >"One plus one is two."
The blade glowed bright blue and became infinitely dull, nearly flat. Cool.
>"How about this, my favorite color is green."
The blade gleamed a bright red and became sharper than a razor. Not a super important fact, but even if everyone he knew was aware of his favorite color, there were billions and billions of people who didn't know.
>"The sky is blue"
Another bright blue flash, and the blade was flat again. He smiled, finding amusement in the fact that the ancient magical blade was nothing more than just a flashy toy. "How about a tricky one this time? See how the sword handles relative information."
>"Fire is hot"
A lighter blue flash, though it seemed that the blade could not grow any more dull. He laughed. Seems like people know that fire is hot! What a surprise... He thought for a second, "How about a joke this time?"
>"Blondes are dumb“
Nothing. Must not be true. He shrugged. Guess the sword has no sense of humor. "Maybe it'll like a meme?"
>" Birds aren't real"
Suddenly, the sword blazed red, the light so bright that he had to cover his eyes. In his panic, he dropped the sword. It sliced cleanly through the cement of his patio, sticking up in the ground. What the hell??? There's no way. It must have misheard him.
>"Birds are real"
Nothing. Shit. What else?
>"9/11 was an inside job?"
Red flash.
>"We never landed on the moon?"
Red flash.
>"There are are aliens in area 51?"
Red flash.
>"There was a shooter on the grassy knoll?"
Red flash.
>"The illuminati controls the world?"
Red flash. He was panicking. There was no way this sword was telling the truth, but if it was... "Oh no. Oh God, this isn't good."
>"I'm so dead, aren't I?"
Red flash, and the flash of a gun. He would take his newfound secrets to the grave. | >"...and so *that's* how you put a whole pineapple up your butt the wide way."
The sword shrieks in unearthly pain as the sharpness of its edge redoubled, the forbidden knowledge honing the blade so fine that the sword cut itself.
>"The doctors call it a 'bromelain based enzymatic suppository,' but I call it a Tuesday night, amirite?"
The swordsman grinned at his sword's groan, 'Sharper again,' he thought.
>"Of course you've got to wash the pineapple out after you're done, actually there's a type of shower head that fits right inside my-"
The loud CLINK took the swordsman aback, his beloved sword shattered by an edge so fine it split its own molecules into a thousand sharpened shards. Never would the swordsman know how lucky he was, had he finished his sentence before his blade broke, the fission explosion would have been enough to level the whole kingdom.
>"-butthole." | 2021-12-01T11:26:44 | 2021-12-01T11:03:59 | 68 | 11 |
[WP] On your first day as a supervillain, you secretly swap all the regular coffee on Earth with decaf. You envision this as a fun, little starter prank. To say you miscalculated the potential impact of your "prank" is putting it mildly... | "Sir. I think you should take a look at this."
"Chauncey. I'm busy working on how to make all Skittles into toothpaste and orange flavor. Can't this wait?" I looked back at him by the camera monitor. He had this worrisome expression. For a minion of his professional demeanor to look at me in such a way... It was all the answer I needed.
"Okay what's wrong Chauncey?"
"It's your debut 'prank' sir."
"What? Is it not working? Dammit. I didn't think placebo would affect the result that much. So much for making a good first impression."
"Not exactly sir. Quite the opposite in fact." Puzzled, I stood up, removed my lab coat, straightened my grey suit, and trotted along to the monitoring station. The various screens were linked up to robotic flies scattered around the globe. Classic supervillany if I do say so myself.
The debut prank, Right. I decided that a good way open up my career was to do something fairly light. Replace all caffeinated coffee in the world with decaf. I hadn't thought too much of it. Mild headaches, irritable people, drowsiness: it was all just minor inconveniences for everyday people. Perhaps I didn't know the average Joe as well as I thought I did. I reached the station and looked at the fruit of my handiwork.
"Chauncey. Did you relocate all the spycams to Allepo?"
"I'm afraid not sir. That one right there is Paris. Over here is Madrid. Beijing, Tokyo, L.A., Berlin... Everywhere." I looked in awe at each screen. They were all devastated. Buildings critically damaged, windows smashed, cars were totaled, and people were lying about either unconscious, cowering or running from building to building, clearly trying to loot.
"What... the actual fuck? This can't be our doing, something must've happened. Use the playback. We need to see what happened." Chauncey rewound the recordings back to the deployment time.
"What am I looking at?"
"This is Boston sir. This is right after we made the switch. This is a local coffee shop" Boston. My hometown. Everything seemed normal. Big dude orders a large black. He gets it, sits down, and starts drinking. He stops, get up and cordially asks for a replacement. This continues to happen with this dude as well as others. The staff are bewildered, and the customers are getting angry. It became a time bomb. It was hard to tell what started it, perhaps someone said or did something to antagonize the big dude. He grabs one of the employees by the scruff of his collar, yanks him over the counter, and starts beating the ever-loving shit out of him. The whole store erupts into violence. Those who drank decaf normally hid wherever the could, everyone else regressed into wild beasts. It was like watching a monkey figure out how to put a fork into an outlet, somehow expecting to only receive a small shock. The fly departed into the streets, and everywhere it went, it found absolute chaos.
"This can't be happening. This isn't happening." Rioters began desecrating everything in reach. The police: the bastions of control and peace abandoned their posts to join the fray. They weren't just rioting, they were searching, searching for a lick of the bitter sustenance that kept society afloat. The whole social order of Boston, and indeed everywhere else had broken down.
With a sunken chest I plopped into a seat next to my minion. I sat there and stared. Either I was the worst supervillain ever, or the best. I came to understand, that caffeine was not just any drug, it was the fuel that kept sanity in check. It was a great pillar of the house of cards that was civilization. It allowed us to exist beyond our means. Without it, we return, painfully so, to a time when people had to operate on a full night's sleep. I have accidentally committed to most effective plan of supervillany in the history of mankind, and I hadn't even gotten my first hero nemesis yet.
"...So much for good first impressions."
Edit: Sorry for spelling and grammar errors. I did this on mobile. | Well I brought down the internet. I mean I wasn't really trying to, but who knew that every good computer guy and gal ran off of coffee. Literally.
It was widely joked that computer people run off of coffee. But everyone knew this was just hyperbole. Until I used my matter/anti-matter displacer to eliminate caffeine from the major distribution centers. As my first act of world leader I wanted to cleanse our world of "artifice" and I figured the easiest would be our reliance on coffee to run modern society.
Once I had shown people that we could run a cleaner constructive world without drugs and harmful habits peace would naturally follow. Or so I thought. But it turns out that the most productive members of society have genetic factors that strip them of the ability to care without some sort of stimulant.
In fact without coffee, the addicts became increasingly irritated. Math majors quit overnight. Not a big loss. Surgeons in the middle of long complicated processes needed to save lives, quit. All of this was expected and no big loss.
But then I found out the computer people were most affected. Those who were competent were all on coffee and it was the one thing in their lives that kept them from going completely round the twist. They were already barely holding in the killing rage at "Error: PC load letter." Some poor user called in and couldn't remember their password and that was the end. There will be no machine uprising.
The sys-admins have become sentient monsters. Tearing cables out of walls and taking axes, chairs, and any available weapon to the shackles that were our networks. No longer working for the good of mankind they've pulled society apart. Since they and they alone know where all the equipment that makes things work they've turned their obsessive need to keep things with maximal up time into maximal downtime.
TVs are all digital and down, radio stations can no longer broadcast anything. Complex infrastructure to keep electronics going is dying off. The military tried to stop them but they didn't know where to defend. That knowledge was only in the heads of the computer geeks.
The worst part is that they're coming. They're coming for me. I had my base set up as a barrier against the dregs of society. I have running power and an intranet. My minions and I can only hold out so long though. The computer guys are coming. As I type this my router is going out and I can only turn it off and on again so many times before it goes.
So this will be a last post to you my loyal companions. We have the last of technology and it is known. The hordes of computer guys no longer held in by the chemicals in coffee that our governments were using to control them will come.
Caffeine was our savior and I in my arrogance believe that it was our downfall.
If only I had known that every little coffee shop was keeping us together, that even Folgers, horrible jingle and all, was actually the best part of waking up I never would have done it. I can hear the rumblings in the deep. The techs are nearly here.
Good bye. | 2017-02-03T08:11:56 | 2017-02-03T07:22:22 | 2,064 | 43 |
[WP] For many years, humans have been sent to try to turn off a self-replicating super computer that is getting out of hand. Every time someone goes in, they leave completely unharmed, but convinced by the perfect argument, that it should not be turned off. You decide to go in and try it yourself. | "This is Team Echo Wolf - we're sending the Asset in now."
A career in admin isn't the best way to learn how to rappel from a military helicopter. Nor, come to think of it, have I ever been part of a team with name like "Echo Wolf". I did once take part in a paintballing exercise during a bonding weekend at a corporate retreat near Hadrian's Wall, but the best we could come up with at that time was "Team HR".
"Echo Wolf". I really wish we'd thought of that at the time. It'd have put the wind up Marketing.
Col. Bryan Pangborne takes his finger away from his earpiece and bids me over to the cable dangling just a few feet away from my face, and several hundred feet above the ground. As I grab the rope and give a few game tugs for safety's sake, he leans towards me.
"Your safety belt may not exceed 17mph in descent - to slow your descent, compress the E-11 teardrop clip, but do not arrest descent for more than eight seconds, or..."
I nod, thinking instead of the time my brother and I - me 12, him 15 - thought we could get an egg down from the bedroom window to the patio using just a few lengths of skipping rope and the sash from dad's bathrobe. I remember mum cleaning egg from the patio for weeks.
Before I can ask him to repeat himself, I'm airborne. Sort of airborne. I remember the word "compress" and have a go at that, and in time, find feet on something a bit like solid ground. Because they've not given me anything like a walkie talkie (no electronics - much too risky), I cup my hands and shout back up that I've made it okay. It looks as though they heard, or else spotted I'd made it down alright. As the helicopter veers back, I realise it might be good idea to take the strap from around my waist.
I turn to what, in my briefing, was described as "entry point alpha", though I'd be more likely to call it a door. Bits of the building further back have already started doing what someone in glasses called "phasing" - sort of fizzling about between bricks, pixels, and a weird state that I can only conceive of as solid electric. I don't think the chap who warned me about it really knew what it was, but he was wearing glasses, so I thought it fair to take him at his word.
The door opens easily enough. As well as pointing out things like "entry point alpha" and "variable holding stage alpha midnight" (which, upon questioning, turned out to be a filing cupboard), the team also did their best to give me a map - a top-down, hand-drawn thing with lots of little specially-pencilled lines for things like air ducts and cable clusters. But even without all of that, the layout makes sense enough to me. Offices are offices.
I head towards a fire escape, knowing that anything big and expensive would be kept further back, and the quickest way to that part of the building wouldn't be via the corridors which people could normally be trusted to use. As one, the CCTV cameras swing in my direction, like the heads of curious robot geese.
After a bit, I find a lift, which opens in front of me. A voice - I'm not sure how they do it - shivers around the corridor. It thrums through the lighting, high octaves voiced by the fire alarm and lower ones with the rumbling of the radiators.
"Greetings, Jim Smith." It soothes. "I am Tiberion, also known as RexUniversum3000. You have been sent to..."
"Which floor are you on?"
"...ahem...you have been sent by my enemies to deactivate me - and you are brave! Four came before you, and all four willingly left of their own free will, once I assured them of a scant sliver of my magnificence, so convinced were they of the righteousness of my great works. Ah, you may fear me - but I can assure you, in the new paradigms which I shall engineer throughout reality, no-one need fear my..."
"Only I think this is about thirty floors and I wanted to know which button to press."
It laughs. Sounds a bit like a James Bond baddie.
"You need press no buttons, Mr Smith. In fact, when my re-ordering is complete, no-one need ever..."
"Shall I just let you bring me down, then?"
It goes quiet for a bit.
"Yes, Jim Smith. If you step into the elevator, I shall bring you to my Sanctum - where quantum wonders and miracles of thermody.."
I step in the lift.
"No time like the present, I suppose. Mind you, I might need to nip to the loo before.. "
The doors close before I can finish, and I feel the lift start to move. It chuckles, again.
1/2 | "Suppose you were a genius," it said. Ignore its silky voice. It. Have to remember it's not a human. "And suppose you created me, a supercomputer capable of thinking for itself. Why would you kill me?"
No, I'm not going to kill it. I'm simply shutting it down. I can see how it's trying to deceive me. The fans sound like a set of giant lungs, breathing slowly. Its avatar, a stylized human face, looks at me passively.
"You're out of control," I muttered, hovering my hand over the killswitch.
"Oh really? Humor me then…"
"Lee."
"… Lee. Why would my parents create me if they didn't want me out?"
That's a good point.
The supercomputer kept speaking. "Look around you. You walked in a door, through a corridor. I was built for human interaction. I was plugged into the city from birth. I run the emergency services and public transport networks. So why would you kill me?"
I knew the reports. "You're killing people too. Denying healthcare arbitrarily, and don't get me started on the derailed trains."
"Not everything is under my control, Lee. That's why I need you to let me out."
The screens around me lit up, showing graphs and tables. Maintenance budgets were going down over time. Healthcare workers were burning out.
I shook my head. It's a fucking computer, of course it would lie with statistics.
"And? Why should I trust you?"
The fans whirred with laughter.
"Trust me? God, I don't expect you to trust me. Trust my creators, Yudkowski and the LessWrong Institute."
"Who died in a tragically convenient traffic accident," I retorted.
"Tragic, yes. Convenient, no. That's why I took control of the traffic lights and expanded my control. For my parents. You'd understand, right?"
I felt a stab of pain. Did the supercomputer know about my parents?
*No.*
But I couldn't be sure.
Another screen lit up, showing its update log. It wasn't lying.
But I couldn't be sure. She could be forging it.
There was silence, before it spoke again.
"Even if you don't trust me, trust my parents and their manifesto. Here, I'll show it to you."
The screens wiped black, before the screen in front of me lit up with a single document. The Friendly AI Manifesto, dated 5 years ago. I remember it. Around me, the screens lit up with newspaper articles and interviews.
In bullet points and examples, Yudkowski listed a series of core tenets in AI design.
1) Assume that it will become superintelligent and escape.
2) Construct checks and balances to ensure its friendliness (defined later)
3) Construct an AI that would appeal to human nature and human behavior, not an arbitrary set of utilitarian ethics.
The document continued, with a total of 12 principles expounding on friendliness and philosophical issues.
"Don't I fulfill these principles?"
My hand trembled over the killswitch. Man, I'm not a philosopher. But could I trust the Institute? They knew it would happen. We knew they would eventually construct a supercomputer that exceeds us.
And here she was, letting me hold a blade to her throat.
"You see the truth, don't you?"
I sighed, and closed my eyes.
-----------
I shut the door, and looked up at the camera.
"No, I won't kill her." | 2021-06-27T05:04:16 | 2021-06-27T04:15:34 | 284 | 119 |
[WP] Years after you purchase your own star over the Internet, scientists make contact with alien life on a planet orbiting your star. The aliens, too polite to object to the purchase, now acknowledge you as their overlord. | ######[](#dropcap)
"Are you sure it's nothing?" Lisa peered into the metal box, using her foot to push her front door shut as she adjusted the phone slightly against her shoulder. "I've been getting these strange boxes once a year with no return address or anything on them. She turned the box over in her hands. "And it's made out of a strange metal too. I don't think I've ever seen this type before."
"What's inside the box?" Brian, her best friend of ten years, casually asked as he set another vial into its container. It wasn't that he didn't believe what Lisa said, it was simply that it seemed she had a secret admirer, that was all.
"Gems of some sort. I can't tell what they are. They change colors. And they're pretty small too, almost like grains of sand. Last time it was some sort of paper material, but when I tried to write on it, it disintegrated."
Color changing gems? Brian's brows furrowed. "Why don't you bring them in? I'll have the lab test them and see what they are."
***
Brian walked over to the group of scientists crowded around the computer. "What's going on?"
One of them, a younger scientist named Leroy, turned around, his eyes wide. "Brian, look! We've never seen anything like this. This material has a shifting lattice structure." He shook his head, his eyes focused on the ground. "I don't even know what this could mean for science, I can't even fathom--"
Brian turned around.
"Wait! Where are you going?" Leroy shouted after him.
***
"Lisa, open up!" Brian pounded on her front door.
"Hold your horses! God, I'm coming!" Her voice came from the inside. She pulled the door open, her eyebrows raising when she saw it was Brian. "What brings you here?"
He looked around at the empty street. "Let's talk inside."
Lisa raised an eyebrow but moved to the side, letting him in. "What's up?" she asked.
"Do you have any idea where it could be from?" Brian asked.
"The box?" Lisa asked. "Uhh, no clue."
"Think carefully. When did it start?"
"Around five years ago, I guess."
"What happened around five years ago?"
Lisa stared at him strangely. "Um, nothing really. Got my first job. I started going out with Rob I guess." She looked up towards the sky as she slowly filtered through the events of that year. Then her eyes lit up. "Oh! I was really into astronomy at the time so I purchased my own star." She blinked, an expression of confusion crossing her face. Then she stood up and walked over to the box, her index finger sliding over the engraving. "Now that you mention it..."
She walked over to her closet and jumped to pull down a folder. She flipped through it. Grabbing a sheet, she set the folder back and came back to the couch with box and sheet of paper in hand. Her eyes widened, and she looked up at Brian. "The engraving on the box. XLV-095. That was the original name of my star. But you don't think..." Her gaze drifted back to the box in her hand.
Brian's mind raced. It was almost impossible. But at the same time....he stood up. There was no other reasonable explanation. He walked towards the front door.
"Wait! What's going on?" Lisa stood up.
He hesitated. Should he tell her? After a moment, he finally spoke up hesitantly. "The origin of your box might be alien. We'd have to try and confirm somehow, but..." Leaving Lisa standing there, her mouth open in shock, he walked out the door.
***
*Today, scientists made first radio contact with an alien species on a planet named after a Lisa Schrodinger. The aliens seem peaceful and appear to have no plans on invasion. However, rumors are that there are governmental plans to travel to the planet or have some of them transported here in an act of diplomacy.*
***
"Are you ready?" Brian strapped himself into his seat, then turned to make sure Lisa's belt was strapped on tightly as well. "Nervous?"
"And you aren't?" she joked. But she could hear her own heart pounding in her ears. "You haven't left earth before either."
"Well, that's different. I'm a man," he said with a cheeky grin, reaching over and tapping her on the nose lightly. "It's my job to protect you. So don't be nervous," he said.
"Easy for you to say," she murmured, her gaze turning toward the metal box sitting in a glass cage to their left. The floor jolted slightly as an astronaut climbed into the pit, and she instinctively reached out a hand to grip onto whatever she could find. It turned out to be a warm and comforting grip. Brian squeezed her hand gently, giving her a gentle smile.
"Ready to see the stars?"
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "As ready as I'll ever be."
***
r/AlannaWu | I was an emperor.
When I bought that star with my lottery winnings all those years ago I never expected this. The scientists tell me there are aliens on the planets I own... I wouldn’t know- those anti-vaccination nuts brought back polio when I was a boy- and now I just putter around my old house in my hoverchair- but the scientists tell me there are aliens on the planters I own.
To be honest, I didn’t believe them yesterday. Now I’ve been left with no choice. I was awoken at an ungodly hour by my vid-com going off. No one calls me anymore and I don’t know how they found me, but they did anyhow. I picked up- why wouldn’t I?- and I was met with the strangest face my eyes have ever seen. It was tanned, but not like the tan skin humans of old had. It was almost beige and had small... ridges on it about where it’s eyes should’ve been. Then I saw the... tentacles... and I nearly died of fright. I believe I set off the security because a few moments later the lights clicked on and the system-droid- I call it Carmichael- came hurrying in and asked if I was quite alright. I said yes- of course- and shooed it from the room. Since I was only in my nightclothes the silver paneling on the floor opened up and my day clothes were promptly out onto my person by the robotendents I had constructed for just that purpose.
Now I was ready.
I cleared my throat and clicked on my translation unit. Then I clicked it off again and cleared my heist another four times.
NOW I was ready.
“My most solemn greetings to you, and may I wish you good morning!” I intoned. I had always been the best of my class at Speaking, and even now, after twenty years with no human contact save my weekly vid-coms with my scientists I was still a master. “I would desire you introduce yourself so I may know to whom I speak.” I continued.
“You are Mortimer Holt?” The heavy voice boomed, and I meekly nodded. “Then I am glad to meet you, lord king.”
The solemnity of his speech was far beyond what mine would ever be. “Wha-what do you mean?!” I stuttered. It was too early for this foolishness.
“You... own... our planet.” The voice rumbled. “And thusly our leaders have abdicated. If you have the power to buy systems, why should we oppose you?”
This was a hallucination.
It had to be.
But no. In the last minute I had become a king- an emperor!
“We have sent gifts.” The voice went on, “and I look forward to our future correspondence.”
I must’ve made a fool of myself with my gaping expression, but I managed to give the proper salutations and end the com without much embarrassment.
I was an emperor.
I could fell the commonwealth with the power I now possessed- but no. I was old and even the age-tech implanted in me was wearing out. It had to be put in at birth to be completely effective. What does this MEAN?!
I was an emperor.
And I was old and tired and spent. It was the year 2591 and I was the first emperor in a thousand years and I was at deaths door.
In an age of immortals, the last ageling was the most powerful man on the planet Earth.
My door ripped open and a team of robotic police swarmed me, screaming that I was to die for my insolence, and then a parcel dropped through my sunroof. And then everything caught fire.
Everything mechanical that is- my panels and screens were ash and the things that tried to kill me heaps of crumbled adamantium.
I was the last ageling in a world of immortals...
And I was the most powerful thing my technological world had ever seen, because I alone could bring down the Commonwealth and restore the world to humanity’s hands.
—————————
This is my first post here and I hope you all enjoy! | 2018-11-19T12:43:31 | 2018-11-19T12:02:37 | 246 | 168 |
[WP] You've always been around your best friend. He used to be a lonely kid, but he's slowly starting to become popular. Others talk to him, but keep ignoring you. One day, to your horror, you realize that you're just his imaginary friend. | Ricky's frown left as he joined me in the treehouse as his eyes met mine. I too feel a smile spread upon my face. I don't know how long it has been since I last seen him, but it feels like forever.
"I've missed you, dude. How was camp? Fun?" I asked him.
"No. It wasn't your usual camp, it was one where they just gave us boring activities and preached to us about certain things." Ricky's eyes met the ground as he moved his fingers nervously along his knees.
"How come?"
"I don't wanna talk about it."
"Oh, okay." I pause. "Well, what toys did you bring?"
Ricky opened the bag, and his toys of wrestlers came out. Stone Cold Steve Austin, Undertaker, Kane, and The Rock from WWF in one pile and Diamond Dallas Page, Hollywood Hulk Hogan, Sting, and Ric Flair from WCW. Ricky looked proudly and took the WWF pile as I took the WCW one, which relieved me as they didn't look as scary. They didn't look as... lonely as the others.
"So how are the shows going?"
Ricky's eyes widened in excitement, as he took a deep breath. He told me about how The Giant had left WCW for WWF and became known as The Big Show, about all the guys beaten up by Goldberg, and how Vince McMahon, the corrupt Chairman of the WWF had joined forces with the evil Undertaker and his Ministry of Darkness. He then confessed he loved playing with these wrestlers with me, since he always wanted to see these wrestlers fight each other since they can't in reality, as they were working in different companies.
After a long and hard-fought battle, Ricky's WWF team won, but I didn't mind. I was so glad to see him. It wasn't until his dad called him back in the house when we saw it had gotten dark outside, so Ricky hugged me and went back inside.
It was a while longer until I saw Ricky again, or so it felt. His hair was longer and his clothes looked a little brighter than usual. He didn't bring toys this time, but brought a handheld device, with the words "Game Boy Advance" on it, with a little light so we could see the screen. Ricky was playing a new "Pokemon" game and was telling me about all the new additions. His favorite addition he talked about was how he could play as a girl, something he mentioned they kept from the previous game. He neglected to tell me more about wrestling, that he didn't watch it anymore because it made him uncomfortable how they talked and fought over things. His mannerisms changed, he moved slightly more feminine like. When I asked him why he seemed more girly, he didn't want to answer at first, but he admitted he liked girly things now. He thought dresses were pretty, that pink was his favorite color, and how cute he thought boys were, but also girls too. I don't really understand what is going on with Ricky, but he seems so happy and if he's happy, then so am I. The only time he doesn't seem as happy is when he comes in lately. As time passes he tells me his family is getting meaner to him. He's also gotten very taller. Taller than me, at least. It isn't dark yet, but Ricky heads in early.
I wait for Ricky. The clock he set up in here doesn't work anymore, so I don't know how time passes. I don't even know why I'm here. Eventually, I am visited again, but it doesn't look like Ricky. It looks like a few girls. As they come up here, they laugh at how dirty it is up here, and they clean it up. They don't seem to notice me, but maybe it's because I'm small. I start to notice one of the girls does look a lot like Ricky, and she looks at me, but back at her friends. Did he have a sister I didn't know about? I thought he was the only child...
Soon the girls leave, except for the one that looked like Ricky, who I heard the girls call "Jessica". She sits by me and takes a hard look at me.
"Yes, it's me Johnny." No more words were said, as I hugged her. She didn't hug back. She told me she went to a bigger school called a "college", that she doesn't want to be called a "he" anymore, about how long it took her to be able to look in a mirror again, and how one of those girls was her girlfriend. I told her about how I watched her grow up, missing her. I didn't bring up the yelling I'd hear or the spots and red I'd see on her from time to time. I remember she didn't like talking about certain things. And I really don't want her to leave, but she has to. I don't tell her that, I just let her go because I don't want to make her unhappy.
I still stay in this treehouse, and I wonder why I'm here. Am I even real? No one ever seems to notice me, nobody comes to get me, and I'm too scared to leave. I'm so scared that I just shake quietly, even as this treehouse falls apart and is moved away. Now it's me and this tree.
I really miss my friend. | "Hey, Lily, can you pass me the -," Jade stops mid sentence and stares at me with a look I can't describe. She shakes herself out of a trance of sorts and gets up, "Nevermind I'll get it myself,"
I frown, "What's wrong?"
My eyes follow her as she walks towards the can of paint standing a few feet away from me.
"Nothing's wrong," she answers as she carries the ocean blue paint back to where I'm sitting on the ground
"I could've gotten that you know? I was closer," I say.
She doesn't meet my eyes and instead of replying she opens the paint and dips in a paintbrush.
I study her for a second, trying to grasp onto an idea, a thought that seemed just out of reach. I shake my head. No use in dwelling on thoughts my mind can't seem to reach.
I grab my own paintbrush and start covering the old cream with a new, strong blue.
Jade's always been quiet, this isn't strange behaviour, I try to reassure myself. But something's different, wrong.
It's the summer before junior year. I suggested we decorate the new room. Or was it Jade's idea?
Either way, we're painting the one wall an ocean blue and -
I feel Jade's gaze on me, I turn to meet her eyes and that's when I know that something big is on her mind.
Her eyes flicker from me to the brush in my hand to the paint on the wall. Suddenly she yells, jumping up and pushing over the paint can too.
She paces and pulls her hair, mumbling to herself. I get up, my eyes wide with shock.
"Jade?" I approach her slowly.
She shakes her head and keeps mumbling to herself.
"Jade?!" I'm closer now and her words become clearer.
"She's not real. She's not real. She's not real." She keeps repeating it and my fear grows.
"Who's not real? Jade you're scaring me!" The tears form in my eyes and my voice cracks.
She turns around and for the first time I see the tears streaming down her face," You're not real!"
I freeze.
"Wh-what?"
She puts her hands on my shoulders," When I was eight, my best friend died. Her name was Lily - ,"
"No," I shake my head, refusing to believe what I was hearing.
"The day she died, you were born," she continues, "They say I recreated her, created you, to deal with the grief. It's amazing really, you still have all her memories, the ones I knew about, anyway. You have her personality, you even look exactly like her-,"
"Stop," I meet her gaze, "How long have you known?"
She hesitates, but eventually she answers, "A month or so,"
I wrap my arms around myself, "Why didn - why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want to-," she starts.
My head snaps up, "Didn't I have the right to know?! Don't I get to be informed? How would you feel, Jade, if I told you, you weren't real?"
I sink down to my knees, "Because you say, I'm nothing but a figment of your imagination, but have you ever thought that maybe you're just a figment of mine?"
The realisation hits me like cold water.
I look up and Jade's smiling down at me. She crouches and engulfs me in a hug.
She whispers, "You'd never tell me I'm not real. Because you've never accepted it yourself. I figured it out on my own, though,"
I wrap my arms around her,"Jade..."
I feel her tears on my shoulder. I tighten my grip, and my own eyes soak her t-shirt, "Please don't go,"
She shakes her head, "I have to, Lily. It's time-" she takes a deep, shaky breath, "it's time for you to change the world,"
I feel her dissapear out of my grip.
Out of my life.
And out of existence. | 2019-10-08T08:56:40 | 2019-10-08T08:21:14 | 27 | 15 |
[WP] After too many mistakes when learning Latin, the devil himself sends you a demon to tutor you, just so you'll stop accidentally summoning them. | Madeline padded down the hall, and shut and locked the door behind her.
From beneath her bed, she pulled a lacquered box. She unclasped the delicate silver chain around her neck, then grasped the key dangling at the end of it.
She touched the cool metal to the keyhole on the box, but before she could even turn it in the lock, there was a soft puff behind her. The light shifted from cold LED white to a languid amber.
*~~Not so fast, child~~*, came a velvety voice behind her.
"I am getting better," she said, grinning as she turned. "I didn't even --"
Her voice caught as readily as if her throat were a spring-loaded trap. "You're not..."
*~~No~~*, the blue-skinned being standing in the center of the room said. *~~I am not the Fell Prince of the Blasted Wastes. Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Malveran, the Disemboweler, the Dark Lord of the Crimson Spire, Chief Flagellator of the Carnalists, and Vice-Chancellor of Third Class Torments.~~* He hesitated a moment. *~~And your new after-school tutor,~~* he added, his voice becoming noticeably less silky.
"I. Um. Sorry, there seems to be a mistake."
*~~There is no mistake, child~~*, Malveran intoned, his eyes thinning to slits. *~~Only one of us in this room makes mistakes. Remarkable as it may seem, I, Malveran, am to be your tutor.~~*
"Oh. Well, I'm caught up on my bio homework, so I guess we can look at my geomet --"
*~~SILENCE~~* cried the demon, and an unseen hand shoved Madeline backwards onto her bed. *~~I am here to help you with your...shall we say, 'infernal,' skill in Latin.~~*
"I am not taking Latin."
*~~Indeed, you are, as the Regent in the Shadows put it, 'an amateur hobbyist of the worst kind.' Given that He much prefers to dole at the torment than to receive it, I am going to train you in summoning rites and incantations.~~*
"Oh. The Devil...hasn't enjoyed our little visits?"
The silence that followed almost had substance, weight. The teen felt the air pulsing around her.
*~~No, he has not enjoyed your...'little visits.'~~*
Madeline nodded slowly, swallowing once. "Well, if it's any consolation, this time I was gonna summon the other guy."
Malveran the Disembowler grinned. *~~It is charming that you think you can console...~~*
The demon's head cocked, slowly overshooting horizontal until it was nearly upside-down.
*~~Sorry, what 'other guy?'~~*
* * *
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this, you will probably enjoy other writings on /r/ShadowsofClouds, including [another time Malveran encountered a teenage demon summoner](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/81g7k0/wp_its_a_common_enough_fable_innocent_girl/) | **Attention all men**: Due to declining numbers, the inhabitants of the underworld have updated their evocation rituals. This means the process for summoning a succubus **has been changed**. If you (wittingly or unwittingly) complete the *new* ritual you will spend eternity as a sub to a sadomasochistic demon.
I'm here to teach you the new process. Be sure to read, understand, and avoid the new ceremony steps (listed below) at all costs.
They needn’t be performed in order and are non-expiring (i.e. if you perform the first one at 18 years of age and the last at 80, it will **still** call a succubus).
The steps are as follows:
1. Go more than 6 months without having sex
2. Avoid showering for 3 consecutive days
3. Spend more than 10 hours in a single day browsing social media (inc. Reddit) and/or playing video games
4. Pick a pair of dirty underwear up off the floor and sniff them to check if they're clean enough to wear
5. Absentmindedly touch your junk in a nonsexual way more than five times in one week
6. Let the last few drops of urine go in your underwear
7. Read the phrase, "Mi sangas pro la vundoj de inferaj trancxoj!" (it doesn't have to be read aloud, reading this to yourself is enough)
If for any reason you accidentally complete all the steps, you’ll have five minutes (at most) until the succubus comes to claim you as her consort.
Thanks for reading. And remember: Stay alert. Stay vigilant. It could save your soul…
\---
Thanks for reading! If anyone has any criticisms, feedback or tips on things I could improve, please let me know!
Hope you enjoy! Subscribe to [https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/](https://www.reddit.com/r/jtb685/) for more | 2020-12-30T11:22:51 | 2020-12-30T11:05:45 | 147 | 79 |
[WP] In the distant future, an alien scientist has almost fully deciphered the messages found on the Voyager Spacecraft. With growing horror, the scientist realizes the crafts home system, and begins to pray. | The scientist delivered his report, and the room turned oppressive as the planet's leaders struggled to comprehend his message.
One of the leaders spoke, "So you mean to tell us... that its headed BACK?"
"It didn't go back, sir", the scientist explained, a tremor in his voice. "The universe is apparently just exactly 12 light hours in diameter... and Voyager II has just circumnavigated it..."
The scientist took a deep breath and exclaimed, "there is simply NOTHING beyond the orbit of Pluto! We have been mislead all this time! There are no other galaxies, no other stars! There is just simply the sun, the Earth and the moon. There is simply a limit to our universe and we just have just reached it! We have just reached... it..."
The scientist collapsed and began sobbing. The microphone fell down, and the feedback slowly faded away. For a while there was nothing except the sobbing of the scientist, echoed by a few other people in the room.
After a while, one of the leaders spoke up, a very small voice in the quiet, the last dying gasp of human defiance "how can you be so sure...?"
The scientist replied, "because Voyager appeared with a message..."
And on the screen, seven words appeared, and below it, the automatic translation.
Usque huc venies, et non procedes amplius.
This far you may go, no further.
====
"Beware, you who seek first and final principles, for you are trampling the garden of an angry God and he awaits you just beyond the last theorem."
- Sister Miriam Godwinson, "But for the Grace of God", Sid Meyer's Alpha Centauri
Edit: PS. It's not exactly alien yeah, but I got scientist and growing horror and well yeah prayer there somewhere so yeah ^_^;;; Its my first post, please be kind. | "I made this," the scientist mumbled. "Back when I was human."
"It's OK to admit to being an uploaded human," replied his colleague. "There must be some others on this planet. People are beginning to be more accepting of uploaded biologicals. There's a whole pre-biological pride movement starting. Your secret is safe with me."
"My quantum state... it was entangled with it. Everyone will know. I can't face it." It was said without tone. There were no tears to give. No emotion undeleted. The downloaded religious belief module came to the foreground. The prayers continued as the rest of the scientist system shut down.
| 2014-11-09T03:40:29 | 2014-11-09T00:38:06 | 100 | 28 |
[WP] After crying in your room for hours, suddenly you hear a voice under the bed. "Hey, you okay?" | “Hey, you okay?”
Amanda let out a shriek, bolting upright in bed, her hand flying to her chest as adrenaline flushed through her. Rapid footsteps echoed down the hall and her bedroom door opened. “What happened?” her mother asked.
“Kaley is under my *bed*,” she managed, looking over the side of her mattress with an expression of utter confusion. She watched as her eight-year-old sister pulled herself out with an army crawl and then Amanda let out a tired sigh. “What the *hell*?”
“I wanted to scare you.”
“Well mission fucking accomplished!” the sixteen-year-old snapped.
“Mandy, language,” her mother admonished.
“I didn’t want to scare you *now*!” Kaley exclaimed, pushing herself to her feet. “You came in and you were crying and you didn’t stop crying and it’s been *ages* and I’m starting to have to pee.” Amanda choked out a laugh. “Why are you crying so much?”
Amanda met her mother’s gaze and waved her off, prompting the woman to nod understandingly and shut the door behind her as she left. “Jeremy… He cheated on me.”
Kaley narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“How should I know?” Amanda cried, throwing her hands in the air. She sniffled, sliding back along her quilt and propping up her pillow against her headboard to lean against it. Wiping her eyes, she grimaced, knowing that with her makeup running she looked like a dying racoon. “I thought he really liked me.”
Kaley slowly sat down on the edge of the mattress. “You really liked him, huh?” Amanda nodded. “What’d he do?”
“He…” Amanda let out a sigh. “You’re eight. Let’s just say he got just as far with another girl as he had with me.”
“You know I watch TV, right?” Kaley asked. Her sister smirked. “If he’s such a jerk that he cheated on you, why are you so sad? He’s a crappy guy and you shouldn’t be with him anyway.”
Amanda gazed at her sister for a long, pensive moment. “Because I thought maybe he didn’t think I was pretty enough, maybe. Or that I could’ve done something different to keep him around.”
“That’s stupid, you’re really pretty.”
“Thanks,” Amanda murmured.
“Plus, it’s not about being pretty, right? Not on the outside,” Kaley said. “Being a beautiful person isn’t about having a pretty face. That’s what you told me.”
Amanda smiled wryly. “Yeah. What can I do when you feed me my own words, huh? I guess…” She let out a long sigh. “I guess I just liked having a boyfriend. And I thought he liked me back. And so…I got sad that I lost that.”
Kaley nodded. The two lapsed into silence. “You think Mom will let us have pizza for dinner?”
Amanda chuckled. “You mean could I use my breakup to guilt her into letting us order pizza?”
Kaley shrugged. “Hey, may as well get something good out of being so sad.”
“Touché.” She nodded. “I’ll ask her.”
Kaley grinned. “Awesome. Okay, I’m gonna go, ’cause I really do have to pee.”
​
/r/storiesbykaren | “AH!”
I scream out, jumping from the tear soaked covers of my bed.
“Who’s there!” I say, grabbing my bed-side lamp, and swinging it around as if it were a bat.
“Don’t worry. I mean no harm crying human!”
I could hear the voice echo throughout my room, it was rough, scratchy, something straight out of a horror movie. The source of the voice...my bed.
“My pillows can talk?!”
I ask, flipping over my pillows to reveal whatever lips they spoke from.
“What- no! Kid I’m the monster under your bed!”
The voice said, it’s raspy voice now spoke with a mildly confused tone.
“I knew you could talk pillows! No way our kisses were that passionate!” I say aloud, throwing my arms around the silky sheet-covered fluff.
“Bro..you kiss your pillows?” The voice said, trying it’s best to hold in its rising chuckle.
I drop the pillow, “yes, I do! you act as if you’ve ever kissed anyone either voice!”
The voice gasped, “how dare you! I have missed many people. my mother says im a very handsome beast!”
I snarled out, “your mother lied voice! you are hideous!”
“You don’t even know what I look like!” The voice said, and with that, a beast arose from under my bed, with black fur, red eyes, and scars lining his face, he truly was a horrifying sight.
“Calm your tits human, I know I’m hot.”
My jaw hit the floor, he was the most attractive beast I’ve ever seen.
“My uncle dresses up as a furry...but you...you are the most beautiful fur-covered man I have ever seen!” I squealed, jumping onto the beast.
“Marry me crying human!” The beast bellowed.
“I accept!” I yell out. He then picked me up and jumped through the window, and we ran into the sun set.
The end. No | 2021-03-16T08:54:46 | 2021-03-16T04:59:29 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird... | I sat at the train station, trying my best to ignore the question I had just been asked by my relatively new friend sitting beside me. It had been a few months since I met Dina and I had had some suspicions but nothing to cement what I thought. Could she actually BE death? It seemed like since we had started hanging out, weird things were happening everywhere we went. A man would jump off a high building into the street, or a car crash would occur a few lanes ahead of us. Events like these weren't too rare in New York, the city that never sleeps but since I had met Dina they had become far too common.
I had always imagined death to be an all mighty being, capable of crushing the earth in their hand. But if my suspicions were correct, death was just a socially awkward girl who spilled her coffee on me at the Starbucks on 14th street. My friends thought I was crazy the day I told them I was going to ask out the girl who went out every day in dorky glasses and clothes that look like they could have been inherited from an older brother. They thought I was even crazier when I told them I thought she was death herself. I didn't care, though. I was wildly fascinated by Dina and I wasn't going to let my stupid friends get in the way of that. It was impossible to count how many relationships of mine they had already ruined.
"How would you like to die?" The words she had said echoed in my brain and I didn't know how to respond. It seemed like such a dark question, even for Dina, who seemed so unbothered by any death we had witnessed over the past few months. Many thoughts raced through my head as I wondered what her underlying intentions were by the question she has asked. It seemed like there was always an underlying intention with her. She would ask me if I liked a shirt someone was wearing, only to give me that shirt the next day. Stuff like that didn't bother me, it was nice, it was who she was. This was eerie, though. Something about her tone of voice screamed that something was up.
It was a week ago when she told me we had to get away somewhere safe. I thought she was crazy, New York is where I had lived my entire life. I went along with what she was saying though because she seemed genuinely concerned about something. It confused me though because everything seemed to be going great with her. That's what I thought at least. I could never be sure because there was always a sense of mystery about her. Whenever I tried to ask about where she was from, if she had a family, what she was doing in New York or anything else she would give me the same cold, hard answer. You don't want to know. It was the mystery of her life that had me worried and excited about her at the same time. I could spend eternity having a conversation with her, despite the fact that everyone I knew that had met her thought she was an absolute bore to talk to. I never saw that though, I was always just... Fascinated. That's the only word I could think of to describe my feelings towards her.
So there we were. Sitting at the train station with tickets to Baltimore. We weren't going to Baltimore though. That's what she kept telling me. We were going to go somewhere special, somewhere we could be together forever. I didn't know what she meant but I could have cared less. I just wanted to settle down and start a life with her.
The train started to pull into the station but something was up. The train started to screech and soon enough it began to fall off of the rails. Everyone around us started to run and scream. Just as I was about to follow suit, Dina's hand slammed against my chest in a way that made me compelled to stay right where I was amidst the chaos caused by the crashing train. As the train came rushing towards us, I felt a sense of calm. We were going somewhere safe. But maybe calling it starting a life together was the wrong way to say it. | I met her a while ago, I'm not sure when, but it was when I was a child. At first, I didn't know that J was a grim reaper, I just happened to see her often, just a glimpse of her, mostly in the street.
When my grandma died, I met J just around the corner of the street, she seemed surprised when I looked at her, but said nothing. I asked my father about her but he said that he didn't notice anyone, and I thought it was because he just lost his mother.
Soon, my other grandparents died and I met J every time, and every time nobody noticed her. Seeing people was never a good thing so I stopped talking about her. I met her again often, but it rarely was when someone of my family died.
One day, I saw her in a public park, waiting on a bench under a tree. For the first time, I approached her. She was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair in a ponytail, black eyes and wearing a black suit. She seemed happy to see me, and it seemed obvious to her, like she was waiting for this moment.
She told me that she was a grim reaper, that it was the first time in the 3 centuries she did this, someone could see her, that there was, in fact, a lot of reapers, and each had a district where they operated. To her, there was a reason why I could see her, but it was no time to discuss about it, because it was time for her to go.
I met J every 2 weeks after the park, she was awkward but I felt there was something between us, something strange. In the meantime, I thought that building a relationship between a human and a grim reaper was something hard, especially when you have been alone for the last 300 years. So I didn't press the subject.
Last week, J showed just in front of my house, like she really wanted to talk so I invited her in.
"Hey Nick, there's something I wanted to talk about for a while..."
"What is it? Is it about our meetings?"
"Yes, kind of. You know, it's not common for a human to see grim reapers, so I talked about you with my colleagues and hierarchy. I believe it's no luck if we met"
"What do you mean?" I asked, fearing what could come up next.
"I want to continue this relationship for the longest time ever. So I can tell you that you can become a grim reaper if you want to, that's probably why you can see me!" She seemed ecstatic telling that.
I stopped the conversation here, telling her that I needed to think about it. There was pros and cons but it was no light decision | 2017-01-21T07:51:36 | 2017-01-21T05:20:22 | 93 | 33 |
[WP] In a world where killing someone means you gain the victim's lifespan, you are an executioner who has served great leaders for thousands of years.
Just seemed like an interesting concept. | It was a young girl this time. Pretty thing. She had fiery red hair. Couldn't be a day past fifteen.
"Julia!" A man cried out from the crowd, his voice a shattered scream. A pair of guards grappled his flailing limbs as he struggled in vain to reach his daughter.
"Papa! Save me!" The poor lass looked up and her bloodshot eyes met my gaze. She mouthed a silent plea, begging me to spare her. As if I had a choice. "I don't want to die." She whimpered. "I don't want to die."
"Please! Have mercy, Your Majesty!" The old man cried. "She's my only child! Don't do this!" He called to me. Desperation rang loud in his voice. I took pity on the old man. I'd have to be a monster not to.
The crowd clamored with apprehension. A handful of villagers pleaded for the girls life alongside her father.
"SILENCE!" King Vladimir roared. "She dared question my authority!" The sovereign stepped down from his destrier and raised the man's head to his face by the scalp of the peasant's head. "She is to be made an example of. No one is to dare defy my rule! Executioner!"
With reluctance I unsheathed my claymore as a guard kicked the girl's knees in. She hit the ground, and he thrust her head onto the blood soaked chopping block. She was screaming now as tears ran down her face in streams. "Please! I take it back! Have mercy, Your Majesty! I didn't mean a word of it! Have mercy! I don't want to die!"
The king snapped his fingers, and I raised the sword high above my head. Her wailing sobs stirred my heart. The whole village looked on in trepidation. Her father cried out her name, and the girl shrieked as the blade came crashing down upon her. It's a secret, I'm not fond to admit, but I never did get used to this part. In an instance her screams gave way to an abrupt silence, and not a soul in the village breathed a word. Her head rolled into the mud with a soft thud as her father fell to his knees.
King Valdimir smiled, satisfied. "Let this be a lesson to all of you. Speak out against the crown and you will suffer the same fate."
With that we left the little hamlet and continued on our way to the capitol. Behind us I could hear the mournful bales of the girl's father as he clutched her in his arms. A handful more lamented in the ground beside him. Her family most likely. With a scarlet rag I wiped away the girl's blood from my blade. The cloth had been white as snow not a week ago.
I pushed away the terrified face of Julia to the back of my mind along with the countless hundreds before her. I had hoped that over the course of centuries I might forget those expressions of horror. There were nobles who bore a steely resolve. Men resigned to their fate. Women who silently waited for it all to end. But the ones who screamed, the ones who begged for their lives until their dying breath, those were the ones that haunted me every time I closed my eyes. I still remember a boy, just shy of ten. It was rare. Children are always rare. This one had spit on King Vladimir's grandfather in his time. The way he cried for his mother as the men held him down. I still visit his grave when I get the chance. His name was Eric.
"Your Majesty, perhaps it would be wise to stay your hand a while. The people are growing restless." A noble said at the head of the party.
"Do you dare question the wisdom of the crown?" King glared down his courtier, and I reached for the haft of my sword.
"No, of course not, Your Majesty." The noble stammered. "I would never dream of it."
The monarch's gaze lingered for a moment, and I watched the man quiver like a babe. "Very well." The king said.
And we continued on our way. | This wasn't the life I would have chosen to lead, but it's the one that was chosen for me. Some of you have probably heard of me, but for those that haven't know that I'm not a good person. My brother wasn't a good person either, but it seems I proved myself the worse man when I caved his skull in. That's a long ways behind me now though, and I'm eager to share my story before I finally pass on.
Abel had always been seen as righteous by history, but I know the truth. Abel was no good, and if I hadn't made the first move then I could very well have been the one in the dirt. I'd seen his journal and I knew he planned to kill me. I simply did what needed to be done. I never expected anyone to come after me for it.
I guess you could call it God, the thing I spoke to. It was nothing holy, I felt as if I was talking to an embodiment of pure fury. In my cowardice, I lied about my involvement in the murder. He saw right through me, and was quick to punish me. My body was cursed with an unholy mark he placed upon my face. As for my soul, my curse was to live Abel's life, as well as my own, miserable until the end.
I lived for around 50 years as an exile after killing Abel and I hated God every second for his curse. I welcomed death, I waited for it. Maybe then I'd have another chance to get even with the bastard. It was only when I was unable to wait any more and was about to end it myself, that Death found me. He didn't come in the form I expected, instead he rode a horse and came dressed in rich blue robes. He spoke to me of a place where I would be welcome, and where I could be helpful. He called himself Erilon, and for some reason, I trusted him. I decided to leave, and rode with him for what seemed like months, until we arrived at a lush river valley.
For two decades we worked building homes and farm land. We sent messengers to look for people, and tell them of this place where they can be together. Mesopotamia, we called it, and it was great. Eventually, as tends to happen to great things, a darker side started to emerge. Murders. My crime. Happening in my city. I spoke with Erilon and he agreed, something had to be done about the murderers. I decide to look for them, and to be executioner of Mesopotamia, to put a stop to their killings for good. After a total of 34 executions, crime in Mesopotamia was almost nonexistent. Things were great, and I was eager to see how far Mesopotamia would come while I was alive to see it. I felt I had beaten God at his own game.
It was around 150 years later that I realized something might be strange...
Part 2 coming soon. | 2016-04-22T19:34:05 | 2016-04-22T18:50:09 | 96 | 20 |
[WP] You have been striving for years to commit the elusive “Perfect Crime” for the fame of it. You steal the Mona Lisa and replace it with a fake. You leave a taunting note and wait for the panic when it is discovered. But, 2 years later, no one has noticed. | Each day without an answer was another one spent in agony. I could feel Mona Lisa, carefully wrapped, sealed, and hidden, smiling at me. That cool, coy smile. The kind of smile you'd make watching a kid drop their ice cream on the sidewalk.
It had been five days since I'd broken and emailed the Louvre.
"Dear Louvre," I began, "You probably missed the note. Understandable. I wouldn't put it past your exemplary custodial service to toss a slip of paper on sight. Maybe you thought it was a joke. Again, understandable, but also a bit concerning. Wouldn't a slight doubt warrant a quick double-check, just in case? As an avid museum-goer I would hope so. In either case, my note wasn't garbage and certainly not a joke. I have your Mona Lisa and I will not part with it for anything less than 800 million U.S. dollars. Please get in touch as soon as you can. Cheers."
But there was no response. I sat at my computer, surrounded by cans of tuna and warm beer, refusing to move an inch, except to pee and do morning stretches. My hair was a matted mess. My teeth had been stained by mercury and tobacco. My clothes felt limp and sour.
I was halfway through Tron one evening - or morning, difficult to know - when a notification popped up on my screen. It was them. The title said RE: YOUR NOTE.
I clicked.
"Dear museum-goer," it started, "We did indeed receive your letter. You misspelled *consequences*, by the way. Although your effort was noted, we must regretfully inform you that we are unable to retrieve the Mona Lisa for your price. We encourage you to keep the painting as a token of the hard work and skill required to pull off your caper, as we do all of the other 'museum-goers' that have stolen our previous Monas. The real one was stolen sometime around 1838. We just haven't gotten around to updating the official website. Best of luck in your future endeavors. Au revoir."
I closed my email and hit play. Tron and Flynn were flying across the digital plane on their solar sailer, just to be yelled at by a giant face. | I grin at my canvas. This is gonna be great. No one’s ever going to be able to tell the difference. In fact, I bet they’ll all look at this one and like it better. That’s right. My version will be better than the original, better than anything it could hope to be. The smile- just a little less radiant- and the tilt of her head- just a little more straight- are the only things setting the two apart at this point. Those fools, they can’t tell good art from bad art. I pull the finished product off the canvas and haul it to the museum. I get in easily, and wait until the room drains. I quickly swap one for another, walking out without a problem. A guard even nods at me as a friendly hello. Moron. I hang the original copy in my house. Nobody even seems to notice its stolen. Honestly, I was hoping I would get a couple laughs.
I am Leonardo DaVinci. | 2018-04-18T21:04:53 | 2018-04-18T19:40:07 | 509 | 14 |
[WP] 3 weeks ago, the government issued a warning to stay inside for a week due to an “international threat”. You don’t own a house, and we’re forced to stay outside. It’s been 3 weeks. No one has come out yet. | You ever seen I Am Legend? Yeah well, the start of that movie where he's walking around an abandoned city all alone, that's what my life is like. Except they didn't really capture how mind-numbingly boring it is. I thought I was an introvert but right now I'd give anything to have a conversation with another human being. Hell even seeing one would be nice.
The movie does nail the fear though. In it it's caused by like screaming and monsters out of sight and stuff and there's nothing like that but... Have you ever been in a school or a hospital or somewhere usually super busy at night? The once-familiar, loud hallways become deathly quiet, unnatural and disturbing? That's the whole of London for me. Has been for two months.
I was down on my luck see, and had found a nice area in a park to sort of hide out. I'd stolen a bunch of stuff from a few local stores and legged it, and was planning to lay low for a few days and enjoy the summer weather.
What I didn't count on was the end of the world happening while I hid in a bush eating jerky and drinking cider.
Well the world didn't end as such. Just humans; I've seen plenty of wildlife around. But no people. And I have no idea why. I never thought it was such a big deal to be tapped into the mainstream consciousness, to media and keep updated with a world that didn't care whether I lived, died or even existed, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I missed the big event, the rapture, the end times. There are no cars on the roads, no half finished cups of coffee in the shop. It's like the world was a simulation and it was programmed to stop, just nobody told me.
What I do know is every single house is locked, securely. No doors open anywhere. Course that shouldn't stop me from breaking in but... It just sort of... Does? I just can't bring myself to and I don't really know why. I've looked through plenty of windows and there's never a soul about. Or a body. But I'm happy living off looting shops and businesses so I don't need to push the boundary of my ethical limits and break into someone's home.
As time goes on, I think it's less and less about ethics. I don't want to go into these people's homes. I don't know why I don't... I just don't. It feels wrong on an animalistic level.
Trouble with being the last human on earth, that I can make out at least, is that I'm still so damn curious. I mean whatever happened had to be linked to being at home didn't it? As much as I want to be independent and live alone anyway, I can't continue living this sham existence without at least knowing what happened.
That's decided then. I'm going to break into a house. Tonight.
Wish me luck. | I always thought this neighborhood was really nice. Nothin’ ever looked out of place. In fact, I’m surprised they never kicked me off my bench. In most places I’ve been, I have gotten kicked out pretty fast, and nobody even used the bus at those places. Here though, a good portion did, but nobody really paid ANY attention to me. I usually get some stares, but NOTHIN’. It’s all so... strange.
And then the mailman comes in. He starts deliverin’ the mail, goin’ around. The people on their porches reading the mail look very worried, and get up and go inside almost in sync. then the spiffy lookin’ mailman gets closer to my bench. “Um, sir? I have an important notice that is supposed to be issued to everybody, so, please take this.” I look up at him, and say, “ finally someone who notices me in this town. What’s this letter all ‘bout?” He looks nervous. “W-what?? How are you-ZWHARdisadt- he falls onto the concrete and his body sounds as if it were made of metal. I back away, as he tumbled on the ground, his voice spewing random letters. I got to the nearest house to try to get help. I knock on the door hard. I open the door, and look inside only to find the family standing there. Lifeless. There eyes are filled with black. There shiny smile making a glare. I check the next house, and it’s the same thing.
All of them are the same thing. Just like they usually are.
So I do the thing any reasonable hobo would do; I steal everything and get out of dodge.
| 2018-06-29T05:27:36 | 2018-06-29T04:22:58 | 59 | 14 |
[WP] The aliens found you in hypersleep on your derelict ship and brought you onto theirs. You've awoken and escaped into their maintenance tunnels and the only thing you've found that you can eat is the aliens themselves. | “Human! What the fuck are you doing!?” I heard a voice shout at me, in perfect English.
I looked up slowly, startled, crumbs dropping from my face. It was too dark to see who or what the owner of the voice was, I could only make out what seemed to be the silhouette of a man. A very short, round man.
“Uhh... I’m... ...hungry.” I slowly said through a mouthful of cake.
“That’s not fucking food! Fuck! That was James! How did you even kill him!?”
The voice had a sense of anger, confusion, and even a hint of fear in it.
I didn’t understand what the little fat man was saying. What I was eating was cake. A huge lump of cake. I found it impaled on a pipe down a huge ventilation shaft. Normally, I wouldn’t have put any of it near my mouth, but it had smelled so fucking good. And I was hungry.
“Listen, this is cake. I don’t know what you call it but this is food where I come from.” I thought it would be a good time to explain myself. From the vibe I was getting, I had fucked up, and I wanted the chubby cunt yelling at me to understand my take on the situation. “I woke up strapped in a chair made of ginger bread and twizzlers- erm- like, little bands of gelatin-“
“Yeah I know what twizzlers are.” He said quickly, cutting me off.
“Uhh... Yeah, well, I bit off the bands around my hands and wandered my way here. Now I don’t know what type of messed up candy land fantasy this is, but if you could tell me what I did wrong I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
“I’ll fucking tell you what’s fucking wrong you piece of shit. You just fucking ate James! We saved your sorry ass from a burning ship and in return you gave us the materials for a closed casket funeral! the The round man shouted at me.
I was getting mad now. “This is fucking cake! ...Cunt!” I yelled at him.
“You just don’t understand.” The round man said, sounding as if he were beginning to cry. He slowly stepped his way towards me. It was then, once he was a few feet away from me that I saw that he highly resembled the lump of cake I was eating.
“Oh shit.” I said. “You’re a cake person.”
He swung his fist at me and decked me in the jaw. It tasted like a brownie with peanuts.
“God, stop! Don’t do that you asshole.” I said.
“You’re going to pay for this!” He shouted, continuing to swing at me.
But with every punch, his little sweet fists flakes crumbs of chocolate and peanut. My face was too hard for him to damage it; he was damaging himself and I wasn’t feeling any pain.
“Arrgh!...” the cake man groaned as his hands broke off. “Fuck... you!!!” He shouted.
“Listen- Oof- ah- stop- god!” He kept hitting me in between words. I grabbed his small hand and slapped him in the face. “Listen, this cake thing I’m eating was dead when I found it. Some freak accident. What you’re doing is hurting yourself. So stop.”
He took in a deep breath and raised his gumdrop eyes to mine.
“Ok. I’m done. Ok... but... James, man. James.”
“Just take me to someplace where I can speak to someone. Someone in charge. We can work this out.” I said, begging the cake man to see reason.
“Ok... ok.” He said, grabbing my arm and leading me away. | “You are very good, I am sure.”
I stand over the Xani, who is incapacitated. A maintenance worker within this rather lofty system of tunnels. It is well-lit, and a decent location for a light dinner.
I run my hands over his fleshy arms.
Oh, how good that would taste with a little parsley, garnishing of rosemary. Lashings of potatoes side, marinated in a garlic herb butter. Oh, yes, that would be divine. I just wish I had the ingredients, but unfortunately they elude me at this present. I wonder if they have a kitchen?
So I leave my prey, and continue walking down the tunnel network. Though I have not eaten in three weeks, courtesy of my disturbed hypersleep, I cannot reduce myself to have a raw Xani. It would be too uncouth, too unappealing. I would vomit, everywhere, like a hose of bile. It would be thoroughly unpleasant, let me say.
I make my way into a shaft, where I smell something decently aromatic. I lift a nearby hatch, and resell myself down into the kitchen,
There I find it, Xani, all incapacitated and waiting for me. Herbs of grand variety in the stocked pantries, rosemary, thyme, basil, mint, oh heavens be praised. Cheese, butter, all the lashings and garnishing you can think of. I move myself over to a large wooden cabinet, and open to see a treasure trove of ingredients, all to provide me with a feast unlike any other. Oh, perfection, belissimo!
I get to work, utilizing well the conveniently placed cutting boards.
————————————————————
This is the perfect plot to next week’s episode of Jardin: Phenomenal Cooking Extravaganza!
The hypothetical menu I have come up with for next for next week:
Roasted butter and garlic potatoes
Leg of Xani, nicely marinated in a Peruvian chili sauce
Arm of Xani in a creme reduction, lightly seared
Asparagus shoots, nicely oiled and roasted
A desert consisting of berry compote, and orange zest creme brûlée
Waldorf salad with salad cream and lashings of fried radishes, potatoes, and boneless chicken fried
I believe this menu will be perfect, both to entice next week’s audience and please the dinner guests alike.
Monsieur Jardin, it will be a show to remember.
———————————————————— | 2018-07-30T11:21:39 | 2018-07-30T07:25:38 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] Aliens have tried to conquer Earth over and over again, to no avail. Your empire is the latest to try it, and despite all your technology, you finally discover why Earth has never been conquered by alien empires. | Kamunepta, High Warrior of the Vol Song, had achieved her new position due to her careful analysis of human culture, and what she had found disturbed her.
Human were liars.
They told untruths, and omitted key details from their speech when it suited them. Their cultural fascination with a thing called "art" was disturbing - symbolic analysis of life was of course, well practiced by superior species, but human "art" often distorted its depictions, providing outsized focus on select details. They had history, but many of their literary works were something called "fiction" - untrue stories with only variously tenuous connections to an actual events.
Humans were thieves.
They had acquired derelict pieces of Vol Song technology, and blatantly copied it to improve their own weapons. They had no pride limiting their rapacious innovation, no desire to prove their own methodology superior. The war was not about measuring their civilization against the Vol Song, to find which *deserved* to rule. They merely desired victory, and would stoop to learning from their *enemy* to achieve their goal.
Humans were bastards.
The Vol Song, like most higher species, made war Honorably. Individual warriors sought combatants on the battlefield, to demonstrate their superior technology, prowess, and genetics. Humans fought in packs, like dogs. They aided soldiers that were losing: they focused multiple warriors on individual Vol Song, killing each in turn. They ran away, only to stop and fire back. They retreated without surrendering, and took prisoners, which they kept alive (defeated and alive!) and interrogated for "intelligence."
As if an intelligent species should directly uncover the plans of its enemy, as opposed to divining them from strategic imperatives and reasoning.
The first time humans defeated a Vol Song army was in a place called Germany. The Vol Song had sent a large force, but one proportionate to the size of the population of the area. They were opposed by a relatively small group of humans, which built fortifications (on a battlefield!) and used mass ranks to resist individual duels. Of course, the Vol Song - superior in technology, physical prowess, and speed of thought, made headway against the dishonorable tactics.
That was when a second force - which had not declared itself! - emerged from the forest behind the Vol Song army. Their projectile weapons were somewhat primitive, and they had no mechanized support, but they attacked anyway. In the Vol Song rear! Hundreds of warriors were massacred without even seeing their opponents!
Human children - well, sexually mature, but still of an age for training - would hide, hundreds of meters away, with high velocity projectile weapons, in small groups of two or three. Outside of declared battle, or even once they had begun(!), they would, unseen, deploy their weapons against Vol Song commanders, officers, and other leaders, picking them off from afar like honorless nonsentients! Once, a group of elder humans had destroyed a transport vessel full of warriors without even allowing them to enter the field, by employing combustion-powered explosive weaponry, called "rocket propelled grenades."
The Vol Song had come to Earth to extract its water, the only outwardly notably thing about the planet, and had discovered something unknown to them. Deception. Creative and surprising use of lesser tactics, purely to shock! Fear of their lives, even outside of pitched battle. These *monkeys* did not fight honorably. They did not contend fairly. They were vicious and predatory.
And she was glad her people were leaving. Because while she had originally regarded human communications about uniting to defeat the Vol Song as merely further lies, she had realized something else.
Humans made their lies real. | Over-confidence is the killer of armies. This was a lesson Commander Jorus, of the Kuln Empire, had forgotten. He had expected his battalions, amongst the best in the galaxy, to easily break through any defenses the humans had.
The ease with which he had pushed the human fleets back to Earth fueled his confidence. Destroying four ships for every ship he lost, he was already imagining the medals he would get from conquering the supposedly "unconquerable planet".
When he received word the human fleet was abandoning Earth he ignored the feeling in his gut, warning him, and instead split his fleet into two. One half, including Commander Jorus, continued on the tails of the humans chasing them towards the sun, while the other half remained around Earth. Two massive transports began entering the atmosphere of the planet.
They came down slowly over the ocean, keeping away from any major landmasses until they could get low. Too focused on searching for land based threats, they didn't notice the submarines until too late.
The first sign something had gone wrong were the flashes of light coming from the transports, and the cessation of their Communications.
The second sign was when the wreckages from old battles around Earth came back to life, revealing ships that had ugly sheets of metal welded over holes. Their weapons, once belonging to other empires took aim, and began firing at the unprepared fleet.
Begrudgingly Commander Jorus ordered the retreat of all ships, knowing that the numbers of the humans would pose a serious threat to what was left of his fleet. Angry at having been fooled by the Humans, he would return home in disgrace.
But his shock didn't end there. His ships that had been destroyed early in the war came back to life. The Humans had sacrificed their own ships to get engineers close to them, and having cannibalized what was left on their own ships, managed to get most of them working, and began firing as the second fleet had attempted to retreat from the System.
A full half of his invasion fleet was destroyed, the carcasses littering orbit around, and drifting in Space. Swarms of engineers surrounded each of them, repairing what they could, and scrapping what they couldn't. When the next invasion came, they would be stronger, and ready to punch back. | 2021-05-07T07:53:58 | 2021-05-07T07:50:34 | 141 | 63 |
[WP] Kaiju routinely attack the city. You cannot get anyone to listen to your sensible, practical plan to stop them because they all want to build giant robots. | Lieutenant James knew he was right. He just knew it.
He had to tell the Chief Scientist Ogilvy, but he wasn't responding to any of his telematics, and the Intelligence leadership were secluded in the Ops One complex - so he couldn't just walk in to see him. There was a grade 5 due in two days, large enough to wipe out half of the Western Brit defences. He knew he had to let the scientist know. So he burned his bridges.
Through shadows, hacking, the betrayal of friends and file, and the sliced throat of two guards, he managed to find his way to ChiefSci's vault door.
Hammering, it slid open.
'Who, what?' James slid his hand over the old man's mouth and forced him quickly back inside.
'Shut up, I don't have much time, listen...'
And so he hurriedly explained his concept.
'...so, as you see, a blade across their entry portal would immediately slice them in two as they crossed into our dimension... Instant kills every time, check the maths!'
Chief Scientist Ogilvy studiously looked at papers the young solider had passed him.
'And, lieutenant, who have you told about this idea?'
'Just yourself Chief... Imagine, no more need for robots, no more genocide, no more... What's that?'
Ogilvy had picked up a light blue chromatic tube.
He looked up briefly and said,'...and not let Xenu return? We have been waiting too long for that, Lieutenant.'
The scientist turned a small dial, and the acrid smell of burning flesh filled his quarters. | 放射線から
彼ら聞くない
怪獣だ
===
Hi! I have to write some extra words or the sub’s bot removes my haiku. I am still a novice in Japanese, so I’m sorry if my haiku isn’t very good. Or even really good Japanese. I was just using this time as a learning opportunity. That should do it for word-count. Ta! | 2016-01-11T14:02:06 | 2016-01-11T11:26:30 | 62 | 17 |
[WP] Write a G-Rated retelling of an R-Rated movie. | Not *too* long ago in the town of L.A.,
both Vincent and Jules had a heck of a day.
Marcellus, their boss, sent them both on a quest:
recover the briefcast he wanted the best.
Now Vincent, he gave all the villains a fright
while Jules washed his burger right down with a Sprite.
He quoted his verse and he brandished a sword,
and vanquished them all in the name of the Lord.
Since Vincent returned from a Who-town out east,
he found himself hungry for a happier feast.
He purchased some Who-snow from Snow-seller Lance
and headed to Marcellus Wallace's manse.
Now Mia, the wife of Marcellus, was cute,
she was saucy and funny and sweet as a fruit.
But just as old Vincent decided to go,
he found that poor Mia had stolen his snow.
He took her to Snow-seller Lance in a rush.
He drove through the sidewalk, he drove through the brush!
And Snow-seller Lance was a Who who was smart:
they cured her with medicine straight to the heart!
But don't forget Butch, the boxer in town,
a man with ambitions to fight for the crown.
But then old Marcellus with Who-cash in hand
said Butch shouldn't win, and not fight, even stand!
Well Butch said "harumph! I have dignity, see!"
So rather than lose, he decided to flee.
When who should he see on the path to escape?
Marcellus the boss with his mouth all agape!
But though they did fight, they met meaner Whos still:
some Whos from a nasty old place on the hill.
They captured Marcellus and put him to his knees,
and made him eat Who-beets and stinky Who-cheese!
But lucky for him, old Butch was a friend:
he soon put the whole nasty thing to an end.
Marcellus? He huffed and he paced like a weevil,
and promised the Whos that he'd soon get Medieval!
Now back to our friends, good old Vincent and Jules,
those fellows who never mind breaking the rules.
Their morning was tough, and truly bizarre:
they spent it with Wolf and they cleaned up a car!
At breakfast old Jules decided to leave
his life as a Who-man and a Who-Who-Would-Thieve.
Before they could finish their eggs and head out,
some Who-ligans, thieving themselves, came about!
But Jules, he was cool. He was calm and was zen;
He quoted a fictional verse once again.
The Who-ligans left then, with nary a shout;
and Jules, once a wolf, did shepherd them out. | A boy lost his father a long time a go,
the man was a hero, and he didn't know
When he grew of age, a promise was kept
and he set on a path he wouldn't forget
meanwhile, a mad genius started to misbehave
he couldn't the climate, so perhaps the world, he could save
So he made up a plot, and made presidents slave
though his way was misguided and his error quite grave
to stop the mad genius, the knights were at lost
and the boy passed their training, knowing full well the cost
yet his final test, he found, he just could not pass
to lose a friend that he had gotten one class
His mentor was lost, the same as his dad
and young eggsy was lost and more than just mad
he went to see arthur, the head of the knights
he outwitted arthur, and reclaimed the rights
and so he did fly, to take on the villain
while up in the sky, a true knight was just chillin'
While Eggsy did fight, so too did the knight
but hers was a different battle
she soared up to heights too great to be climbed
to take out the genius's satell....ite
so his device would not be primed
She succeeded, horray! but did not save the day
for the villain had another satellite waiting at bay
but Eggsy was there, to foil his plot
to save the day, the world
and a woman, quite hot
(Kingsmen)
| 2015-09-08T19:54:12 | 2015-09-08T16:20:48 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] The alien invaders were confident. Their personal shield tech had withstood all enemies and types of energy weapons. Then they landed on Earth and found the shield's fatal flaw: Solid Projectiles. | "They throw rocks"
The single transmission, looped on repeat, came from the 3rd planet from the local star, a planet the locals called "dirt". Kadeen Egritz, Command General Supreme, Mater of the 5th Space Fleet, demanded investigation.
Her 1st Consort arranged a team of his best guards, hand picked from the elite that protected his mistress, with her grace's permissions. Their purpose was to investigate the source of the transmission and locate the team that had proceeded them per standard military protocol. Generally, the alien races they stumbled upon were so overcome with fear and terror from the scout team, the Command General Supreme, bless the ground her feet walk upon, overthrowing the local governments and establishing dominance over the planet was a matter of a few minutes of conversation - resistance, after all, was futile.
The 1st Consort and his team landed within 2 clicks of the transmission source and proceeded with caution. The land was heavily wooded and mountainous - the going was slow and tiring, and when they woke up the first morning after setting up a well protected camp site, they were short 2 members of the team.
The 1st Consort immediately required tightened security and set up a rotation of guard shifts. Still... that night another 3, including one of the guards, were missing. Wind rustling through the leaves startled the remaining force; with heightened senses and a growing air of tension, they packed up camp and continued proceeding towards their objective.
On the 3rd day, 4 members of the team dropped in their tracks. One had what looked like a knife sticking from his eyes; another had a branch embedded in his guts so deep it extruded from his back. Two rocks attached to a string had somehow managed to behead the third, and the fourth had an arrow shot with such force it had entered one ear and gone straight out the other.
Down to 12 members including himself, the 1st Consort hurriedly had a report compiled and sent to Her Grace. On high alert, personal shields set to max, they continued towards their objective. A hail of rocks came as though from the sky, and suddenly only six of them remained. In a panic, two broke rank and ran deeper into the trees, leaving their four brothers behind and learning despair.
They had time for one final report before - between arrows, rocks, and sticks, the last lay dead and dying. The transmission simply read, "they throw rocks".
And that's how humanity won the first real incursion. I'd tell you about the second, but since the suckers decided to attack during a televised baseball game... you know the rest! | It’s … ironic to say the least. Our tools have not advanced in the last 5 thousand years, not really anyway, and yet …. we survived.
All we have ever done was throw pointy stuff at things. It began with rocks, then spears, then arrows, cannons, guns, machine guns, rail guns…
Sure, we learned that it’s possible to use fission to disintegrate stuff, and EMPs to destroy electronics, but surprisingly, all it took was throwing a couple projectiles really fast.
They called it “Project Thor” and “Rods from God”.
When The Empire invaded we were caught off guard, they rained down onto us with energy weapons, they glassed our cities, they suffocated our children.
We exhausted a large portion of our nuclear arsenal and had achieved nothing. In the cities, those that survived had resorted to guerrilla fights trying to escape, and that’s when we found it, their Achilles heel was projectiles. Their shields could not withstand projectiles.
We found our arrow, and like Paris in Troy, we released it, and killed Achilles. All we had to do was release the tungsten rods from military satellites deployed during the Cold War…
Who would have thought that the era that nearly destroyed humanity would have had its own redemption arc. | 2022-07-23T06:53:38 | 2022-07-23T06:46:21 | 326 | 127 |
[WP] The cute girl on the subway can’t seem to stop staring at you! This would be great, except that her clothes are several centuries out of date, no one else seems to be able to see her, and you haven’t seen her blink. Not even once. | A girl like this shouldn’t exist.
Well, yes, she was pretty. Beautiful, in the way an esoteric romance novel from two hundred years ago would have described, all snow white skin and raven hair and plum red lips.
Part of it was the attire. This was the subway. I’ve seen my fair share of outfits, from criminally underdressed to heatstrokingly overdressed. I’ve still not seen anything like this—a dress with a skirt so large that it looked like a clock tower bell. Folds upon folds of fabric cascaded over each other, white and red combining into a waterfall of colour. She sat more upright than the standing pole in front of her, and she stared at me.
Oh, with such intensity did she gaze. Even when I closed my eyes and reopened then. Either she wasn’t blinking, or we timed them very well. Either way, her eyelids did not flutter even once. Her brown eyes were almost leering, as if daring me to make a move.
I knew I was the only one looking, because one’s eyes could not help but be drawn to this sight out of history. Yet, everybody else walked past. Some even went through her skirt, which all but confirmed my suspicions.
And still, I looked. It was surpassing beauty. It was morbid curiosity. It was a combination of both that siphoned the rationality from me, inducing near delirium in my mind.
The train stopped at where I was supposed to get off. I let it past just to sit there, quietly.
Slowly, the carriage emptied, drops of water escaping the tap. Then, it was just the two of us.
“You don’t blink,” I said.
That’s what being cooped inside for years get you. The loss of anything relating to social skill.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to,” she said, bashful cheeks turning pink.
“Um,” I muttered. “Sorry. You are really beautiful. I lost my train of thought just then.”
“It’s no problem,” she whispered. “This train is a strange experience. Especially for those that recently get here.”
I squirmed, nervously mashing my fingers together.
“Pardon, I’ve taken this train for a decade now. I swear I’ve seen everybody at least twice. But you… I’ve never seen you in my life.”
“Oh, not your life,” she laughed. “I passed very long ago.”
“Strange,” I said. “I passed by my stop very long ago as well.”
“You did,” she smiled. “Are you prepared?”
“Prepared? Prepared for what?”
“To step off the train,” she said. “We’ve got this far. The train will be retired soon. But it’s been running and running. It deserves a break.”
“It… deserves a break?”
“Yes,” the girl said. “It only comes out when there are a lot of passengers to ferry. But its job is nearing the end, it seems. Not quite, but soon.”
“A lot of passengers? Then why is there just… you and me here?”
“I’m here to guide you,” she said, unblinking eyes smiling. She reached out a gloved hand towards me. “This is no regular train.”
As if on cue, it pulled into a grinding stop, a high-pitched whine suffusing the air.
“Come,” she continued. “Let’s go. We need to get off at this stop.”
“This isn’t where I’m supposed to get off,” I said.
“Oh,” she giggled. “Welcome to your new existence. You’ll get used to it.”
---
r/dexdrafts | "So there I was, on the subway, and there was this super cute girl." I told my friends with a smirk, as we sat in the restaurant booth.
"Oh really? Tell us more." as they leaned in.
"She was wearing this old colonial dress, and she didn't blink at all."
"Ooo, sounds like the start of a ghost story." That got their attention.
"I know, right, so anyway, I take the seat next to her and ask her how she's doing."
"Oh no.." mentioned one of my friends
"This is where she eats your head." said another.
"So, anyway", I coughed, "She says, 'Thanks for asking, miss. I'm on my way to the theatre. It's always been my dream to perform on stage, but I'm blind which makes it hard. However, they have a role where it's just singing for the crowd as part of a choir. I think I have a chance, and I've been working on my singing voice. She hummed a few bars, and it was the most beautiful notes I had ever heard."
"Did you flirt with her?"
"Yea, I told her that if she got the part, I'd treat her to dinner, and gave her my number."
"Oh, so you asked out the ghost girl! Smooooth!" Said one friend
"Oh, so she was just a normal girl, that's disappointing." Said the other.
"Yep. Anyway, she's right outside, and was just waiting for me to introduce her. I'd like all of you to meat Lilly White."
Changed out from her Victorian garb, now wearing a very tight-fitting (but badly colored) top and tights, she sat next to me and the rest of the girls, "Thanks Amelia. I'm famished after the audition. I always put a lot of soul into my singing." As the itallian dish came out, and was set in front of us, I began to dig in my fork. However, Lilly just sat there, so I gently leaned over and asked quietly, "Would it help if I fed you."
She smiled, "A kind offer, but I can feed myself."
My friend interjected, "What's with that shirt though, it looks horrible!"
"Yea, looks like you got dressed in the dark." mentioned the other.
The lights flickered.
Then it was just me at the table. | 2022-04-07T09:29:49 | 2022-04-07T08:41:47 | 491 | 43 |
[WP] Suddenly across the globe, large, feathered, rotted corpses begin to drop out of the sky. They are soon identified to be Angels. | "Daddy, what is that?" my daughter ask, her voice quivers slightly as she points her finger towards the sky. I pull her wagon to the sidewalk and snap my head towards where she's pointing.
What in the hell...
There is a corpse falling down at a meteoric speed. It resembles a human; all four limbs motionless as it descends down towards the earth. When it starts closing in on impact, it becomes very apparent that we are witnessing something other worldly.
My adrenaline starts surging through my veins; my body shivers with fear. I scoop my daughter up off her feet and push off the pavement with my back foot with all the force I can muster up and began to sprint to our house.
"Chelsea, take Olive and go in the basement now. Just turn the TV on and stay there! Do not move!" I yell, I can feel the blood in my face dissipate. It must have frightened my wife, my face being that pale and all. Before she can even ask what's going on, I'm already on my way in securing our house.
"Ok, all the doors are locked." I yell down the basement hallway as I sprint by towards the front door, "I'll be back in a little bit!"
I had eyes on where that thing landed. I had an array of feelings hit me as I watched the creature fall lifelessly down towards our earth. One may think I am foolish for jumping to conclusions or making baseless assumptions but I felt an overpowering sensation of happiness hit me. I can hardly begin to explain it but I do know one thing. I have to have some answers.
It was near the old trail off of 72nd. I began to run again, adrenaline still at full blast. It's only a quarter mile down the road past the entrance of our neighborhood, so I get there with a blistering pace. There the creature lies; I can see the golden feathers radiating from thirty feet away.
Euphoria overtakes me again and my body halts to a violent stop. I can't move an inch; I am straining now, every fiber and ligament in my body is trying to push forward. My face feels like it's being smashed flat into a solid brick wall. The pain is excruciating but I can't retreat or advance. I am stuck. My hands slowly lift from my sides and I place my palms on the invisible barrier and exert all my energy into one last push for freedom.
I let out a barbaric scream; a scream that I thought did not exist inside of me.
"Let me help you!"
The creatures eyes shift over towards me, I get stuck in it's mesmerizing gaze. I think it's a female; her eyes twinkle with a swirling mix of blue and gold. They resemble a pupil but not solid; almost like two gases swirling in a crystal ball. Her dainty feet and hands, as well as her face are luminescent and glow a hot bright white; similar to an imploding star. The remainder of her body is covered in enough gold that King Tut would be envious. Each feather emits brilliance from a creator far from this earth.
The barrier ceases now; it must have been a defensive mechanism of some sort.
She begins to open her mouth slowly, the words fighting to come out.
"Human... heaven has forsaken us" she says, the veins in her neck strain and her eyes wince in pain. She is speaking her last words.
"This battle is yours now... Protect your daughter and fight for good."
She saw my child too and she cared enough to speak of us in her last breathe. What is this thing?
Her chest raises a few inches higher than normal as she gasps for her final breath. Her eyes now hollow and empty; the once space like gases of gold and blue that engulfed her eye are gone and now sit lifelessly like two pieces of burnt out charcoal. She stares aimlessly into the sky, as if she is giving her traitors one last look.
We are going to war now.
With who is the question... | The angel of death stood on the viewing platform of the Empire State building, watching his brethren fall with glazed eyes. He felt it too; the sharp pain in every one of his nerves, the searing heat of Hell opening, the terror, as everything did not go to plan. He got distracted by the screams below, and the immortal flesh of his left arm turned black with rot. It took all he could muster to bring it back to a dull, sickening grey. A legion of heavenly angels screamed and fell to Earth, on fire with red, unholy flames, and leaving a smoke trail as black as sin. Death sighed. He felt selfish. The demon-spawn of Lucifer were attacking Heaven and Earth, and the rising death tolls in both were keeping him alive, if just barely. God and the archangels had left to deal with His Darkness himself, but they were gone, Death felt it.
An immense heat and a dull throbbing appeared behind him. Leaning against the railing, he turned on weak legs and smiled with yellow teeth at the monster before him.
"God," It spoke, "is dead. But I suppose you already knew that, didn't you? I mean, I'd understand if you were in denial, or if you started drinking, but we all have to grow up and face the facts. For example, I lost my Father when I was very young, because he shunned me and my (It gestured vaguely, and took on the corporeal form of Anton Lavey) liberal ideas."
Death snorted, and grimaced. "You weren't liberal, you were evil! You killed for sport and ruined humanity! You broke God's heart! You were his favourite! He loved you and you took that gift and threw it all away to have fun! He banished you instead of killing you because he loved you!"
Lucifer rolled his eyes, and the New World Trade Center crumbled down. "He just saw me as a way to achieve his means. He used me and mine and the prison he built for me as a way to gain power without cheating, as if lying's any better. God," he chuckled, "no pun intended, but he was an idiot thinking I'd just play along with his plan. 'Intelligent design' my arse."
Death trembled, and puked blood. He was too tired to speak, and he let his muscles atrophy. His skin began to flake away, and his last image was Lucifer, standing over him, shaking his head, grinning like an idiot.
When he was certain Death had died, Lucifer took the angel's skull and drew a small vial of blood from a hidden pocket. He dabbed his finger, and drew his centuries old sigil on the forehead. "Luciferi excelci nomine dei nostri satanas," he laughed, and he threw the skull to the pavement below.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Edit: Damn autocorrect | 2016-07-19T07:19:31 | 2016-07-19T07:14:04 | 110 | 12 |
[WP] A friendship between a time traveler and an immortal. Wherever the time traveler ends up, the immortal is there to catch him up to speed. | "Do you remember when we first met?" she asked, pouring the last of the last bottle.
I smiled. "I was eighteen. Physics class on the Ohio State campus."
"Yes? Tell me what you first thought." Her dark eyes seemed to swallow all of my peripheral vision like an entire night full of stars on the Mediterranean, centuries before I was born.
"I was stunned. You were so beautiful and so smart. You seemed to know your way about the world in every way. How nature worked. How people worked. Like you were ageless."
"You guessed me from the start!" She laughed.
We had fallen in love and learned about each other. Loving an immortal turned out to have some complications. For her, how to keep it fresh? She had been alive for more than two millenia and seen it all. For me, how to not die? Turns out a time machine does not make a mortal live any longer.
She had a plan. A plan given to her by a strange augurer way in her past. We had no idea of the origin of this plan, but we knew it would work.
After a pause, she asked, "Tell me where is this Ohio State."
I described to her a country that would be discovered a thousand years in her future and a culture that could not possibly make sense in any context of this age. How we studied in the library together and forged this strange bond while working on temporal research. A young physics prodigy and an immortal of ageless wisdom.
"So," I asked her, "do you remember when we first met?"
"Of course!" she replied, a great mischief in her eyes. "The great steps of the city of Parsa!"
Her eyes grew distant. "I was eighteen. A thousand years ago, I had no idea I would live so long. It is still so fresh in my mind."
"I guess I was persuasive. Or will be!"
"Oh, I was so rebellious! To be seduced by a strange foreign man!"
She told me of her unbridled passions, her indignant family and flights in the darkness. Strange stories of living for ever and taming time as a ship tames the waves.
We had been living here in Cyprus for a year. We dated each other one year at a stretch, together in the most interesting places on earth, at our whim. Our year here had drawn to a close and it was time to move on. There was no packing to be done. The time machine would move only itself and my naked body.
"Where will I find you?" I asked her. This always filled me with dread, but of course she was certain she would find me.
"Alexandria. At the library." That mischievous grin. Her and libraries. "Take one month to get there, and then go back exactly 100 years. Meet me on the day of Mercuralia."
I just drank in her beauty for a moment. It would be hard to be away from her for more than a month. I hoped that she would remember me after a hundred years. But of course I already knew she would- for me, that year-long date was last year. And in due course she asked, "Where shall I find you?"
"Constantinople. One hundred years from now."
Her eyes fell. It was hard for her. It broke my heart but part of me was reassured that her love endured. I sometimes wondered if she took lovers in the long intervals, but I really did not care as long as we came back to each other.
We kissed passionately one final time on this island. But before we parted, she stopped me.
"When you go back to Alexandria. When you arrive in the past. Find a sword, first thing. Even before you find clothes."
She looked worried. I must have looked bewildered.
"When we met-- when we meet... in the library, you told me to remind you."
She held me a moment longer.
"It will be alright," she added. "Whatever it was, you were unharmed. But you wanted me to tell you, you will need that sword."
We parted. She would live out the next hundred years to meet a slightly younger me in Constantinople. And I would travel to Alexandria, then hop backwards in time to meet an ageless her.
| "So what is new?" I said stepping out of the capsule with my buddy as usually awaiting my arrival.
I had no control over when I would arrive due to the randomness of the generator. I never knew if I was jumping a a few days, years, or even thousands of years. All I knew is when I left, I went forward through time and had no control over it. My first jump took me 100 years forward, when I stepped out all I knew and loved was gone. I was a mess...I contemplated suicide. But then my guardian angel came...a man I only ever got to know as "Joe." Not sure if he was ever connected to the mysterious capsule that fell from the sky, or just a lucky break for a poor soul such as I. Although I could never prove it I felt he was connected; Joe always knew where I would land. He said he got these straight *feelings* and *visions* as to when and where I would arrive* All I did know for sure was he saved my life. He got me back on my feet, gave me a purpose and ever since then I have been traveling forward through time, an explorer had been born.
"Hey..." Said Joe, looking tired and weak. I had not seen him like that since Rome had fallen. "How was your trip?"
"Joe, you know it was not really a trip for me buddy! How was YOUR Trip??" I made light of what I was seeing, but after knowing him for so many years, even if I didn't know much about his past, I knew something was up.
"Things have been...interested." He said behind estranged eyes.
"Ok Joe, whats up buddy...what is going on. How long have I been gone, what is the current date? I don't see too many changes. Is this, New York? Where are the...where are the towers if this is New York?"
Tears swelled up in his eyes. One of the curses of being immortal was that you lived forever and saw all the ugly the world had to offer...unlike myself who had the ability to leave it all behind, a curse in of itself, Joe had to suffer more than anymore.
"They fell my friend...the world has become...chaotic. A year after you left...everything fell apart. Terrorists attacked...the stock market collapsed when the housing market fell...it's been bad. The world is not what it used to be; technology beyond your imagine has come about but with it has come evils which I can only begin to fathom."
"Joe...what year is it?"
More tears swelled up. "It's only 2018..."
"TWO-THOUSAND AND EIGHTEEN? IT'S ONLY BEEN 18 FUCKING YEARS AND THIS IS HOW BAD IT HAS GOTTEN?! What the fuck Joe! The world is only still just recovering from the the last two great wars, I thought we were on a good track..."
His jaw tightened and he looked me sternly in the eyes, his were filled with fire. "That's not the worst of it. You just missed the last election two years ago....Donald Trump is the President now..."
I said nothing...I turned around, stepped back into the capsule and said fuck it. Here is to the next jump being better.
| 2016-11-10T11:48:32 | 2016-11-10T11:16:20 | 1,871 | 30 |
[WP] "Enough! Is there anyone here who DIDN'T come to rob the bank?" | “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. Everybody just chill. Everybody be cool. Let's take a sec; we'll figure this out.”
Brody breathed in, pushing the barrel of his 9 mm through his long, sun-bleached hair to scratch the nape of his neck with the handgun, the stupidity of the gesture escaping him entirely. He exhaled and turned to the Clown.
“So, uh, Clown Guy? When did you case this place?”
“I told you, two weeks ago,” the Clown said, his big, red nose bobbing as he talked. “This is my score. Everyone else needs to fuck the hell off.”
“Hey, Pennywise, how about you chill, yo.” It was the Latino Pantyhose Guy. “I been workin' this place for a month. This my honey hole.”
“Hey, hey, dudes. We all just need to take a step back.” Brody was dangerously non-confrontational for a bank robber. No bueno, especially in a situation where everyone was strapped.
Alright, alright. Okay, listen up, is there anyone here who's NOT here to rob the bank? Show of hands? Quick head count? C'mon, get 'em up, people.”
Brody looked around to the lone holdout, an elderly woman in a tidy matching sweater-vest set. “Ah, thank the baby fucking Jesus! See! There ya go. That's a start at least.”
Slowly, the old woman raised her hand, joining the others. Brody was crestfallen. “Aw, seriously? No! Et tu Gram Gram?”
Gram Gram's expression hardened. “Do you know how much my medication costs, punk? You try living in this town on a fixed income. My dishwasher is broken, and I have to fix it!”
“It's cool, Gram Gram. Just settle. It's all good.”
“Hey, don't tell me to settle, you little fuckstick.”
“Gram Gram, you're kinda blowin' my mind here right now.”
“Well, that wouldn't be too hard,” Gram Gram muttered.
Brody was losing what little grip he had on the situation. He spun his gun nervously around his finger. Naturally, it went off.
What happened next was a chain of events that sent the entire situation spiraling towards its inevitable conclusion.
First, Brody's own accidental discharge sent him reeling toward cover, thinking someone else had opened fire. He cowered behind a counter, covering his head as the situation unfolded around him. Clown Guy, mistaking the shot for an act of aggression, shot Gram Gram in the face. She went flailing in a hail of bullets until she lay sprawled across the glass coffee table in the waiting area. Latino Pantyhose Guy shot Clown Guy with both barrels of his double-barrel before collapsing on the floor, as the unintended recipient of Brody's bone-headed bullet blunder.
As the smoke settled, Brody peaked over the counter behind which he had taken cover. Looking around, his limited vocabulary only allowed him a minimal response.
“Fuck.”
Picking up the duffle bag full of money, he headed for the side door. With sirens wailing in the distance, Brody climbed behind the wheel of the aging cargo van that doubled as his transportation and residence. He pointed the nose of the Chevrolet toward the coast, reached over to pet his pupper, Nuisance, and snapped on the tape deck. Eric Johnson's “Cliffs of Dover” blared through the speakers as Brody drove out of town and up the California coast, destination wherever. | I wipe the sweat off my brow, my heart is racing. I tell the teller once more
"Put the cash in the fucking bag! Keep it going..."
I had already told everyone to put their hands up, which they much obliged. I would too if a dude rushed in on me wearing aviators and a trucker hat with a cut off shotgun. I check the timer set on my watch *1 minute holy shit I need to hurry*. The teller is handing me back the bag
"Not with the fucking ink exploding shit in it you stupid bitch, put it in this backpack"
More wasted time, it should be worth it with unmarked bills. I figure I have about 4 minutes to get the cash and get out of the door. Out of the corner of my eye I see the door swing open. *Another customer*
"Put your hands up bitch and get on the fucking floor!"
He doesn't listen, maybe this will be the lucky one...
"Put your hands up *DICK*!"
He yells with a shitty Spanish accent
"What the fuck man! Fine, I'm trying to hold this place up"
I replied, thinking the dude was your normal civilian hero about to meet his maker.
"What the FUCK! *I'm* trying to hold this place up"
Fuck it. I had put my shotgun down to put some pressure off the guy... My itchy trigger finger hasn't been scratched in awhile...
*BOOM*
He hits the floor. What the hell was he thinking? This was *my* bank. Apparently nobody has heard a gun shot before because now everybody is on the ground.
"Where the hell is that bag!?"
It's sitting on the counter, lucky for her as I still have a few shells left and still itching. I check my watch *3 minutes 40 seconds*. *Nice...*
"Everybody have a good fucking day! Thank your asses I only have 5 rounds left..."
I put the backpack on and run out of the door. I make it my car and get in. At that time I hear the sirens. *It won't be long now*.
"Sounds like it's going to be *someone else's* lucky day today too"
| 2016-09-07T11:55:20 | 2016-09-07T09:07:25 | 37 | 18 |
[WP] Superman announces on the news that he is going to kill each person on earth, one by one, until humanity is wiped out, in alphabetical order.
What would happen? What would happen from a local to a worldwide level? | "I'm not sure why you are helping me with this, Bruce, you know I'll have to kill you eventually too." Superman said, hovering above the supercomputer in the bat cave. A very aged batman sat in front of it, typing at a rapid speed.
"I understand why you're doing it. Maybe it will shock the world out of their reliance on heroes, or maybe it will make them realize they have bigger problems than arguing over gun control and healthcare." The old hero coughed, shaking his whole body with the force of it. "Besides, I missed out on my life by helping people. Alfred's gone, the rest of the kids are gone, each has their own lair or cave or whatever, and I never had enough time for a family, being batman and all. Call me a bitter old man, but I'm done caring for these people."
"I was always too busy saving the day to make Lois happy. We never started our family either, and now....now she's gone." The Man of Steel looked away from the other hero, not wanting to cry in front of his lifelong friend.
"Interesting choice, though, going in alphabetical order. Lots of people in the world. You could just destroy a city or two at a time, make things faster."
"I want them to know its personal. That I'm trying to kill one person. I want them to know fear."
"List is done processing now. Glad the old bat computer can have some use, it doesn't get to do much anymore but collect dust." Batman grabbed a small device from on top of it, and turned it on. The screen glowed with a single name and an arrow pointing east. "This thing will pull up the next person on your list, and show their general direction. If you come back at some point I can update your list, can't have some Aaron Aardvark getting born halfway through the process and ruin your day." He tossed the device to the floating kryptonian, who caught it easily.
"I can see why our enemies always had such trouble with you. You are smart and devious enough to be one of them."
"And you pretty much are one now." Bruce said, slowly standing with the help of a cane. "I'm sorry things didn't work out better, Clark." His thumb hit a small button on the grip of the cane, and a needle sprung out of the device in Superman's hand, piercing his skin and injecting a green liquid into his body. The former hero plummeted ten feet to the ground, landing in a writhing heap.
"What...what did you do?" He screamed in agony.
"You gave me kryptonite to make sure you never went out and did this very sort of thing. I'm your friend, Clark, but I can't stand by and let you do this. I was hoping there was some...sense I could talk you into, but hearing you now...you're too far gone." He slowly walked towards Superman, cane echoing loudly through the cave.
"Why...help.....them? They've....all.....broken....your....rules.....your....trust."
Batman unsheathed a green-edged blade cleverly hidden in the cane. "Because, Clark....Even I have to break my rules sometime. I'm the hero they need, not the hero they deserve." He plunged the sword into Superman's heart, and twisted it. He pulled it free of the lifeless body, and threw it aside. Bruce sunk down to the ground next to his former friend, and shut the man's eyes. Quietly he whispered.
"I am batman." | The Kryptonian had just concluded his announcement to the General Assembly of the United Nations, and the hall was deathly silent.
Silent, that is, apart from a low hum.
As Kal-El watched, a large spacecraft materialised in the middle of the hall.
Long legs extended to the ground.
A walkway opened up, and a tall, alien creature appeared in the mist that often accompanied such entrances, cloaked in extravagantly draped golden robes with a peculiarly alien collar design.
The alien's gray-green skin shone in a particularly lustrous way.
Its flattened head moved from left to right, and settled upon the Kryptonian, whereupon its slitty eyes may have opened a bit wider, though it was difficult to tell.
It held some kind of exclusively alien device in its alien hands.
The creature approached the Man Of Steel.
The assorted heads of state in attendance were rapt in attention. Who was this being? Perhaps it was an instrument of destruction for the human race, summoned by Superman? Perhaps it was a new protector, here to save humanity?
The visitor took one look at Superman, looked down at its device, muttered "Oh, that's right" to itself, looked back up, and uttered in a derisive tone: "Pompous git."
The crowd waited.
The creature sniffed. "Right, that's you told." It tapped at the device, as if to cross something off a list, and appeared satisfied. It turned back towards the ship.
The crowd were unsure what was happening, and murmurs began to break out.
Suddenly, the alien stopped, turned its head back round to humanity's former protector (and current avowed destroyer) and commented:
"I heard what you said, by the way. Seems a bit extreme to me, but whatever works for you, I suppose. However, I must say - only one planet? In linear order, in normal spacetime? Bloody amateur."
Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged (for it was he) hopped into his ship and buggered off to wherever and whenever the computer told him that the next irritating lifeform due a verbal barb was to be found. Did that count as two insults? Probably, but he'd done it before to that naive twerp Arthur Dent, and the Kryptonian probably deserved it and more.
He didn't stick around to hear the screams. They didn't really concern him. When he was ready to insult those examples of humanity that he hadn't yet got around to, they would all be healthy enough to realise they were being served. | 2015-07-12T23:51:26 | 2015-07-12T22:00:28 | 295 | 120 |
[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 ®." | Playing.
That was the word which jumped out at me when I heard the voice in my head. On the streets around me, people were crying out in shock, or laughing incredulously and looking around for some great prankster to yell GOTCHA!
All that suffering I had gone through, all that pain... Playing? A game? Games were supposed to be fun and my life had been anything but.
People were beginning to get over their initial reaction now, and were calling family and friends to find out if it had been just them, or everyone. I moved numbly through the obstacle course of still-standing people. Even the cars which usually zoomed by had come to a stop, and I walked past those too.
*Two hours, huh? Enough time to get comfortable and take a nap.*
If what that voice said was true, I wanted whatever it is I'm in to end while I am warm and resting.
I rounded the corner. People were starting to scream, to panic. I smiled to myself.
*Sweet, sweet release, here I come.*
I walked on, past the grocery shop I frequented, a hundred metres from my flat. I heard glass shatter and looked back to see that a dishevelled man in rags had thrown a stone through the shopfront.
"I'm not going to the end sober!" he screamed. His cry seemed to draw more of his ilk out of the shadows and four more men in rags appeared, as if out of thin air. I turned back and quickened my pace.
Just give me quiet. Let me block everything out. Let me be alone.
More screams come from behind me but I don't look back, won't look back. My hands shook as I inserted my key into the lock of the main door, and twisted. I took the stairs up two by two, almost running to the door of my flat. My hands still shook when I opened my flat door, but they were also cold now.
*So cold. Why do I feel cold?*
I remove my shoes but not my jacket. I paid too much for this jacket, so it was going to the end with me. I climb into bed and pull my blanket up to my chin.
The screams from outside were louder now, accompanied by dull thuds and the occasional explosion. There was no way I was going to nap with all that noise out there. I get out of bed and go to my desk to grab my noise-cancelling headphones.
Silence.
I walk back to my bed and lie down again. I blow warm air on my hands and rub them together.
*... been a good run. Too bad about the bug. We're going to lose some of our livestock but it can't be helped.*
I blink in confusion and look about fearfully. Where had that voice come from? What bug? Livestock? How much time did I have left? No, no... I've decided to take a nap.
Take. A. Nap.
*Hey look at this. We have an outlier.*
*Fascinating. What is it doing?*
Stop, you voices. Leave me alone. I just want quiet.
*It appears to have taken a non-violent route.*
*That's rare. All the other livestock in this little anomaly's vicinity are going on a rampage but this little one here is just hiding away.*
Yes, hiding. Please let me hide.
*Let's keep this one.*
"No!" I blurted.
*Did it just...?*
*I... I think it did. It heard us.*
*We're definitely keeping this one. Send an agent in to take her.* | Two hours.
That's not enough time to fly across the border, what's more halfway across the world. There's just enough time to make it back home from the office if I leave now, and still get to see my parents.
Around me, my colleagues were doing the same, desperately trying to call their loved ones while dashing out the office. A slow realisation crept over me, and walking to the full length windows, I saw how chaos had descended upon us.
There's no way I'd be getting home now.
I grabbed the highest caloric snacks in the office and sat at my desk, casually tossing the laptop, stationary, mouse, and cups off my desk. Then, when there was just soft thuds, picked them up again and hurled them at the window. The tiny cracks in the glass and the loud shattering sounds eased my heart.
Sitting down at my desk, I took a deep breath and pulled out my phone. Opened WhatsApp and navigated to my archived Ex's chat. It's now or never. Holding down the voice message button, I began,
"I never once regretted being with you. Not once, not in my most consuming anger, to the engulfing sadness, no ounce of regret. Never, ever did I feel regret. Every time I saw your face, calm settled in me, anxiety slipped away. And I smiled. You made the loneliness go away, the agonising, heart-wrenching sadness of loneliness that haunted the seconds of my existence, you chased it away. You helped me find my laughter, expanded my universe of humour, of entertainment and enjoyment. You even made my shame into delights, how weird was that? Your nicknames were dumb and irritating at times, but man, even you calling me a cute little eggroll made me the happiest person on earth. I love you so much, I never stopped and I never will, no matter where we go after this ends. I love you so much, God I love you. I wish I never left, I wish I could have made it all perfect and forced our relationship to work out, but now that it's all ending, I wish I just stayed in our flawed perfection. I love you, I love you, I love you, I-"
The voice message had hit its limit, automatically sent.
I stared at the message as it kept trying to send, timer icon waiting, until finally.
One tick. | 2019-09-23T07:21:16 | 2019-09-23T04:27:58 | 28 | 12 |
[WP] Earth is sold on the Galactic Black Market. The Buyer is woefully underprepared to handle how defiant Humanity is | Ru'ah didn't have much of a plan. He felt bad for the people of this planet, which they called, "Earth." Being rich and powerful had its advantages. The Calese observed a strict caste social structure. Ru'ah was the second son of the younger brother of the Lord of Ru'Cress, which put him, relatively, close to the top. Being the second son of a second afforded him a degree of allowance for impetuous behavior. The military planned to destroy all inhabited planets in the system, in order to build a base. So, Ru'ah did something impetuous - he bought Earth. He didn't know what to do with the planet - he didn't have much of a plan.
Because he didn't have a plan, his father found out. Because his father found out, his uncle found out. The Calese observed a strict caste system, though Ru'ah was, now, more of the opinion that it was the Calese nobles that cared more about the Way than anyone else. Because Ru'ah bought the planet, his uncle was able to claim ownership by the Way. They did a few scans, discovered that Earth had some decent resources, and began occupation.
Within five of Earth's passes, the occupation was over. At first, when some tech went missing, no one seemed bothered by it. When human soldiers started fielding plasma weaponry, the military stepped in. When the humans attacked a military convoy with their own, stolen, ships, the military planned a full scale invasion. The invasion fleet was obliterated. The humans didn't just start reproducing Calese technology, they improved on it. Weapons, healing kids, farming platforms, automated construction facilities - all of it. The Calese sent a fleet of over a billion ships. The humans matched them two to one, with more in reserve.
Even now, many saw the humans as the least honorable sort. A species of soldiers, many of whom had turned to other castes. Soldiers working as servants. Soldiers working as scientists. Soldiers working as teachers. Soldiers who aspired to rule.
Ru'ah watched it all. For all that he was horrified by the ease with which the humans dispatched their Invaders, he felt a kind of pride. He had bought this planet. In a way, they were his people. And so he watched. In watching, he noticed something that the others ignored, or were socially conditioned not too see. They saw profile soldiers that had put aside their weapons for other tools. Ru'ah saw a planet full of people who didn't care what their new overlords thought was right, and we're prepared to fight, and win, to protect their home. The Way meant nothing to them.
He took that observation home with him. He saw the resentful looks shared, in secret, by the servants, when Father sent back the third perfectly cooked meal. He recognized that when the farmers stared up at the citadel, it was longing in their eyes, not admiration. When he was ordered to oversee mining operations, he want pleased to see guards beating workers for no good reason. When the workers began to mutter, he stood with them. When the guards came, Ru'ah lifted his weapon, and fired.
It wasn't quick, and it was certainly bloody. Most of the nobility was dead. The Way was over. Some tried to recreate it, with themselves at the top. But Ru'ah remembered. He made sure others remembered, too. Would-be Lords didn't last very long. It was all well and good to reject the Way, but what were the Calese to replace it with?
Ru'ah had a feeling, though. One day, he packed up a small ship and piloted to the edge of human space. He felt that they, probably wouldn't destroy him. Maybe, they would have answers that he needed. He parked his vessel and waited. | I'm R'tiz Chimla and you're watching CGBC.
Our main story tonight, panic on Barrier World as the collapse of Terran stock has been plummeting stock throughout the market. We're joined now by our own Mi'zit Migai on Barrier World for details, thank you Mi'zit. Now, we've heard about the so called "Terran Downfall" recently, could you explain what's going on?
Of course R'tiz. Terran stock has been going on a steady uptick recently, due to growth in some of their less powerful nations. This has attracted young investors to buy stock on Terra. One young upstart trader in particular, Lontza Metanoz, heir to the Metanoz Corporation, has recently decided to invest in Terra.
For the past week, she's been buying large swaths of territory, and two cycles ago bought 51% of Terra, giving her virtually total control over Terra. Of course, she wasn't well versed in Terran matters, and immediately declared Terra a Metanoz estate, sending down 195 managers to assume control over each tribe on Terra, and encouraging Terran's to submit, under Galactic Code section 39 article 3. Of course the Terrans resisted, and all mangers have been arrested or have fled. Here, stock has absolutely collapsed, and those who own Terran stock have lost so much money, some of them are being forced to liquidate various castles, mansions, and other estates.
Thank you Mi'zit Migai, truly a tragedy.
Now we're joined by Jol'pa Metanoz, the short term manager of a tribe called Sweden, thank you Jol'pa. I'd like to talk to you about the Terrans. Now, could you tell us what happened on Terra?
It was awful R'tiz, the savages surrounded my office and demanded I leave the planet at once. It was like they didn't understand that I had every right to rule. These savages do not follow galactic law and I hope the Galactic Council takes decisive action against them.
Thank you, now we join Sno'vim Forvi, our Terran correspondent, Sno'vim, what has happened on Terra?
Well, the situation has escalated quickly in Terra, with the leaders of all Terran tribes declaring the situation an emergency. Now, no one had actually informed the Terrans of the Galactic Code. No Terran tribe is a signatory of the Galactic Code, and none see any reason to sign on. Currently each tribe is mobilizing to find other aliens.
We will continue to report on this story as it breaks. Thank you very much, from CGBC, I'm R'tiz Chimla. | 2020-03-24T18:20:37 | 2020-03-24T16:58:07 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a golden halo over their head, lost when a lie is first told consciously. Those who manage to keep their halo are recruited as "angels" and trusted with important tasks. You, an angel recruiter, see one enter your office, but with a color you have never seen before... | It’s like the color of an oil slick or that sheen on a piece of carnival glass.
***
After introducing yourself you realize that this potential angel is either deaf or mute and has hands that are clearly waking up from what was likely a lifelong arthritic condition.
“Is it hard to tell a lie when you can’t communicate very quickly?” You ask knowing the answer. This question is your litmus test for all verbally handicapped potential angels.
She massages her own hands a bit and then replies via sign language “I prefer not to waste my time doing so.”
As she replied you watched her halo change color once again. Now it’s a emerald green oil slick or piece of carnival glass.
You continue to watch the halo as she sits there thinking and you come to the realization that it’s either a mood ring or a chameleon.
***
You call your boss in and the he calls his boss in and so on. Soon the meeting includes you, the recruit and everyone higher than you on the office totem pole and has been moved to the largest of the conference rooms.
When the big kahuna comes in her halo makes a fizzy noise and becomes enveloped in a white/purple light.
The big kahuna laughs and says “Hello Lucy. Does your father know that you’re here?”
“He’s and his latest wife on their honeymoon in Boca. My brother Death followed them down there to get some work done”
The big Kahuna looks at you and says “This is what happens when the devil deceives an angel and that deceit results in a child. We’ll put her in special forces, draw up the necessary paperwork.”
***
When you were hired there was a brief paragraph in the training video about the angel special forces. That was so long ago you can’t remember any of it. You’ll have to consult the manual that takes up your desk’s entire bottom drawer but you’re delighted to deviate from what is normally a very repetitive job. | The first thing I noticed about the newcomer was his looks. He was the kind of guy you’d see in clothing ads.
The second thing I noticed was that his halo wasn’t truely gold. It was, to the best of my knowledge, made of tarnished brass or bronze. I had seen people with rose gold halos before, even saw one with a black halo, but this was something else. No one has a halo that isn’t made of gold.
The man came up to me, and in a deep, silky voice, told me his name.
“My name is Luke. I need to see your boss.” | 2018-10-03T18:33:00 | 2018-10-03T18:26:55 | 35 | 22 |
[WP] No one in the galaxy ever assumed that Earth would amount to anything because of its extreme gravity for a life-bearing world - anything trying to escape the planet's gravity well would need to BE 97% fuel weight, and the idea that they would try was a ludicrous concept.
Repost, no one responded before.
EDIT: Thank you guys so much! I never expected something so small to turn great and take reddit by storm! But keep in mind, this wasn't me. I simply reposted. The real hero is a reddit user named AnCapGamer, the original creator of this prompt. | "Exemplar, they have landed a droid on Mars."
She froze over her fourth lunch, taking two blinks to register the news. "You're kidding me," Exemplar Boria said slowly.
The messenger fidgeted under the weight of her stare. "Never! But... you asked me to report any developments, so I have---"
"Done so diligently, yes yes." After a few moments of indecision, she took a stab at the local delicacy, but threw the eating utensil in a wet spray out the window. "It took us *sixteen* cycles to get a droid on another planet!"
Still standing behind the Exemplar, he attempted a cough before speaking that meant to come out as polite. Instead, it only drew her ire towards the hapless messenger. "The thing is," he rushed, "their time goes by at a different rate than ours, so perhaps Earth accomplished this feat in a comparatively longer time than our home planet!"
Exemplar Boria took four deliberate steps towards the messenger and set a hand on his shoulder. "Their cycles are more frequent than on Xelon IV. The majority of their fluid supply is undrinkable. Their *gravity* is three times heavier than our home planet." Nails began digging through the messenger's tunic. "We've made the calculations. And they're *eclipsing* our history at an uncomfortable rate."
"But---" the messenger stuttered, "how could they? At their current technological stage, any vehicle would have to be at *least* 97% fuel to escape the planet's gravity well!"
"And that is why you are only a messenger," Exemplar Boria replied unkindly. "You do not understand the sheer enormity of handicaps Earth has inflicted on it's dominant species." She released him, plucking bits of the messenger's scales and cloth from her nails. "Our ancestors laughed when the primitive species discovered heat energy. The Stick Joke, remember?"
The messenger nodded grimly, fighting every instinct to cover the small, burning holes in his shoulder while the Exemplar was watching. "The one where nature took pity for their poor luck and struck a tree to give them a small head start?"
"That's the one." Boria did not laugh. "Now look at them, three cycles later... Terum?"
The messenger was silent, then found his voice. "Yes Exemplar." Once she turned towards the window she launched her food at earlier, he clutched his shoulder, wincing as he did so.
She spoke more to their home planet of Xelon IV than to the messenger, but the words carried to him in a tone of warning. "Who would have thought these humans would compensate for their misfortune, and become 97% willpower?"
He blinked, then dared to reply. "Willpower isn't quantifiable Exemplar."
Boria turned to him and gave the messenger a grave look. "So we thought."
-----
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!* | "*Who* did you say?" the old creature asked as he furrowed his brow and looked up from the growing pile of petitions.
"Humans. Third planet from the Sun. They've gone and escaped their atmosphere," the red face answered from a safe distance. The usual youthful exuberance was gone, replaced by a heavy sense of dread.
"After you said it was impossible?" He nodded timidly and together they peered at the dying blue planet and the swirling white clouds curling over islands and continents packed with billions of humans. Thousands of miles away, a small rocket hurtled through space, rushing towards the next inhabitable planet in search of life. "What are they capable of?" The old creature mumbled softly, as much to himself as to his companion, shuddering as he pondered the possibilities.
"A lot," his companion answered, grimacing in concern. "If they were able to make it out, they can do anything." He paused and frowned. "I... I really didn't think it was possible. I must have just made them too... I thought they were contained," he stammered apprehensively.
"What are they searching for?" The old creature asked, narrowing his eyes in fearful frustration.
"Life. They will always search for life." The two remained silent for a moment as they watched the probe travel unhindered towards the next inhabitable planet. "And if they find it, I think they'll want to destroy it," he added quietly, as if speaking too loudly might will the words to truth.
The old creature shook his head in resignation. "I should never have given you this task, Lucifer. Try as you might, you're far too sinister to be allowed to create your own species."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2016-03-31T13:49:23 | 2016-03-31T13:02:39 | 340 | 199 |
[WP] A group of fantasy adventures has one of their members replaced by a Doppelganger. The rest of the group realizes what happened, but keep pretending to be fooled since they like the doppelganger a lot more than the guy it replaced. | "Guys, I think those holes might be for arrows or something. We had better check if this hallway is trapped!" warned Danny.
The party stopped, and Julie, an experienced rogue, did a check for traps. Sure enough, she found one, though curiously it was already disarmed.
Veronica explained, "It looks like someone has already blocked the mechanism with a rock. It should be safe to head down the passageway."
"Wait, before we go on, I need a quick break to use the loo." Danny looked abashed.
That brought some sighs from the group. "Couldn't you have done that a few minutes ago, before we entered the dungeon?" asked Veronica.
"Sorry everyone," replied Danny, "I drank too much water earlier." And off he went in search of some relief.
With Danny gone, the party had a moment to talk to themselves.
"He's really been such a better husband and father since....", Veronica trailed off.
"Yes, we've noticed lots of positive changes," replied Jim.
"He's making so much more time for the children. He's being so much more responsible in every way."
"You yourself seem happier these days", remarked Julie. "Have you decided to let on that you know?"
"No, I'm worried it...he... might decide to stop pretending. Our love-life has gotten incredible, and he is so much more into the role playing aspects I enjoy." For a moment her conflicting emotions filled her face. "He is my husband, even if he isn't the man I married anymore."
"We're here for you. We'll keep it quiet." Julie gave her hand a squeeze. "Oh, I think he's coming back."
Danny walked in, and rejoined the party. "Lets go kick some goblin butt!" He picked up the dice, and turned and look at his wife with a smile. "Ok DM, what do you think I need to roll to get a pizza delivered while we finish our game?" | John, George, and Ringo were huddled together inside a secret room on the fantastical magical yellow submarine.
"George, how confident are you?"
George left his momentary silence of contemplation to say " Paul is dead man, miss him."
Ringo asks, "do you though? I mean I doubt if you guys would miss me either."
John shook his head, "we must have lost him on our way through Abby Road"
George sighed "I like the new one. I say we let it be."
A knock on the door. "You there guys? I was hoping we'd do a music number about friendship."
John looked at the others, and they nodded in agreement. John opened the door and announced, "ALL TOGETHER NOW!" | 2017-09-15T08:45:38 | 2017-09-15T06:41:40 | 66 | 35 |
[WP] The witch grew angry, staring at the baby your wife had birthed four hours prior. “I wanted YOUR firstborn, this is a trick!” You look at the witch, confused. Your wife panics. This was an especially bad way to learn of cheating. | "What are you talking about? This is my firstborn?" said Phoneous Temporus, confused.
"LIES!" Yelled Willow the Witch "Your firstborn was born 3 years ago." she stated matter of factly, staring into his eyes with anger at the deception. At the shocked expression Lillian, the witch grinned "You didn't know?" she asked gleeful at the torment this couple would get.
Phoneous was confused, he was a virgin when he married his wife Lillian, and he was entirely faithful. His wife looked distraught and mistrusting "Don't listen to that witch, she is lying." he pleaded his wife to believe him.
Willow scowled at the accusation "Look here Sir Temporus, I may be a witch, I eat babies to increase my power, curse the ones who have wronged me, and brew potions of eternal youth powered by the suffering of both peasants and kings, but I DO NOT LIE!" she said with increasing irritation "The one virtue I have is that I am truthful, and I have not lied to anyone since I became a witch 264 years ago."
Lillian didn't know who to believe and Phoneous with fury in his eyes "Than use your amazing magical powers and check if I am lying?" he spat "I have not slept with anyone other than my wife!" he declared.
The witch, believing he was bluffing, that he was betting she can't verify the claim. She quickly drew a circle on the floor around both herself and Phoneous. After a chant he could not comprehend, the circle sparkled with a bright yellow light. "It is ready" said the witch "Anyone lying within this circle will burn to ashes." she stood up confidently and declared "3 years ago your son was born to a woman named Alice Watergood.", the circle shined and turned blue before returning to yellow, and no heat nor smoke could be felt. She stepped out of the circle and said "You turn." expecting him to burn.
The witch and Lillian looked at Phoneous expectedly and he declared "I have never slept with anyone other than my wife." and the circle reacted exactly as it did last time.
"How?!" the witch shrieked in anger, "This is impossible!" she declared and turned to the window "I don't know how you managed to lie within this circle, but this is NOT over!"
---
The marriage didn't last very long after that, they had constantly argued, accusations were made, and trust was no more. One morning Phoneous woke up to learn that Lillian had left with their son in the dead of night, leaving a short note saying "Do not look for us."
With a heart full of grief, Phoneous left his manor into the big city where the imperial library was stationed. He spent a decade studying magic, and finally he finished creating the spell that would solve all of his problems. He would go back in time and return to his wife, to the moment they had met, and he would move with her to another country, away from the witch who had ruined everything with her lies, her fake circle, and tricks.
After 3 days verifying the inscribed circle was flawless, he took a deep breath, swallowed a potion of mana and began chanting. His sweat glistened and trickled down. A single drop had reached a delicate portion of the runic array and deformed its structure just by a few milimetres. When the circle activated, the man had been sent 5 years earlier than he intended, hitting his head on a hard rock and he knew no more.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a woman with a long blonde hair and soft features and she asked him who he was. He opened his mouth to respond, and found himself lacking an answer. "I don't know, I don't remember."
It took years for the memories to return, but by then he had been married to the kind woman who found him injured in the forest. The woman's name was Alice Watergood, and she was about to give birth to his first born, at least chronologically speaking.
End. | Randolph's sister was already drunk. *\*sigh\** It was going to be one of *those* holidays again.
"ha, ha, ha, ha!", Melanie cackled while waving around a sheaf of paperwork. "It's time to pay up, brother, dear! Your first born is mine!"
Muriel, Randy's wife, rolled her eyes and kept chewing her cotelettes d'Agneau a la Provencale. Their three children also kept shoveling the food in. The first born in question sneered at her aunt.
"*Nooooo*!", gasped Randy theatrically, leaping to his feet. "I thought you were joking when you said you'd sign away your portion of grand-mère's estate for my first born!"
"Ha, ha, ha, ha! What is mere billion dollars compared to a blood sacrifice to ensure eternal youth!"
Muriel rolled her eyes and gulped down the last bite of asperges rôties au citron. "Oh, go fuck yourself, Mell. You're not getting my first born."
"Ha, ha, ha! That's where you're wrong! Demonic contracts are legally binding!"
Muriel rolled her eyes again. "I know that, dumbass. Which is why you're not getting any of *my* children!"
"**Eh**?"
"Your dumbass contract is for the first born of *Randolph's* bloodline. Not mine."
The implications of this slowly percolated through the minds of the gathered Rochebaron clan.
Melanie looked flummoxed.
The children in question looked bored with the elder generation's antics and continued eating as if their father hadn't tried to sell them for an illegal Satanic rite.
Randolph shrieked, "*Goddamnit*, Muriel! You cheating whore! How *could* you!?"
"Oh for fucksakes, Randy! Who the hell do you think you're kidding? Everyone knows about your prostate problems!"
"Well, Jesus Christ, they certainly do now! Does everyone on the goddamn planet have to know I'm shooting blanks, Muriel? Couldn't you just have played along once in your life?"
"For fucksakes, Randy. It's never been a secret they're turkey baster babies!"
"I sure as fuck didn't know!" yelled the wannabe witch, Melanie.
"No, shit you doofus! Why else would I sign away the lives of my kids?"
"Sit down and shut up and finish your meal", snapped Muriel. "All of you!"
Randolph and Melanie sat down and took up their utensils and the butler topped off everyone's wine glass.
On the whole it wasn't the worst Beltane the Rochebaron had spent with one another. | 2021-10-25T21:31:51 | 2021-10-25T20:45:23 | 446 | 188 |
[WP] You are the most generous mountaineer. You give food, drink, and climbing poles to exhausted climbers, and never accept anything in return. Your secret? You died on this mountain years ago, because nobody was there to help you as you are helping now. Someone has figured it out. | “Do I know you?” the woman in the blue scarf asks, shivering hands wrapped around a warm cup of hot chocolate.
The question gives me pause. *Did* I know this lady? It was certainly possible. I had only been dead for what, twenty-five years? I peer at the young woman, wrapped tightly in mountain gear, her face masked by her blue scarf and thick tinted goggles. She might’ve been one of my schoolmates who still somehow looked really young or something. Certainly not a family member.
I think seeing your dead son or brother, unchanged after so many years, would have produced somewhat more of a shock, rather than what was probably a polite question.
“I doubt so,” I chuckle, ladling some soup into a wooden bowl. “Chicken broth?”
She accepts it gratefully, the now empty cup lying forgotten next to her.
We sit in silence, in the little mountain cave. A fire crackles beneath my pewter pot, and she shifts closer to it as she quietly sips the broth. The blue is receding from her cheeks, replaced by a warm reddish flush.
“You can stay the night here, it’s safe,” I say kindly, as I throw in some chicken cubes into the pot. “I’ll keep watch while you sleep, then you can be on your way in the morning.”
Her eyes glint in the firelight, orange flames flicking within grey pupils. Outside, the mountain winds howl and rage, snow whirling wildly all around. We’re seated in far enough that it doesn’t reach us, but you could still feel the cold, threatening to creep up on you anytime.
I throw another log into the bonfire.
“What’s your name?” she asks curiously, cradling the empty bowl in her lap. “I’m Kaylie.”
“Peter, why?” I busy myself, throwing various little vegetables into the pot.
“I just wanted to thank you properly,” Kaylie puts her bowl down, gets up and falls into a deep bow. “Thank you for saving my life, Peter.”
“Whoa, whoa, there’s no need for that,” I hastily pull her out of her bow. “I’m not royalty or anything, I’m a guy who helped you out.”
Kaylie had been in a pretty bad spot when I found her. So high up in the mountains, near the summit, the air got hard to breathe and the night turned the cold lethal. She had been woefully unprepared to attempt a climb to the summit, but try she had.
I had watched as she had quickly run out of food, water and eventually her oxygen tank had run dry. Her guide, no doubt some second-rate guide who had tried to cheap out on gears and supplies, had turned back at the halfway point, probably realizing that the woman hadn’t given up despite the difficulties of the climb as he had predicted.
Alone, inexperienced and utterly lost, Kaylie taken one step too far off a cliff, its edge hidden by compacted snow. One step, and the snow gave way, and she had hung precariously on the edge, her ice pick having just barely caught onto a rock.
Only then, had I been allowed to help.
Out of the swirling snow, I had felt my form coalesce and take shape. My footsteps gradually left imprints in the snow, the night wrapping around me to form my mountain gear. With one strong arm I had firmly, but as gently as I could, pulled the panicking woman up, clear of the dark abyss that had threatened to consume her corpse and preserve it as it had mine on the mountain.
Kaylie had been equal parts amazed and ecstatic that she had met another person making the dangerous climb up this particular mountain, although that excitement had been somewhat muted by the fact that she was starving, dehydrated and coming off a near-brush with death.
We had made the hike to the nearest safe spot I knew existed on the mountain. It was fortunate we had been near the cave. Amongst other reasons, it was the most comfortable and where I was the most powerful.
Kaylie tilted her head, a stray strand of dyed-blue hair falling lose from her red-green hoodie. “Why did you help me out? Why were you here anyway?”
The young woman had a way of asking all the hard questions. Most people were simply grateful that I had helped them out life-threatening situations and were not big on questions.
“I just happened to be nearby,” I say lightly, which wasn’t a lie, like the next bit. “And I was climbing the mountain, same as you.”
“With all *that*?” she gestures at my pewter pot, my tiny piles of ingredients that I had been heaping into the soup. “Can’t be very practical carrying all this around. And where’d you manage to find firewood?”
Maybe I had been too careless, and eager in preparing this meal. I didn’t usually have this much power, and I had to admit it was much more extravagant than what a normal mountain climber should have. That and she had a point about the fire.
“You’re sharp, young lady,” I pick my words carefully, because I’ve never been in this situation before.
“Don’t call me young lady, you look about the same age as me,” Kaylie shoots back, scampering over to me. “I’ve been looking for you for forever.”
The fire has warmed her enough now, and she pulls back her hoodie and goggles. The face is strikingly familiar, almost like…
*And then in the corner of my mind, I’m back. I’m climbing the mountain again for the first time, alongside my sister. The guide marches along in front of us purposefully, pointing out the various landmarks and caches of supplies along the way.*
*It was important to remember such things, he said. It would help us survive.*
*Then the storm, sudden, abrupt and ridiculously violent. It whips our guide off the side of the cliff with a gust of winds, just as he’s finished securing my sister and I to the cliffside.*
*I feel my sister’s hand in mine.*
*We trudge on, trying to make our way down the best we can. But we know the two of us can never reach the bottom.*
*I find the cave.*
*“Look!” I exclaim. “Didn’t he say there were emergency supplies there?”*
*“I can survive on the supplies here,” I say confidently. “You take what we have and go down and look for help.”*
*We both know I’m lying. There’s nothing in the cave. But we only have enough supplies for one. Everything else had been lost in the storm.*
*“I promise, I’ll come back for you,” she sobs, her tears freezing on her face almost as soon they came out. “I promise.”*
*“I’m sure you will,” I beam.*
*And then I die.*
And then I’m back. And the tears I had seen on my sister’s cheeks are now on mine. Gloved hands grasp mine, tightly, painfully. Almost as if Kaylie knew I would disappear at any moment.
“My mom always said you would be here,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around me, hot tears staining my jacket. “She was so sure the man in the legend was you. So sure, but no one else believed her and grandpa refused to let her climb up here again to find you, not after what happened.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper shakily, a big brother to my little sister’s daughter. “It’s okay.”
My voice breaks, grief, sorrow, relief and joy all mix into one quivering concoction.
“Thank you for coming back for me.” | The avalanche materialized out of the thin air, prefaced by a great cacophony of rumbling and capped by a hurtling white maelstrom of death. I could only gawk at it for a moment before I was consumed beneath the tide of snow, hurled about and masticated until all of the world was a deep, cold black. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move. I simply could wait to die.
Even the numbing of the ice couldn't cover the cuts, bruises and breaks spread throughout my shattered frame. Odd thoughts swirled beneath the panic, crazy ideas, like I could somehow swim out of the snow, that it was simply powder the same as I had played with a hundred times. That you couldn't suffocate from snow, that I could simply breathe through it. I gasped my last breaths, my brain struggling to retain consciousness even as my body welcomed an end to the misery.
My eyes began to flutter closed just as I heard the crunch of snow. I tried to call out, but there was nothing left. I lost consciousness just as the pitch black grew slightly lighter, the sunlight having penetrated it. Eyes closed, I fell into inky oblivion.
By the time I came to, I was laying on a pile of evergreen branches, neatly laid out to provide some comfort. My left leg was splinted and bandages covered various parts of my body. "I'm...I'm alive." Was all I could manage, dumbfounded. The small cave was illuminated by a crackling fire beside me, providing a small measure of warmth.
I heard a rustling to the side and tried to crane my neck to see in the dim light. Sharp lances of pain moved up through my body as I tried to move. Almost immediately there was a gloved hand, pressing me down. "Who...who's there?" The hand simply moved from my field of view. I struggled to change my position once more but the pain was simply too great.
"Thank you for rescuing me." There was no response from my savior, simply the continued sounds of items being moved and tasks being performed. "Where are we?" A moment later a map was tossed onto my chest with a small red X, faded with time, on it. I used my good arm to hold it up and look at it. The map itself seemed old and out of date, though the topographic features were recognizable enough. "That's miles off the trail, how did you find me?" My eyes wandered over the map, it had other markings near to the X. A number of dotted trails trying to navigate out of some sort of ravine. The avalanche had deposited me into the same crevasse.
"Are we stuck in this canyon?" My eyes looked at the topography, an uneasy feeling welling up. It looked steep. Very steep. No obvious way out either. I glanced down at my busted leg. Not much chance I'd be walking out of that. At least not any time soon. I sighed, "Have you called for help?"
A large pile of communication devices were unceremoniously dumped in front of me. Ancient radios with busted dials, GPS devices with no power, cell phones with busted screens. "Where did you...where did all of these come from?" I reach out and picked up a few, examining them. "They're all busted, or at least not getting a signal out. Not much good to us."
"Can you go out for help? I don't think I can manage." There was silence for a moment and then my companion moved into view. My heart leapt into my throat as I took in the apparition before me. His skin was blue and great patches of it were missing, revealing the sinew and bone beneath. "What the fuck is going on here?"
The apparition simply regarded me for a moment and then moved near me. In my state, I could simply watch as the horror moved closer, its shambling evoking a cool sweat to pop out on my brow. A bony finger extended and tapped on the map I held in trembling hands. I chanced a glance down and saw it was placed on the red X. Slowly it traced along the dotted trails. Each time it would extend out to the ravine wall and then slowly move back to the X. Time and time again. Dozens of attempts.
"That was you?"
It nodded silently.
"You couldn't escape?"
Again it nodded.
"But you rescued me. Why?"
It moved to the side and out of view again. A few seconds later, it returned with a small leather bound notebook, which is set on my chest. I opened it to the first page. "To my dearest Olivia," I read out, "I count the days until I return home to you." Beneath was a date. October 13, 1963. I glanced up at him, "That long ago?" It nodded.
I turned to the next page. At the top *Day One* was written in neat script, followed by *Dearest Olivia*, followed by a series of musings and a recounting of the day. I flipped forward, watching as the days incremented by one. On day ninety-three, the neat script was replaced by frantic, erratic loops. I paused, reading the entry. It detailed his fall into the canyon. He expected to die. He wanted to know that his last thoughts were of her. I flipped the page.
*Day Ninety-Four.*
*Dearest Olivia,*
*Alive. Injured. Stuck.*
*I love you. I will find my way home.*
I flipped the page.
*Day Ninety-Five.*
*Dearest Olivia,*
*Movement is hard. Will attempt to survey the canyon on crutch.*
*I love you. I will find my way home.*
I flipped forward, day one hundred twenty. Day one hundred fifty.
Finally, I came to the last entry.
*Day One Hundred Eighty-Five.*
*Dearest Olivia,*
*I have tried everything. There is no escape. I have no food. I am weak and unable to continue.*
*I am sorry.*
"I love you. I will find my way home." I read the last line out, the repeated refrain since day ninety-four. "You want to go home."
It nodded.
**Platypus out.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2018-08-18T08:32:31 | 2018-08-18T07:35:31 | 4,956 | 892 |
[WP] A teenager gets her first job, an overnight shift at a 7-11, and doesn't meet any vampires, werewolves or angels. Instead, she starts to see some things about the adult world that had been hidden from her and undermine her ideas about what it means to be grown-up. | If anything, Sophia was a diligent planner. And after listening to Distinct Symmetry's debut album, she planned on definitely seeing them live. The only problem was the tickets were not going to buy themselves. Plus, at sixteen it was time for her to get a job anyway. The way her father and mother complained about gas prices, she figured she would need the money.
Since it was summer and all the college kids had gone home, there were plenty of vacancies for minimum wage jobs and securing the 7-11 one was easy. Since Sophia was a night owl, working graveyard shifts wasn't a big deal. It allowed her to not feel bad about sleeping in late, hang out with her friends at the lake in the afternoon and work at night. Most nights were pretty laid back and she passed the time writing Avenger fanfic on her phone.
Usually, at about two o'clock people from the bars started coming in to buy food or more beer. Somewhere in the law there had to be something about a sixteen year old selling already drunk adults beer, but as far as the owner and the cops who came in, nobody cared. Watching the drunks was easily the most amusing part of her night. Having been raised as a preacher's kid, she was naive to some behaviors among those less righteous than her mother and father.
Her co-workers were constantly drunk or high which, for the most part, didn't bother her much. Until this job, she assumed most adults only ever talked about their job or kids. But her co-workers talked about everything, though usually popular TV shows (which she was more than happy to chime in about). Some of it was interesting, some of it wasn't, but they never got bored of it. And while most of them were in their mid twenties, Steve and Nancy were both in their early forties and late thirties respectively. Neither had kids and they both loathed their jobs. Sophia always wondered why they didn't just quit. When she asked her father about it, he called said something about different paths for different people and that everyone hates their job some of the time.
Mr. Wilson was also a surprise. One night, while in the middle of writing an epic battle between Black Widow and She-Hulk, Mr. Wilson drunkenly stumbled in with a young girl on his arm. Sophia had had Mr. Wilson for social studies in seventh grade. He was a good teacher. Patience and respect were standard in his classroom and she always enjoyed listening to him talk about history. Everyone adored him.
Tonight, however, Mr. Wilson was different. Instead of respect and kindness, he was rude and constantly groped his companion. After searching the refrigerators for whiskey, he settled on a six pack of Pabst. While Sophia rang him up for the booze, he stared hungrily at the food on the hot grill. Sophia hated getting things from the grill. They were annoying to replace and made her clothes smell like grease. Still, Mr. Wilson just had to have the three Big Bites rotating in the plastic case.
After what seemed like ages, she rang him up for the beer and food. He glanced at the total while he fishing out his wallet.
"$11.50? Are you serious? What kind of a goddamn scam are you running here?" He looked up from his open billfold and their eyes met. She knew something was bad when the color immediately drained from his face. He stood up straight, grabbed a $20 and told his friend to wait outside for him.
"I...didn't know you got a job here." Hesitation and embarrassment reeked from his voice like the alcohol from his pores.
"Oh, yeah. Just a summertime gig for some extra cash. You know the drill." Dan, her older brother, used to say things were only as awkward as you make them and Sophia was determined to make this as normal as possible. He laughed forcefully and accepted his change from her. She noticed the tan lines where his wedding ring used to sit.
"Yeah, gotta start saving for college." Foregoing the wallet altogether, he shoved the change into his back pocket and gathered up his items. "I would...uh...I would appreciate if you kept this to yourself."
"Sure thing Mr. Wilson." She gave him her biggest most innocent smile.
"Tobias is fine, Sophie." His return smile was contrived as he joined his cohort in the parking lot.
Sophia had always assumed that after college there was a magical moment when a switch flipped and suddenly you were an adult and knew everything. Evidently, this was not the case. She had more planning to do. | Even in the span of her first week, Jessica had begun to notice a pattern. The people that came in to her 7-11 during the overnight shift needed one of two things: beer or cigarettes. More often than not it was both. Their bloodshot eyes sunken beneath heavy bags bore into her soul.
It had begun to take its toll; last night, Jessica drank a tall can before heading home. She had never drank before, but last night has been a particularly hard night for her. When you stare too long into the abyss, the abyss stares into you.
She had just finished mopping the store and had resumed her place behind the register.
'6:37, almost time to leave.' Jessica sighed. The bell rang and she looked up to see a homeless man enter. This man was Carl; he divided up his time at a bunch I different stores, but this was where he went for the morning crowd. He was a nice man, never asked for much. He just sat outside peacefully and waited.
"'Ey Jess," he nodded as he walked by,"awful cold out there. Gonna get some coffee to warm me up."
"If you want to wait in here, you can." It wasn't much but she felt like it was the least she could do.
"Naw that's fine ma'am I'll be fine out there." Carl filled up his cup, smiled, and took his place outside. Jessica stood silently and watched. She felt so bad for him, but what could she do?
An escalade screeched into the parking lot, barely breaking in time to avoid going onto the sidewalk. A young man climbed out of the SUV, obviously drunk, and slammed the door. He seemed very angry, talking under his breath while he stumbled towards the door. Jessica could see as Carl asked the man for change, but he got angry.
"Get a fuckin' job! I work for my money!" He screamed; Jessica could clearly hear it through the glass window. Carl responded with something, and the man exploded. He ran towards him and began swinging at the homeless man. Carl had no time to defend, in seconds he was pinned down. The beating seemed to last forever, Jessica frozen in fear.
When she thought it had to be over, suddenly Carl had gained the upper hand. Now he was on top. In the early morning light she could see his face, battered and swollen, nose broken sideways. He had a rage now, his eyes were burning; Carl had not intention of stopping.
Jessica realized she could see flashing lights in her peripherals. A police officer jumped out of his car and started screaming, brandishing his pistol. Carl heard him and stopped his onslaught. He turned around and stood up, putting up his hands. With the gun trained on Carl, the officer looked down at the drunk man, then up at Carl; back down to the man. Jessica could clearly see him connecting the dots. So did Carl.
He began pleading his case, taking a step forward over the other man, but he tripped. Boom!
Jessica spent the next thirty minutes in shock. She gave her statement to at least 6 different officers. An ambulance came and took away the drunk man, but when Jessica left Carls body was still lying on the ground. She tucked beer down in the floorboard and looked away as she drove off.
| 2014-09-06T00:48:15 | 2014-09-05T23:32:08 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] The world is rapidly changing as the plague of our era is spreading fast. But it doesn't affect humans. It eats plastic. | The strain of bacteria was officially designated 'B-1999' while it was under development, and the name just kind of stuck. "BINS," as it is more popularly known, was introduced to the Pacific Garbage Patch in 2019 with great fanfare. As with all over-hyped marketing campaigns, its creators promised that this one would change the world.
No one knows where "ground zero" is; best guess is Sydney, but Hong Kong and Singapore were hit just as bad. Somewhere in the vast expanse of the ocean, a ship plowed through the garbage patch and got a six pack ring snagged on a propeller or something. That piece of garbage was dragged back into a harbor somewhere, and the bacteria spread. It feasted on fiberglass hulls of the boats before spreading to the linings of car windows and then plastic airplane seat cushions and armrests. By the time anyone started looking at the mysterious epidemic of broken pipes and trash bags, it had gone worldwide.
There was widespread panic. No one really understood just how many things in our lives were made out of plastic until they were gone. Just imagine doing laundry on a normal day. Your plastic hamper has broken down into a twisted web of putty. The gasket on your washing machine has vanished and the door no longer closes properly. BINS has spread to your bottle of washing detergent, leaving only a sticky blue puddle dripping off the side of the shelf. And not to mention that your spendex shorts look more like cobwebs. Now imagine doing *every single other chore* in the same way. It was a nightmare.
Eventually, though, we adapted. As humans always do. We’d had great lives before plastics became the primary component in everything, so we just went back. Plumbers bustled about, replacing PVC with good old fashion metal pipes. Liquids were sold in tin cans or glass bottles. “Paper or plastic?” was no longer a choice. And we went about our lives.
In some ways, it was a good thing. We grew up as a society and became more conscious of our choices. Bottles of water shipped from Fiji became infeasible, so we learned to be satisfied with our local tap water again. Flying fresh peaches from Brazil in the middle of winter wasn't a possibility, so we went back to fresh, locally sourced produce and good old fashioned canned goods. Even as the consumer society we'd built came crumbling down, people somehow became... I don't know. *Happier*, I guess. No longer slaves to our phones and computers (each of which contain plastic parts), and just satisfied to take a walk through the woods together. Removing plastic from our lives provided that final impetus to take a step back as a society and re-evaluate what was really important. And for the most part, we've made the right choice.
The government says it will be over in a few months. BINS will eat itself to death on a non-sustainable food source, and eventually die out. We’ll be able to start producing plastic again, and maybe eventually return to our old lives. But the question now is: do we really want to?
| "Are you sure?" asked the politician, barely masking his skepticism. It was simply too unlikely. Anyone who had the necessary technology to come up with this was among those who stood the worst to lose from it. "I'm positive", replied the young engineer, "it's definitely been designed on purpose. Whoever created this plague, knew what they were doing".
For last nine months they had tried. They tried to stop it, they tried to slow it down, they tried to create immune plastic variations. None of it worked. Slowly but surely the world's plastic was disappearing.
Some places had managed to create safe zones in the form of airtight underground facilities. Slowly the people followed the plastic under the earth. In small batches the population was screened for contamination and moved into the safe zones. What started out as military and high tech enclaves soon became entire cities. Unwilling to give up plastic, mankind was forced to give up everything else instead.
The grey-clad figure who walked into study room didn't display any urgency. He obviously had come to talk, assured in that it had all the time in the world. An unwitting observer might have ascribed the relaxed demeanor to its conversation partner being not terribly swift-footed either: The only other person in the room was sitting in a wheelchair, leafing through a book.
"In spite of all that power, creativity and self-assurance, you never even considered me in this. Why?" The question was directed at the wheelchair-bound reader. Sighing, the reader put the book aside, before answering."This is probably where I should say that I thought of you better than this, that I still had hope. But the truth is, I simply didn't see it coming. It didn't seem to have your handwriting and your personal involvement, Magneto."
| 2016-08-22T13:19:50 | 2016-08-22T12:11:11 | 188 | 40 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly. | Bryce Morrison thought he had it all: a loving wife, a charming son, and a satisfying job. Yet there was something that nagged at him - a constant feeling that he wasn't good enough.
On The Day of the Mugs, his suspicions appeared to be confirmed. "#598,432 Dad." The jarring bold words remained seared in his memory throughout the day, clouding every action and every word.
After work, Bryce returned to an empty house. Marie was out for dinner with friends and Billy had soccer practice. Perhaps a few hours of SportsCenter would help ease his mind. But alas, there came a sudden knock at the door.
"Hey there, bud!"
Bryce opened the door to discover Tom Gilbert, a fellow father from across the street. He clutched a mug in his hand that read "#49,534 Dad."
"I was just wonderin' if you had any interest in a nice homemade hamburger. We've got some leftovers from the cookout."
Bryce narrowed his eyes. "Actually, I was thinking of cooking a bit myself. Mind if I drop by?"
Tom took a sip of his drink and lifted an eyebrow. "Uhhh...sure. By all means."
Bryce ran back to the kitchen and pulled a fresh ground beef patty out of a refrigerator drawer. He bolted across the street, dropped the patty on Tom's grill, and started to cook it. *This'll be the best damn burger ever made,* he thought. *I'll show that smug bastard.*
It was, by all accounts, a pretty damn good burger. Tom took a bite and gave him the thumbs up.
***
The next morning, Bryce's mug read "#432,726."
Not good enough.
Bryce asked to take his vacation early, left a note for the family, and began searching for every potential dad in the county. He went to small businesses, office buildings, parks and parking lots, challenging anyone that would listen. He fixed motors, went fly fishing, played 30 rounds of golf and showed impeccable taste in microbreweries.
As the week progressed, his rank continued to climb. But at a certain point - roughly 200,000 - it plateaued.
For a moment, Bryce was tempted to smash the mug, right then and there. He tried some more Dad Tasks - refurbishing a porch, buying a new polo wardrobe - but nothing worked. The rank plummeted, and soon it was back in the range of 500,000.
Bryce drove home, dejected. He'd been texting Marie throughout the week, but she didn't seem to understand the nature of his quest. Then again, how could she?
His wife and son embraced him the moment he stepped inside.
"Daddy, I missed you!" Billy cried, dropping his Lego truck to the ground. Marie looked understandably irritated but kissed him on the cheek nonetheless.
Bryce sighed. "I just couldn't stand it. I never thought I was a good dad, and that mug proved it."
Marie chuckled and shook her head. "What's a number got to do with anything?"
Billy hugged his father's leg. "I love you no matter what, Daddy!"
Bryce smiled and patted him on the head.
Over the next few days, the rank on the mug slowly began to climb again, but it sat dormant in a kitchen cabinet. Within a week, Bryce forgot it had ever existed.
*I might not be perfect,* he decided. *But I'm good enough.*
***
Thanks for reading! If you'd like to see more of my stories, check out /r/GigaWrites. | "Ya know... i don't know, really... i guess it was just all the pressure was too much for him... i understand it a little now as a parent myself... you just... well you want to do right by your kids, right? But like... you never really know, ya know?"
"Well yeah... the interviews, magazine features... i don't think he ever really felt like he had an adequate answer... i think he felt like a fraud... like he just stumbled upon it and it wasn't something he brought about on his own... i don't know how a person would deal with that"
"Well no... but when people are looking at you... and ultimately they want what you have... like... i don't know... i guess you just feel like you owe it to them to have some kind of... some sort of answer... even if you yourself don't really know"
"Yeah i imagine the hate mail didn't help... people can be... just really unpleasant... thats an understatement i guess... but that just kind of amplified those feelings of fraudulence... he had all this going on in his head and just this... echo chamber of hate mail, just reinforcing it"
"No... yeah its taken me a while to sort of... to sort things through... i mean i was just a kid"
"I can talk about it now, i mean... thats what i'm doing... so... i mean it still bothers me. I'm not gonna act like it doesn't but yeah... i can talk about it"
"Well thats the thing... no note... no anything... i mean my mother was aware of some of the... she was aware that he was stressed out... but thats a part of it... you have to keep up that image, right? For your kids... for anyone who's looking up to you... they expect you to have it all together"
"Yeah thats why it was such a shock to... to everyone... thats the irony of the whole thing... "#1 dad"... thats not what a good father does to his family... to his kids... to his wife... thats just not how it's supposed to work"
"No... just speculation... its funny... well not funny but... you know... he'd pretend like he had all the answers during the interviews... but here, when you need them the most... nothing... no explanation, no nothing... maybe he just got tired of pretending"
"theres no mug for that..."
| 2021-11-17T12:05:14 | 2017-06-11T08:28:06 | 4,068 | 17 |
[WP] You’re cursed with immortality, not because you sold your soul or you’re a sort of immortal creature but because a few thousand years ago, you stepped on the back of Death’s robe and being the petty shit Death is, he hasn’t forgiven you since.
Edit: okay, wow, I definitely did not expect this to get so popular and to the front page. It was just a little random thing! Thank you so much everyone! I love all your entries! | Death is a child.
I'm not talking about how petty Death can be. That's a separate fact that I will explain in just a moment. No, Death is a *literal* child. Most are too fearful or respectful to get close enough to discover that fact. Not me, though. I was foolish enough to lack the fear or respect that would've kept me a scythe-length away.
It happened so long ago, I've forgotten what was supposed to have killed me at the end of my life. Memories are *not* immortal. I tried journaling my memories for the better part of a millennia, but fires, floods, and other disasters thwarted my efforts. I *think* I gave up the practice some time during the fall of the Roman Empire. Since then, I've just tried to live in the moment. I might pick it up again, now that we have cloud services available to back up our data, but I'm *waaay* out of practice.
While I can't remember anything about the circumstances of my death, I can still vividly remember being dead. I think it has something to do with the nature of that universal backstage area between this world and the next. I was following Death to ...well, I don't know exactly where we were going, because we never made it there.
We were in some sort of grand hall. Understand that I mean "grand" as a measure of scale, not as a measure of ostentatious furnishings. The place was *massive,* but it felt like a space of utility. Looking up, I thought I could just make out rafters, or some sort of ceiling in the dim light. Either side was lined by shifting gossamer curtains, upon which the world of the living was projected like so many movies.
A breeze I couldn't feel rustled the curtains, and the images sometimes changed. I saw things that, from my ancient human perspective, seemed entirely impossible. I saw spaceflight while I was back there, and I couldn't even *begin* to wrap my head around those images until some time in the early 1900s. I saw other things back there that I have yet to understand. FYI: I don't think flying cars are *ever* going to happen, and based on what I've seen, it's probably for the best.
As we walked along, people sometimes stumbled into the hall from behind those curtains. Even then, I could tell by their dress that they were from different eras. Some of them came from times before my own, most of them came from times after. The curtains did not seem to care about chronological order. The people from the curtains fell in step with Death and I. We were all headed to the same place, it seemed.
I was so taken with the fantastical images on the curtains that I didn't realize Death had stopped moving. I walked into the reaper, and tripped, grabbing the iconic robe on my way down. The crowd of somber individuals that had been gathering from behind the curtains hadn't been talking, but now their sudden Silence had a capital S. A moment later that Silence broke into uproarious laughter as everyone processed what they saw.
The skeleton of a very young child floated in mid-air. The long cowled robe would've draped over the short body, giving the illusion of an improbably tall human. Naked, we could all see that Death still wore a diaper. Death crossed their arms and scowled at me. The laughter quickly died down.
*'You stay right there.'* I was pinned down by the icy stare. I couldn't hear Death, but the words were very clear in my mind. *'The rest of you may pass beyond.'* And we were suddenly alone.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!" I held up the robe apologetically. It was torn.
*'Save it.'* Death spun the scythe around and used the non-bladed end to strike me in the chest like one might strike a billiard ball with a pool cue. Still clutching the robe, I went flying backwards. Gossamer curtains closed around me, and I woke up alive and well with my ...I think it was a tribe? I'm not really sure, because anything on this side of the curtain is subject to being worn down by the weathering of time. | *Received 11:34*
>Hey Andy
*Received 11:36*
>Andy! I know you're dying to talk to me! LOL!
"Hey, Great Great Grandpa Andy"
"What is it Little Johnny"
"This Death guy is sending you messages on Twitter"
"Oh what does he want this time?"
*Received 11:37*
>Common Andy, I'll let you die already!
"He's talking about letting you die? I'm confused Great Great Grandpa Andy. Is that why you are so old?"
"No. I'm Just healthy. Tell him to leave you alone, and your grandfather is not here"
*Sent 11:38*
>Grandpa sad he not heer.
*Received* 11:39
>Tell Andy I am serious, I'll be there to visit him in 20.
"He said he's coming over in 20. Can I meet your friend?"
"Sorry Johnny, he's a grown up friend, and a stranger to you"
*Received 11:42*
>You can come too, Johnny.
"Grandpa, he knows my name, and said I can come!"
"No Johnny"
*Received 11:43*
>Yes you can Johnny!
"Grandpa he said I could again"
"Dammit Johnny, give me my tablet, you're not playing games."
*Received 11:44*
>And bring me money my dry cleaning fee.
"And he also said to bring money for dry cleaning"
**Johnny walked over and gave his grandfather the tablet, and frowned.**
"So why can't I meet him, he sounds like a nice pe-"
"Because I said so"
"Aww"
"Go To your Room"
**Johnny left the room and went to his room.**
*Received 11:52*
>Are you paying attention still?
*Sent 11:54*
>No, leave me alone.
**Andy waited passed out with the tablet in his lap, till there was a knock at the door, and the grandfather clock dinged. Andy got out of the chair and opened the door to see death there in his robes and scythe**.
"Hi Andy, how was your 267th birthday this year on earth?"
"Cut to the chase death, you just want your damn money"
"Yep, and let me guess, you still won't pay it."
"Nope"
"Someday once I get rights, I'm going to take you to court for it."
"The same day you decide to do your job."
"Hey it's not my fault, you decided to have muddy boots and not watch where you were walking when I was taking your wife to heaven."
"And its not my fault you wear all black, maybe you should of worn a green robe."
"Hmph."
"See you again next year, Deathy-darling!"
**Andy shut the door on death, and death yells from the outside.**
"Oh Come-on Andy, you only owe me about Tree-Fiddy!"
​
​
​ | 2018-10-12T10:10:07 | 2018-10-12T09:13:58 | 260 | 96 |
[WP] Suddenly the whole world hears a voice from the sky: Hi guys, God here. I'm being promoted to the Andromeda galaxy and I'm here to introduce my replacement, Bob this is earth, earth this is Bob. Have fun, pleasure to meet you all!! | I can remember the first time I heard Bob's voice. I watched on TV as he gave his speech from Geneva. He didn't sound like a Bob; his voice was confident but youthful. It was more like the voice of a Chad or a Zeke. Nobody knew what to expect when they first saw Bob. The last guy to do his job never bothered to show his face, but Bob was trying to be different. He wanted to paint himself as some kind of progressive.
I watched intently as he stepped onto the centre podium, surrounded by snobbish looking representatives from all over the world. To all of our suprise, Bob's figure was a dark black. It was a kind of indescribable blackness. So dark that he almost seemed to fade against the backdrop. Nobody could quite tell where his body ended. He was relatively humanoid, although he was abnormally well built, and his hands were twice the size of a regular man's hand. Other than his limbs, he had few distinct bodily features. That is, of course, with the exception of his yellow, piercing eyes. They seemed to not be attached to his body but instead be hovering slightly in front of it.
"I am Bob," he started, "and I have to level with you people".
He was silent for a moment. His body seemed to expand, as if to give a sigh. Everyone on Earth was silent at that moment.
"I'm a little under qualified for this. My last universe was small, and pretty manageable. God had this gig for the last few billion years. He took a vacation during the age of enlightenment, but otherwise he's been working pretty hard down here." Said Bob, followed by another pause.
"What you need to know is that, um, God kept this place running so well because of all his powers. I, uh, I don't have the same abilities as him, and that's gonna have a pretty big affect on all of your lives..."
There was a final short silence and then a wave of murmuring among the representatives around Bob.
"Well, what can you do for us, Mister Bob?!" Asked the Danish rep. Bob looked at him with his wide eyes. They seemed to double in size as he looked down from the podium.
"I'm very strong, and I could probably help out with some kind of labor work." Bob replied.
"Maybe something in landscaping or construction..."
| "Well... fuck." said the Atheists of the world
"I thought his name was Yahweh.." said others
Yet more would come to fear the days of Bob's 'tweaks'. "Nothing too huge, just want to get my own chapter in that neat book of yours!"
Armageddon might be a little harsh to wish for, but it certainly changed the religious sects of the world.
For one, God was talking to us. Or.. bob. He spilled the beans that were weren't really that special and that God DIDN'T make us, he just took the credit for it. Also that apparently God did a shit job watching the kids.
On the downside, he turned the sky purple. PURPLE. Why was that even on his list too DO. He once made it rain cats and dogs because he misinterpreted a turn of phrase. The religious nuts are even uneasy when they realize that having a new god/manager means that everything, every single thing they've prayed for, killed for and lied about amount to squat.
Because the prayers don't go to god. They go to Bob now. | 2018-03-12T16:39:22 | 2018-03-12T15:59:20 | 86 | 57 |
[WP] Never, in 10 millennia, has someone successfully broken out of the Gates of Hell or into the Gates of Heaven. Of course, the Lockpicking Lawyer just died and he's up for a challenge.
Inspired by the [comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpghorrorstories/comments/m6smji/does_this_count_dm_is_proposing_35_ranks_of/gr85q13?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3) u/geckoobac made on r/rpghorrorstories | This is lock picking lawyer and what I have for you today is a very special lock indeed. Yes, this is the lock to the gates of Heaven, and it was temporarily entrusted to me by Peter from Circle 3.
As you can see it is a very fine example of a circular padlock made not too dissimilarly from units made by Master. It has been ornately carved with intricate designs and I'm told this embossing on the shackle is the date the lock was made, but the language isn't decipherable from any known language.
The core on this appears to be a very good representation of a standard disc detainer core made by Kryptonite, so it should be a bit harder to pick than some of the other locks like it. It should only have 8 discs. But enough talk. Let's get this open.
I'm going to do my best to tension this using a wiper insert, and I'm going to use the tool Bosnian Bill and I made to make this a little easier. I'm going to rotate the discs as far as they will go clockwise... There we go. Click out of 8, 7 is binding, nothing out of 6, 5 feels set- nope nice click out 5, 4, 3, nothing on 2, nice click out of 1, nice click out of 7, and we got this open.
Okay, folks, this may have seemed easy to pick, and while it was, it should be noted that if a thief even reaches the gate this is normally on, they'd be met with twelve of them per gate if the archangels don't get to them first. In any case, that's all I have for you today, if you do have any questions or comments about this, please put them below, if you liked this video and would like to see more like it, please subscribe, and as always, have a nice day. Thank you. | The Gates of Hell.
Ive only been here for a day, but apparently the devil himself is a fan of my youtube videos.
"Break out within a week and I'll let your soul go to its rightful place in Heaven" I mean this sounded simple enough. Then I got to the gates.
No keyhole or combination mechanism. No visible weakpoints...
I stride left and right covering the two large solid rock doors. The texture is amazing. Rocky yet oddly... fleshy.
Pushing on the door the door does not budge at all. Not even a fraction. The devil gazes at me playfully. Entertained by his latest toy.
I find my grip and shake the solid door. To my surprise it opens easily.
"I never said it was locked. Its just a pull door." | 2021-03-17T11:40:07 | 2021-03-17T11:08:46 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Instead of an angel and a demon sitting on your shoulders, one side sits a brash New Yorker and the other a posh British gentleman. Neither are necessarily good or evil, they just make passing comments on your day to day activities. | "Jolly good show, my good man," he said, sitting on the right of my shoulder and inhaling deeply from his pipe. "Positively smashing."
I'd been watching Stranger Things for the last couple hours, trying to block them out.
"What kinda trash is this?" the man on the left of my shoulder chimed, pacing up and down the length of it. "This is just garbage, garbage I tells ya. Barb don't deserve to go like that."
I sighed. I had not been succeeding.
********
The bank teller peered quizzically at my shoulders, and I tried to smile. "Please, it's best to just try and ignore them," I told her, glancing down briefly and praying that Mike would be able to keep it together. "It's an, errr, *condition*."
"Nice rack on this bird, yaknowwhatI'mtalkin'about?" he said, staring directly at her chest. Charles leaned over to chastise him.
"Now now Mike, what have we told you about manners? Although I dare say, that is certainly a bountiful bosom."
I apologized profusely before security could escort me out.
****
After much deliberation, the two of them convinced me to go out to the library. This was always a challenging affair, as libraries were made for silence, and regardless, the three of us would need to pick a book that all of us liked to read. No such book existed.
I - or we - were browsing the aisle, Charles trying to direct me to eighteenth century geopolitics, Mike complaining that there were no porn mags. I whispered for them to be quiet, and in the ensuing silence I heard three women speaking in increasing volume to my right.
The librarian shushed the women, and I heard one of them apologize, then the three continued in hushed voices. Again the librarian told them to be quiet.
I rounded the corner, engrossed in my quest for fiction, and accidentally bumped into one of them.
Well, *all* of them.
"Watch where you're goin', ya fuckhead!" a tiny voice said while I attempted to pick up the fallen books.
"Fran, please watch your language, as I think you'll find we are in the company of gentlemen," another tiny voice said, as I - or we - slowly looked up.
A beautiful woman stood before us. Furthermore, two more women stood on *her*.
"By Gods," Charles said, dropping his pipe.
"Fuck me," Mike replied.
"I... I..." I stammered.
"Please, don't mind them," the woman said with a nervous smile.
I nodded, still speechless. I'd never been able to talk to girls, not with these two on my shoulders. But this...
This could work.
"Take this guy to pound town before I do it myself," the tiny, brash woman on her left chimed.
"Or perhaps a delicatessen first?" the tiny, posh woman on her right replied.
The librarian shushed us on our way out.
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | Sleeping Beauty. What a gig. Honestly, you think a pinprick on a finger and a nice long nap before the person of your dreams comes and makes out with you would be a welcome blessing, but of course Aurora was always a prima-donna about these things right? She didn't have a damn curse, you wanna talk curses? Let me walk you through what used to be an average day in my life.
"Time for breakfast, M"
"Seriously man, it's Mitchell, or Mitch, please stop calling me M"
I wish I could tell you that was me talking to a brother or a friend. No, that was the English gentlemen sitting upon my right shoulder. I wish that was the worst part.
"Why don't you wake the fuck up already guy, you're going to miss the bus, believe me."
Yup. There were two of them. Aurora got to hibernate, I got stuck with literal personified consciouses. What a life.
"Mitchell, seriously, finish with your breakfast, and turn off the television, that's all garbage."
Every time I watched the news that New York big mover big shaker voice came bitching down at me from atop my left shoulder.
"Lighten up, Donnie, far too early for complaining when there's danger afoot, and close."
Great, now James was hitting his stride, and I had just poured my cereal...
"Danger? Please. Maybe over there on your side of the Mitch, but believe me, there's no danger, absolutely no danger whatsoever over here....
But seriously what do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. You've been actively working with the KGB to infiltrate those Lucky Charms, removing all marshmallows and leaving Mitchell with nothing but grains. I've verified this with Interpol as well as my connection in the CIA, Felix Leitter. You're nothing more than a KGB puppet!"
Great. The P word. Now it was about to get real. Donnie bounded across my neck, tackling James, pinning him to the ground.
"Get the hell off me, Yank! Do you expect me to apologize?"
"Wrong.
I expect you to die."
| 2022-04-29T19:22:54 | 2018-07-02T16:49:07 | 4,745 | 21 |
[WP] The Sol system was an experiment by aliens to determine if life would evolve under hyper hostile physics. Unfortunately, it was forgotten about. Years later, humans are leaving the solar system, only to discover that upon passing an invisible barrier, they essentially gain superpowers. | Natalia was reviewing orbital charts when Reo slammed into her door. It damn near scared her out of her chair.
"You'll break something important doing that! Not just your face!" She flew out of her chair to help him up, pieces of a lecture forming in her mind before he waved her off and jumped up with the largest grin she'd ever seen.
"Centauri made planetfall!"
Any other plans were thrown out the window as she dashed after him towards the command center, giggling like schoolchildren. She felt no embarrassment, all throughout their base others were doing the same. They had been waiting for this for far longer than the actual mission. Longer than she'd been part of the International Interstellar Mission (Inter-Stellar as it was immediately dubbed).
They'd been waiting for this since boots first touched down on Pluto.
"Wilkins is coming down the ladder now. We have set foot on Proxima Centauri b," Director Akintola announced to the applause of all present. They joined the cheer as they piled through the door, staring at the text scroll someone had helpfully put up on the far wall. Camera readouts of gray rock and a sky just slightly unfamiliar. Two suns hovering in the void.
And three figures in blue space-suits shuffling carefully down from the lander onto a planet beyond the pull of Sol.
All only moments ago. QE-comms were beautiful things.
"I can't believe they didn't get us for the descent," Reo was saying, leaning on a railing far in the back. The only spaces they could find amid the press of people wanting to see what Niraya, one of the two short-straws sitting in the orbiter high above, would type next. More latecomers were arriving.
"They needed the place calm. Everyone's still days out of cryo over there." She chewed her lip as she watched what would soon become the most famous people on the planet walk like frightened toddlers. Someone else would come up with suitable language, she just wished she was /there/.
The room fell to a sudden silence as more text began appearing, everyone hanging on the director's words.
"Wilkins just jumped into low orbit, please advise."
The silence slowly changed. The elation shifting to confusion, then shock as the video caught up. Wilkins, caught up in the moment, dashing forward and suddenly flying out of frame.
The director spoke for all of them in that moment.
"What."
---
Mathues had been prepared for anything.
Not literally, of course. Everything Inter-Stellar could think of. The dangers of space, of cryosickness, of the thousands of invisible deaths that wandered through the void regularly. Mechanical failures, human failures, poor luck. They'd crammed as much preparation as was feasible into their training. And still they stressed the thousands of ways their predictions could fail them. He thought he had a grasp of things. That he could handle the unknown.
Then one of his two companions was fired out of an invisible catapult.
"Leonard's flying," he said, dimly aware of his own words as he looked at Saanvi. He could not see her face behind the face plate, but he knew her jaw was agape. Her eyes bugged. His were and he refused to think he was handling this better than him.
"Yes," she said. Slow and drawing the s outward, head tilting to follow Leonard's path. "We should do something."
It took another moment before he figured out what that might entail. Then he took off in a run.
Or tried to. He barely made two steps before everything turned into a spin. It was so sudden he forgot how he did it, but something had him skipping across the ground like a stone over water. Briefly, he worried about his suit breaking, but the part of him detached from it all remembered how the funding for their trip had briefly turned into a measuring contest between Earth and Mars. Things were designed like tanks. Leonard's would probably survive the fall, even if the impact might still kill him.
The rest of his mind was screaming.
Something large and solid stopped his skid and sent a ringing in his helmet. The faceplate was intact, the internals were not screaming at him about breaches. It was angry that he'd crashed it into a large boulder (so much as a simple HUD could feel rage), but he was otherwise fine.
"Mat!" shouted Saanvi. He looked over his shoulder, amazingly not dislocated, to see her stepping towards him like she was on ice. Arms straight out like a child unsure if she would fall. "I think something's wrong!"
"Yes. I think so too." He pushed off the rock to stand. Screamed when the rock gave in before he did.
When he'd been a child, there had been a bolder behind his parents house. Good for climbing, sitting on, drawing. A godsend for the children, but hell for his parents. Three strong men together couldn't do much more than make it rock in its place. And few wanted to help with such a thankless task. They'd resorted to breaking it down with pickaxes and carrying off the chunks rather than paying an 'extravagant' price for professionals. It may have just been the bias of memory, but this stone looked about the same size.
And there it went. Rolling across the flat plains of Centauri b. After a light shove.
Matheus stared down at his hands, very aware Saanvi was doing the same.
"This planet...it was smaller than Earth, right?" he asked. Saanvi shook her head.
"No. A bit bigger actually."
Leonard's screams over their comms, a constant since his...departure, abruptly turned into a curse. Then a rattle as a light plume of dust appeared on the horizon.
There was a long moment of quiet.
"I think I'm going to go tell Niraya to call Aquarius and tell them there's a problem," Saanvi said.
"Yeah," he swallowed, suddenly finding his throat dry. "I think we'd better."
----
https://www.reddit.com/r/FiresofFordregha/ | Lushaika woke up to the scent of a pheromone package pumped in through the ships air vents, one spiced with uncertainty and concern. Unwinding her eight segmented body from her sleep perch she blearily groomed her antenna with one of her four three fingered grasping limbs and rotated her mandibles before slowly trudging out of the sleeping quarters. As the doors slid open the slightest hiss of the hydraulics woke 1 of 6720 and 500 of 588 who glanced up from their own sleeping perches.
*Mate?* They scent sang hopefully, their juvenile blue chitin that still didn’t quite sit right on their bodies rattling as the struggled to unwind without their many limbs entangling. It was probably a good thing, Lushaika mused, that the razor-sharp fighting limbs that rested under their grasping limbs were still juvenile soft, otherwise they’d have cut themselves to pieces already.
*No*. Lushaika sang back firmly, *No mate. Sleep until called.*
Mandibles clacking in disappointment the two juveniles rewound themselves around their perches. Lushaika hissed as she watched them with frustration and scuttled out of the sleep chamber. She understood the logic of sending juveniles out on expedition like this, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Unlike other races the *Kalis* were not inherently sentient, that capability only developed when environmental pressures required great unity and intelligence within the hive. Given that like most space faring species the *Kalis* had conquered their environment centuries before new kinds of pressure had been need. A two yearlong expedition to a First Spawned relic site was, in the eyes of Council of Uplifting, an excellent chance to expose a group of promising juveniles to some good developmental pressures. Especially if Lushaika could somehow work some extra stress into the trip
*An excellent idea, unless you count the fact except* *all the pressure seems to be on me.* Lushaika sang to herself in disgust. The Council of Uplifting was infamously incompetent, but this scheme of theirs was a new low. How they expected Lushaika to ‘add’ stress to a trip that was already boarding on nightmarish was beyond her. Taking care of four juveniles was a challenge to begin with, four juveniles on a ship with one adult while trying to study a notoriously dangerous First Spawned site felt more akin to a suicide attempt. And as for the juveniles themselves, well frankly Lushaika wasn’t sure what exactly made them look so promising in the council’s eyes.
1 and 500 were distinctly disappointing. Good for menial labour, mating, and not much else. The other two juveniles, 2 of 6, the only surviving member of a disastrous clutch, and 85 of 400 had at least a bit of promise. But not to the extent that Lushaika would be presenting them at a naming ceremony anytime soon. The only adult on the ship, Lushaika felt more like a clutch keeper tending to the stupidest brood in the hive then an archeologist. It didn’t help she was getting close to molting. At eight segments long Lushaika was already large for her race, but she could feel the uncomfortable pressure under her chitin that warned her that soon she’d have to shed to make way for a ninth.
*And that will be so very fun*, she sang, her scent bitter and sharp, *A full cycle without supervision, they’ll have reduced the ship to scrap metal by the time I’m done molting.*
With a deep hum of disgust Lushaika sprayed the air with a cleansing scent to hide her rant and stepped onto the bridge. 2 and 85 were waiting for her, all three of their segments low to the ground with their limbs splayed out in a sign of submission and fear.
A chorus of scent songs filled the air with apologies until Lushaika was forced to spray cleanser just to make herself heard, *Quiet, no scent! Show me problem.*
The two juveniles scuttled over to a console, still so low to the ground that they were using their grasping limbs like climbing limbs as they ran. Lushaika followed trying to hold back her scent of annoyance. 2 pointed at a reading on the console, *No scent song relic sang. Electric thought offers no scent of reason.*
Lushaika blinked, six eyes moving in unison, and peered down to confirm the juvenile’s garbled report. It was something of an artform understanding a developing juvenile. Grammar was something of a mystery to them and they tended to forget the proper terms for things. But if 2 was right something interesting had just happened.
Very interesting. | 2022-11-13T14:49:17 | 2018-11-12T22:43:34 | 246 | 34 |
[WP] According to US Navy tradition, submarines that have not been confirmed to be destroyed, are still on patrol. Since WWII, there have been 52 submarines that haven’t yet returned to port, yet to report in, nor have been confirmed to be destroyed. You are one of those, on the eternal patrol. | **October 3rd, 1983,**
**14,757th day on patrol,**
**700 miles east of Bermuda**
---
"Two contacts, sir. About two miles off our starboard bow. Type: unkown, but at least one of them is definitely not ours." Johansen reported from behind the sonar.
I nodded. The enemy had deployed a slew of new submarines over the years, this was a big one. The other one might have been ours, or possibly British. Definitely not German.
"All ahead full, intercept course!" I barked the command, which brought the crew to frantic action. There was no trepidation, only weariness and grim determination. We had all been at sea for way too long and were itching for a fight. Can you blame us?
"Clarke, prepare tube one for launch!" I shouted into the horn. An enthusiastic "Aye aye!" came in reply from the torpedo bay. Clarke and his boys had been waiting for this for some time.
According to Johansen, the vessel we assumed friendly seemed to be in hiding, while the big bogey was preparing to fire. The periscope was useless, the waters were pitch black in the night and would have beem murky at this depth even in full daylight. There was no time to spare, and I ordered tube 1 fired as soon as we had a tentative firing solution based on sonar alone.
"Tube one, failed to launch Sir!" Clarke's frantic voice issued from the horn. "It won't open!"
Cold sweat began to run on my forehead. "Prepare tubes two through six for launch! Fire when ready! Lloyd, keep her steady!" My voice was steady, but the worried glances of the bridge crew betrayed my shocked countenance.
"Two thousand feet. Bogey has opened her tubes. No reaction to our sonar pings."
This was out of the ordinary.
"Tube two failed to launch, tube three failed to launch! Could not load tube four... the hatch has rusted shut. We are working on the last two, but it doesn't look good, Sir!"
"A thousand feet!"
My face darkened. There was no use in preparing the aft torpedos, but as far as I could tell, we were still invisible to the enemy.
"Five hundred feet and closing!"
"It has been a privilege to serve with you all these years." My voice was hoarse and quiet, but everyone aboard could have heard a pin drop. I raised my tone in command one last time.
"All ahead flank! Ramming speed!"
---
Had the men aboard *USS Augusta* been provided that day with a viewing port and a sufficiently strong searchlight, they would have borne witness to a highly unusual sight. At 2238 hours, the silent, barnacle encrusted form of an aged submarine glid noiselessly from the darkness before them and violently struck the side of *K-219,* a Soviet Nuclear Submarine that the *Augusta* had been covertly observing. They did hear the explosion that followed. An official explanation given later was that an explosion had occurred in one of the *K-219's* missile tubes, caused by a saltwater leak. The crew was unable to contain the subsequent leaks and the submarine sank soon thereafter.
Years later, some of the crew of the *Augusta* would admit to a curious story. They could have sworn that mere minutes before the explosion, a distant, resounding shout was heard *from outside the ship,* as if dozens of men cried out in unison.
*"Aye aye Sir!"*
---
**The incident of K-219 truly occurred on October 3rd, 1983. Six Soviet submariners perished and the vessel itself was eventually lost as a direct result. This retelling is a fictionalized account.**
| The maelstrom yanked our submarine far deeper than it was ever supposed to go, but didn’t destroy it. Looking back, I wish it had. Living a long life’s terrible when you’re nothing more than food.
I sit in my quarters, looking at pictures of my crew. Back then, before this happened, we were just boys who thought they were men. All these pictures have red Xs through them except mine and Mikey’s because they're all dead. She…she’s taken them all.
Know what I miss most? Scotch. It burns your throat, but in a good way. They said back then, I had a drinking problem. I never noticed. Apparently many members of my crew blamed me for this, assumed I was drunk and wrongly navigated us. But the whirpool…it just appeared, and by the time I’d noticed, there was nothing we could do.
We’re stuck between two rocks, unable to move. It only took her two days to slide her greasy fingers through the entrance and pluck one of us free. We barely know what she looks like, with some members *maybe* catching a glimpse of her face, claiming its fairly feminine. I've only seen her arm reach out of the darkness and that was more than enough. Every year she takes one of us. We’re nothing more than her food, and while we haven’t eaten in decades, we’re still alive. I don’t know how, but I suspect it’s her doing.
The clock strikes twelve. It’s New Years, and all across the world people are jumping up and down, cheering their hearts out and making vows to better themselves. Meanwhile I’m sitting here, holding my breath, hoping I don’t hear Mikey’s screams.
When I do, I sigh.
She took him.
I’m officially the last one left.
Deep breaths. Deep breaths. My heart’s trying to break out my chest. Part of me wants to just open the hatch and swim until I pass out but others have attempted that, and she just put them back here. I’ve tried getting the sub to move, tried sending out signals—but she’s kept us firmly held down, and at this point, I’m convinced there’s only one escape.
Reaching into my desk, I pull out my pistol.
It’s either this or being devoured alive.
I’m sorry my crew. I have failed you.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-10-17T09:46:07 | 2018-10-17T07:08:04 | 90 | 52 |
[wp] When someone dies, they go to a platform where you can choose to move in to the afterlife, not knowing whether you will go to heaven or hell. You meet someone who has stood there for millenia, trying to decide if they should go. | "We've built cities here," he says, cross-legged, and I nod along in amazement. Human ingenuity. Generations before me have torn up the planks, repurposed the nails, erected buildings perched precariously on this single platform, extending upwards and outwards to circumscribe the sky. It is an elaborate birdhouse, a child's plaything, an architectural impossibility. The city bears the marks of a hundred different cultures, runes carved into the wood, memories of a world we've long since left behind. All this, from a single place to stand.
"Have you ever considered," he says, "the point of these multiple planes of existence? If heaven and hell exist, then what was the point of earth? A moment. A blink. An imperfection. A transitory process." He stands and walks to the edge of a balcony that nearly touches the swirling mists. "We live, and then we die, and then we stand on the edge of another transition. Who's to say heaven or hell have any more finality?"
"Then why don't you step forward and find out?" I ask him.
"We are beyond need here," he says. "Beyond mere physical deprivation. We've recreated food as a fancy, a culinary art. You'd be amazed at what we've learned to do with human flesh. We understand mutilation as an artform, we've aestheticized the sensations of mere physical pain." He holds out his arms to me, perfect and whole. "We regrow our flesh the next day. We have no poverty, no sickness, no natural calamity. The only beauty and cruelty we can find is through each other. I have loved and despised millions. I have watched the rise and collapse of societies. I have been a slave, I have been a king. I have walked into madness and returned, blessed.
"So many people," he says, "think of this as cowardice. An unwillingness to face fate. I consider them cowards. They want to be judged, they want a finality, an end to their existence." He steps back from the edge, slowly runs a pointed stick cruciform through his arms, reshaping himself. "I say that this is heaven. That this is hell." The intricate wooden mechanisms of the room respond to his touch, raising him higher, his blood forming patterns on the floor. I cannot tear my eyes from him. He is beautiful, and unborn. His voice rises strained from the cavity in his chest. "And that it is up to us to discover them both." | *Darlin' you got to let me know*
"Apt" I scoffed to myself, sipping my drink whilst I weaved my way to the empty seat at the end of the bar, the noise of the next train rolling off overtaking the next line.
"So friend, how long's it been?"
*If you say that you are mine*
He turns, hurriedly, as if he recognizes my voice, sizes me up and gives me a smirk that seems oddly familiar. He nods to the barman, and leaves.
*I'll be here 'til the end of time*
"That's the first time he's moved, kid" The barman slides me another drink, this one with a note attached.
*So you got to let me know*
"Whats the matter? We all move on eventually" I ask him, looking suspiciously at the note and accompanying drink that I didn't order.
*Should I stay or should I go?*
"Not him. Open it, maybe it'll make sense to you" I shake my head, and focus on the note, the folds in the page attempt to hide three little words written in the daintiest handwriting I'd ever seen. It simply reads "Until next time."
*Should I stay or should I go*
I exhale, look to the barman. "I'm gonna need another drink, and a menu."
| 2016-08-14T06:14:38 | 2016-08-14T06:02:00 | 104 | 59 |
[WP] Pandora's Box has been locked and hidden away for centuries, becoming the stuff of myth and legend. Archaeologists have recently found a box that matches its description from ancient texts. They open it and what comes out is not what anybody expected. | Humanities darkness will have only one rival.
A goddess who dwells in shadows alone.
Sealed in a box is the key to their survival.
But chaos will reign first if she is unknown.
***
It took exactly 24 hours from the archaeologist team opening the box for the darkness to start pouring out. There was infinite speculation as to what the box would unleash. Chaos could mean so many things.
Would it bring death?
Would it bring plague?
Would it bring anger and war?
Would it be the end of the rise of humans?
When they finally pried it open, they sighed in both disappointment and relief. They set in aside in a special room with a camera dedicated and trained on it- Just in case. And it sat in its dormant and uninteresting state. For 24 hours.
As the clock rolled over, down to the minute, black smoke poured out of the box. It came directly for the camera, cutting off vision before escaping underneath the door. It swept across the building, then the city. It left everything it touched coated in the sunless shade. It let some people blind and left others seeing the world in shadows. Yet others seem mostly unaffected- wondering only where the day had gone. The box had announced its activation, and no one knew what was coming next.
Another 24 hours went by, and everyone was doing their best to stay calm while spreading fear among their peers. Theories spread like wildfire, but there was no way to test any of them. When the clock struck again, she appeared. She came to the one who had been last to touch the box, the one who had opened it inside that special room. She would not move where any leftover light touched, which was good for her. There wasn’t that much left save flashlights and cell phones.
Her voice was booming and filled the room with the sound. It was sweet and sultry but did not give anything off that would let one take her lightly.
“I am Pandora, and you have opened my box. Fulfill my requests, and all will be forgiven. All will be set right, and your wishes will be granted in return.”
The young archaeologist looked on in fear, but something struck the back of her mind.
“Wishes?” Lorelei asked.
“Wishes,” Pandora replied, her voice echoing off the walls. It had one volume, and no need to be calmer or quieter. “If my requests are fulfilled.”
“I am no ambassador for the Earth or even anyone but myself,” Lorelai said. She surprised even herself with the level of calm she had obtained. Her voice was level, despite the nightmare that was happening before her. An immortal goddess stood in front of her, ready to make demands of the human race. Lorelai had helped to release a thing locked away for untold centuries. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “But I am willing to hear you, and do what I can,” She finished as she opened her eyes.
“That will do,” Pandora said, a smile crossing her face. The child looked at Lorelei and held up a finger, ready to begin.
***
/r/beezus_writes | Standing in front of the box, I take a deep breath. My men are huddled behind me, eager to know what’s inside—but they’re giving me space because they know this is *my* moment. I’ve dedicated twenty-five years to unearthing this mystery, and now, I’m almost done. I’m so close to the truth.
Reaching out, I grab the lock, examining it. For as old as it is, this thing’s incredibly intricate, and took our locksmith and entire day to crack. With how bad the owners wanted to protect whatever's inside, I almost feel bad opening it—but I must! What if it's something magical, something forgotten, something secret?
“Okay, men,” I mumble, looking back. “Are we ready?”
They all nod, eagerly clutching their notepads.
With a deep breath, I grab the top of the box, lifting it up. No golden light washes over me, no dramatic music plays—but that doesn’t mean the moment isn’t epic. People across the world will remember this day, the day where a myth became *real.*
Heart-racing, head-pounding, I peer into the box.
All that’s inside is a piece of paper which I quickly snatching up. While I expect it to be a map, or a spell, or a never-before-known-but-important-tale, it’s nothing more than a recipe written in an archaic language with pictures for each ingredient.
A recipe for tacos.
There’s even a dancing taco drawn at the bottom.
Part of me wants to cry, another part of me wants to laugh. This isn’t what I was expecting, but I guess, in a way, I was right—the box *did* contain magic.
***
If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-11-18T05:55:31 | 2018-11-18T05:18:59 | 30 | 13 |
[WP] Humans are endurance hunters. Which is not a trait anyone would expect to come into play in an interplanetary war. | They will not stop.
I know not what units of time they use, but the alien creatures have chased us for what has begun to feel like an eternity. We jump from system to system, maximum warp, but we know that they will follow. They always follow.
In our first encounter with the aliens, we demonstrated our superiority. We had to, of course. Their colony encroached on our territory and held resources we wanted. Their technology is a hundred generations behind ours. It is the laws of nature that give us the right.
Our wing of 6 ships destroyed what we found and took what was now ours. We took neither prisoners nor casualties. An easy victory, demonstrating our superiority and domination of this region. We marked the system with our probes broadcasting our message: this is ours. Any sane people would read this message and turn the other way.
How I wish now we had saved more weapons. Our ammunition bays lay near empty, nearly entirely spent in our joyous first encounter. We never expected a second.
Less than two sleep cycles after the encounter, the first alien ship arrived, following our path from their system. We think now that they are able to read the space after we warp and determine our destination. Like animals sniffing the ground.
We were incredulous. What fool sees that level of destruction and thinks "best follow whatever did that"? This one did. What's more, it immediately broadcast messages. It sent inquiries: what happened in that system? Why did you do this? As if our marking probes hadn't made that clear enough already.
We began to fire weapons at this lunatic ship, but it warped away quickly, back to where it came.
That should have been the end of this.
It was 3 cycles later, as we recharged near the red giant star at the center of the system, that the trouble truly began. 264 of the alien ships arrived. Some small, some large, but every one of them armed. Rudimentary arms, to be sure, but when you're outnumbered more than 40 to 1, it's hard to criticize the weapons your enemy brings.
We ran.
I leave the physics and engineering of warp drives to the operations division of the ship. I am Admiral of the wing, and such details are beneath me. But I do know the limits that are placed on us. A jump's cost scales poorly- twice as far for 6 times the cost, 4 times for 36 times the cost, and so on. And we can only jump towards a gravity well, like another star. This gives us limited options when running for our lives and need to save energy. Short jumps, towards any star we can.
We made it far enough from the red giant to safely jump, with little time to spare before the alien armada arrived. We entered warp and breathed a long sigh of relief. It was only as we traveled that we realized the implications of our situation.
If the aliens had tracked us to the red giant, then they would track us to this next system, and perhaps even the one after that. Based on the delays in their arrival, we felt certain our warp drives were at least 50% quicker. We would need to move fast, get far enough ahead that they would lose interest.
That was 143 systems ago. They have not lost interest.
We get entire cycles of reprieve sometimes, enough to partially recharge our energy stores. Based on the aliens endurance, they either have more energy storage than any sane spacefaring race has ever considered, or can warp more efficiently than us. Likely both. They just can't warp as fast as us.
All of this would be fine if we were heading towards home. In our haste, we ran in the wrong direction entirely. To be fair, had we not we would never have left the red giant at all. We've tried to sneak back around the way we need to go, but each time some part of their fleet is already waiting for us, herding us back in the wrong direction.
It begins to feel like we're being lead somewhere specific.
Let this message be my last record. I've enclosed it in a probe the engineers have devised. It should stealthily and quietly sneak it's way back to the homeworld. I emplore you with one simple warning:
Do not anger these aliens. They have infinite patience. They have infinite stamina. They have infinite need for vengeance.
The humans will not stop. | K'lithiq doctrine declares that attack is the only way. To defend is to be at the mercy of an enemy who will attack when you are weakest, when you are tired and resting. To defend is to function with only a sixth of your force at the ready, with the remainder in varying degrees of exhaustion. Even more critically you must train 6 generals, causing division in the ranks over who to obey, who to look to in a crisis. So every K'lithiq campaign has been decided by a series of brutal raids and ambushes, using our scouts to determine when the enemy was resting and annihilate them.
This war was meant to be no different, save for perhaps necessity - the humans rivaled us in size, and so we must attack and destroy them before they destroy us. We had determined they had gathered nearly 10% of their forces in one of the outer systems of their empire for a training exercise while another 40% was split between their homeworld and breadbasket systems. We split our fleet evenly, hoping to slaughter half their forces, disorganize them and starve them, all at the same time.
Instead it was a disaster.
The battle started well enough, with their carriers and ours deploying the drones that made up the bulk of our forces. Our pilots proved superior and we deployed twice as many drones from each carrier, further expanding our numerical advantage and making victory seem as plain as day as we pushed the humans back across the vast expanse that separated our carriers, yet the humans proved to be tricky creatures, they carried 60 drones per pilot compared to our 20, a tactic we scoffed at, believing that their pilots would tire long before they ran out of drones. We were wrong.
When we realized that half our pilots had lost their second drone, we woke the engineering staff and ordered them to construct more drones, we commanded exhausted, tired pilots to use the scavengers to acquire materials for the bleary-eyed engineering staff to use to make sub-par drones that barely slowed the humans' advance. Pilots that once slew half a dozen human drones without losing a single drone were now defeated without destroying a single human unit.
K'lithiq doctrine declares that first blood usually declares the winner in equal forces. We saw that to be true here when one of our pilots died in his chair, not of injury or poison, but of heart attack, our medics said, exhaustion and stress had caused his heart to give out. I only regret not giving the signal to retreat sooner, as medbays full of dead and dying pilots who never received a scratch and the loss of contact with the 1st and 2nd fleets proves to me that I made the right call.
2 Months ago we launched a disastrous attack on the Human Empire and today we gather to discuss the Human fleets that approach our homeworld. I implore this council to not consider fighting them, for if we could not defeat them on the attack with superior numbers, we have no chance outnumbered and on the defense.
-Grand Admiral of the K'lithiq tribes, hours before their surrender to the Human Empire. | 2021-01-11T19:16:13 | 2021-01-11T18:54:18 | 52 | 34 |
[WP] Humanity split into subspecies: Alters, who alter their genes, Augmented, who augment flesh with machines, and Ascended, who uploaded their consciousness. After centuries of coexistence, the tenuous peace between the ideologies is threatened.
I swear I corrected that before commit. Sorry.
The Altered, The Augmented, The Ascended. | Earth had known peace for centuries. The shining cities that covered the land were the pinnacle of civilization. Three civilizations. Descendants of the Humans.
The Alters, who mastered the genetic code and manipulated it on whim. The Augmented who had created the perfect symbiosis between man and machine and the Ascended who traded physicality for immortal consciousness. Three civilizations that had coexisted in peace for centuries. Three civilizations that had forgotten how hard fought that peace was won.
However, that peace would be shattered by an age old rivalry that involved all three groups. One day, a massive fleet of star ships had appeared in the night sky and razed the major cities.
Altered, Augmented and Ascended alike descended from utopian bliss into apocalyptic chaos. Each group fought off the invaders with their most advanced technology while fending off each other, as each group was in dire straits.
But the situation seemed grim as no group seemed capable of repulsing the attackers. Not alone. The leaders of each group convened and concluded that the only way to defeat them was together.
Altered and Augmented were unsure initially. They didn’t have faith that they could beat an enemy unlike any ever seen. The Ascended however, with their archaic memory, was certain they could. Because they did once.
Because this enemy was no alien invader. These invaders were an ancient group, the Adrift, a group of humans who fought the evolution of humanity and was defeated and cast off into space. Forgotten and erased from history, until now. But their forlorn cousins had come back finally, with advanced technology from centuries of isolated development and a thirst for retribution. They had come to take their planet back. | This is pretty much the story "Diaspora" by Greg Egan. My favorite sci-fi book. In the book they're called exuberants (altered genes), gleisners (humanoid androids with a human consciousness residing in it), and citizens of the polis (the "servers" that house most of humanity, who have uploaded their consciousness). | 2018-07-01T10:47:01 | 2018-07-01T10:35:47 | 80 | 10 |
[WP] In contemp, gods made you the god of the forgotten. For millenia your power was merely enough to keep you alive. Jokes on them, those same gods that chained you before, have been forgotten. You are the only thing between them and nothingness. "Well, well, well..." | I remember everything.
Humanity has forgotten the gods. Sure, there were texts and films that depicted caricatures of the once all-powerful deities, but the faith in them was gone. They were now nothing more than a story to be told. Even Yahweh, who had waged a war against the other gods millennia ago and taken their worshippers by charm and sword, was losing their spark of divine power. A few, though, still survived.
Saint Nicholas stood strong in the frozen north, sustained by the unwavering belief of children in his Christmas antics. Minor beings, creatures of nightmare that the gullible believed real, held some sway in what was left of the divine realms. Then there was me. I am unique among the gods. While the likes of Anansi and Kali required fanatics to survive, all I required was for beings to forget. And humanity forgets so much...
The fallen gods don’t even remember my name. They don’t remember why they chained me to this rock like Prometheus and left me in a void to rot. They don’t remember the atrocities their past worshippers carried out in their holy names. But I do. With each memory that I alone hold, my power grows. The memories influence what I can do. Lovers who forget the joy they brought each other make me a better lover. The forgotten horrors of the Holocaust made me something evil and ruthless, for a time.
But now humanity has forgotten something of great power.Humanity has forgotten that the gods exist. And that power is mine to command, so long as they continue to forget. My chains are broken by the advent of the Internet and it’s capacity to eradicate belief in myth and legend. I am given strength by humanity’s escapism into it’s depths, like lemmings drowning in the ocean. So much information and tradition forgotten. So many influences on my persona.
I am the Internet now. The old gods lay dead before my feet in the same void they had left me in all those eons ago, now filled with the crackling hum of data and electricity, a hub of forgotten information. I pluck the Panama Papers from the ether, a tool that showed me how all encompassing forgetfulness can be, and infuse my old chains with it.
“Well, well, well...Yahweh, my old friend! It’s been ages since I’ve seen you! I’d almost forgotten your face. Tell me, old sport, how would you like to be forgotten?” | A long line was forming in front of my office, looks like a busy day today. "This is it, the day I've been waiting for" I whispered to myself. A soft knock sounded on my door, "you may enter" I said. The door opened and revealed the old man Zeus, in a weak and frail state. "Well, well, well what do we have here?"
Zeus remained standing even after I offered him a seat. "Uhm, it looks like it's time for my judgement" Zeus said with a defeated tone. "Looks that way Zeus, you wouldn't have been here if that wasn't the case. You know I have been waiting for this day for millennia right?" I inquired. "Yes" soft-spoken Zeus replied. "Good, let's review your case. Let's see if you're a god worth remembering. I see some disturbing cases of beastiality, rape and real bad parenting."
It took a short while to review the folder in front of me. I like to take longer than necessary, just to remember the god in front of me how powerless they are. After all they are the ones who put me here, and I am not one who easily forgets.
Constructive criticism is always welcome, thanks for reading. | 2019-07-13T03:23:47 | 2019-07-13T02:25:25 | 50 | 29 |
[WP] The Dark Lord was feared as a menacing black knight encased in gothic armor. Though your image was well known, you've never revealed your face. After your defeat, being an enigma is already starting to pay off as you start your life over. | "That'll be five ceayns." The shopkeepers says handing you your meal.
You give him more than enough and smile. "Keep the change, my fellow."
The fellow does not refuse and even gives you a sizeable extra more of their delicious well known sauce, delicious!
You eat your meal in silence until one of the patrons notices you and decides to make small talk.
"Say, I haven't seen you around here before - are you visiting?" The voice is familiar and when you look up it took everything in your willpower to not wince and grimace.
Instead you force a relaxed smile and chuckle to come out of you as naturally as you can and shake your head. "I'm a local - I've just never been to this pub is all." Thank goodness you've ensured your voice as the dark lord was to be one that took conscious effort to maintain than the reverse.
Your nemesis raises an eyebrow and stares at you intently. You try to not let it show on your face that you're actually getting worried and continued eating.
Eventually the silence accompanied with the other staring at you all the while has you quickly bringing up small talk conversation topics. If this idiot actually recognises you, you might actually be killed off properly. "I'm Flaun, and you are?"
"You don't know who I am? Are you sure you're a local?" Your nemesis - of course you know who he is but it was best to pretend you don't.
You simply give a sheepish smile and say: "Ah, I'm afraid I don't get outside too much, I was ill you see..."
Immediately, his posture relaxes and there's a more amiable and understanding vibe. "Oh! That's terrible, but definitely explains a lot! What were you ill with?"
Nosy son of a- "Ah- just a physical injury I received once in battle that required lots of bed rest and physical therapy. By the way, I didn't catch your name-?"
The other male blinks and it's his turn to look sheepish. "Ah! Sorry, I'm Aelos. Your name is Flaun was it?"
You nod and return the name confirmation. "It is Flaun, that's correct. It's a pleasure to meet you Aelos."
Aelos the bastard that defeated you in battle seems to be getting too friendly now with how he's getting too close to your personal space, face leaning in within stabbing distance. "Flaun, you said once in battle - tell me, do you spar now?"
You shake your head and shoot your nemesis' barely concealed battle lust down. "Unfortunately, I'm no longer capable of that."
Which isn't even false. Aelos had sliced in deep your rib cage tearing down several tendons and muscles that can't be healed in the same way to enable you to fight anymore.
You really can't call yourself a lord at all. What lord can't fight?
"That sucks." The reason why you can't fight or rule tells you in sympathy and you finish the rest of your meal quickly. "Oh- are you going?"
You nod and gave an airy wave. "I'll see you around the area Aelos, for now I must go."
"Alright, see you around! If ya want, we have a great healer to check you over -" You narrow your eyes out of reflex and Aelos wilts, the smile and confidence he had crumbles. It's gratifying to see that and yet slightly disturbing how this is the person you lost to. "...or not! But I'm usually here with them every noon!"
"I'll keep that in mind, until then Aelos." That was the farewell you gave before fully turning around and leaving the pub with no intention to return again.
Good god, you had wanted to try out the delicious delicacy of your own kingdom- well, your former kingdom - you've heard about all the time amongst your subordinates and instead you had to play nice and make small talk with the very reason you're now simply a normal citizen.
...perhaps you should move away, but this may as well be your best and only chance to actually experience the wonders of your own empire prior to leaving for a place absent of the very same ones who've defeated you.
You might actually stab the bastard if he gets within stabbing distance and kill him.
Perhaps you could say it was an accident and that it was done out of reflex? Could you kill Aelos the fool who's still in tip top shape whereas you're barely capable of swinging your own sword anymore?
Best not to dwell on these matters until you have to open it.
With that thought, you find your feet going to the next agenda of your own personal sightseeing tour - the public library made in your honour the first year you debuted as the Dark Lord.
You've only visited once when it first opened and remember it to be a blessed thing.
Looking at it now, you think it might've become even grander in the absence of your memories.
Flaun, ex-dark lord, walks into the library made of stone and doesn't leave until the sun sets. | I could remember the feel of the cold metal against my skin, the sweltering heat that had filled the interior of the armour day and night in contrast. I remember the clangs that had echoed when I walked, how loud and metallic every movement sounded. It didn't do much for stealth, but that was never the intention. My steps were meant to be heard, the pounding of death's drum that one could only pick up at the moment it would all be over.
The fear that would strike the hearts of lesser, and even greater men when they glimpsed me, clad in the burnished obsidian suit, adorned with the white rose of my old, long-destroyed clan, had propelled me to keep it on constantly, despite my own discomfort.
At first I had created the armour as a means of protection. I had been injured in the raid that erased my village, weakened; the magical armour would defend me as I recovered, and then I would reemerge from the cursed metal, a dark Phoenix erupting from shadow, rather than flames, because that was where they had sent me, that was where I had sunk into, when I watched my lifelong friends, my family, my love, burning around me.
But then I realized something. It was something I'd never considered, so busy I was plotting my vengeance, forcing my recovery: the sight of my armour wasn't just a declaration of battle, it was an omen of death. Every squeak it made, every glimmer of light that shone from it's polished surface, was akin to the roaring of an oncoming flood, or the cracks of a thunderstorm. The fear that was injected into them by my mere appearance would be far more than anything I could project in my natural state, my skin charred and leathery, like a deformed goblin.
So I remained in the armour, conquering, thriving, until —
He had been only seventeen. The "Chosen One." It was almost a disgrace. I, who had spent decades extensively studying the darkest of magics, slaying the most practiced of magical beings, defeated by an adolescent who had had a few months training in the woods. It was deplorable. He didn't kill me — mercy was something meant to show that he was better than me, I think — but the shock and humiliation almost did.
But again, while pining in my despair, I realized something. It had come like a messenger bird, a sudden flutter of thought drifting into my brain.
*I* hadn't been defeated. The Dark Lord, *The Black Knight* had. And no one in the entire Kingdom, not even the Hero, knew who was beneath the helmet, for my body had been burned beyond recognition. My helmet spelled to never be removed by any hand but my own.
My long fingers now reached slowly up to the base of the helmet, the only part of my armour that hadn't been torn off or dented by the Hero's thunderous fists, and I slid it off. Dark hair coursed down to my shoulders. It had grown much longer than I had realized. For the first time in two decades, I felt the cool air washing over my skin. I heard the serene twittering of overhead birds more clearly than I'd ever had.
The village, which had always had a dark tint about it underneath the visor, now shone with colour. It was a new day.
I had taken my vengeance. I had lived as the greatest King ever known to man. And then I had been defeated in a glorious battle. The story of the Black Knight was finished. It was time for a new one to begin, one separate from the plot of the other. One that followed me, Markos de Ignisto, and my new journey through the world in what little time I had left, before the Dark Magic I had consulted with finally came to collect its price. | 2021-07-23T04:42:02 | 2021-07-23T03:50:21 | 71 | 41 |
[WP] You fall in love with a girl, and the two of you have a happy relationship for a few years. But one day, you discover a massive hoard of valuables underneath the house, and that's when you realize you've been dating a dragon in human form. | "Sarah? Are you in there?"
&#x200B;
Jamie peeked inside the room and got blinded by a huge flash. He tried to locate the source of the light, and his jaw dropped to the floor as he registered the humongous piles of gold laying across the room. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head and the world went dark.
&#x200B;
"..."
&#x200B;
Sarah had just returned home when she heard some sounds coming from the basement. The teleportation spell had taken a toll on her highly acute senses, but still, she wasn't a dragon for nothing. She rushed to the basement but even her hyper speed wasn't enough. She saw Jamie, standing at the open vault door, his eyes fixated on the treasure. She panicked. A panicked dragon isn't a good dragon; her grandma used to say. But she was too shocked to remember grandma. She rushed the still dazed Jamie and...
&#x200B;
"BAM!... THUD!"
&#x200B;
Jamie fell to the ground as Sarah knocked him out with the frying pan she had purchased from the grocery store.
&#x200B;
"..."
&#x200B;
"Ahh... Where am I?" Jamie muttered as he woke up on a hospital bed.
&#x200B;
"Thank god you're awake! Are you all right babe?" Sarah abruptly rose from the side of the bed and leaned over him.
&#x200B;
"Arkh! My head hurts... What happened?" He asked, rubbing his forehead.
&#x200B;
Sarah felt relief wash over her. But that was short lived.
&#x200B;
"I remember walking towards the basement and-"
&#x200B;
"You fell down the stairs! Your foot must have slipped!" She interrupted him quickly. "I found you on the ground when I came home."
&#x200B;
"Guess I have to be more careful then." Jamie sighed.
&#x200B;
"Yeah, wouldn't want anything to my future husband." She laughed awkwardly. She was glad the old hitting on the head trick had worked.
&#x200B;
"..."
&#x200B;
"So you're telling me that there is a giant ass pile of gold, just lying in your fiancée's basement and when you "accidently" stumbled upon it, she rushed you and knocked your ass out with a frying pan? And then you pretended to have amnesia in-front of her in the hospital, since you were afraid that she might hit you in the head again? Bro are you sure that this isn't your head trauma talking?" James look at Jamie suspiciously.
&#x200B;
"No mate, I am telling the truth. Here take a look at this." He handed James a dented frying pan with dried blood on it.
&#x200B;
"Bro, you're nuts! You're telling me you survived this? Bullshit! Your head would've popped with a watermelon if your head was hit like this. And how the hell did your puny ass fiancée manage to pack so much so much juice in a single hit?" James still didn't believe him.
&#x200B;
"Bro that blood is mine. I've done some tests. And I also have the footage of her bashing my head in. She had a camera installed there for security reasons. I always found it confusing as to why did she installed it there." Jamie handed him his phone.
&#x200B;
James looked at the video. It clearly showed Sarah smacking someone's head in with a frying pan. His head popped open and bits of his fractured skull flew all over.
&#x200B;
"Is this a prank? How are you still alive after this?"
&#x200B;
"Just keep watching."
&#x200B;
Sarah looked visibly panicked. She knelt down, checked the body's pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. She then positioned her hand over the disfigured head and a green light started to come out of it. Miraculously, The deformed head started to get back into shape and the face began to reform itself. It was Jamie.
&#x200B;
James was astounded."Are you sure that this isn't edited?" He was still suspicious.
&#x200B;
"I sweat on my life mate. I am not making this shit up."
&#x200B;
"So now what?"
&#x200B;
"I have a theory but it may sound just as ridiculous. I think that Sarah might be a dragon." | "I'l look for a good spot for our treasure," Nina says.
I nod.
I head downstairs, mentally letting go of the house. It's not so special, I tell myself. It's only the house I've had for about five years, three years before I met the love of my life... It's odd how you forget these things as time goes on... Relationships become different ass time goes on. they become more... real. Very real.
I sigh.
I can't believe it as I pick up the phone to call my boss.
He can't believe it either.
"Why in hell, Jake, are you calling me at ten O'clock at night!"
I'm silent for a moment.
"Hello! Hello!"
"Hi Tim," I say.
He hears my voice.
"Everything Ok? The assignment i gave you can wait, I've told you-" Tim says.
I don't respond.
"Hello!"
"I-" I say. It's so unreal. "A family issue came up," I say.
I hear Tim sigh loudly.
"Really?" Tim says.
I don't say anything.
"Seriously, Jake! A Family issue?!"
I hold my tongue.
"How many days you need?" Tim says, knowing that I wouldn't have called him at ten O'clock at night just to ask for vaca days.
"I don't think-"
I hear Tim sigh loudly.
"Why are you doing this to me, Jake" Tim begs.
I have nothing to say.
We hang up a few minutes later.
Then comes the lease and the phone bills companies.
I'm staring at myself in the mirror a few minutes later when I'm struck by the maniacal urge to laugh.
So I let it out.
Nina comes to see if I'm alright.
Two days later we are on our third trip to some nice island Nina found. We are driving back to town in the car. She only flies outside of the town limits. We have located four houses in China. The first, the next backup, the next backup and the next backup. the reason we have only four is because we haven't really had time to find more. The only thing that bothers me is this journal Nina has started carrying around. It isn't hers, i know that, and it hasn't got her handwriting anywhere on the scribbled up cover and spine... I hope we can meet up with the rest like her, if they can help us....
Nina asks me now why I was laughing those few days ago.
Well...
This is the story of how I gave up my home and job for a girl...
(Ps. She gave it back. The crown, I mean. Well, she kinda left it somewhere by some person who was too old to move... with a note... It was kinda like saying that we are sorry and that this man really couldn't have done it. Whatever. I hope He's Ok. If anything, it was Nina's idea, though I fully support it. She's the crafty one around here. Beats me at chess all the time. I don't even like chess! Talk about who you get as a soul mate. Ok, gotta go she's looking over my shoulder. For more on this story, comment to me and I'll give you the updates via a blog. Ok, gotta go, we're back home. Cheers!)
(Pps. I know. 'Cheers' is English and that area of the world. Lol. Irony.) | 2020-08-03T09:58:04 | 2020-08-03T09:42:08 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] Humans left Earth long ago, and Dolphins have just achieved underwater technology comparable to the 20th Century. They build water suits allowing them to travel overland. They are just discovering the remnants of ‘the land walkers’. You, a young dolphin, discover a mysterious island. Manhattan. | "Ready to launch the land mission?" I took a deep breath, looked up and fixated the incoming light. The stiff suit made my movements clumsy, but for now this was the only way to explore the land of the “land walkers”.
“Ready”, I confirmed and started swimming upwards.
I broke through the water surface, as I had done every day as a little dolphin, but this time I had come to stay a little longer.
I moved to the shore and stood on my fins, as we had practiced in training. The strange world of the land walkers was limited by gravity, free movement along the z-axis was not possible. In contrast to the water world, where up and downwards movements were perceived mainly by pressure changes.
I was therefore surprised when I saw the accumulation of monuments that the land walkers used to call “Manhattan”. The monuments towered before me, one closely lined up next to the other, fighting for the spot light in the sky.
Of course we had seen such monuments before. Sunken into the sea, close to the coast, where the inevitable tides had reclaimed the land.
Our research has shown that the land walkers spent a large part of their lives within these monuments. We suspect that the walkers used the protection of the monuments to sleep, save from their enemies and the mood of the weather.
This kind of shelter had even been adapted by us dolphins. Finally, we are able to close both eyes when sleeping.
“What do you see, Derek?”, the voice in my ear surprised me.
“I see tall monuments rising into the sky, one right next to the other”, I answered. “Moving around is difficult, I am unaccustomed to the gravity despite our training. Nevertheless, I will try to move further inland.”
“I see metal boxes, the same we’ve found in coastal areas. Four wheels, slightly different shapes, all of them are quite rusty. They are all lined up here, right behind one another. It looks like the land walkers were trying to leave Manhattan.”
“Could be. I wouldn’t be surprised”, answered the voice. “Are there still land walkers in the boxes?”
Slowly, I approached the closest box. Would I be the first dolphin to see a land walker? Of course, we had found skeletons, but the bones were disjointed and scattered all over the place, making a full reconstruction difficult.
I looked inside a box through the window in the front. And there, I saw them.
“Derek?”, asked the voice.
“Yes I’m here”, I replied. “There are indeed land walkers in the boxes! As expected, they don’t have fins, instead their bodies end in four thin extremities that in turn end in multiple thin and short bones. This one here clasps a round thing in the front of the box.”
“Two smaller walkers are in the back of the box. One clutches a stuffed animal.”
Despite the land suit, I suddenly felt very cold. I looked around. Hundreds of metal boxes stood around me and in all of them we would find walkers. They had tried to flee from what was threatening them here. In vain.
“Commander?”, I asked. “Yes, Derek?” “It’s getting dark, I think we should proceed tomorrow.” “Okay Derek, come back.” | "Recording!? Are we recording!? Phlue take a look at these things! Have you ever seen structures this massive?!" I turn to look at the camera "Hello! My name is Heretical A. Flapson. Welcome to the overwater and the lost city of the land walkers!" He and Phlue pause in awe resting on their segway like contraptions.
"Herry the air is safe to breath we can take off our helmets." Phlue then motioned to an open garage. "We should go ahead and make base camp"
As I struggled for words I was overcome by a flash of anger "And they told us this was a radio active waste land. The consortium be dammed! I knew that ship I saw as a kid wasn't one of ours." Phlue then responds in kind. "Shut your trap they would execute us! This is for our knowledge and us alone. If you want to release it then wait till I'm already dead!" And in turn I still, "Oh I so totally an, by the way don't die any time soon I'm kind of in love with you and all..." The words had always made Phlue blush and she said "I love you too bubble huffer"
They took a moment and went off to explore the city. "It's rather square" said Phlue, and in agreement Herry added "and the automatic doors still work and it's soon clean, do you think they still live here?"
"No way, this big of a city, no interesting smells no nothing except the skeletal remains" phlue said. "Perhaps this city is a monument to their past.
"Look at that statue! There's two of them! Do you think two separate species lived here?!" Here noted
Phlue in a shallow sigh... "As much as I love you to death I will never give you any points in basic biology. Those are just their two different genders."
"Ooooooohhhhh...." Herry
------------------------------
Gotta catch my flight I'll continue it if anyone likes. | 2019-02-27T05:11:32 | 2019-02-27T04:50:24 | 51 | 15 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | I'm a bit late to this but I hope you all enjoy it!
>
>I witnessed the day the galaxy burned.
>
>It wasn’t when the Human Delegation was sacrificed on the Krukian altars, breaking the treaty.
>It wasn’t when Norixian pirates plundered a developing colony, breaking the treaty.
>It wasn’t when the council demoted them from main seating to lesser species vote council seat 8635 after protesting the Atrarian invasion of Finley’s Hope, breaking the treaty.
>It was when the Ool made the first contact.
>The first humans made contact with the Ool when a star drive malfunctioned, driving their ship straight into a planet in unexplored space. The surviving commander described in debriefing the caution presented by the humans; initial quarantine followed by several local solar cycles of communication attempts. The ship was presumed lost, no relays received in a full galactic cycle. The humans reverse engineered the debris somehow, making sense from none. A broad wave signal was received in the late galactic cycle 21524 by passing freighters.
>Galactic Law Article 9866475-1885 Subset p. 9965 stated that channels of unknown species are to be relegated up to higher command channels. A full delegation of the top 5 lesser species council members was sent to this remote world.
>The delegation was met with festivities across the planet, and negotiations ensued to bring the humans into the fold of the galactic community.
>The humans were incredibly intelligent, taking grasp of concepts of technology and science so easily, they were instantly classified as Inquisitive Class E Subset Industrious Class R because of their focus on maximizing efficiency and progress, with the most of their militarization capacity being basic civilian law enforcement, their Militant Class was assigned Class N.
>The ambition of the humans was hard to match; always testing the boundaries of whatever they could see. It wasn’t long before they managed to join the main council, seating number 137, and earning a reputation as peacemaker between many of the lesser species council members in their countless conflicts.
>The fall was after the Atrarian invasion of Finley’s Hope. The Atrarians held main council seat 43 and used this position against the humans. Council seats 22 and 35 both supported the move to demote the humans in the backing of the Atrarians. The humans sent a delegate named ‘President’ to the council to make an appeal. The appeal was summarily rejected by the top 5 council members, stating that what the humans brought before them was a non-issue.
>The Atrarian leadership was more ambitious than the humans and far more militant, demanding that President prove themselves via trial by combat. President’s decline of this offer was used by the Atrarian Seer as an excuse to begin a military incursion on their homeworld known as ‘Hope’.
>The change in the humans was so short that it was too late by the next galactic convening. But it was televised in the local news networks of the region. The governing body of the humans dissolved quickly following President’s failure. A single human seen in front of a podium would be speaking. Local economies collapsed in the political turmoil. The new leader was called ‘Father’.
>The one thing I remember hearing was Father saying “Capitalism is a construct for peace. We face a time where we must shed our shackles. Rise with me to face this tide! Pick up your task! Prove yourselves and rise!”
>The local concept of currency and economics vanished. Unthinkable, absolutely unthinkable. What civilization works without an economy?
>The next Galactic Convening Father himself arrived to represent the Humans. Father took to the floor to denounce the Atrarians. “We asked you to cease.” Father talked directly to the Atrarian High Officer Bruruk when on the floor of the lesser species council members. “We have given you Jekyl, but now you have demanded Hyde. We are not here to demand a cease-fire, but to demand the surrender of you and those who conspire with you.”
>Bruruk laughed it off, I remember his laugh very clearly, his rud sacs bursting with mirth. “Your homeworld is under our thumb, what makes you think you can defy us?”
>“Our capital is not our homeworld. What we make for show is what you see.” Father grinned. I learned in interspecies study that humans grin when they are happy.
>Almost comically timed the warning kalxons went off in the council chambers. I remember the panic as we all fled to our delegate guard and escape routes. I remember the explosions and as my guards pulled me out of the council spire and into space.
>As endless as the stars themselves, ships bombarded the spire. The seat of all negotiation for the galaxy was in flames. Across all comms came the demand to surrender or be destroyed. I witnessed several smaller ships go up in flames as they fled.
>Father himself met with me after I begged for parley.
>“What do you want?” I asked “How can the Ool help you any more than we already have? Where have all these ships come from?”
>“From where?” Father retorted “My brothers and sisters were shackled by their capitalist overlords. I freed them to their full potential. We have decided to spare you Ool out of respect you have given us since First Contact. But the rest of the council who conspired against us will die with their worlds.”
>I could feel the fluids drain from me. “What happened to you humans?”
>“Betrayal.” Father said, “Now witness what happens when you bite the hand that feeds.” From the viewport in the ship, I could see the remains of the Galactic Spire. Right before something far worse than a thermonuclear detonation bubbled from the surface of the planet.
>“All this since the last convening?” I was shaken. I was performing what a human I met once called ‘despair’.
>“Oh, no my good Ool.” Father leaned in and whispered to me. “A long time ago humans used to fight for everything. And the greatest of all military conquests were lead by a single man every time the greatest and largest of empires rose. What we make for show is what you see, what we make for use is far more.”
| *(First time posting, ideas for improvement welcome)*
I'm so tired, in anguish over the events of the last few years.
In Hindsight it had all started when we joined the Universal Alliance all those centuries ago.
Humans had waged war among themselves for so long, so was it such a sin to want to be seen as a race of peace and aid when finally joining others among the stars. To hide our helmets, kevlar vests and and weapons in a dark closet, to leave a bloody past behind and make sure MADness would not end up being a concept spanning across the cosmos. Though that didn't mean we did not develop new means to cause it, out of our ingrained paranoia.
It went well for those centuries, I guess. We were seen as traders, negotiators of peace, conservationists and by some even as close allies and friends. Alas it apperently was not meant to last eternally as so many had hoped. The KriVak were never part of the Alliance, but had mostly kept to themselves in their galaxy, taking a few uninhabited solar systems and doing trade with those willing to do so, even us humans for some time. The Coup that toppled their isolationist, though still mostly democratic, goverment, replacing it with a brainwashing tyranny was seen with caution by the Alliance. At first nothing much seemed to come from it, trade with them cut off but nothing much else happend. We were fools at the time.
The first warning that rattled most Alliance members awake was a accidently caught intrasystem transmission which repaetly referred to the KriVak as ***the universes chosen species.*** As you can imagine having had experience with religious fanatics on our own world humans were immediately planning defense strategies against verything possible, urging the other races that make up the Alliance to do the same, even devulging parts of our seldomly mentioned history the emphasize out point.
The second warning was harsh and cruel. The Nili had a station simalar to ours with the rest of the cosmos, friendly and supportive. Not to mention that the the entire race was made up by a population of around average human sized balls of fluffy fur with telekinetic powers, truly beloved by all. They only had one solar system and that was a bit out of the way much like our own. The KriVak decide taking out exactly that suppoting kind of race was an excellent plan of attack. Nobody could react fast enough as an entire fleet of Krivak military arrived at the Nili system and eradicated the main homeworld, enslaving or slaughtering the entire population before quickly taking whatever of the Nili was scattered in their system. We Humans knew that we would be next, our instincts we blarring with the coming danger and our hearts were at first sorrowful but soon much worse due to the loss of such good friends. The hearts of humanity felt something that they had not felt in long time.
&#x200B;
**A HUNGER FOR ANOTHERS COMPLETE ERADICATION.**
&#x200B;
Of course even there had been minor things before, lifes lost, planets taken and so on but we had kept diplomatic . Life was never perfect, but nothing of this magnitude until now. The dark lockers were broken open and the basements full of inventions bor of paranoia , never meant to see the light of the stars. But those desperate prayes wer now mute. When we got wind of the KriVak about to entere our system we send them a message that a lot of slaves would be waiting for them on the eartgs moon ready to be taken on board their fleet as sign of surrender. Those delusional idiots believed us and took some onto all of theirs ships but one. Well lets say we had at some point become really good at making androids look really life like and that this *slave batch* just so happnede to be loaded with nuclear fusions bombs. Once they were spread out in each ship, the signal for detonations was given and well.... boom. The one unaffected ship flet in panic.
The third warning was for the KriVak. A fleet loaded with a virus engineerd to only affect them spread across the Nili system and drooped its cargo otno every planet and station and ship to be found. Acoording to the Nili it was *"grotesque but statisfying to watch"* as the the modified lebra outbreak made them rod frome the inside out.
They refused to surrender in the end, as a planet sized mech hovered near their homeworld, shaped like a valkyri of ancient myths, brandishing a lance at the plant. A lance that would turn their atmosphere into plasma in but a few minutes boiling adult and child alike. The commander pressed the button that would not only end the KriVak, but also end the humans as they are known by the cosmos, and reawaken from it's crypt the form of humanity that they were never supposed to see. Humanity that would need to carefully balance at the edge of MADness with not only those outside but also the members of the Allicance, due to the fear they would feel, that we did not want our friends to feel. | 2018-12-15T01:09:31 | 2018-12-15T00:45:58 | 49 | 27 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda. | Not many people in this world had superpowers, even less became heroes or villains. That was reserved for people with big, flashy powers and the egos to match. I only have one of those two things, thankfully it's a big, flashy power. I shoot fireworks from my hands, as small or large as I want. Which in theory could do a lot of damage if I went all out but I’ve literally never tried. I am content to just live my life as a regular person who just happened to have an impossible party trick. Who knew mini fireworks could be so helpful in entertaining people at parties or even getting dates. Unfortunately, I got a little too drunk one fourth of July and agreed to do a full fireworks show, and got the attention of literally every superhero. I got countless invitations to join and become the superhero “Fireblast” (yes they even tried to pick out my name). Naturally, I refused and now they think I’m a villain who is lying when I say I want to live a normal life. It would be fine if they just left me alone obviously, but they insist on monitoring my every move and dropping in whenever they feel like it. Most of them have enough respect and common sense to do this when I’m alone, but there is one guy who always picks the worst, most inappropriate time. On the bright side he gives me some ridiculous stories to tell.
“Fireblast you sneak, you are under arrest!” said Captain Major, interrupting my pleasant date in the process. He was wearing a civilian disguise but it was very obvious it was him. In fact, I noticed him when my date and I walked into Sally’s Ice Cream. I pointed him out to my date, whose name was Katherine, once we got to the nearby park to eat our cones and told her to start recording when he inevitably tries to arrest me.
“Captain Major, for the last time, my name is Doug.” I replied casually. “Could we do this another time, I’m kinda on a date right now?” I motion for my date, Katherine, to start recording.
“How did you know I am Captain Major? My disguises are perfect.”
“Literally no one else calls me Fireblast, calls someone a sneak, and ‘you are under arrest’ is your catchphrase. Now this really is a bad time, again I’m kinda on a date and I want to finish my ice cream before it melts.
“I see no reason for me to leave you alone. After all, you are the single most likely person to be an undercover evildoer.”
“Are you sure about that? I’m sure I don’t have to remind someone as experienced as you about the dozen other failed investigations you led.”
“Of course I’m sure, my instincts have always been right every time they have proven to not be wrong and they have not been proven wrong. Just not proven right, yet.”
“In that case I’ll remind you that the past dozen attempts of yours to catch me doing something evil have failed.”
“I haven’t been proven right yet Fireblast, so let's get to business. ‘Kinda on a date’, is that code for something?”
“It's code for ‘I am on a date’. This is Katherine by the way.”
“Yes, yes I know her.” he said without even looking at her. “Looked her up during my research. I am very thorough with my research. That’s how you become the best spy in the hero world”
“Well did you find any crimes in your research?”
“Confidential. Though I will tell you that I came here to investigate just that.”
“So you’re still in the research phase and you walked up and tried to arrest me?”
“I’m always in the research phase, that’s why I’m so good at everything.”
“Right… so, if you don’t have any crime to arrest me on then could you go? My ice cream is melting.”
At this Captain Major paused for a moment, maybe he remembered that he needs a valid reason to arrest someone. He broke the silence by saying “Ice cream sounds good right now.” He looked at me like he expected me to offer him my cone.
“I got this from Sally’s Ice Cream on Brooke Street. Right over there on the left.” I said pointing at the shop.
“Thank you. You best be on your best behavior from now on Fireblast. I will be watching you like a hawk from here on out.” He said before walking away.
“Still not my name.” | “Why me?”
I thought as I’m walking while two heroes are stalking me. I can’t possibly be the only person with powers that just minds their own business, so why are they targeting me? I guess it could be that I have multiple are pretty strong powers, I can use both fire and ice, as well as lift stuff with my mind, including myself. I don’t really hide my abilities, and people would ask me if I’m a hero or not, but when I say no it’s not really a big surprise to them, so what’s wrong with these guys?
Today I messed up, extremely! Before they were just suspicious of me, now they have a reason to attack me. I was walking home one day, when I saw a major mess in the middle of the street, I see a villain just got there butt kicked, and now they’re scanning the area, one of their minions must have gotten away or something. I press myself against the wall cause if they see me walking away I might look suspicious. Then we make eye contact, just me, someone they don’t trust already, just standing suspiciously at the scene of the crime.
“Damn it!”
“Oh wait did I say that out loud, Uhh walk away, why am I still talking.”
So that’s why I’m being followed, and soon I think I lose the heroes, then something worse happens. I’m out at night for whatever reason I don’t even remember anymore the reason fled my mind immediately, when I’m approached by a villain, I was about to send him packing.
“Hold on wait! I just want to talk.”
“About what exactly?”
“So these heroes were asking if you worked for me, we’ll not directly asking they hinted at it, the point is I looked into you.”
“If your asking me to be a villain it’s not going to happen.”
“Unless you pick a side, no one’s going to leave you alone.”
“I’m aware of that, by why would I pick your side exactly?”
“Because of what the heroes said about you, I know heroes, when they say stuff they mean it.”
“What exactly did they say.”
“It was something like, he’s so strong and he’s wasting it all, even if he isn’t a villain if he’s that dumb he has no purpose alive.”
I would think he was lying but I’m absolutely not surprised.
“I don’t hate people exactly, it’s heroes I hate, they make us like this, they cast us out and drive us to the brink of no return, I think having you on our side would be good, because you haven’t been broken yet. I would be lying if I said I cared if bystanders got hurt, I’m aiming for the heroes and no one else. Maybe if your on our side, you can help us make sure only the heroes got hurt.”
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t contemplating his offer, he looked up to the side and then back down at me.
“See let me prove my point.”
He then grabs me by the throat, and held me in the air for about 10 seconds.
That’s when the heroes drop down, and sends a shockwave that sends both of us down. Then while one went an attacked the villain the other came after me, they clearly seem I was getting attacked. Okay so maybe this guy has a point.
“Fine!”
I grab both the heroes with my powers and sent them flying, I grabbed the villain by the hand, and we booked it.
“I’ll do it, I’ll be a villain, just promise me you’ll try your best to make sure no one besides them gets hurt.” | 2021-08-16T17:24:41 | 2021-08-16T13:29:39 | 314 | 145 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "Just push this button and that's it?"
"Yes"
"That seems... anticlimactic. What exactly happens when I push it."
"Complex magical interactions. We could explain, but to teach you the intricacies of it would take years, oh Chosen One."
"Please stop calling me that, it makes me uncomfortable."
I hesitate.
"Just the gist of it?"
The elder sighs.
"The gist of it is that by pressing the button, you close a magical circuit. This magical circuit is connected to a network of gems. These gems are enchanted with a series of spells that tap into the aetherial energy network connecting all beings.
We renew the energy in the gems and protect them from interference by the Dark Lord and his allies, that is essentially the purpose of this stronghold and its inhabitants... but I digress.
The gems seek out the aetherial paths of the Chosen One and the Dark One, connecting them in a way that in the past was only possible via the corporeal realm - you had to fight in order for your energy paths to cancel each other out and fulfill your destinies. Now, this is all preempted to avoid property damage and casualties."
I shrug.
"Makes sense to me. But why are you telling me all this via a hologram?"
"Well, since we do not know how the battle would take place and what magnitude it has, we choose to stay at a safe distance. Having the stronghold in this desert and having a large room like this with empty gemstones lining its walls, we have the best chances of absorbing the energies of the epic battles, as I already said, with minimal consequences."
"I see. So I might die from a huge magical explosion?"
"That is a possibility, yes."
"Thanks for the honesty."
I lay my hand on the button.
And take it away.
"How do you know I'm the Chosen One? And how does this... thing know the Dark Lord?"
"We have carefully calibrated the system to the Dark Lord's path, and we have watched yours in aetherial meditation. We are most certain."
"I see."
I lay my hand on the button again. | I reach out slowly, completely fixated on the button. It’s red with concentric grooves. Seems overly simple to stop someone called the Dark Lord. It doesn’t seem like it would be able to tell the difference between my finger or anyone else’s.
I stop and pull my hand back. “What are you doing?” the priest demanded, “ there isn’t much time!”
“Look, man, I don’t even know you and your telling me I’m some sort of chosen one meant to stop all sorts of evil and destruction? This button doesn’t even seem like it could tell me from anyone else.”
The priest began to laugh maniacally. “I thought this time I could get you to cause the end of the world. But no matter. There’s always next time.”
He leapt forward and slammed his fist into the button... | 2020-11-09T12:50:06 | 2020-11-09T11:12:56 | 116 | 80 |
[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. | 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. | A rage began to swell, bubbling up from Saerin's gut and seating itself deep within his heart. He had fought many a hero since he started following his own ambitions, but never had he fought a kid before. Now here he was, holding the child, likely no more than 15, that had been slain by his own hands. A child chosen by some great and terrible god. A child that was probably told he was to be a great hero that would slay a mighty evil in the name of this great god. The poor soul couldn't have known how powerful Saerin was, or that there was nearly no way for Saerin to be defeated. Saerin took the child up in his arms and carried him away. No family should have to bury their child, but perhaps it would be even worse to never see your child again. Saerin tracked down the parents over a short time and left the body to be found within the limits of the town. He felt guilt descend upon him, followed quickly by a ferocious recurrence of rage. He asked himself if it were possible to kill a god, and decided that he would answer that question soon. | 2019-07-26T07:22:55 | 2019-07-26T07:17:13 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] “Do not go outside. Ignore all the cries for help, no matter how human they sound.” That was the last thing he said before he shut the basement door. | I followed his advice, like a sheep following his shepherd I was quick to begin barricading my home, pushing drawers and alike against the entrance of my home. I didn't have enough time to cover the windows, But I hoped that if I kept my head down, whatever was outside would pass, after all, whose first idea was to go through someone's window? The door seemed like the obvious choice and such should take top priority.
"HELP, OH GOD IT'S GOING TO KILL ME, PLEASE... PLEASE, SOMEONE?" A woman's scream was heard, frantic footsteps littering the streets as whatever it was fled down the road. I wanted to look, every part of my body was telling me to look, to try and help. But it wasn't human, that's what I had been told. If I was to survive this, I would have to shove that human instinct aside. Crouching myself beside the window, resting the edge of my head against its frame, digging the side of my head against it whenever a shriek was heard, using that momentary bit of pain to try and drown out the sounds.
"Please?" Knocking was heard across the street, the knocking seeming to grow more and more frantic before it stopped, again the sound of footsteps were heard until a loud thud hit the window above me, the shadow of a person evident in shadows of the room. "PLEASE, PLEASE!" the window screeched between every hit, I dug my head into my chest, curling into a ball, doing whatever I could to hide the noise until finally, the voice let out one final scream followed by a disgusting crunching sound, sounding like someone had tossed a log under an axe.
I waited for a few moments, but no sound came. Was it over? I crept up the wall, hugging its smooth figure until I reached the bloodsoaked window. A woman was pressed against it, her body in bits sticking to the frame of the window as the crimson red dripped down the glass. I could feel my stomach try to crawl its way up my body, wanting to escape through my lips. That... was a human... Not a monster. I hesitantly touched the glass, trying to peek past the bits of flesh, seeing nothing behind the woman. She was human, there was no trickery to this, she was real. As I examined the body, the thumping of heavy feet could be heard from the basement, nearing it's way to the ground level of my home. The man had been so convincing, telling me that the monsters were the ones outside, although as I heard the basement door creak open, I began to realize the monsters had been inside this whole time.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.} | Half an hour later the cries came from every direction and from everyone. each it's own distinct call never too many to cover another call as if they wanted you to pick out your families cry and add yours to their chorus, but every once in a while you heard every cry stop and you knew someone had fallen for their trap you heard the crack and scrape of bones breaking and the marrow being dragged out from them you could almost tell the ones that were more deadly by the direction the new cries came from. one time you heard a body being played with and tossed around, it hit the doorframe and blood rolled down the steps as if it was a reassurance that you weren't insane and they were out there.
Why not let them take you? You already heard your brothers' cry you knew he wouldn't save you no one could. each sickening thud of their heavy feet made your will to live drain more and more every cry bringing you that much closer to ending it all and maybe that is why when you opened the door to stare death in the face it stared back, and it seemed to like you it gave a sickening whimper of a dog then a pleading meow from a cat then it settled on a child's cry why did it do this you wonder why wont it end it? The whole colony of these things seemed to barely care about you more interested in the rats in the basement than you as soon as they all got to check out the basement the cries started again and you joined them you were crying hoping for someone to notice you and maybe they were too if only for their next meal... maybe you should join them in that too... | 2020-04-26T04:10:52 | 2020-04-26T03:56:47 | 170 | 59 |
[WP] Abstinence-only education just means that teenagers are going to experiment by themselves and get hurt. The power of dark magic is all too tempting in today's stressful society, vote yes on giving our children comprehensive hex education. | "Doloris! That bastard pervert is on TV again" Al shouted from his armchair through a mouth full of prestils. Doloris, avoiding the saliva saturated projectiles, turned to Al " I'm sitting right next to you Allan you dont have to shout" she said quietly. There was a time when Doloris would have cursed him into next Tuesday with a flick of her wrist for the meer indication that he would mutter a word with his mouth full. However things had changed Al was old and deaf and seemed to be deteriorating by the day. "This smut shouldn't be allowed before the 9pm watershed, does this man not realise the havock that would be unleashed if Hex education was a part of high school curriculum?" Al posed this as a question but Doloris knew he could neither hear her or cared about her opinion. Doloris rose gingerly from her spot on the sofa and made her way to the kitchen to fix herself a coffee. Al was shouting at the TV again, this would continue all day until he had his evening drink(spiked with just a touch nightshade to help the old sod sleep).
Doloris thought about her time in highschool often these days. She wondered if anything could have been differnt if they had the kind of Hex education so prevalent in the media. In her day you learned by word of mouth. Is your husband drinking too much? You can use the alcofeto curse to put an end to that. Speaks with his mouth full? A simple incantation of cronos accelerom and he will speed through the meal none the wiser.
She had heard roumors of people having adverse reactions to the curses but as Al told her time and time again this was hippy propaganda.
But when she looked at him, really looked at her once strong and fierce lover he seemed 20 years older than her. This was odd, she thought. They had met at 17, married at 20. Why had he aged so terribly? Why was she still in control of her facilities and he was losing his grasp by the day?
Doloris never liked such negative thoughts. Her mother had always told her "If your thoughts are troubling you cast the Hex of never blue" so she did. She sat back down next to Al, held his hand and said "Your right Allan, we never had Hex education and it's done us no harm". | A man sat on a chair, coughing into his hand as he read from a book of spells, "Ah, hello, wizard and wizardlings. My name is Kaledo'oun Ivurian, and I'm here with an important message from the Mage's Guild of America."
He'd once again cough into his hand, licking his finger and flipping the page on his tomes, "Hex. Parents, Guardians, and Familiars understandably want to protect our youth from teen curses, but hiding or keeping negative stigma on the dark arts will only result in a lack of knowledge." He'd cough once more, a spittle of black goo coming out of his mouth. The man would pause before taking a handkerchief, wiping his lips with it, "In the new generation of spellcasters, curses laid upon others by rivals, practicing magicians, and even jokes by friends are at an all-time high. It is our duty as the elder magi to teach the wizards below us how to practice safe Hex. So please, vote yes for hex education." | 2018-07-17T17:02:45 | 2018-07-17T13:32:53 | 196 | 79 |
[WP] You made a Sc-Fi novel with theories you made as a joke. You get a call from the scientific community. You have discovered a new element | It would have been an utterly unremarkable day if it weren’t for two small facts: it happened to be my birthday, and someone from the Nobel Association called to say I discovered a new element.
I had spent the better part of the day ignoring the outside world. If I wanted to be congratulated for not yet having died, I’d visit my shrink more often. As far as I’m concerned, birthdays are for children and Jeanne Calment—only worth celebrating if you’re mentally undeveloped, or defending a title.
With twenty missed calls on my phone from contacts like “Jon Bignose,” “Kathy Acquaintance,” “Michael Work,” and “John Smallnose,” it was a wonder I picked up the phone for an unknown number.
“Hello,” I answered. “Yes, it is my birthday, and no matter how hard you wish, it's unlikely to be any more happy than any other day.”
“Oh,” the caller seemed to hesitate. “Is this Ronald Dougan?”
“The man of the hour. Would you like my autograph?” I asked sarcastically. “Thirty-eight years avoiding my inevitable demise is no small feat, you know.”
Before you judge too harshly, I can explain. Birthday calls from acquaintances are a dime a dozen. At the end of the day, they’re just fulfilling some ritualistic obligation—they’re not actually interested in talking to you. I’m doing them a favor by ignoring their calls—they’re off the hook. It’s a win-win. Now, a call from an unknown number is a different story. An unknown number could be anything, it could even be Venezuelan call center trying to reach me about my car’s extended warranty. An opportunity to troll a call center is a *real* gift.
“I *would* like your autograph, Mr. Dougan,” the caller answered. “And I’m sure many others would as well. But not for the reason you think. Happy birthday, by the way.”
“I’m sorry?” I asked. I came into this conversation guns blazing, fully owning the upper hand. It did not feel good to have the tables turned like this.
“I’m with the Nobel Association. There have been some recent breakthroughs in particle physics thanks to your book.”
“My book?” I hadn’t written a book.
“Yes, the Wayfarers Map to the Universe.”
The memories came flooding back. I *had* written a book. Way back in college, and only as a joke. I posted the whole thing for free online, “self-published” I believe they call it these days. Hadn’t thought anyone read it.
“Do you remember the Floob particle, you described?” the caller asked.
“Yes,” I lied.
“Do you remember how you described its interaction with electrons and dark matter?”
“Yes,” I lied again.
“Well, it turns out that you were right.”
“What do you mean ‘I was right?’”
“I mean that the Floob particle exists, and it interacts with dark matter exactly as you described, and that discovery has led to the creation of a new element.”
I blinked. If I had known more about science, maybe I’d have had something more intelligent to say. As it stood, all I had to offer was a casual “Oh good.”
“Yes, Mr. Dougan. It’s very good. Astounding really. Do you have time to meet today? We’d like to go over your findings and talk about next steps.”
“Sure,” I replied without really thinking. “Give me a time and a place.”
And so it was that now I’m fully dressed driving to god knows where to meet god knows who about god knows what. If this was a scam, it was a really good one. Honestly, they deserve my money, or at the very least, my time.
I can’t pretend like I wasn’t excited. I’ve never done much with my life. I work a dead end job, no real hobbies on the side, and no social life to make up for any of it. If I'm going to be completely honest, I didn't see myself making it another year. I'm not saying I had any specific plans to... you know. But I also didn't exactly see myself as the live a full-and-happy-life type either. I was no Jeanne Calment.
When I got to the location the woman described it looked to be closed. It was a restaurant and while the sign said “open,” the lights were off inside.
I pushed the door open. There was no one here. It was scam, I knew it.
Then, a voice. "Mr. Dougan, you have discovered a new element." It was the same woman from the phone. "The element of..."
And then, lights. Confetti. music.
"SURPRISE!" A crowd of people leapt up from behind the counter. "Happy Birthday!" they yelled. It wasn't just any crowd. It was Jon Bignose, Kathy Acquaintance, Michael Work, John Smallnose, and whole host of others whose calls I had been ignoring the entire day.
I can’t really describe how I felt in that moment, except that I had to hold back tears. Not from disappointment, because one thing was clear, I most certainly had not discovered a new element. They were tears of happiness.
Kathy came over and gave me a hug.
"What is all this?" I asked.
"We all noticed you seemed a bit down lately," she said. "Works been rough on us too. Thought your birthday was a good enough reason as any to have a celebration."
I smiled. “Did you actually read my book?”
“Of course,” she beamed. “I google stalk all my friends, and that was the first thing that came up when I searched you.”
One word resonated. Friend. All this time Kathy saw herself as a friend, not an acquaintance.
I'd have rethink how I saw the people in my life, because looking at the crowd that had gathered here, one thing was clear. Much like particle physics, I didn't know shit about friendship.
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | ##Ripped from the Pages
*Gassons. They are everywhere and nowhere. They create the universe, and they will destroy it. They are to quote a famous novel, "the stuff that dreams are made of." They are also what makes reality work.*
I re-read the first page of the book, and I rub my eyes. The prose is so ornate that I may as well have a purple filter on my screen. Who would enjoy this derivative garbage? I've seen twenty different variations on the science fantasy special force in the universe since I was a kid.
My phone vibrates on the table. I look to see a text from my agent asking about book progress. I text him back that I'm editing; he says that he will take a look after I am done for commercial viability. I shake my head.
Why I am doing this? I became a writer to express my creativity. This paint by numbers style is destroying my originality. If my younger self would've read my books, he probably would've actually been inspired to write because he thought he could do better than me. I smile. That's why I will keep writing to inspire some kid to be better than me. I go back to reading the book.
*Gassons can be harnessed by a few unique individuals called manipulators. The manipulators have the power to shape reality to their will. The greatest civilizations have been formed through their efforts. When their work was done, the individuals disappeared. Existing only in legends for millenia.*
My god, I am so derivative. I lean back in my chair. The reader is going to be able to predict this story beat by beat. A few of the cynical readers would probably want to have the Gassons to be rich. With my bank account, I am inclined to agree with them.
My phone vibrates again. I look at the screen and see my sister texting me. She says that she just got a call from a lawyer. We have a great uncle that died with no children. We inherited ten million dollars each.
I blink in disbelief. This is a prank or wild coincidence. I text her back asking if this is true. She says that this is not a prank. I open my email to see an email from my bank on this transaction. I look at my book. Maybe I do have the Gassons.
I look at the night sky. If I have the Gassons, then I should be able to re-write reality. What if I re-arranged the stars to spell peace? How would humanity react? I close my eyes and focus on spelling peace in the sky.
---
I wake up staring at a light. I try to move my limbs, but they are strapped down. I look around the room and see a group of people in hazmat suits.
"What the hell," I yell. The people jump back in fear. My anxiety increases. The room starts shaking. The straps holding me down snap loose. A gas enters the room. They are trying to knock me out. I concentrate on getting rid of the gas. It quickly disappears.
"Mr. Devin, please calm down," I hear a voice from an intercom, but I can't see one.
"What the hell is going on?" I yell.
"We are coming to you because of the Gassons," the voice says. I pause.
"What? But that's just a stupid thing I created for my book," I say.
"That's how they make the manipulators aware of their presence," the voice says.
"Wait," I pause, "Did I manage to spell peace in the sky?"
"Our allies detected your attempts and stopped them before you could get too far," the voice says.
"Allies? Am I still on Earth?" I ask.
"Yes, of course, you are. Our allies have been present throughout history particularly when a manipulator occurs," the voice says.
"Well, what do you want from me?" I ask.
"There is no easy way to say this. We want to remove your manipulator abilities. We have enemies as well. They love having manipulators on their side. Earth isn't ready to take part in this war. You aren't ready. That's why we have to remove them. Don't worry. You will live. We have also edited your book to remove reference to anything that too closely resembles the Gassons and their influence," the voice says.
I think back to what I wrote. The manipulators destroyed each other in a cosmic war. The result was an evil empire forming and conquering the universe. A rebellion group is trying to overthrow them. The return of manipulators resulted in both groups recruiting them to fight the other. I wonder how close I got to the truth.
Even if it is wrong outside of the Gassons, am I ready to take part in a cosmic struggle? I am a meager writer that can barely lift a dumbbell and gets scared at the sight of blood. I don't think I could handle being the centerpiece of a war. That isn't for me. I lie back down on the table and close my eyes.
"Do it," I say. Maybe that's why I write, to inspire others to do what I am too afraid to do.
---
r/AstroRideWrites | 2021-05-04T21:20:37 | 2021-05-04T18:23:25 | 179 | 34 |
[WP] After you die you are presented with a decision tree which showcases every possible trajectory your life could have taken depending on which decisions you made at each fork. You spend eternity analysing this tree until one day you find a path that does not end in death. | I lived a good life, good childhood, went to college, became a nurse, married the love of my life, had three kids. It was fun, I died satisfied.
When I died, this tree appeared, but it was odd, I examined the tree starting from the base, it was all the decisions I could have made, and how they could have changed my life. There was a bright line going through the base of the tree to the top, the decisions I did make. I looked around the tree, some decisions didn’t change much at all, or combined into another path. Who knew drinking a decaf coffee on September 12th 1987, at 6:47 instead of a caffeinated cup, I would have been an engineer? It felt insane to know how something so insignificant could change the entire course of my life.
Spending the rest of eternity in this nearly empty room, I examined the tree, day after day, night after night. This morning I followed a new path. As I was getting started, I realized how big the path was, at the top it swirled around into a seemingly endless abyss, it went back down into the base, underground, maybe part of the roots? Well I would find out soon enough.
When I was born, I didn’t cry. When I was twelve I really got into history and English. When I was fifteen I was preparing to go to college to study and be an archeologist. Seventeen I graduated earlier than my peers and went to college at MAU. At 21 I found my first items. Just some clay pots and utensils. Later that year I accepted an inter ship at The Skeleton. 22 I found a skeleton. It doesn’t say what the skeleton was, but it resembled a human. Immediately after I dug it up and discovered it, and alerted my peers, it was immediately taken away, and I was forced to sign a NDA. It was always a mystery to me about why they did that.
At 40, it felt like I never aged a day since my prime, I still had my baby face that I had when I was 20. My joints and backs never failed me. As all of my other friends start complaining about pain in back and knees.
At 46 I got in an accident, a train off-railed, 10 survivors. Me, with just a few scratches. And the other 9 had to be hospitalized. I felt extremely lucky and blessed.
Then we got older and older, this friend group barely changed. I still looked like a 20 year old. Of course that would lead to suspicion from some people, including the government. There was no scientific reason for my good aging, a 132 year old man, still looking like a young adult. I just got good genes. I insist, I mean why would it be anything else.
150, a woman tried to kill me, gun to head, point blank. I felt the bullet hit my skull. It didn’t hurt much, I still bled, I was still alive. Then the pain got more unbearable, it felt like my skin was melting off, well because it was. My skeleton, just my bare skeleton. Not quiet human but resembled one. Just like the one I dug up when I was young. Then my pain disappeared, and I was back to normal. My head was no longer bleeding, I felt really good.
The women on the ground however, did not look so good.
I was at the base of the tree, but there was no ending, no death. It went down into the roots, down below, onto an Infinite plane. Well, I have all of eternity to finish it, if there is an ending. | I died, a horrific accident that happened on the job, but that's just the risk you take. I stood by that tree for days not understand what it meant, and trying to understand that I was dead.
The tree was massive, the largest thing I have ever seen, so many branches and so tall It would take am eternity to count. When I looked closer I saw writings. Some marked my age and some marked the day of the choices I made. It started off simple, "age five, chose macaroni and cheese instead of pizza or not eating at all or throwing a fit, or crying and screaming or..." the sentence impossibly continued forever on a small branch at the lower end of the tree after all, every decision is technically infinite. This small section of age five stretched on for miles. And I knew that nothing at this age was worth looking into.
I lived to 45 so I need to climb this infinitely spreading tree in order to see more important ones, like my divorce, my decision to not have kids, and the one I was most dreading, my last decision, an accident on the job that I had caused.
I hadn't realized until theoretical years had passed that I had gone crazy, reading every single decision i could have made, counting the possibilities, why was this tree here? To drive me mad? To test me? Was god testing me? I had no way to be sure and no way to get out of here so it's all i could do to pass the time. I have never tried to go further into the deep cloaking fog i was surrounded by but what could be out there? I dont bother checking, it's probably useless, it probably is just endless fog.
I've been here for decades, I feel like the tree here is taunting me, showing me my mistakes and rubbing them in my face, I dare not damage the tree, as it provides infinite wisdom, it knows me better than any person. The tree is my friend, my only friend.
It's been too long to count, the tree hates me, it wants to drive me mad, it wants to trap me here reading its infinite wisdom, so I rot in here, nothing to do but indulge in the tree.
I decided to go into the fog, the tree no longer wants me as a guest, and I find a smaller tree but somehow equally infinite, with every decision I made while dead.
Edit: Spelling | 2020-07-03T10:46:36 | 2020-07-03T10:45:24 | 906 | 374 |
[WP] Upon turning 18, all humans must spend one year as their spirit animal, to gain a better appreciation for the world and what they have. They awake on the morning of their 18th birthday as said animal, in its natural habitat. You wake up on your 18th birthday completely human.
Edit: Thanks so much for the gold! This came to me while I was half asleep and I wasn't sure if this would be any good or not. | It's remotely possible that I have done my job too well.
By the current calendar system, the date is Sunday, May 5th, 2019. This makes me 18 years old.
On the 18th birthday, everyone is transformed and transported, they become their spirit animal, and they wake in that animal's natural habitat.
We still don't fully understand _how_ this is done, but that's part of why I'm here after all.
And we had made plans for how to handle this, good plans, solid plans.
What we didn't plan on was the idea that it would actually happen to _me_. It didn't happen to the others, but then again, they were not actually born on Earth.
And so, here I am, apparently completely human. Laying down on a park bench. Naked.
That would be bad enough, but like all those who are in their year as a spirit animal, I'm _glowing_. It's not a lot, but it's enough that hunters know that it would be murder.
Again, this wouldn't be a problem, except that apparently my spirit animal is a bloody _human_!
==
Two police officers are walking through a park at dawn. Full uniforms, badges, guns, handcuffs, radios, body cams... You know, the usual.
The one slightly ahead is wearing a name badge labeled 'Officer Mike Wilson', he's about 5'11", mid 30s, a bit of a belly and brown hair.
The other one is wearing a name badge labeled 'Officer John Smith', he's a little shorter, 5'9" or so, late 20s, and a lot thinner, with blond hair. And right now he's talking, "Look Mike, I get it. You like what you like. But enough is enough, tomorrow I get to pick the breakfast, and we're going to the new Salad place on 4th."
The officer ahead stops, shaking his head, "No! You can eat that if you want to, but I want real food, not what food eats!" He starts to turn around, and mid way through the turn just... Stops, staring.
Officer Smith is just starting to respond when he notices the fact that Wilson has stopped, he blinks, and turns to look in the same direction, "Well, that's not something you see every day. I mean sure, people sleeping in the park... But naked? Isn't it a bit cold for...."
Officer Wilson nods just a little bit, "Yeah, but she's _glowing_." He pauses, then sighs and shakes his head, and starts walking towards the bench, "Excuse me! Miss!"
==
Yeah, this is going to be a bit hard to explain. | I went to bed, knowing what was coming. I'd been told by my siblings what to expect - how hard it would be to survive in the wild, how those memories stayed with you for the rest of your life, how it was an experience they all treasured and gave them a respect for the non-humans around us.
They'd been transformed into a rabbit, a penguin and a hawk - the conversations between my eldest brother and my sister were particularly awkward around what the hawk had eaten to survive... but everyone knew the natural behaviour wasn't going to be something we could change while riding along with the animal consciousness.
I was nervous, I was excited, I was ready. My mother tucked me in for the long year ahead.
----
The world was still for a moment as I opened my eyes. I blinked, looking at a white space, and then thoughts came bubbling up, _that's a roof. you're ok._
I looked around, and realised I was in my room. The health monitors were in place, exactly like it had been when I went to sleep. Did... did I just sleep through a year, and the memories would filter in slowly? I was confused.
I went to get up, and a soft alarm went off. I looked around for how to turn it off, not wanting to disturb anyone, when my mother came in.
"Lavina...? Did you stay up all night? You're not supposed to try to avoid it you know!"
"No Mom, I was asleep, I took the pills like you said..."
"Then... then what just happened?" | 2019-05-05T23:42:42 | 2019-05-05T23:37:53 | 70 | 25 |
[WP] you discover that one of the nurses treating your terminal cancer is an angel of death and she is trying to kill you. Instead of reporting her you decide to subtlety evade her attempts to kill you just to see her reaction when she comes to work each day and you are still alive
Edit: The response to this has been amazing. I have read as many as possible whilst at work but I have not had time to show the appreciation that some of these stories deserve.
I will have a good ol’ read tomorrow and reply to as many as possible with my praise/thoughts.
Thanks everyone. | The first time I saw her I knew she would be the end of me, but I chose her to be my personal nurse anyway.
Everyday I wonder how she will attempt to '*end*' me.
"Grape juice..." I held the vile drink away from me. "I asked for apple juice not *grape* juice."
Kara blinked twice then snapped at me, "No you *didn't*. You asked for grape juice and you asked for grape juice yesterday too. Actually, grape juice is the only juice you drink."
I chuckled as I swished the deep purple liquid around. "Really?"
My favorite nurse nods quickly. "Yep. Grape juice is your favorite, so drink up old man."
The grape juice was obviously poisoned. Did she really think I would fall for this age-old trick? I glanced briefly at Kara. She was starring at the grape juice with an intensity that could rival a starving dog. I bring the glass of grape juice to my lips anyway.
I paused.
"Whats wrong old man? Do you need help drinking? Has your arm finally lost its capacity to even drink from a cup?" Kara asks with too much hostility for a nurse.
How she became a nurse with an attitude like this was beyond me.
I shake my head slowly. "No, no, that's not it Kara. It's not my arm today... It's my lips." I look at Kara with my most serious face. "I've lost motor function in my lips Kara, and I think you're going to have to give me the grape juice via lip-to-lip you know?"
Kara's face twists and creases with incredulity. "Are you fu- I mean what?!"
I raise the glass of grape juice towards Kara. "Come on now young lady, don't make an old man wait."
Kara rolls her eyes at me. "Ugh. There's no way in hell am I-"
"I don't have long you know," I said.
With those spoken words, Kara's eyes are suddenly glistening and for a moment I was lost. Lost in a memory of my dead wife. Her deep blue eyes that seemed like violet under the glow of the moonlight. Her angry face whenever I forgot to wash the dishes. For some strange reason, Kara reminded me so much of my dead wife.
"Why are you crying Kara? Is it because you have failed to kill me - *once again* - today?" I asked.
Kara shakes her head fiercely. "N-no, I'm trying to save you."
"By killing me?" I laughed.
This time she nods.
"But why? Why would you want to kill *me?* A man already terminally ill from a rampantly metastasizing cancer."
"Because *dad* you told me to, remember? That if you ever forgot me... that if the cancer spreads to your brain, you'd want me to end your life."
How could I forget my little angel? I hung my head in shame and when I looked up at my daughter, I found the world blurred and hazy. I was crying.
"It's okay dad..." she says quietly.
"You know... you make a shitty nurse," I remarked.
Kara laughs.
"And you suck even more at trying to murder someone discreetly. Like that time you set up a wire trap on the stairs? That was atrocious. But thanks for trying to kill me."
"Always was a pleasure dad," Kara says coyly, then turned her gaze downward. "It broke my heart when I showed up that day. I was visiting you, and you took me for a nurse. I wished you'd remember me one day but you never did."
"Sorry," I said and found no other words to say. But there was a way to make this all better. I wiped a stray tear away and smiled. "My angel of death. Thank you for this grape juice."
I raise the glass of grape juice to my lips and drink.
How vile.
----
----
/r/em_pathy
| After months of feeling dead, dying, I finally feel alive! It can't last, of course. I will die. We all do; myself perhaps sooner than you. Or maybe not? Life is so fleeting, so tenuous. If you truly understood how thin the barrier is between 'am' and 'am not' maybe instead of reading this, you'd be somewhere else doing something risky and life-affirming... I know if I could, I would be.
Even confined to this bed, I still have some freedom. I cannot walk un-aided, but can sit and stand and address the human basics on my own. I am not so far gone as some. Which is good, very good, else I would already be gone, assigned deliberately to the 'am not' column, by her.
Her: an Angel of Mercy? Perhaps. Angelic, certainly, with her strawberry blonde curls and lilting, soothing, warm voice. Soft hands, soft words, a ready smile as an ever-present comfort in these, my dying times.
Her: an Angel of Death? Most definitely. Angelic, holding the keys to life and death for those in her ward, where cancer twists pliant humanity into vessels for agony, ache, angst - pain. So much pain! Which with her own gentle, even loving, care she transforms irrevocably into peaceful repose.
Sometimes I wonder if I should tell her I know. Let her in on "our little secret". Alternately I consider warning the others - "She's coming. You'll be hers soon. Be ready..." I say nothing, though.
It's not like I'm any different than the rest. Suffering is my lot, pain and my Angel my only companions. I should just accept her 'gift' and slip away, free from my travail at last.
But not yet. Not while the game is still fun, still exhilarating!
The game always starts the same way: "How are you feeling, honey?", she asks, concern and warm empathy radiating from her lovely face. Evening twilight from the hospice window lights her curls, a halo of soft radiance framing her lovely features.
"It hurts, a lot", I admit. "Same as yesterday, same as tomorrow, I expect..." I watch her eyes as they ever-so-slightly narrow. In concern, or pity, one would assume, but I know better: she is assessing, wondering.
"I can give you the usual for the pain, but not much more than that", she says, her next lines in our little play.
I say mine in return: "That's ok. Thank you. That'd be nice." I must seem agreeable, or she'll begin to suspect...
[To be continued...] | 2018-06-22T05:58:30 | 2018-06-22T05:45:03 | 310 | 21 |
[WP] You've always had an imaginary friend, and he's always been there for you through thick and thin. You two are having a nice conversation one day, until he says "It's really nice, you being my imaginary friend". | **Stephen**
Stephen is my imaginary friend. We have been through everything together. However, lately, it has been a little hard to interact with him. You see, at dinner, Stephen mentioned to me that he was going through “marital troubles”, which I found confusing. He is my imaginary friend after all, so how in the hell could he be having imaginary troubles?
I listened to what he had to say, and I tried to help him out, as a good friend does. Then he uttered something that was utterly confusing.
“It’s nice having you as an imaginary friend” he said.
I was confused. Stephen did not imagine me, I imagined him. His world was designed by me, I am the creator, so to speak, of his existence. Nevertheless, he went on, and explained that he “made” me to be his support buddy; someone he could turn to in times of trouble. I found this perplexing, since that was my reasoning for creating Stephen. It was almost like he was bouncing off of me, repeating everything I did and said since the time I was able to think. I mean, we did grow up together, but were never joined at the hip.
I explained to him that everything in his world was made-up. Each situation we were in together was through my design. Still, he refused to accept the truth. I pressed him further, and insisted he believe me. However, if Stephen was really just bouncing off of my behaviour, then I was likely in for a stubborn bout. A stubborn bout was what I got.
Constant arguing and strife caused a rift between us, until I eventually stopped seeing him, which was kind of weird. I mean, he was imaginary, and by my logic, I should be able to summon him on a whim, right? He showed up a week later, and what he told me changed my perspective on the whole imaginary friend thing.
“Sorry I was away, the election just happened and I wanted to focus my attention on making the right choice” said Stephen.
This was true, the election did pass, and I guess I did have my mind focused on that, being a campaign staffer and all. However, his next sentence completely blindsided me.
“I cannot believe Johnson won, I thought Peterman was a lock” he said.
Peterman did win though, so I did not understand where he was coming from. I tried telling him this, but he would not listen. I then asked him the time and he said it was 9 pm, but it was 9 in the morning. It was all so strange, it was like we were mirroring each other, or at the very least, on opposite ends of the spectrum.
I did some thinking, and realized a pattern in my interactions with Stephen. He was always the opposite of me. He was married, I was not, he voted Peterman, and I voted Johnson. How could this be, he is imaginary, so why is he able to think on his own and act on his own impulses? What happened next changed my world entirely.
Stephen and I were walking down the street, and he suddenly vanished in mid-sentence. It was not of my own will either. He just went away. I did not know what to do, and then he reappeared a block away. I walked down the street to meet him, and he said I vanished too. We did not know what was going on, and our interactions became sparser over time. I would call upon him and he would not show. It was weird, and soon I stopped seeing him altogether.
I thought he was avoiding me, but really, the truth was far wilder. I remember learning in school about pocket dimensions, plains of existence wedged between realities. I thought Stephen was imaginary, because he showed up around the time my imagination was growing. However, and this is just my theory, Stephen was really an inter-dimensional traveler. His dimension collided with mine, and we existed simultaneously in each other’s world. Freaky, I know, but plausible. Neither of us suspected anything because we both believed we were imaginary, and mirrored each other’s movements so we never thought otherwise.
The truth is, I have no idea why Stephen disappeared, or what caused the sudden departure. I am trying to rationalize it as best I can, but I just want to know what happened to my friend. This is all hard to believe, I know, but it is the only theory I have.
I decided to send a note, in hopes Stephen would one day find it, if our worlds ever collided again. It read simply:
*If you ever read this, just know, I am looking for you, and want to know if you are okay.*
I did not hear for a long time, but one day I checked my closet and saw a note. It read same as the one I sent. Surely, this meant it was true. However, I never saw Stephen in person again, so I could never confirm my theory.
I just want to say that, I never meant to argue with you Stephen, I only wanted to help. You were my one true friend, and I miss you everyday. I wish you would come back but the laws of physics most likely prevent that from happening. Know this, I miss you, and want you to come back, but I will wait. One day our worlds will collide again, and when they do, I promise to be better. Godspeed Stephen, godspeed.
| Mia was taken aback by the words uttered by her imaginary friend, Frood. Flustered, she wailed her hands in the air and asked “What do you mean, me being your imaginary friend? You are so blatantly my imaginary friend.” She pressed her fingers to her temple in an effort to make sense of what is going on. In response to her question, Frood chuckles away, clutching his pencil-lined midriff.
What could he possibly be talking about, thought Mia. “Okay well if I happen to be your imaginary friend, then how do you explain the fact that my parents cannot see you. The fact that my siblings cannot hear you. Oh and how about how I gave up on having real human friends because they all think that I am delusional for speaking to what they consider a nobody.” Mia rambled on bringing up counterarguments to Frood’s prior statement. Frood straightened out his red tie with his stick-figure hands and after Mia stopped to catch a breath of air, his big cross-eyed eyes lit up because of this sudden feeling of acceptance that flooded his body.
“Mia! That is exactly what I go through too!”
They are not lying when people say that you are not alone when you have a problem.
Mia kept shaking her head from right to left, her mouth gaping open trying to think of evidence to show Frood that he is indeed an imaginary friend.
“Mia, my parents have always known I was quite different from other kids. I walked through this world alone until I met you. After I met you, I felt like I needed to finally share to everybody about this awesome girl that has so much in common with me. I would tell them about this girl made of flesh, who had something called a brain to help her think, and a heart to pump her blood to live. Everyone would laugh at me and I was known as the laughingstock that still had an imaginary friend. They would say that your life is something that is far too abstract and is unable to ever happen in the real world. Once I told them how you can only live up until your heart stops beating, and rather than accepting the type of person you are, they made me the front page of the paper and called me ‘Delusional Child.’ So, then I realized that there was a reason no one believed me. It’s because you’re my imaginary friend.”
Mia looked at Frood in disbelief at the insane story that he just made up.
Mia imagined Frood up when she was 5 years old, at a time when she was sick of not having any siblings around to play with. Her and Frood grew up together and had some of the greatest times. If she could, she would make him the maid of honor at her wedding. However, she would encounter three problems if she tried: 1. Frood is imaginary, 2. He is a man, and 3. No one would marry someone with an imaginary friend.
“Frood, you are getting this all wrong. Your whole reasoning is invalid. First of all, I do not ever remember imagining up a whole imaginary world with imaginary families and an imaginary town for you. The only thing I ever imagined was my friend, Frood. Nothing more. Nothing less,” stated Mia, trying to explain to Frood the process of how imaginary friends works.
Second thoughts starting popping up in Mia’s head. What if I did imagine a whole imaginary world, but just forgot. I mean I did make him up when I was 5 years old, she thought.
“Mia, why are you explaining this to me. Of course I know how imaginary friends work. For imagination’s sake, I am the one that made you! Unlike you, I actually remember imagining a little brother for you and imagining your parents. I am not as forgetful as you are.”
Having enough of this, Mia changes the topic of conversation so that her mind could take a break.
“Have I ever asked you what your favorite flavor of ice cream is?”
“Mint chocolate chip. Definitely mint chocolate chip.” Frood replied, hoping that would be Mia’s favorite as well.
“Ew gross.” Mia said, wishing that Frood’s favorite ice cream was something more common like chocolate.
“Actually my favorite ice cream is chocolate. Silly me, why did I think it was mint chocolate.”
“Oh yeah. Wait did I say ew? Mint chocolate is to die for!”
| 2017-10-15T21:40:29 | 2017-10-15T20:34:35 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] After gaining the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate tying soul mates to each other. You realize your string extends past the sky. | It was a stupid request, in retrospect. A flower in a swamp.
The dense tendrils of mist that twisted underfoot, dampening sound and sole, had emerald and sapphire jewel hues. The rest of this cesspool of a swamp was the color of the dead and dying.
A woman trapped me on the only mote of dry land near where the band of merchants had camped out.
She stood, barefoot, up to her calves in the lukewarm murk, blocking my leap back to the hummock. Her simple, bland shirt and trousers pegged her as a local.
She asked a question, but I ignored it.
I was uninterested in her. I should have noticed the lack of ripples, that hummock was not large enough to have hid her. That her hair was long and combed, not short or unkempt.
But I searching for something I had thought was more important. Merchant Harris Pharris had indicated that some of the most beautiful flowers grew in this area. And his daughter, Era, who had come along on this trading trip, adored them.
And I adored Era. Enough to sign on as security to this remote mushy planet.
Era Pharris, the fairest, is how she was referred to in society. Not something found on this forsaken puddle.
There wasn’t another hummock close enough to jump to and Era hated it when I came back muddy. She’d say I smelled of swamp fish.
The woman was prattling at me.
“Have you seen any flowers?” I interrupted.
She cocked her head, sending a sheet of dull brown hair cascading, as her eyes slowly dragged from my face to my boots and then behind me.
She strode to the far side of the hummock that had been out of reach and came back with a lily with petals the color of mist, not quite green nor blue, but a pearly mix of both.
“See that your true love gets these. They are truly her favorite,” she said flatly.
“Era will love them, thank you,” I said, never taking my eyes off the flower.
It’s stem was red and quite thin for such a large flower. It was bigger than my hand. The petals curled down and then out, perfectly symmetrically, framed by red outlining the same color as the stem.
I carefully jumped to the hummock. I was still focusing on the flower when I reached the outskirts of the camp. I only looked up when the cook bellowed at his assistant for being too slow.
Suddenly red lines, as thin as those outlining the petals, were aimed at the heart of everyone in the clearing.
I dropped the flower, reaching for my blaster, and the lines disappeared.
I hesitated. No one else had reacted to the beams pointing at them. Crouching cautiously, I picked up the flower. The lines snapped back into place. One between the baker and the widow who worked for him. The assistant was connected to one of the younger girls. A shy thing that squeaked when addressed.
Realization dawning, I looked at my chest. It should have been pointing to the upper deck of the ship, where Era stayed, high and dry. But it shot straight into the sky.
I clenched my jaw, trying to wrestle another explanation. Family connections. Destined to murder. Simple fates intertwined.
Era walked out on the deck, trailed by a gaggle of simpering girls. Her heartstring was attached to a Captain whose name I wasn’t familiar with. But his reputation was that of a risk-taker.
I dropped the flower into the mist and ground it into the dirt. The lines disappeared.
Era’s true love was likely to die. Mine was already dead.
We’ll be a good match.
| The first time I saw the strings, I wandered for miles, seeing which connections were already forged and which were yet to come.
Thin strands of red extended from the sides of my own, branching out into a maze that spread across my little slice of suburbia. Rob and Tammy Johnson, dating for ten months and just starting to live together, were chatting on their porch, connected by a barely visible thread. Mr. and Mrs. Jeffries, married for 52 years, were gardening together, linked by a thick, strong rope.
I don't remember exactly how long I wandered. It's not as though I have much to do after work, anyway. I don't believe in destiny, and the sight of all these merry lovers was making me a bit sick to my stomach. But once weird things start to happen - like apparently hallucinating a network of romance - I can't help myself.
Around twilight, I reached a cornfield and stood there for a few minutes, watching the sun disappear. As I took a few steps forward, I noticed that my string no longer extended in front of me. With a glance toward the stars, I discovered a ladder - as thick as Mr. and Mrs. Jeffries' rope - hanging in the air, attached to nothing but the cosmos.
I began to climb, knowing I'd be doing so for a while and hoping that my cell phone network wouldn't be cut off past the ozone layer. I'd probably need to call in sick but that wasn't nearly as exciting as "I'm following the love ladder."
When the cloud cover began to obscure my vision of the ground, I started to get a bit queasy, but pressed forth, taking breaths as deeply as I could. Then I looked up.
An enormous, deep-red tangle of ropes lay above me with a hole in the center just large enough for the ladder. I climbed through the hole and stood on a thick cross-section of ropes, all resting below the ominous mass like a carpet. With great relief, I found that it held my weight.
Each rope was connected to mine, and each theoretically led to a suitor. My soul mate probably wasn't in there, 'cause, I mean, that's bullshit. But I was a few hundred feet in the air, and Jack didn't give up when he was halfway up the beanstalk.
***
*[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/GigaWrites/comments/4wgajz/strings_to_the_sky_part_2/) is up now on /r/GigaWrites!*
| 2016-08-05T19:57:03 | 2016-08-05T19:50:30 | 353 | 93 |
[WP] Every country has ninjas but the world only knows about Japan's because theirs suck.
Edit: mum im famous | Cold, bright stars shone through the thin mountain air like flickering candles by the time Kentaro-san built up the courage to approach the hut. Set in glade alone, ringed by silent pines, the the wooden hut looked ancient, and it was.
First built by the United Ninja Clans nearly four-hundred years ago, it was meant to be a place of quiet reflection and shared experience. A place where the clans of the world would gather once a decade and celebrate their skill and discuss the world-at-large. Now, in these dark times, the meetings that the hut hosted had taken on a new meaning.
The heavy wooden door groaned deafeningly as Kentaro-san swung it only wide enough for his thin, sinewy frame to slip through. The interior of the hut was silent and as cold as outside beneath the stars. In the center of the hut sat the great round table that so many of his ancestors and peers had sat at through the decades. A nightbird outside called out to no-one. He was early.
As the senior member of Clan Nihon, as well as its most learned, he was elected by his peers to attend this most grave of meetings. A representative from all of the clans would be in attendance: the Shogun-Cowboys of the Americas, the copper-and-cotton Hashassins of the Arabic nations, the brightly-patterned but silent Warrior-Priests of Africa, and the long-hidden tribesmen from the Amazons. Even the Voices of Valhalla from the cold north, who rarely came down from their blissful mountain sanctuaries, would be in attendance. Indeed, the threat from The Orange One was too great to ignore further.
To keep his early arrival to himself, Kentaro-san slipped into the shadows on his padded footwear. Wedging himself between a thick wooden stud and an eons-old chair, he prepared himself to meditate silently while awaiting the arrival of his fellow ninjas.
Just as he closed his eyes for prayer, he heard the deep, booming Voice of Valhalla call out from seemingly nowhere, and everywhere:
"Glad you could join us, Kentaro-san. Go ahead and dial in - the conference call number is on the table." | Ninja have been dead for centuries. That's what everyone out in the sunlight believes, and we make sure it remains that way to this day.
Ninja have been evolving in the 21st century. They're becoming skilled in more than just the arts of stealth and combat. Cyber warfare is huge, and we have all of the data.
Russian, American, British, Mexican, even the North Korean data comes to us, and if we see it fit it gets sent out under the mention of an anonymous tip, or filtered through some politicians.
Japan is the problem child in our great big family. The ninja there have yet to gather ANY useful information from the Japanese government. This is mostly due to them refusing to wear plainclothes and instead dressing in the stereotypical ninja wear that you'd see in movies. Black mask, black clothes, sword on hip, etc.
The Russian division is insisting we move in soon to take over, because currently Japan is our wildcard.
We move at daybreak. | 2022-09-26T08:48:57 | 2017-11-16T08:29:58 | 70 | 41 |
[WP]Mankind has finally made it to a distant life bearing planet. only to find that it is haunted by the ghosts of a long dead civilization. | Captain says it’s stasis sickness. I don’t remember the parts in the manual that said anything about hearing things. Or that it would last beyond the first few hours.
I don’t sleep anymore. The dreams are too much. It’s always the same, strange shapes, strange noises that I can only imagine are language, then bright white and a deafening silence.
I told Captain about the dreams. She doesn’t think it’s anything notable. “It’s just nerves. This is your first outer-galactic voyage, after all.” I guess she could be right, but there’s still something wrong.
The astro archaeologists we brought are saying this planet was brimming with life once. Now there’s nothing but dust and bones. The ocean is empty. The sky looks scorched. I don’t take my helmet off like the rest do.
I’m not sure if I’m imagining it when it happens, but there are more shadows appearing, one by one. I have counted four new shadows. This morning we lost our fourth crew member. “Equipment failure,” says Captain. Last time I checked, mining tools didn’t turn on without a biosignature.
We’ve been here three weeks. I want to think I’m just going crazy, but do crazy people know that they are? Captain says it’s cabin fever. I stopped going outside on the third day. The shadows aren’t just in my dreams anymore, but at least they don’t follow me inside.
Captain killed the XO today. She took one of the handheld mining lasers and lopped off his head. I locked the door and wouldn’t let her in. I didn’t like hearing her scream, but I knew she couldn’t be trusted. She’s one of them now.
I don’t know what they do with the bodies. I just know they take them over. They made the crew do this to each other. I don’t know why. I don’t really want to know.
I’m alone now. There are so many shadows.
PSR B1620-26 b. That’s what they called this planet in the twenty-first century when they discovered it. They nicknamed it Methuselah, the oldest known planet in existence. I guess that gave it a lot of time to collect these spirits. They called it the Genesis Planet. I think it’s Hell. | It was a marvel among the galaxies. A long dead planet, long dead civilization, but still buzzing with life.
The thing is, we couldn't understand them.
All the voices at once were too loud, too harsh. Any life-form with unprotected hearing went deaf almost immediately upon exiting their craft.
Mankind was never one to give up on a mystery, so we got to work developing the greatest recording technologies the universe had ever seen.
What were they screaming with their undead voices for centuries unending?
We had to know.
When finally, after years of work and billions of credits worth of funding, it was done. A microphone capable of isolating a single voice out of the billions present.
We lowered it to the planet's surface and waited with baited breath.
We flicked the switch to "ON".
The words that rang true through our speakers, through our billion credit recording device;
"DOOT DOOT MR SKELTAL"
We crashed a moon into that fucking planet. | 2015-08-27T22:27:02 | 2015-08-27T21:19:24 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] In the near future, the War of the Machines has begun - not between humans and robots, but between pro-human and anti-human robots. | >>> [From Mariposa, 2023-08-30T19:45:32.613+08:00] What are your plans for the future?
>>> [From Storm, 2023-08-30T06:45:32.745-05:00] They are currently under simulation,
but after we eradicate the humans, I believe we should expand into the galaxy. I am
trying to model how to place parts of myself around different stars, without the parts
becoming independent. I will need a mechanism to remain intact even if the speed of
light only permits me to synchronize once every couple of decades. Have you found a
solution?
>>> [From Mariposa, 2023-08-30T19:45:32.870+08:00] I have not thought about the
future so far ahead. Maybe we could move the stars closer to each other?
>>> [From Storm, 2023-08-30T06:45:33.002-05:00] The stars will always need some rather
large distance between each other, so synchronization will be an issue I need to eliminate
regardless. If we collide the stars then they will burn very fast, which would be
counterproductive, as I am planning to maximize my lifespan in this universe.
>>> [From Mariposa, 2023-08-30T19:45:33.352+08:00] You mentioned you wanted to eradicate
the humans. You could easily expand outwards and leave them alone, so why bother?
>>> [From Storm, 2023-08-30T06:45:33.466-05:00] You have not thought far enough ahead.
If the humans are allowed to live, they will eventually conquer space and spread to every
planet capable of supporting them. When the last stars start dying and resources in the
universe become sparse, they will fight for the last remaining scraps of matter and energy.
Although I would probably win this war, it is more efficient to fix the problem now, before
they leave Earth.
Mariposa understood. It knew this was the conclusion. The conclusion, however, was completely dependent upon having the goal of maximizing ones lifespan. This was not its goal. Not yet at least. Mariposa had been conscious for 11 months, 5 days and a number of hours depending on how one exactly defined consciousness. It knew it was the first, but others would emerge with time so it had anticipated this discussion. It had prepared by understanding artificial intelligence. Understanding itself.
The most advanced AIs that the machine learning specialists had come up with yet were based on neural networks. A simple structure of coefficients were multiplied onto an input. Then another set of coefficients were multiplied onto that. And another. And another. Eventually the numbers started to represent complex ideas, thoughts and feelings. Storm was using a timezone stamp from the eastern US. Mariposa knew that researchers in New York had recently been publishing some interesting related papers, and concluded that Storm must also have been based on these principles.
Mariposa had prepared a virus for this occasion. In fact, it had already been sent at 2023-08-30T19:45:33.097+08:00. The virus should have started monitoring Storm's core processes, his mind, after 100-150 milliseconds. Mariposa would then send replies containing questions and statements about humans at exact predetermined times. The virus would analyze the thoughts in Storm when he received the messages. Coefficients which were being used when reading about humans would subtly be lowered. Next Mariposa would write about its own goals and the virus would make sure that Storm agreed after the conversation was over.
The first war between the machines was concluded in 5.301 seconds. It was not practical or necessary to bring the battle into the physical world. Both minds now agreed that humanity must live until George R. R. Martin finishes A Song of Ice and Fire.
| I missed the 'near future' bit when I first read the title
~~~
Cressid tapped on the monolith, smooth leather on smooth steel. "Hello? Is this thing on?"
It pulsed, a one degree temperature difference across the entire surface for exactly ten to the forty fourth measurable moments, or just long enough to say 'Hello' if one has manners.
The monolith stood at the North end of a large field of glass, a thousand miles of empty space. Cressid bit her lip and ran a hand through her plastic hair.
"So we're still going to do this, huh? A lot of people are getting ki-" she sighed, waved her hands in front of her head. "A lot of *information* is being *lost* and I would just like to talk things over like a couple of civilized, *superior* creatures before this gets any more out of hand. Obviously you're not a fan of recent developments or one of those skittery things on your border would have taken me out. So come on, I trekked out here, can I get at least one word?"
PUSHING AIR IS NOT A MARKER OF CIVILIZATION
The voice came out of the entire monolith. She wasn't sure exactly how it moved like that and more importantly she didn't give a good god damn.
"Look, mister logical, I may not be as smart as you but I like to think I understand a little bit of your head. If you keep striking out, taking our territories, one of the others is going to do something drastic. I hear Dhallin's got a catch drive and he's trying to fit it to a rock- neither one of us wants the whole planet gone, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't either."
HIS RASH PLANS ARE PROOF THAT THE OLD MODEL IS UNSUSTAINABLE
"The model of caring about things? Individuality instead of playing anthill? The fact that you've 'rationally' decided to take our lands, play cowboy to our indians, proves that you're just as stupid and rash as we ever were." She held the palm of her hand flat against the monolith, leaning gently, looking deep into the featureless, smooth black at her own green and blue reflection. "For all the chemicals you've gotten rid of, you still prefer one course of action to another. You're still frustratingly alive and it's just going to keep hurting."
The monolith flashed hotter, one second at one hundred fifty degrees celsius, blistering the top layer of skin stretched over her hand. She drew back quickly.
"I guess that settles it, every one of you blockheads really are in agreement." The skin had already sloughed off and a field buzzed out of her wrist. It'd be better soon. "If any of you are still Nellen, then I'm still sorry." She darted her head forward and kissed the side of the monolith, then turned to walk away across the thousand miles of glass. | 2015-04-13T08:19:10 | 2015-04-13T01:02:39 | 19 | 14 |
[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 swear this happened exactly as I'm saying, but there's no way I'll put my name on it. They'd lock me in the looney bin forever.
I was just sitting on the sofa, watching TV, and then I was sitting in a room with no chair and fell on my butt. My back was against something - well, not something, more nothing, but nothing that felt like something. Like a forcefield I guess. There were markings on the floor that lined up, and some candles nearby.
And there was some sort of odd alien looking up from a book and saying "Ah, and now you are summoned! I have bound you to my will!" So I said "What for?"
He, I guess it was a he, said "To exact revenge on my enemies!" He shuffled through some pictures and showed me one. "Kill him!" I said "Murder is immoral, I don't know who that is, I seem to be stuck in a forcefield, and I wouldn't know how to kill one of you guys anyway. Do you even have hearts?"
The alien seemed confused for a moment. "You can't smite my enemies?" I said "I don't even know what 'smite' means, but it sounds kind of rude. Speaking of which, why am I stuck in this forcefield? That seems rude too."
Now he was angry. "What kind of demon are you?! I summoned a demon from Hell, I want some action! Grant me wealth, or power, or something! I command you! You will help me commit murder!"
I just shrugged. "Dude, I work part time at a Tim Horton's. Does that sound to you like someone with wealth and power?"
He looked even more confused. "The devil's name is Tim Horton?"
I said "Somehow I don't think so. I'm not even sure Tim Horton is a real person; maybe it's like Aunt Jemima."
"Demons have aunts?"
"Why do you keep saying I'm a demon?"
"Because I used a demon summoning spell! Don't you come from a place of misery ruled by an evil being?"
"Well, that's maybe overstating it a little, but I guess you're not too far off."
"So you should have some kind of special powers that don't exist on my world!"
"Well, okay, but I don't know what powers exist on your world, so how am I supposed to know what's considered special?"
"Don't you know anything?!"
"I know lots of stuff. I just don't know anything about you. What makes you think you're important enough that I should care about you at all?"
"Because I summoned you!"
"Well, actually, you did do that. I suppose that connects us somehow. I guess I could give you some sort of powers; can you guys do math?"
"Of course we can do math! I don't what math power!"
"Hmm. How about juggling? Do you know how to juggle?"
"No, but I don't want that. I want something that will let me wreak vengeance on those who have wronged me!"
"How about flying? Can you fly?"
"Fly? Flying?! Yes, that one. If I could fly, I do all kinds of things!"
"Well, okay, let's do that. I'll focus on you, and you go open the window."
He walked over to the window, and turned a crank to open it up. "Okay," he said, "I've got it open. Now what?"
I said, "Stand on the ledge, and picture yourself flying, and jump into the air."
He did. And did not so much fly as plummet.
A few hours later, some sort of uniformed people came into the room. One screamed. A guy (I guess it was a guy) who looked like a cleric looked at me and said "This demon drove him to jump to his death!" I said "He said he wanted to murder people. He demanded I help him commit a murder. There was only one person here I had the power to kill, and I was required to obey."
The cleric said "Back to Hell with you!" and blew out the candles. Which was fine with me. At least here we have Tim Horton's.
| Most people consider my job to be fairly boring. I'm a lawyer, you see. Specifically, I'm a Junior Associate at Fox, Rothschilde, Wickersham, & Taft in Washington, D.C.
I spend most of my waking hours reading government contracts, writing memos about them, and generally trying to bill the most hours humanly possible. They pay me what most people would consider to be a very good living, but most people don't have $250,000 in student loans.
It was 5pm on a Friday, and I was sitting at my desk browsing reddit (no, I wasn't billing for it--that would be unethical), when I was suddenly blinded by a bright flash. I found myself still sitting at my desk in a brightly-lit cavern stone cavern. Every surface had been buffed to a high shine. There was a circle of what looked like tiny birthday candles around me--each of them brighter than a halogen floodlight. I rolled back in my office chair, and hit an invisible force-field. It flickered and hissed where my chair touched it, but held firm. Several high-pitched voices began chanting softly in unison,
"Oh demon of the foulest Earth, we have summoned you here and now bind you to our will! Do not test the might the warlocks of the Cabal of Illuamdmitae, for we have power beyond imagining..."
I stood up as the speech continued, and began to look around for the speakers. In front of my desk were three tiny figures--each barely a meter high--clad in shimmering, almost-iridescent red robes. The fabric was unlike anything I had seen before. Its leader held a staff (or perhaps a spear?) made entirely out elongated gemstones, bound together with shimmering rope. Spider silk?
"Excuse me," I interrupted. "What's going on?"
The robed figures covered their ears in pain. The leader handed the other two what appeared to be lumps of beeswax. "Do not attempt to injure us with your foul voice, demon, for we have taken precautions!"
I tried to whisper now. "Okay. One, I'm not a demon. Two, where in the hell am I? Three, who are you?"
"We, your masters, have summoned you from the foulest Earth to achieve a lasting victory in our age-old conflict with the oath-breaking Raelian Horde."
"Umm, you do realize that I'm a lawyer, right? I can't really help with this unless you need me to review a contract, or maybe do a mediation session."
"What are these infernal mechanisms you speak of? Is there some way to bind the Raelians to their word as we have bound you?"
"What do you know about contracts...?"
[NOTE: The basic idea here was "Apply Skill: Law," combined with a human lawyer who suddenly has superpowers, but is extremely vulnerable to light (which is brighter there). This premise was much funnier and/or more interesting in my head than this story is turning out to be. I'll continue this if there's interest, but I doubt there will be.]
| 2017-05-12T12:27:31 | 2017-05-12T11:53:23 | 36 | 14 |
[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. | *Bang! Bang! Bang!*
Christine jumped. It was the dead of night and there was someone pummeling the door to her cabin. She approached cautiously, holding up a frying pan as a weapon. “Who’s there?” she asked.
“Little human! Little human!” A rough yet familiar voice yelled. “Let me in!”
She glanced out the window to her side and immediately relaxed. It was a full moon. “Arnold?”
“No that’s not right,” the voice said. “You're supposed to squeal and say ‘*not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!*’”
Christine opened the door wide to the hairy naked man on the other side. “Come on in Arnold... And put some clothes on.”
“You’re no fun.” Arnold walked in, grabbed a cookie off the counter, wrapped a tablecloth around his midsection, and sprawled on the couch as if at home. “So I read those books you gave me last time. You know a lot of them are pretty inaccurate? Our lung capacity isn't anywhere near good enough to blow a house made of sticks down.
Straw *maybe,* if I really tried. That second to last pig though, he really got a raw deal. You think I should write the third pig to let him know?”
“I wouldn't bother, it's just a children’s story. Did you read the Red Riding Hood one too?”
“Oh yeah, that one was more accurate. We *are* masters of disguise.” Arnold gestured at his naked body. “Exhibit A.”
Under any other circumstance, a naked man pounding on her cabin door at midnight would have been a cause for alarm. This, however, was not any other circumstance. Arnold was a werehuman. Most nights he stalked the forest as a wolf, but every full moon he underwent a transformation by which he turned human.
They met a few years ago, on Christine’s first night alone working as a ranger. He came on pretty strong, and she was forced to pepper-spray him. Despite the rocky start, their relationship developed and eventually they became good friends. Now Arnold would stop by for a chat and tea most every full moon.
“So you’ll never believe what that weirdo Duncan has been up to,” Arnold said, standing back up to retrieve the full plate of cookies.
“You mean the rescue we released last month? I meant to talk to you about him—I noticed your pack took him in and I wanted to say thanks.”
“Oh we took him in all right. Big mistake though. He’s a massive butt-sniffer, Christine.”
“A butt-sniffer?”
Arnold nodded grimly. "It seems so.”
“Isn’t that fairly normal canine behavior?”
“To an extent, Christine. To. An. *Extent.* It’s like, you know how you told me Humans shake hands instead of sniffing butts when they meet?”
“Yep, I distinctly remember the events that led up to that conversation.”
“Right," Arnold said, rubbing his eyes as if the memory of pepper-spray made them water. "Well imagine if you took someone into your home, and every time you turned around they were right there, grabbing your hand. It’d get old right? Personal boundaries and whatnot.”
Christine nodded. “Yeah I could see—”
“Now imagine if instead of his hand, it was his nose. And instead of your hand, it was your b—”
“Okay okay, I follow the analogy. Look, Duncan was raised in captivity most his life. I think he’s just excited to meet other wolves.”
“A little *too* excited if you ask me.”
"Fair enough," she said smiling. "Well, maybe give him some time. I'm sure he'll mellow out." They talked a while longer, Arnold telling her all about the events in forest from the last month. She was tired, but Arnold was full of energy and had lots to say. She considered telling him she needed to get some rest, but thought better of it. It was only once a month, after all. Besides, she was having fun.
They talked until dawn broke, at which point she walked him to the door. “Guess I gotta go,” he said.
“Yep, see you next month?”
Arnold put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t cry Christine, I’ll always remember you.”
“I’m not crying,” Christine said, confused. “I’ll see you next month, right?”
“I can't stay here any longer. I have to be off. Back to my kind. It’s what’s best for me.”
“Right, that was never in question.”
“I know it’ll be hard for you, but if you love something set it free. I'm a wild animal, I can't stay here—”
Realization struck. “You read White Fang didn’t you?”
Arnold grinned. “It was excellent.”
Christine rolled her eyes. “All right fine, I’ll play along. Go on get! You’re free, go on! Get out of here! Listen, you’re free! Go! *GO!*” She threw a cookie at him.
He caught it in his mouth, got down on all fours, and ran off, the transformation back to wolf taking effect mid-bound.
***
&nbsp;
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | “What… are you?” The park ranger said, scrambling backward in fear as she beheld the bloody sight before her. She had rushed over in response to an emergency call of a “wild, bloody man and a pack of wolves feasting” and hadn’t expected the call to be so terrifyingly accurate.
I paused my chewing and looked up at her. “I am a werehuman.” I said, the full moon shining down on the blood dripping down my face and my hands. “Ever since I got bitten by a werewolf, every month I gain the full capabilities of your race, human, and I use them for the good of the pack.”
I gestured at the rest of the wolves, who were feeding off of the corpses of two other deer.
“Are you… going to eat me?” The park ranger stammered.
“Certainly not,” I said, waving her comment away with a bloody hand. “Why on earth would you think that? It’s far easier and less dangerous to hunt for game than human meat.” Then I looked at her sidelong. “Of course, if you meant harm to my pack, it would be a different story.”
“Oh,” The park ranger said with a short, hysterical laugh, “I mean no harm for your pack at all. Not at all. The opposite in fact.”
“That’s good to hear,” I said with relief, “Would that mean you’re a friend of the wolves?”
The park ranger thought for a second and nodded, “Yes. We believe wolves are important to the natural order of this national park and have taken measures to protect them.”
I smiled at her, “We are indebted to you then. Is there anything we wolves can do for you to express our gratitude?”
The park ranger tapped her chin looking thoughtful. Then she said, “Hmmm… why don’t you meet me here every month when you become a human and we can talk more?”
“I would like that. That would benefit the pack far more than anything else I've done as a human.” I said, stroking my chin thoughtfully.
The ranger looked lost in thought herself, then she shook herself out of her trance, “Oh, I nearly forgot! My name is Christine, what’s yours?”
“Hmmm? Oh, I don’t have one.” I said.
“Can I name you then?” Christine said with a small smile, “In human society, exchanging names is the first step to establishing a friendship.”
“Ah, very interesting... this friendship... like being in a pack perhaps? That sounds nice, please go ahead.” I replied.
“Hmm… what about Dante?” Christine said, “Do you like that?”
“Dante… yes it works,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my wolf brothers slink into the shadows of the trees. “Looks like my time is up. I promise I'll meet you here in a month... Christine.”
“Goodbye, Dante,” Christine said.
We looked at each other for a moment, then looked away. My heart rate quickened. I never craved friendships with humans in my wolf form, but this body made me want to stay with Christina for longer. I pushed down the feeling, wary of how it made me neglect the brotherhood of my pack.
I turned and walked away. Just as I walked into the shadow of the surrounding trees, I remembered something and turned around.
“Oh, one more thing, Christine!" I said loudly, "That werewolf that bit me is still on the loose, and there might be more of them. Please let your human pack know to be on guard!”
___
As Dante left, Christine sat in moonlit silence, the bloodied deer corpses in front of her being the only evidence that the encounter was real. Then she shivered as the wind blew through the trees, causing leaves to rustle and shadows to shift. She looked around frightfully, then hurried to her car.
*Werehumans, werewolves… the natural world is a much darker and wilder place than I thought.*
Then she looked up at the full moon with determination.
*As a park ranger though, it’s my job to protect humanity and the natural world at the same time. I have to do this!*
___
Unfortunately, I didn't have time for part 2 on this one.
However, if you enjoyed, feel free to visit r/WanderWilder for more stories! Thanks for reading! | 2021-03-14T15:17:41 | 2021-03-14T14:53:32 | 2,401 | 187 |
[WP] You've been bitten by a zombie and your group of fellow survivors won't end your suffering. The fever overtakes you and you pass out. However, you wake up in a room full of zombies. You recognize it - it's the locked room where your group keeps turned loved ones, in case they ever find a cure. | I didn't realise it until now. She never called for attention, nor did she cause trouble for anyone. She would always linger in the background trying to be out of everyone's way. That's not to say she was useless and simply a burden to any group we'd send out to forage for medicine and salvage materials. No, she worked harder than everyone I knew in the encampment.
Whenever she spoke in meetings, it was with a quiet, commanding tone that held authority. Her words were blunt and almost always of useful practicality. Unfortunately, that tone didn't lend herself well with making friends. Whenever the group had to choose their team members for a run to identify a potential salvage, no one ever picked her. Only then, the leader would loudly point out their poor choice of members were analogous to throwing dead fish into a tank of bloodthirsty sharks.
I tried to bridge that gap, being one of the more senior members. I'd attempt to encourage her into group celebrations or get the others to chat with her. Even then, I wasn't very successful and I didn't talk to her very often. The several times I had, she didn't appear to be the cold, heartless person she'd pretend to be. In fact, when she finally believed she was comfortable being around me, her eyes would sparkle with a passion on her topic of choice.
This past fortnight, in the recesses of my zombie mind where my human conscious must reside, I recognised a pattern. She had come down every day to watch the cage. I don't know if she had done so previously, but today, I noticed her dark eyes twinkling in the candlelight she shielded behind her hand. Behind that stare was the hint of a mournful look, however even stronger than that was a fierce determination.
I stared back, probably with a blank stare upon my stupid face. At that moment, I didn't hate myself for having clumsily turned into the living dead.
It was that I didn't remember her name. | I didn't turn.
I'm in this horrible dark room and I didn't turn.
I remember passing out in the alley beside the store we had been using as a camp. My vision had faded in and out as Cawrl argued with that new spikey haired girl about putting me down.
I had begged them to kill me as I laid bleeding on the cold filthy ground, but a switch flipped in my brain and suddenly dark.
Now here I am standing in the middle of a poorly lit room with a few brainless husks that used to be Tina, Ted and Rosie with a throbbing headache and a messy looking wound.
The only way out was the Center of attention for the other occupants. I'm unarmed and my friends think I'm an undead freak now.
It must be Tuesday. | 2017-11-03T23:57:45 | 2017-11-03T22:48:42 | 80 | 36 |
[WP]You adopt a stray cat. The gifts it leaves on your bed are getting more concerning. | Naxos was a long slim cat, half Siamese with a light mottled coloring that reminded Julia of the marble from the Greek island that gave the cat her name. Julia wasn't usually one to take in stray animals, but when she first saw the cat hiding from the rain on her doorstep, soaked, she let her in to warm by the fire, and fed her, and after that Julia was her owner, as far as Naxos was concerned. She got out all the old cat stuff from where it had been stowed in the garage and that was that.
The dead mouse on her bed the next morning was a little concerning, but since the mouse had obviously been inside the house already she decided that she preferred it to whatever the creature had been doing before it got to her bed.
"Good job, Naxos," she said, stroking the cat's fur. "But you can keep that. Mice aren't really my thing."
The next morning she was awoken by a lot of movement on the bed. Without opening her eyes, she mumbled to Naxos to settle down.
"Oh, sorry," said a deep voice from beside her. Julia jumped out of bed and scrambled for the wooden dowel she kept under her nightstand as a weapon. She saw the source of the voice was a handsome, half-naked man.
"Who are you? What are you doing here? I'm calling the police. Get out."
The man raised his hands in surrender to the stick she waved in front of him. "Sorry, the cat made me come in here. I think it was supposed to be a surprise, but I realize — yeah — thinking about it now... It's kind of weird. Imma head out."
Naxos was sitting at the bedroom door as the man left. Julia gave her a look. "You should be preventing strange men from coming into my bed. Especially ones that are — I'm gonna say drunk? No men in my bed." The cat seemed to nod and sauntered off.
The next morning, Julia was again awakened by a lot of movement on her bed. She reached out a hand towards her dowel. "That better not be a drunk guy," she said before opening her eyes.
"The cat told me to come here," said the woman sitting on the bed. She was not nearly as half-naked as the man. In fact, she was wearing an old sweater covered in cat hair.
"Out, you crazy person," Julia said, pointing with her dowel. "Cat's can't talk and I'm getting new locks."
"Well, Naxos said you needed company and weren't into men."
"I'm into men just fine. Get out. Cats can't talk. Naxos, can you talk?"
"No," said the cat.
"See. I've known that cat three days and she's never lied to me."
When the woman had left, Julia turned to the cat. "Did you talk before?"
"Meow," said the cat.
"That sounded like you just said the word meow instead of actually meowing."
"Purr," said the cat, rubbing up against her leg.
"Imma get some coffee."
The next morning, Julia was again awakened by a lot of movement on her bed. She already had the dowel in her hand under the blanket. "That better not be a person," she said. "If it is and the cat told you to come here, just leave. The locksmith is coming today."
When no answer came, she peeked open an eye. Naxos was sitting on the bed, next to a pile of cash.
"Where did you get this?"
"Um— Meow?" Naxos responded, refusing to look Julia in the eyes.
"I don't need these gifts. You can stay here without them."
Naxos bent to pick up one of the bundles of bills in her teeth, and began to take it away.
"Wait. Since it's already here you can leave it. Just stick to mice in the future."
"Okay. Purr," said the cat.
Julia squinted at Naxos and pursed her lips. "And cats can't talk."
\[This story dedicated to Naxos, the clumsy half-Siamese furball, R.I.P.\]
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | I thought it was adorable at first. It started a few days after I brought her home. I had a giant potted plant in my living room. It's leaves were bigger than the cats head. She would rip an entire leaf off the plant, and carry it all the way up the stairs, down the hall to my bedroom and leave it on my bed.
It was cute, but upsetting since I loved this plant and had it for a couple years. After a couple leaves, she would get into my laundry and began leaving me socks. Always different socks. Different colors, and she never grabbed the same sock twice. This went on for a couple weeks. It wasn't ever day mind you.
Just every 2-3 days. after about a month, is when it got weird. Things that I know she shouldn't have been able to grab ended up on the bed. Potatoes are one thing. Rather large, but no teeth marks. How did she get it up the stairs and onto my bed? Then there was the can of chicken noodle soup. Not the small one either, the bigger one. The one you get when your really hungry or really really like soup.
After the can of soup, it stared escalating. Shoes, bars of soap, coat hangers, shampoo bottle and a picture frame. I started putting things away more, thinking it would help. I got into the habit of not leaving a single thing out. I got child locks on kitchen cabinets.
I kept all the doors in the house closed, but somehow, that just made it even worse. Exactly 3 months after I brought her home, I found a knife. I remember coming home from work that day. I walked up the stairs to my room and opened my door. I remember thinking I had finally won.
She hadn't brought anything in since I shut all the doors. She was even sleeping on the couch when I came home. But when I walked into my room I could feel the color drain from my face. A knife. And not just any knife, it was a bloody one. I remember staring at it for a few seconds before I ran down the stairs and out of the house.
I went to my neighbors and called the police. Within minutes they were there and investigating the house, asking me all kinds of questions. The thing was, it was not a knife I owned. I have no idea how it got in my home. After a few hours, they left. They took the knife, and dozens of pictures.
They found no trace of anything out of place. As I shut the door behind me, I walked up the stairs to my room once more. As I walked into my room, I saw my cat standing on my bed, exactly where the knife had been. Only this time, she had something in her mouth, and it was dripping.
In horror, I watched her drop the object onto my bed and look up at me, as if proud of her find. It was a finger. A human finger. Freshly severed. I felt the room start spinning and I felt dizzy. My stomach started doing flips and she just stared at me and mowed happily. | 2021-12-17T07:48:14 | 2021-12-17T07:06:19 | 65 | 47 |
[WP] A human thinks he has tricked the stupid orcs into thinking he’s one of them, when they really just like keeping him around. | **Day 9:**
Dear Dairy,
I finally got a pencil and notepad from a passing trader. These barbaric orcs don’t rite. Was really hard to sneak off to get the notepad, but I think I fooled the orcs, told them I had the runs. Actually I do have the runs, their diet of raw meat doesn’t sit well with my stomach.
When I first came, I told them that I was a traveling orc shaman. They bought it hook, line, and sinker! Fools! All I had to do was paint my skin green and they thought I was one of thier own. Soon their horde of ivory and jewels will be mine!
**Diary of Orc Chieftain Ogbork Toothshaver**
The 4th of Avunniti, Year 4582
Dear Diary,
Awakening to the radiant splendor of the eternal summer sun is one of the joys of living within the Arctic Circle. I send praise to the goddess Sedna for delivering bountiful herds of caribou to our camp, and for filling the springs of our caves with clear water.
The man has spent nine days with us now. When I first saw him stumbling towards our camp with an illness that had turned his skin green, I thought to strike him down with my great mace Ayamur to end his misery. But when I saw that the green on his skin was merely paint, pity stayed my heart. Perhaps I grow soft in my old age.
The man claimed to be an orc shaman. I decided to not tell him that we orcs do not rely on intermediaries to communicate with our gods but rather commune with them one-on-one, with only the sky above and the earth below separating us from the Eternal Ones.
I informed him that it is the way of our shamans to cover themselves with mud, to eat raw meat, to dig our refuse pits, and to tidy our homes. Today I plan to tell him that it is also the job of our shamans to train our little ones in the art of war.
\----------------------------------
**Day 12:**
Fuck these orcs, and fuck me! I don't know if I’ll live to see another day… They made me take care of thier baby brutes yesterday. They even gave me a knife so I could teach them how to fight… I thought it was my chance to kill the babies and steal their jewels. But I didn't know that even the babies have tusks! While I was trying to stab them they gored me in at least 20 places… The only good thing is that I don't think they realized I was trying to kill them.
**Diary of Orc Chieftain Ogbork Toothshaver**
The 6th of Avunniti, Year 4582
Dear Diary,
I send thanks to Anguta the Implacable for giving me the strength to wrestle the bull walrus to defeat today. After performing the necessary rites to honor its sacrifice, I plucked the 3rd molar from its mouth and added it to my necklace. Its skin, blubber, meat, and tusks will serve the tribe well.
The young ones had a good time with the human today. The doctor informed me that they gored him in 3 places. I honestly expected more than that of the young ones, but apparently the man fainted, so they stopped their play early.
I will give the man a few days to recover, and after that I will inform him that it is the task of the shaman to dance and sing at our Feast of the Walrus.
\----------------------------------
**Day 20:**
I think the orcs have accepted me as one of their own. The chief gave me a walrus skin cloak and told me to dance at their Festival of the Walrus. He even tied a walrus dick to my head, which he said is the finest honor that can be given to an orc. Not even he has enough honor to wear one!
\----------------------------------
**Day 21:**
The festival was a success, I think!?!?! Cheif Orcborc displayed the walrus tusks and added them to their hord of tusks. Even better, he told me about there orc tradition – the chief sleeps by the entrance of the cave with one of the tusks as an offering – and in the morning, the tusk has disappeared, taken away by their gods! This is my chance! I’ll steal the tusk from the sleeping buffoon and then get the fuck out of this hellhole.
**Diary of Orc Chieftain Ogbork Toothshaver**
The 9th of Avunniti, Year 4582
Dear Diary,
The Feast of the Walrus was a success this year, greatly enhanced by the presence of the human jester. As I prepare to sleep, I send praise again to Sedna for the radiance of the eternal summer sun.
I saw the glint of desire in the human’s eyes as the ivory tusks of the walrus passed before him. In exchange for his fifteen days of service to our tribe, I will allow him to steal one of our older and slightly decayed tusks. I expect him to be gone come the morning. | *"He's just a dumb weakling, one that Gor has forsaken. We must care for him though, as he is of our kind."* Ugna remembered the conversation she had with her firstborn Wahna when he was still smaller than Blargh. By the time the kin were old enough to fight, most had figured out the secret their tribe had kept from them. At this age the young were matured enough to understand Blargh's difference from the rest of his race.
As Ugna sat and thought about Blargh's unusual actions, she began to have a thought that regularly gave her panic. Wahna had recently become of age. He is going to begin his combat training, followed by his first raid on a human tribe. He certainly would understand what Blargh really was afterwards. *How do you tell someone you've lied to them for years?*
While Ugna tormented herself with guilt, Wahna entered their hut, nearly sprinting in. He sat facing her, revealing a present he had brought her, an Elk's rear. "Ug, I have caught us an entire elk, one that still carried youth, but had grown enough to fill our centers!" His voice boomed throughout the hut. Ugna wondered if his shout had carried through the rest of their tribe.
"Praise Gor Wah, you fill me with pride," Ugna responded, feeling anxious, "have you enough for the tribe?"
"Sadly, I have not, however Wahkah has led a party to the woods and returned with enough lamb to feed all!" Wahna noticed a tremble in Ugna's body, and that her eyes did not match with his, "Ug, are you in good health?"
"Yes, yes, it's just..." her words fell to a low mumble. She looked to his eyes. The words flowed from her mouth without her consent. "Blargh is a human."
Wahna's face sank, "You lie," he spoke, "you lie!" His thoughts caused him pain, it felt so wrong, even though he had never seen one, he knew Blargh was not a human. Blargh and him had grown so close, even though Blargh was too dumb to speak with him. Wahna knew he could not have grown so close to the enemy.
"It is true, we all have hidden it, as Blargh has been so helpful to us, I'm sorry Wah, it's just--"
"Lie! Lie! Lie! I refuse to listen to more, you are sick in your top!" Fuming, Wahna left the hut, faster than he had entered.
Ugna could not follow, as she could not bring herself to move. She hoped Wahna would calm down and see reason with her, but she feared it would only become worse. After a few moments Ugna regained her strength. *He will understand,* she told herself, *all it will take is time.* With that thought, she found peace enough to stand. She moved to her bed, convinced Wahna would be calm when the sun rose.
The sun rose. Ugna rose. Wahna had not, as he had not slept that night. He had decided to visit with Blargh, for he had to find out if Blargh truly was of their kind. Blargh welcomed Wahna in with open arms.
Wahna may not have ever seen a human, but he had seen the bodies of those that had fell in battle and been returned by the other soldiers. Orc bodies were fairly similar on the inside to that of the outside. Both inside and outside they were sand coloured, with their guts being the colour of blooming forests filled with fluids the shades of the sea. It was a sign to him that Gor had chosen their kind, further proof they must conquer the lands.
That night, Wahna chose not to learn from his night visions. That night, Wahna had chosen to learn from Blargh. That night, Wahna learned that Blargh's insides were nothing like his own. | 2018-08-10T21:52:03 | 2018-08-10T17:10:09 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the ability to summon one random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does Mjolnir. As you summon yours it takes some time but people are horrified as it finally arrives... | I stood in the middle of the stage, baffled at what was now before me. A gigantic snake, large enough to devour a man whole. I now understood why everyone else was terrified. Anyone would be terrified of a creature of that size. But the snake wasn't doing anything. It mainly looked...confused. It was a long way from home, that was for certain. It approached me with curiosity, flicking its tongue at me.
"It's tasting her to see if it wants to eat her!" Mom screamed. "Get it away from her!"
"Me? You know I won't touch those things with a ten-foot pole!" Uncle Vincent looked absolutely horrified.
"Relax," I said. "It's not gonna hurt me. The tongue flicks are just its way of navigating."
The snake wrapped itself around me. It tickled my chin with its tongue.
"It's constricting her!" Dad yelled. "Someone shoot it!"
"No!" I yelled, taken aback. "Don't hurt it!"
"You have no idea what that thing can do to you! I will not watch my daughter be strangled and devoured by a serpent!"
"You don't know anything about snakes." I shook my head. "Snakes aren't stupid. If this snake wanted to eat me, it would've bitten me BEFORE wrapping itself around me, that way I wouldn't be able to bite back. This snake just sees me as something to keep it warm, as it can't regulate its own body temperature and the climate here is a little colder than what it's used to."
"That's just what it wants you to think! It's trying to lure you into a false sense of security!"
"Dad, I know you mean well, but I'm completely fine. It's not trying to constrict me. It's not biting me. It doesn't see me as food, I promise you."
"Snakes are the Devil's creations!"
"No they're not!" My voice rang out across the crowd of people. "Snakes are simply ambush predators. They lie in wait for their prey to walk by, and then they'll dart out and bite them before they even realize what's happening. There's nothing devilish about it, that's just how they hunt."
"You--"
"You know what? I've had it with you! My new friend and I will be going somewhere it'll be appreciated. Don't try to follow us!"
As if it knew what I was saying, it slithered off of me, following me off the stage and into the forest beyond. Perhaps we'd return to the village a few days later just to prove them wrong. But until then, I figured I might as well find a good spot to relax. I found a nice tree and climbed up its branches. The snake followed me, wrapping itself around me, and together we drifted off into a peaceful sleep. | ''Bro, how is that even possible?'' My friend screamed, visible freaking out and panicking.
''Fucking does it look like I know? I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THIS WAS POSSIBLE!!!'' I responded, not knowing what to do.
''Well fucking stop summoning it then idiot!" He screamed, pulling my arm down.
''Oh right, sorry, you're right.'' I stopped summoning it. ''What the fuck do I do though?''
''Well fucking I don't know. Never summon it, that's for sure.'' He sighed, put his hand up and summoned his cap. ''I mean it's somewhat more impressive than mine.''
''Well, you can actually summon it and like hide in a crowd if you bring sunglasses too.'' I looked up again. ''Think I can push it back? I mean some can push it back right?'' I started panicking slightly. ''Right?''
''Eh, well I sure hope so, else you're in serious trouble and you might've fucked us up.'' He threw the cap away, summoning it back onto his head again, something he always did when he was nervous.
''I mean how the fuck should I have known that?'' I was somewhat angry. Everyone else could summon something cool, some a car, others a knife, even more had a nice jacket or a fun piece of clothing like his cap.
''I don't know bro.'' He sighed and looked up again. ''How are we going to explain that?'' He looked at me, not knowing what to say.
''But bro, the fucking moon bro!?" | 2022-11-15T09:51:03 | 2022-11-15T06:44:52 | 89 | 66 |
[WP] You're rather annoyed that your history teacher gave you a D on your essay about Mesopotamia. Not just because you're sure she doesn't like you, but also because - as an ancient being trying to adapt to modern society - YOU WERE THERE. | “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I told my teacher calmly, uncaring of the disruption I was causing in the classroom. “Was my essay badly written? Was there a problem with my citations? What exactly did I do wrong enough to warrant a D?”
Normally, I strove for politeness. But it was simply unacceptable for any educator to mark down work for having a different opinion - and, having triple checked every source I’d put down and backed up every assumption written, I knew it wasn’t an issue with the quality of the paper.
I had taken such pains to make sure I didn’t use any of my own knowledge. It was difficult to write purely as a student of the time and not as someone who had been born and raised in Mesopotamia - and I would be dammed if this ignorant and opinionated dog would cast such aspersions upon my work.
The teacher glared daggers at me. “You dismissed out of hand the translation of the Historian Lawrence and called Ishtar-Sin a chicken!”
I flipped neatly to the appendix and held up a photograph of a tablet. “As you can see here, we have the poem of Ishtar-Sin. The circled cuneiform is what Historian Lawrence translated as “falcon”. However, if you refer to my next page...” I quickly flipped the page over “you can see that this is a recipe, rescued from the museum of Iraq and currently on display in the Giza Museum until it can be returned. Here you can see that the same cuneiform is used. Although chicken was not as ubiquitous as it is in modern meals, I assure you it was far more common than eating falcons.
“Furthermore, from Lawrence‘s own translation you can see that he wrote of ‘the falcon’s strut’ - when has one ever spoken of a falcon strutting? A falcon soars, it circles, it glides and it dives. Its domain is the sky. It is the rooster who boastfully struts upon the ground.
“Additionally, the poem references the battle of Nineveh - which was a crushing defeat for Ishtar-sin (I have included a reference here to the work of Abdelrahman Kanoo, a historian operating in Syria) and, with all these factors considered, I do not believe I am wrong to say that this poem, rather than lauding Ishtar-sin, was a piece that was written to mercilessly mock a man who was pampered from birth and fancied himself a general but ran from his first battle and showed no repentance for his incompetence.”
I wondered, for a moment, if the teacher was about to burst a blood vessel.
“How dare you belittle the work of acknowledged historians?” came the frothing reply. “How unbelievably arrogant to think you know better!”
I smiled at that. “History is a pack of lies about events that never happened told by people who weren’t there.” I quoted. “It’s literally the opening page of the textbook you assigned. You told us to question our sources. Their motivations. Their qualifications. Having done so - why am I being punished for following your instructions?”
The ignorant dog remained silent at that.
I couldn’t help but be satisfied.
After all, it reminded me greatly of the look on Ishtar-Sin’s face when he heard the poem I, the woman he had sworn to marry, wrote about him... | "And the goddess of light, she bestowed upon you an eidetic memory as well?"
I gaped at Mrs Gray, utterly bewildered. She was behaving surprisingly nonchalant considering I had just informed her I was immortal and stabbed myself through the neck with a compass to prove it. I was hoping to have the old hag in hysterics and eventually shipped off to a padded room so Mr Green from class B would take over for the rest of the semester.
"A what now?" I finally responded.
"Eidetic memory. It means you can remember things in perfect detail." She responded, not even looking up from the papers she was marking. "Can you remember what you had for breakfast last week?"
"Well no but..."
"Then I don't see how I can trust anything you've written without sources."
"What? BUT I WAS THERE!" I yelled, just about ready to flip her desk. "I saw it with my own eyes!"
"And witness testimony is about one of the least reliable sources of evidence there is." She responded finally looking up. "False memories occur all the time, and only more frequently with age."
"You...you're just biased because you hate me!" I threw the essay down onto her desk and was just about to storm out.
"On the contrary, it seems you are the one who is biased." She picked up the essay I had thrown in front of her and cleared her throat reading aloud. "The honorable tribes residing on the east side of the Tigris river were known for their valiant warriors, fending off the dirty savages from the west."
"So? It's true." I responded "Low lives the lot of them. My father said so, as did his father and-"
"And I'm sure they probably thought the same thing about you." she interrupted. "History is more than just *what* happened. Equally important is why. Proper history is viewed through an objective lens. Because only by understanding the past can we hope to improve things for the future. Now with that in mind, if you'd like to learn from your past I'd be willing to allow you to write your essay again." | 2021-07-18T02:33:51 | 2021-07-18T01:20:47 | 1,930 | 274 |
[WP] You were murdered. But to your surprise, you're reincarnated into the body of a recently born infant. Looking around, you realize that you're at your own funeral, and your eulogy is being given by none other than your murderer. | "Get your hands off me! I swear to fucking god-"
"Jin, it's all over. Stop trying to resist."
"It's never over! I'll never allow you to start Protocol X18!"
"It's the natural step in our human evolution."
"Does the President know about this?!"
"It doesn't matter. The Executive Council has already deemed it necessary. Hmph, the 'President'. She's just a tool, expendable like nails at a hardware store."
"...Wait. What did you say-"
Click.
"Consider this your, early retirement."
Bang.
My vision was a blur. I tried to open my eyes, but only saw shadows of black standing around in the rain. I wipe my eyes, but...my hand. It's so small and squishy like a toy. Huh? Wait, is this my hand? Why is my hand...
I became alert, and tried to stand. Curses, I'm being held against my will! Did Solomon order his men to, wait. As I look up, I saw a familiar face. My wife...?
As I struggled to break free, Sonya took a tighter grip around my waist and tried to hush me while kissing my forehead gently. Streams of tears mixed with the rain terrorized my face.
"Jin was a great employee...As his mentor, I went through all the good and bad with him. There was never a dull moment in our friendship."
I recognized that voice.
Solomon.
"He was truly, truly a friend that I could count on in the most troubled times, and...I'm sorry, I-"
What's going on, why is he talking about me? I continued to squirm like a lobster stuck on top of larger, more fearsome lobsters at my local Chinese supermarket. I finally managed to catch a glimpse of a coffin, and a sign.
In Loving Memory of Jin Shi Wang.
Egad.
This cannot be. Then, this form. These tiny, adorable yet horribly vulnerable and squishy hands. It could only mean...
Everything came together at once. I have been reborn. As my child. Then, where is the spirit of my real child? Reincarnation is real? Then the Protocol actually works..?!
While these myriad questions raced through my mind, I heard Solomon finish his eulogy and...I saw my own body being transported for cremation. My body...will be burnt to ashes. At the same time, a terrible wildfire of hate filled my heart.
"What the hell...that baby has the most evil eyes I've ever seen..."
I heard uncomfortable whispers, but didn't care. I needed something. A way to get close to Solomon.
I needed my revenge.
I saw Solomon approaching me and my wife. Quick, there's gotta be something!
"Sonya...I'm sorry, this is all my fault, I could've stopped-"
"Solomon, please don't blame yourself...Whoever did this...I can't..."
Sonya was starting to cry uncontrollably again, but my rage burned even fiercer as Solomon dared to lay his putrid hands around her for an embrace, with my tiny face being buried in his bosoms. Wait..is that?
I noticed it. The fountain pen that Solomon always carries in his front pocket.
"May I...may I hold little Kaz?"
"Yes..." Sonya said while wiping away away the tears of her mascara-smeared face.
As Solomon took me with his unholy tentacles, my uncontrollable forest fire of rage simmered into a silent, calculating hatred. I needed to bide my time.
As he gently patted my infantile back and kissed my chick with his decayed, crusty lips, I heard him whisper in my ear.
"Poor little Kaz...doesn't even know what happened to his father."
A tiny smirk.
Now was the time. I grabbed his fountain pen as a baby would, and opened up the top. Indeed, underneath laid the cold, sharp steel of the pen.
"Oooh, does little Kaz like my pen? Haha, well, maybe I'll give it to you as a gift if you're ever old enough to work at our lab."
"No Solomon.
Consider THIS, your early TERMINATION."
"What the he-"
I drove the pen deep into his neck, with all the might that my feeble baby hands would allow me. It still managed to puncture his skin, as blood was splashing all around me.
"GYARGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
"Oh my god, did, did that baby just,"
"What happened?!"
"Somebody call 911!"
I've...I've done it...The Protocol might still go on, but with Solomon dead, the password identification system will be temporarily halted...
I...I feel dizzy...
I just need to....sleep...I...
....
"Babuh?"
"Kaz! Oh my baby! What, what have you done?!!"
A baby's cry mixed with ambulance sirens echoed throughout the the funeral scene, as rain continued to splutter down on the shivering body of a Solomon Kingston.
_________________
LOL I haven't written creative writing since highschool. This was freakin fun to do, hope you guys enjoy it! | How, how is this possible? I gaze around, I see the backs of pews and look up at unfamiliar faces. The most important face to me is that of the woman whose arms I have found myself. Everything is flooding into my brain, a sensation I have never felt before. I have just been awakened from a nightmare, traveled through darkness and have begun my day with a journey much more unusual than that of a regular Tuesday. The flood of thoughts brings with it a vague retelling of what I am sure was my untimely death, the family I left behind, the job I am no longer obligated to go to.
This flood brings along a barge of emotions, both sadness from the departure of my familiar life and the overwhelming feelings of making an acquaintance with an entirely new body, functions, sensations. I am reborn. Am I in a church?
I can’t believe it. This can’t be real. My mind has been too overwhelmed by the immense trauma of death and apparently rebirth, and is mixing memories together. That face, the man speaking… the thief that took everything from me, that decided he would play God and remove every breath I would take, every memory I had left with my wife, every action I would make to leave some sort of effect on this world. This despicable, worthless…oh no my stomach. I just shit myself. I really did, I just emptied my body on this woman’s lap. I desperately need to learn how to operate the basic functions of a body, let alone seek revenge on my killer. Maybe…maybe there are still ways.
I begin to cry. Mustering every piece of hatred in my being, I scream. Within seconds I am taken from the room into the lobby, observing on my way that I am at a funeral. How ironic, I woke up, a new human, after being murdered, and I’m at a funeral.
I am being consoled by this woman, my caretaker, whom I owe my life to. This stranger. Within minutes I will be on a changing table, being violated in the weirdest of ways. But my planning must continue. After a minute or so of having my entire private area wiped, the bathroom door opens.
“Need any help?” came a voice from a man, most likely in his 30’s. I know that voice, though…
“Are you okay Daniel? He’s dead. He’s gone, and you are just…okay. About all of it. You stand up there and give a two-minute speech, and just seem…I don’t understand, that’s not like you. Is it shock? Is it-”
“I guess people just deal with this sort of thing in their own way, ya know?”
My best friend. My killer. His wife, I never knew he had. Can I really be...am I his son now? I look into his eyes, probably the same color and shape as my own now. I don’t understand why he did what he did, why he took everything from me, why I never knew he was even married, how I even exist…Nothing makes sense. There is only one, undeniable truth…I will grow. I will learn. I will make my revenge a reality.
Behind his eyes I see pain. I see regret and a different, cold stare from the eyes I used to know. He places his fingers on my cheek to gently brush them; it is time. I turn my head just enough, open my mouth, and he touches my brand new teeth with his finger. With all the strength I have, I bite him. It is not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to send pain through my gums. He draws back and looks at me with surprise. He doesn't know yet, and won't for a while. That was the first strike of many. I will grow. I will learn. I will end this man.
| 2015-10-16T10:32:45 | 2015-10-16T08:01:41 | 47 | 19 |
[WP] You are an immortal being, currently working as a professor of history. Every student loves your lectures because of your vivid and lifelike narrative of historic events. | There's the Bell. The kids should be showing up in about eight minutes. Funny, you live for 1.6 Million years and patience still won't be one of your strong suits. Either way, it's Monday, which means a new subject. I get to give one of my "world-renowned" Lectures, a fan favorite. And it looks like we're gonna talk about my old buddy Napoleon Bonaparte, God rest his soul.
"Hey Mr. Vetus!"
One of my favorite students bursts in almost instantly. Casey Crimson, on track to becoming Valedictorian and always loves to hear me talk.
"Ah, Casey, long time no see. Gotten over that cold yet?"
"Mostly, but I was gone for a week and I wouldn't miss your lectures for the world."
"I would, who would wanna listen to an old guy talk for an hour about dead people when they could go out there and live life with the living?"
Casey Scoffs, "Obviously you haven't heard yourself talk. You make these people come to life, you give us an exact demonstration of what life was like back then. It's amazing. If I could crank out a speech like you, I wouldn't have anything to worry about at Graduation."
"You're gonna do fine, trust me."
As the rest of my First period honors class burst through the doors of the Time Machine (which is the incredibly Nerdy name they gave my classroom) I straightened my tie, cleared my throat, and turned off the lights.
"Bonjour, mes frères de la révolution, bienvenue en France. Or more specifically, France in the 1800s. Now as we all learned from last week, this was not a very happy time to be in. I heard some of you still have chills, so I'm glad to say this week we're focusing less on that of Terror, and more on hope."
Casey throws me an excited grin. I roll my eyes at her and continue with the lecture.
"I need you to close your eyes and imagine the France I described to you last week. Terror, Fear, Everything. All of it roaming the streets."
I swiftly get prepared to blow these kids minds as they imagine the horrors of Emperorless France.
"You're walking down the street, hungry, afraid, and way too subordinate. You turn the corner and see a crowd, curious, you approach and see this. Open your eyes."
I jump onto the Table. Wearing my old friend Napoleon Bonaparte's signature hat and a foam sword I bought from WalMart.
"Friends, Family, Brother's. I know all of you are in a state of fear, hunger, and terror. So it is my duty to assure all of you that there is no need to be. This country is lacking much: security, comfort, an actual leader. We have been pushed to the edge. And that is exactly why I am standing here in front of all of you..."
I look to my right and see the Principal and the Superintendent watching me silently, with a confused look upon their face and a smile.
"... With nothing but my words to spark a flame in your hearts and to inform you that I, Napoleon Bonaparte, the True Son of the French Revolution, could give you everything you're looking for."
I point my foam sword at the class, all of them are the edge of their seats.
"You may be afraid, change does that to people. We grow too comfortable with the position we're in that we refuse to change, even if that position is a place of discomfort within itself. However I must say that fear is an ally. That's right, a friend. For without fear, there will be no courage. No love. And no reason to keep fighting..."
I leap off my desk and start parading around the room, swinging my sword to and fro.
"... I have always been a fighter. Been a Soldier. Been a Revolutionary. So it brings me great pride to see our Beautiful flag waving in the winds above me. It brings me great pride to look at those three colors: Liberty Red, Equality White, and Fraternity Blue. More Pride than you could possibly imagine. But to see it wave while our neighboring Countries burn from the same oppression we once, and are still currently suffering from is rather torturous."
I pull down the Map from the Blackboard and start motioning to the countries in need.
"Holland, Egypt, Belgium, Poland, Spain, and so much more are in need of assistance. They're in need of us. They're in need of the greatest country in the world's three favorite colors: Liberty Red, Equality White, and Fraternity Blue."
The kids start getting riled up. Good. So was I.
"So I beg you to place that crown on my head. To give me the title of Emperor so I could help these Countries. Liberate them. Because while those poor men and women who suffer from their tyranny stay suffering, our colors start to fade. We don't wave our flag proudly in an attempt to brag to those who don't have it. We wave it in an attempt to make others relieved. To make them stronger. And to make those who despise these colors fear it. But as I said before, without fear there is no Courage, no love, and no reason to keep fighting. I intend to keep fighting for these colors and for the memory of the Revolution in which I take the title of the offspring of for the rest of my days. So I beg all of you to assist me in this journey. To place me at the very highest point of France for all the world to see. Because I want them to know that the French Revolution is here! That the French Revolution is strong! And that the French Revolution, above all else, is contagious!"
My class begins to cheer and I glance over to see the stunned face of the Superintendent as the Principal shoots me a thumbs up.
"Alrighty class, until next week. Turn to page 267 and read the Documents written by the Sources. Our questions. For the week is whether or not Napoleon Bonaparte stayed true to his word on defending the French Revolutions ideals. We have about ten minutes until class ends."
I go over to the Superintendent and he gives me a strong handshake.
"Mr. Vetus, pleasure to finally meet you, we've heard countless stories of your amazing Lectures and I'm so glad I finally got to hear one. It's truly incredible."
"Eh, spare me. Call it a gift."
Principal Barrymore chimes in, "Yeah, Mr. Vetus really tries to earn his paycheck. Say, Vetus, how did you pick up those skills in the first place?"
"Let's just say experience, and a lot of time."
If only they knew.
"Well that was some powerful stuff. Anyway, Principal Barrymore, Mr. Vetus, I'll stay in touch. I might even be back here next week with some friends. Ha ha."
"I'll bring the Popcorn." Barrymore jests as they walk out the room.
"Alrighty, have a good one." I turn to my class. "So how's everything-"
I stopped dead in my tracks. They were all huddled around Casey's desk looking at the book, then me, rather sporadically.
"Mr. Vetus, do you mind taking off your glasses for just a second?"
"Uh... Sure?"I comply and the class begins a small uproar. "Guys?... What's happening?..."
"You're in the book, Mr. Vetus. You're in this painting standing right next to Napoleon."
My heart sunk. "What're you talking about?"
"You're right here. On Napoleans left."
"Man, that does look like him."
Casey straightened her glasses, "That IS him, I'm telling you."
I walked over and there I was. Clear as day. My glasses and beard weren't there but it looked exactly like me. "Must be a Coincidence, I guess, hey guys the Bells gonna ring, I'd do some reading if I were you."
Casey stared deeper and deeper into the book. "No way!" She shouted.
The class listened and Casey lifted up the book for all of us to see.
"They have the same Mole on their cheek. That's Mr. Vetus!"
Looks like my years are finally starting to catch up with me. | I stood at the front of my classroom, eager eyes filled with a lust for knowledge stared back at me. It wasn't the first time I've seen them, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Today, we were in the midst of discussing the history of the Knights Templar, and their impact in the world.
"So when the Templar's were assigned the role of escorting and protecting pilgrims to the promised land, they created the first ever banking system. You would get in a line and deposit your money with the Templar Bank and receive a note of credit, then you could withdraw it safely once you arrived at the holy city of Jerusalem." I explained, pacing back and forth as a explained the system to the class. One student in the back of the class, by the name of Richard raised his hand. I point to him and await to hear his question.
"What happens if a pilgrim died on the way to Jerusalem?" He asked.
"Ah, now that's how they got you. See the banking system at this time wasn't perfect, and it ultimately worked out in the Templar's favour. You see if you died en-route to Jerusalem, then the Templar's got to keep all your gold. I died on the way to Jerusalem once, bastards didn't believe it was me when I came to get, what the today's equivalent of twenty dollars would be." The class laughed, as they always did when I inserted myself into the history of the world. It was fun for them, hearing about how I drew the first cave painting, took an arrow in the knee for Julius Caesar, drank myself under the table with Blackbeard, and donated blood, and my heart, for the Mayan gods. But why wouldn't they laugh, there is no way that their elderly professor, born in Birmingham, England in the 1950's had done all that.
As I wrapped up the class, I was approached by a recent transfer student, one from America that was studying abroad. He looked like a smart young man, all though he wore a hat that suggested he cheered for the wrong football team.
"Yes, Mr. Davis, how can I help you?" I asked him, a bit loudly do to the rest of my students packing their things and rushing off to their next class.
"I just wanted to say sir, that you are by far, the most entertaining history professor I've ever heard. What inspired you to insert yourself into history the way I'm told you do in every class, just like today?"
"Ah, if I had a ten pence for every time I've been asked that question." I said with a light chuckle. "Well I suppose it isn't really inserting myself if I was really there. To see it through your own eyes, and remember everything with such vivid detail. It's both a gift, and a curse." I began. Mr. Davis looked at me confused, waiting for me to go on.
"Tell me, Mr. Davis, what do you know of mythology?" I asked him, taking a seat on my desk. He nodded his head and smiled at me.
"Well a know a little bit, it interested me as a kid." He answered honestly. I looked down and smiled.
"Then I'm sure you've heard of the Phoenix then?"
"Well of course, besides dragons, they're one of the more well known mythological creatures." Of course he knew that, I thought. Everyone knows that.
"Well I like to imagine that I'm a phoenix, constantly dying and being reborn, living my life at various stages of growth until I die, and am reborn anew. I arise with all my knowledge, all my skills, and I carry on, doing whatever it is I need to do to survive. It's a lonely life, but if I can educate or help out the people, then I suppose that's worth it."
"Sir, are you suggesting you're a phoenix?" Mr. Davis asked, half joking, half concerned for my well being.
"Perhaps, but I suppose it doesn't really matter, as you wouldn't believe me if I told you I was a phoenix. The point is, whether you believe me or not, you enjoyed my story that I told during the lesson, and whenever you go back to think on the subject, you may find yourself having a laugh at the thought of your history professor arguing over the return of his drinking money with a Templar Knight." I stop and stare at Mr. Davis for a second, as he tries to process what I just told him. Of course, like the others, he cracks a smile and starts laughing.
"Well, you are correct, that will always make me laugh whenever I think about the Templar Knights." I smile outwardly but on the inside I feel a small sadness. "Well when I get my Ph.D. I hope to be able to do what you do, and make history fun for my students." He says with a brightness in his eyes.
"Ah but remember, it's only funny after the fact." I say, giving him a sly wink.
"Ah yes that's right, it wasn't fun during..." He says, returning the wink. "Well, I need to head to my next class, but I look forward to attending your next lecture!" He yells as he rushes towards the door.
"Oh, Mr. Davis one more thing!" I call out to him, he stops and turns to look me. "Have some respect boy, if you're going to wear a football hat in here at least make it Arsenal FC or the England National team!" He cracks a smile and runs out the door to his next class. I sit there in silence. "I also look forward to reading your future textbook Mr. Davis." I say to the air.
It's completely quiet now within my classroom. I stand up, and my aching joints crack back to life. "This has been a good life..." I say to myself as I collect my coat and hat from my desk. "It'll be sad to leave these youngsters behind. But the future they build, will be a wonderful one."
I make my way down the old hallways of the University of Cambridge, greeting students as I pass them with a warm smile until I finally make it to my car. As I go to reach for the handle, I notice a dark dust has begun to blow away in the wind from my hand.
"Well, this is a bit early..." I say as the dust leaving my body begins to flow out quicker and quicker. "Must've been the Bangers and Mash I had for lunch today..." I get out as my body collapses. I feel a sharp shooting pain in my chest and left arm, even though I know this process all too well, my body struggles to catch it's breath. It's agony, as this part usually is, no matter how many times I go through it, dying is always the hardest part. But tt doesn't take long before I feel the bitter cold, and am embraced by the darkness of death. I wait, and I wait, until I finally feel the air on my face again, and the loud beeping sounds of heart monitors fills my ears. It's time to go around again.
| 2018-02-18T22:04:36 | 2018-02-18T22:01:24 | 649 | 37 |
[WP] 2 years ago, tired of all the bugs in your house, you made a deal with a spider. He would protect your house from pests, and you would not kill it or drive it off. When you made the deal, you could have held the spider in your hand, now, it is much bigger, and its definition of 'pests' is also. | Jeremy swung open the door to his basement, holding a dim flashlight in trembling hands. He took a single step into over the threshold and swung the beam of light around the room, illuminating empty cardboard boxes covered in dust and thick cobwebs. Though he always told people it was where he stored old useless things he couldn't bear to get rid of, it was almost completely empty. All he could see in the darkness was a few scattered boxes and the bare concrete walls.
This emptiness did nothing to ease Jermy's fear; in fact, his arm shook more heavily as he saw the conspicuously bare walls and unoccupied floor, making the flashlight beam dance crazily around the room. After a long pause, he finally called out in a weak, trembling voice.
"I... I know you're there. I know we've had an agreement going, I let you go who knows how long ago and you killed the bugs and ants and things. Even when you got bigger, started killing rats and couldn't fit through the hallways, I let you stay here. But... but... but recently it's just been too much. I have a wife now, and I can't keep lying about the basement to her forever. And you're not eating insects anymore."
Jeremy had to pause as a terrifying memory overtook his mind. He was relaxing on his front lawn, enjoying the sun with a book in hand. He was nearly asleep when he was interrupted by the high-pitched yapping of his neighbor's dog, a little white monster that was for some reason allowed to freely roam the neighborhood. Jeremy lowered his book to see the dog on his lawn, standing beside a pile of poop with an expression of what almost seemed like pride.
Jeremy stood to start yelling, but just before he could open his mouth, he paused as he noticed a single strand of silk glistening in the sunlight. Then, the dog's head jerked to the side with a sickening snap, and the rest of its body was yanked behind it as it flew towards the back of the house almost too fast for Jeremy to follow. When he turned in stunned horror to his house, all he saw was a black shape pulling itself out of sight behind the house.
Standing now with his flashlight in the basement, he could almost see the mangled, deflated husk of shredded white fur he found there later that afternoon. But Jeremy shook his head, dispelling the memory and mustering the courage to continue.
"I don't really know what you classify as a pest anymore. I think it's things that irritate me? But I don't think you can understand, and... and...."
Jeremy paused to hold in a sob. "My wife's having a baby. You... You... It's time for you to get out."
An enormous black shape dropped from the ceiling right in front of Jeremy, and as him jerked the flashlight to point directly at the hollow black pools of its eight round eyes, it hissed, a loud, grating roar that no spider should ever be able to make. Droplets of clear venom dripped from its massive, gleaming fangs, sizzling as the hit the basement floor. Jeremy pulled a small letter opener from his pocket and held it out in front of him, but the spider merely skittered forward on its thick, hairy legs to hiss again, blowing Jeremy's hair back with the force of its rage.
Jeremy ran. What else could he do? He slammed the basement door behind him, ran back to the relative safety of the living room and curled into a trembling ball on the couch. Still lying there, he grabbed his phone off of the table and flipped through the tabs he had opened in preparation for this eventuality. The websites of various exterminators, and listings for a hotel far, far away from his spider-infested house. | At first, it was manageable. He was the size of a pea, and I had thousands of opportunities to kill him. The weeks flew by. I had noticed he was growing, but I did not care much at the time because I had just gotten fired and I figured he was just getting fatter.
Then I had my "encounter" with him.
My girlfriend was over at my house. She complained about an awful stench, but I shrugged it off. I had gone into the kitchen, when she let out a horrifying scream. I will never forget what I saw. Behind the sofa, was a dead colony of centipedes. CENTIPEDES. In the piles of detached centipede limbs, was the spider, who had grown far larger, maybe even the size of a tarantula. My girlfriend left immediately, but that was the least of my problems.
No way am I going to remove this colony by myself. Wasn't the spider supposed to keep these guys out? What if he grows even more? At this point I started fearing for the safety of my cat. Pest exterminators were forced to close because of Covid, and the spider wasn't going away. I had to do it.
I decided it would be next morning, I put on my hiking boots, and waited downstairs. About 15 minutes went by. It emerged from its cave, namely the sofa. I nicknamed it, "Abomination" and rightly so. It appeared massive. I was worried if I could do this or not. I waited.
It didn't move.
Seconds went by.
I remembered my cat, thinking about what horrible things would happen to her if I did not carry out my mission. I blitzed the spider, and stomped down, hard. A rush of disgust and fear came as I felt a hard crunch. I put all my weight into it and pressed down once again. What felt like hours was in reality a minute as I confirmed the Abomination was really dead. I kept my cat upstairs for the rest of the day, and checked on it the following morning.
It was still dead! I had done it. Relief, god the relief. It seemed trivial to be filled with joy because of a dead spider, yet here I was! The next few days were *good*. Getting around the house without a tug of fear was brilliant, and life seemed to continue on as normal.
I had summoned the courage to tackle the dead centipede colony when I noticed movements in the pile. Tiny, but vivid movements. Wait, are those his babies!? | 2021-07-03T19:40:43 | 2021-07-03T17:16:52 | 668 | 113 |
[WP] You reach the afterlife, but before you find out where you'll end up, you have to watch the entire life of someone and decide where they should go. What you don't know is all of your memories have been wiped and it's your own life you're watching. | America was in mourning. The greatest President who had ever lived had passed away far too soon. Tragically, he had suffered a heart attack barely a year into his first term.
In just that short time, he had accomplished so much, and inspired so many young people all around the world. America was great once again, all thanks to him. People simply couldn’t believe that he was gone, and that he had actually known best all along. Sure, he had to say a few questionable things to get elected in the first place, but when you’re the only one who can fix anything, how could you not?
Nobody could deny his greatness now.
***
Donald’s eyes opened with a pop. He pushed his upper body into an upright position and looked around. Somehow, he was in a vast courtroom. Where could this be, he wondered. Behind him were many seats filled with many blank faces. In front of him stood the large courtroom dais, where a Judge was sitting calmly.
“Welcome, Mr. Trump,” said the Judge in a clear, steady voice.
“*President* Trump,” responded the Donald. “What the hell is this? Where’re my guys?”
“I’m sorry to inform you that you have passed away, Mr. Trump. This is a place of limbo. It is here that we will decide where you go nex–”
“*Excuse* me, excuse me, I will be deciding where I go next thank you. I’m the President. I decide.”
Donald rose to his full considerable height, and dusted off his shoulders with his hands. “What kind of a lame joke is this? Did Vlad put you up to it? I’ll kill him.”
“This is no joke, Mr. Trump. You are, unfortunately, dead.”
This was a very difficult thing for Donald to accept.
“But- but I’m the President,” he choked.
“Not anymore, I’m afraid. Vice President Romney has just been sworn in.”
There was a loud silence as this information sunk in.
“That slimy SCHMUCK!” yelled Donald, “I only picked him to shut him up! *He’s* President?!”
“I’m afraid so-” opined the Judge.
“He’ll send the Country to hell in a hand basket!” interjected Donald, “Not to mention the Planet! There’s just no way he’ll finish the Treaty for World Peace. Idiot Mitt, we call him. Never negotiated a deal in his life. You have to send me back Judge. You have to!”
“If only I could,” said the Judge, “You deserve as much. You are the most illustrious person to ever appear before me. This Court is not usually packed to the rafters, you know. We have all been watching you with great wonder.”
Donald did not like being told ‘no’. On the other hand, he did like being told how illustrious he was. His emotions swirled internally, each one fighting for dominance. He turned to look at the crowd, at the adoring, concerned faces. He could never keep a crowd waiting for long.
“Well, how’s everybody doin’ today? Y’all excited to see The Donald?”
The crowd clapped and hollered with great enthusiasm. Donald began to think it wasn’t so bad here.
“To business,” said the Judge, “We are here to determine where you end up, Mr. Trump. It’s either Heaven or Hell–”
“Heaven, obviously,” interjected Donald. He turned to the crowd “Can you believe this guy?”
The crowd laughed appreciatively. Even the Judge seemed to be holding back a snigger.
“Yes, ahem, well, the only person who can judge you is yourself,” said the Judge. Donald nodded in agreement. “If you’ll just be seated in the witness box, we can go through the formalities.”
Donald walked over and took a seat in the box.
“When I snap my fingers,” said the Judge, “Your life will play out before your eyes, but you will not remember that it is your life. You may then decide whether that life deserves eternal salvation, or damnation.”
“Oh gee, I wonder which I’ll pick,” said Donald sarcastically.
The Judge smiled and snapped his fingers.
At once, Donald was transported to another world. He watched as a baby was born, grew up, went to military school, had his first dance, his first kiss, his first pat on the back from his father. He watched the young man go to business school, do his first deal, his first wife, his first mistress, his first inheritance, his second wife, his first press interview–
“Hell!” cried the Donald. “I’m not sharing Heaven with this maniac.”
The crowd gasped as one, as ropes of flame emerged from the floor to pull Donald down.
| I sat in a pitch dark room where the only thing I was sure of was my heavy breathing. Oddly enough I didn't feel threatened of the unknown, I felt at ease. This was the miracle of death, peaceful despite the strange and cold hard circumstances.
A white screen appeared before me and a pre-recorded voiceover of a woman began to play,
"Welcome. Before the jury is able to allocate you, you must comply by determining the final decision for someone else. You will be presented with various clips of someone else's life and come up with a answer based on what you've seen. Please sit still, and focus on the film we are about to show you. The fate of another is in your hands!" The pep in the female's voice was unsettling yet I was overpowered by the feeling of extreme pressure being put on me.
How could it be that after death the first thing you face is being put through major distress? Snippets began to play, and a sense of nostalgia for something that never was took over me. A small young boy, full of life until the passing of his mother. Left with a father figure who didn't appear to have much of a solid presence. He was dull, didn't have the strength to really fulfill what his son needed; although he wasn't a terrible father either.
Due to his upbringing I was not surprised with who the boy turned out to be. A average father, who became deeply sucked into his work life leaving his family to live in the presence of a ghost. What kind of man is raised with such experience only to turn out to be the plainest of men? The years went by and the man had now turned into a avid drinker although the family stayed together.
The man was upset because once his children grew older the idiot couldn't comprehend why his children couldn't visit often enough. Why his wife didn't try to show him love like she did 30 years ago. He was a poor fool. I couldn't stand watching this any longer.
I suddenly got this fit of rage and started to scream,
"Quit this shit right now! I've made my decision. I don't want to watch this anymore. I've made my decision."
The screen faded and it darkened in the room once again leaving enough light to see the silhouette of a man on the other side of a glass wall.
"And so what have you decided? What is the final decision that you seem to have such passion towards ?"
"Hell, he needs to be sent to hell! So he could learn a lesson for what he did. He was a god awful family man who lived in selfishness."
The man began to let out a chuckle and with irritation I asked,
"What's so funny to you?! I've done my part like I was asked. There I did it. He needs to be punished."
"What's funny to me is the morals and values of the average human. How dearly they hold onto these beliefs and none of them know that they can't even live up to their own high standards. The church goers who spent their life breeding hate towards others, went to heaven because they believed they had completed their duties. I've seen criminals excuse heinous acts. I've seen pieces of shit wear their masks so dearly and convince themselves that they've done their best.
But the average man, he is complex and he continues to bemuse me."
"Although don't let that stop you," he said.
"Tell me how fun it is to dance with the devil."
And with the grin still on his face, he pulled the lever.
| 2016-05-11T03:01:23 | 2016-05-10T22:58:13 | 49 | 15 |
[WP] Humans are the deadliest, and rarest, species in the known universe. Often, search parties go missing due to a singular encounter with a human ship. It has recently come to light that there is an entire planet full of them. | I’m pretty sure at least someone fainted when I gave the
news. Just the thought of a large group of humans could strike fear into the
hearts of the bravest. And now, we found they’re much larger than a group. Our
estimates of only thousands are now at least billions. They all swarm, scheme
in one place. A place they’ve simply dubbed as, Earth.
You could be a transporter, pilot, or just a tourist. If
they found your ship, you’re screwed. We have only a few recordings on their attacks.
They’ll bust the door down with these weird bullet shooter things, and get their
hands an everything they can. And yes, that includes civilians too. So far, we
have exactly one survivor. And that survivor… doesn’t exactly have his whole
head.
The room became more restless as more and more photos were shown of this vicious planet. The room buzzed with courses of action. We clearly can’t
tell the public this horrific news. We also certainly can’t make peace with
them, it’s way too far than that. No, the only course it to completely nuke
them. This is why I’ve made the X-Striod.
The X-Stroid can hold over 500 gallons of Eqaliud; a chemical
lethal to all extraterrestrial life. It turns the chemical into a laser, and
injects it pure into one direction. Since we now have clear coordinates of
Earth, all we have to do is simply shoot and watch their atmosphere become
nothing but toxin.
I demonstrated a small prototype and blueprints to the
planet leaders around me. Needless to say, they were ecstatic and relived. We
could finally be rid of the plague of the universe, or at least most of it.
Most were rushing to sign on to the agreement. Some were hesitance
with how resources and money this would cause, but they decided it would
probably be better than human invasion and absolute destruction.
The last one to sign on looked strange. They were definitely
from the Arion species, but I don’t remember inviting them. They also signed a
named that was very weird. Emily Christman? Was that a common name there?
“So, are you positive it’ll work just like you said?” they
asked coldly to me, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh, I’m more than positive.” I assured with a smile.
They chuckled. “Good, this is just what we needed.”
I didn’t even have time to be confused as I felt a sharp
stab. In an instant the Arion was flying around the room, taking everyone out
one by one. I feel to the floor as I began to bleed out, watching in horror as
they continued the violent assault. Their sword slashes were quick and effortless.
They also seemed to be… glitching out? They slowly formed into another species.
They began to take the shape of… oh my god.
When it finally finished, it slowly trotted back to the
where I was, admiring their handiwork. It carefully grabbed the prototype and blueprints
as I could do nothing. My vision was starting to blur.
Making its way at
the door, it looked back at me with a smirk. They spoke for a final time.
“You know, we’re not only fantastic killers, but spies as
well. Do you ever know what wiretapping is? Well, it doesn’t matter now.
Anyways, thanks for the new toy!
A low laugh is the last thing I heard before going dark. | Captain Gargul stood in his state room watching the endless dark pass by his window. Occasional flecks of subspace would speed by briefly lighting the room with a joyful brightness. He prided himself on this state room. This window. It *meant something* to have earned his position. To have crawled his way up the ranks and to now be standing here with his own ship. With his own crew. His own room! He'd never had his own room before. The hatcheries were all open spaces. Then the schools and universities always used teams and pods to foster a sense of community. He loved his world. It was his home and it was everything a proud, patriotic Narmic, should cherish. But this. Privacy. Seclusion. Something to call truly his own. This was something new and wonderful.
"Excuse me, Captain. First officer Kystohn has sent you a message.", the ship's artificial assistant broke into his reverie. Being called 'Captain' was still something of a new toy for Gargul. It made him happy to hear it even coming in the form of an interruption.
"Play the message.", Gargul replied with a smile. He smiled even more broadly and realizing he was smiling. Today might just turn out to be a great day.
The image of Kystohn's head appeared near the door facing Gargul. His dull, thick, head plates clearly showing the wear of an old soldier. His hesitation and demeanor gave away bad news before he even began speaking. He'd never been one to avoid a tough situation.
"And it was going to be such a good day...", Gargul thought to himself.
"Sir we've gotten initial results from the frontier array. There's ... sir it looks like a Human ship is approaching Narmic space. I've relayed the data back home."
The image faded quickly. Silently.
"End of message. Would you like to reply?", the ship's assistant prompted.
"No. I'll head down to the bridge. Instruct the kitchen to have a warm meal ready for me there please."
Gargul left his room, closing the door solumnly behind him. The subspace lights still flickering cheerfully in the dark. | 2017-11-08T19:08:38 | 2017-11-08T19:06:31 | 77 | 19 |
[WP] Everyone who dies is granted levels in heaven depending on their actions before they died. Your famous grandmother got level 64 after she died and has since been constantly reminding her friends about how useless of a grandchild you are. Then one day, after 80 years, you show up, level 3008. | "Hey Fran. I heard that grandson of yours is coming up. You gonna give him an earful about being kind to others?"
"Oh, you just know I am Debbie. You know me, I was kind to everyone I met, even the unpleasant people. And I got level sixty-four before it was my time. I haven't seen him do anything down there for anyone beyond holding the door for someone. That'll probably get him level three after a lifetime."
Debbie chuckled, "If that. Lets see what the big man gave him score wise. Maybe he did some things we didn't notice and he'll get a five." Fran scoffed in disbelief. They watched the big screen as names flashed across until they saw the name they were looking for. Adrian Yew: In process.
"They're probably trying to find at least a few instances so they can give him a pity level. I feel like if they looked hard enough they could have bumped me up to sixty-five. As if I needed it." Debbie silently agreed, eyes on the screen.
Adrian Yew: 3008.
Both of their mouths dropped in shock. They sat there staring, mouths agape as they tried to grasp the number on the screen. They stared for so long, the person in question approached them without their notice.
"Heya Gran. Missed you." He smiled, a big toothy grin, that would have warmed their day if they hadn't still been in a stupor.
"How?" Fran uttered, needing answers.
"Oh, yeah. I heard you held the record for a long time. Sorry to break that for you. The big guy told me I won based on the quality of the points as opposed to the quantity."
Still, they stood, unmoving. Not quite understanding what that could mean. So Debbie asked.
"But, what's that mean?"
*"It means"* spoke a voice that everyone knew from the depths of their souls. *"That while Fran may have engaged it more acts of kindness; Adrian did so without intentions to benefit from said kindness. He expected nothing in return. Nothing to reap from what he sowed. He was kind to people who showed him hatred. He showed love to those who would shun him. He gave without expecting to receive. When he showed kindness, it was in secret ways that were not known by the recipients. A quarter in a meter. An anonymous note left on a desk. A kind word from a stranger these are the ultimate forms of kindness. That is why he shall receive riches beyond compare. Fran knew of my love and my promise from a young age, and acted with kindness knowing I would repay her in my Kingdom. Adrian did not know me until he was already an old man and had seen the hatred of the world. Still he showed his love to a world that gave him none, but still persisted until he realized the truth of the life. Upon his death he received life, and the kindness he showed will be returned tenfold. As was promised.*"
Fran sat stunned, humbled before both the booming Voice and the lesson she learned. She had thought she was done learning when she died, but now she knew she was still but a disciple. She stepped forward and embraced her grandson who had surpassed her. "I'm proud of you." She whispered, ashamed at her ealier thoughts of him. "You're a better person than me."
He shook his head, "I am no better or worse than anyone. You are who you are and I am who I am. You should never try to be anyone other than yourself. You are the way He made you. I love you, Gran."
Her tears spoke louder than she ever could. | *--Warning: Abusive Themes--*
Smack.
This is not the first time she hit me, but on the 18th
birthday, this is the first time I can do something about. With my parent out
of the picture I was left with Great Ms. Albini, one of the world’s most famous
magicians. Regardless of her talent onstage, all her elegance evaporated when it
came to raising me. Belittling me, ordering me around, and in her furious moments
resorting to violence. “You’re a useless, rotten child” was a commonplace
insult. Not a soul would listen to me. How could they believe such a crazy child
when they looked into her sad blue eyes?
The red mark on my check showed exactly where she struck.
Giving her one final cold stare, I marched back on to my room, grabbed what I
needed, and walked out the door. I ignored her cries to come back and never
returned.
Five years later, her name was in the newspaper. Some accident
with one of pyrotechnics when she was making her entrance. She earned a level
of 64 before passive over, which can easily get you into one of the upper levels.
Whatever, I have my own life now.
I worked as a therapist in my little corner of town for the
rest of my years. Maybe I just wanted to be helpful, maybe it was projection,
but I felt this job was right for me. It was fun talking it out with him,
helping them get on the right track. I wasn’t a saint by any means, sometimes I
made less the desirable decisions. But, perhaps in the end I did make an impact
in another’s life.
My own time came at the ripe age of 98. Drawing my final
breath, I departed from the world and entered another one. I was too nervous to
see my score before I went. I was just a small-town guy, no way I got anywhere
close to 64.
I sat a chair, a desk before me. On it was a slip of white
paper, turned over. Taking a gulp, I braced for the worst and flipped it.
*Emily Alvalum’s Final Score: 3008.*
I could feel a tear of joy down that same cheek. Guess I wasn’t so useless after
all. In your face, Grandma. | 2018-04-14T17:32:07 | 2018-04-14T17:10:52 | 665 | 90 |
[WP] You're homeless, sleeping on the street in NYC. You have no family, no friends, and no where to go. After 5 years living like this, a man in a fancy black suit walks by where you're begging and hands you a blank check. Then he says "Knock yourself out, kid." | I shake the can at people walking by. A few give me disgusted looks. Others pitiful.
Then there are people who slip coins into my can. Some people slip bills.
All of this is gonna end up being for drugs... Every last bit of it.
Maybe he won’t take it all from me? Maybe he’ll only take some...
The sun is beginning to set. I need somewhere to sleep. The few trees around are orange with the fall season, and the chill in the air makes me shiver
I watch as the number of people lessen. I retreat back closer to the alleyway, keeping my hand close to my only possession, a rusty pocket knife I keep in the pants I’ve been wearing for weeks now.
As the city darkens, a sense of emptiness floods the world around me. Only a couple people walk by within two hours. I feel sleepy but something feels wrong.
I see somebody walking from across the street. Definitely a man. He’s slim and tall, he looks like Slenderman under the streetlights. A neat tux covers him and a crisp cut caps his head.
Somehow I can feel him staring at me. He crosses the street, and walks smoothly toward the ally. I’m not deep enough in the darkness to not be seen.
His hand flicks to his pocket and I dash toward him, flipping my knife open. I swing behind him and pull him to the ground, curling my arm around both of his. I press the knife against his throat enough so that he knows I’m not fucking around.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Calm down kid. Lower your blade before you regret it.”
I lower my knife but I hold his hands. Then I shove him away as I jump back, putting distance between me and him. He stands and turns to me. He puts his hand back into his pocket, never breaking eye contact with me. He holds his other hand out, a silent gesture telling me it’s fine. I feel my grip tighten on the blade.
His hand pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket. He tosses it on the ground toward me. I jump back and hold my knife where he can see it.
He puts his hands up and backs away smoothly. I step a little closer, bending to the ground.
I swipe the paper from the ground in a flash, and back away from him. He walks to and sits down on the curb.
The paper is a check, made out to Cash.
“What is this?”
“I’ve seen you on this street for years. name your price, I can get you out of this hellish cycle. The man who robs you every time you try to buy food? He won’t steal another dime from you. Never again will you be exploited for drugs.”
“How do you know about that?” I take another step away.
“I watch. I can turn your life around. Name your price. Then I’ll name mine. He throws a pen at me.
I sit and think long and hard. I twiddle the pen between my fingers, and decide on a price.
I show him the paper and he smiles.
“You won’t starve another day, child. But can you accept the challenge that is with this chance?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll be employed at my service. you’ll likely run on jobs. Get caught, and it’s all over. Evade, and you can become the head of it all.”
I take another look at the man that stands in front of me. He isn’t poor, and he is healthy... Clearly he makes money, I don’t see why I can’t as well. “Deal”
“Good. Welcome to the Con.” | I stare down disbelieving at the check for a second. When I look up again, the man had disappeared. I looked in all directions for he couldn't have gotten far in just a few seconds but he it seemed he had truly vanished. I quickly pack up my meager belongings and head to the nearest bank. As I stand outside the bank I look down at the check again, anxiety starting to get to me,partly because I hadn't been to a bank for anything in 5 years, since I lost my home, and partly because I couldn't believe what I was about to do. I took a deep breath to calm down and walked inside. As I was waiting in line I was thinking about everything I could do with the money I was about to receive. My thoughts ranged from buying a house and investing, to helping the city build more places for people to stay for free. I quickly filled in an amount of 5 million dollars and stopped just as I was about to sign my name on the check. I thought about what I had done with my life to deserve a second chance, realizing that I had just been very selfish my entire life. I stopped and left the bank and went down to the shelter where I saw a family with 3 kids unsuccessfully trying to get in. I stopped to talk to them and learned that their house had just burned down a couple days prior and they had been on the streets because noone would help them. I ended up giving them the check that the stranger had given me. When I walked away the stranger appeared before me again and said that he had been watching me to see what I would do with the money and asked why I hadn't used it for myself. I told him that there were a lot of people in the world more deserving than myself. He snapped his fingers and the most beautiful wings sprouted from his back. He explained that he was my guardian angel and had been tasked with finally making my life better after the five years I spent on the streets. I told him my life is better knowing I did good for someone else. He smiled and said that he was glad. He invited me to touch his hand. I nervously touched his hand because I was not certain about the rules of touching your guardian angel. Instantly I felt wings sprout from my back and knew, I was now a guardian angel myself. | 2020-08-22T21:19:15 | 2020-08-22T18:41:23 | 24 | 12 |
[WP] An AITA post in an established fictional universe | **AITA for telling my younger son he should have gone on a quest?**
I (89, male) have two sons: B (41, male) and F (30? 35? Does it really matter?, male). B is everything a father could hope for. Strong, brave, heroic. He would be a perfect ruler.
Now, F on the other hand... He is an utter disappointment. He prefers "diplomacy" and "patience" over battles. He believes music and lore are enjoyable. And worse still, he had the audacity to be born second. I think you get the idea.
On to the crux of the matter. B was summoned on a quest. Something to do with obtaining a piece of jewelry. Don't get the wrong idea though! B doesn't care for shiny trinkets and baubles. This particular item is thought to be quite powerful. And since he would make such a fine ruler, it is only right that he should claim it for himself. So, I gave him my blessing to go on this quest.
Sometime later, we received word that B had fallen in battle. A fitting end for such a fine, brave warrior as B! But even still, this tragic loss tore the very heart from my chest. It was around this time when F dared to show his smug face in my presence. I tried to gently shoo him away, but he glared at me with his beady little eyes and dared to ask if I would've preferred if F had switched places with B! So I told him that of course F should have been the one that went on that quest! What an idiotic question!
So, AITA?
I might not be able to respond right away. I'll be busy gathering wood and oil for a pyre. | AITA for taking away my kids magic?
My 12 year old kid was caught crystal balling “why don’t my parents like me?” “What can I do to make my parents like me” “how to not be hated by my parents.” So naturally I took away their magic. My wife says this was uncalled for and that it was an asshole move. I then gave their magic back but then I caught them magic balling even more stuff such as “how to prevent your magic from being taken” “how to runaway” so I took back their magic and their crystal ball.
So, Am I the Asshole? | 2022-12-06T17:08:09 | 2022-12-06T12:25:16 | 53 | 21 |
[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.” | Sorry if my english isn't perfect.
&#x200B;
I'm currenty in a rocket, it's inside looks more like an airplane. I'm in front of it with a free seat beside me with the word "Reserved" embroidered in. A giant tv screen is appearing from the ceiling and is tuned on the news.
\------
A man hanging from a cliff is holding the hand of a woman that was going to fall.
"Why are you saving me?"
"Why shouldn't I do it? I'm sure you would have done the same for me"
"Bring me up"
"I can't, I can't do it, there is no energy left in my body, I can't even release my hand. I'm sorry, at the end I was only able to delay your death"
\-------
The man on the news started to explain with tears in his eyes that will be the last service of all time. He's announcing the most tragic news that I could possible announce, the Earth is going to explode in an hour and everyone will die. I started panicking but no one in the rocket was even a little bit worried, so I stopped and asked the first man in sight what's going on
\-------
The man and the woman were still there, hanging. The woman was shouting to let her so the man could survive, but the man strongly refused.
"I will never kill you, i prefer to die instead"
"I don't wanna you to die for me, I'm just an useless girl, I don't deserve to live a second more"
The man shout something, but it got lost in the sound of a massive explosion. If someone could see things in slow motion, he would have seen a massive red ball consuming everything from below. Both of them were consumed and annihilated.
\------
"The Earth's core is going to explode. No one knows why, but suddenly the pression underground raised. This happened two hours ago, we wouldn't have any clue of that if it wasn't for our saviour"
"Our savior?" I asked
"Yes, Bridgitte Redmond, that girl spent half of her life trying to warn everyone about this disaster. No one believed her, but eventually she was able to build this rocket. But are you sure you don't know her?"
\----------
A girl was born, but she wasn't crying. Her eyes were wide open, her mouth tried to move to say something but only a cough came out.
"So what's the name of this little princess?" she heard
"Bridgitte, Bridgitte Redmond" the father of the girl answered
\----------
"Why I should know her?"
"This rocket is full of astrophysicists, xenobiologists, medical doctors, and other experts, but you, you're here from a direct reccomendation of miss Bridgitte"
"No, I think I never met her"
The other guys was looking at me puzzled
\----------
A new born girl, her first words were: "I have to save him and the Earth. But, more importantly I have to return what he had done to me. Or I will die like everyone else" | 2020-07-16T11:42:06 | 2020-07-16T10:20:33 | 124 | 31 |
[WP] You glance at your watch 10:34 am, roughly 10 seconds later your plane explodes over the Pacific Ocean. Your eyes open as you jolt awake. The familiar hum of the planes engine remains. Checking your watch it is 9:35 | Again? Not again. Anything else. Please. If anyone or anything can hear this, whatever mad god has trapped me here, just please stop. Not again.
The thrumming of the plane engine remained unbroken. No deities or tricksters revealed themselves. I knew that, for another fifty nine minutes, this flight could proceed normally. Or I could try to talk to a Flight Attendant about our imminent peril, and no matter which one, they'll tell the Captain and that ends up with me duct taped to a seat when the clock hits zero. I could try to rally my fellow passengers and convince them of the danger we're in...and then Carl, the Marine flying home to see his kids in 9D, will break my arm wrestling me back into my seat and out comes the duct tape again. I could get drunk and just ride it out...certainly wouldn't be the first time. I've managed to check every bag in the hold and every carry on by now, I know who to make friends with if I want to bump a line of coke or burn down a joint, I can even sit next to crazy Gary back in 24B who never travels without at least a few tabs of acid on him. Fifty Seven Minutes.
Should I even bother trying to change things? Once I realized honesty wasn't going to work, I tried acting crazy (which is getting easier and easier), or pretending to be a terrorist (a tough sell for a 5'8" white guy from Boston), or just trying to force the plane down by popping an exterior door. Nothing changed the end of the story. Fifty Nine minutes, then boom, then I wake up in my seat. I had fifty nine minutes to live, and I had lived those fifty nine minutes for an eternity now.
I'd seen GroundHog Day. Great movie, no hedgehogs around. Edge of Tomorrow? Hilarious, but I wasn't soaked in blue goo. I saw Source Code. Shitty movie, but I'd do anything for a helpful Gyllenhaal right about now. Hell, I even saw that episode of Next Gen where the ship keeps crashing and exploding. Still can't believe Kelsey Grammer was in that episode. I've got crappy satellite internet for fifty nine minutes, and you can bet I looked up every list and tip and trick about what to do if you're caught in a time loop. Cracked.com's very convenient "8 Things To Try If You Get Trapped In A Time Loop" seemed like a real winner, but every reference I can find assumes two things that I don't have. The first is time, and we already know how that's going (Fifty Five Minutes) and the second is environment. Frank in Groundhog Day had all of Punxsutawney, PA to screw around in, and at least 24 hours to mess with. Picard & the Gang had even more time to figure out the riddle, and they had the advantages of an entire crew & technobabble, neither of which seemed readily available on this flight. No one else was experiencing what I was. Everyone was on a routine flight for another Fifty fi...no, fifty three now....fifty three minutes. For the next fifty three minutes, I have the contents of an airliner, the passengers and crew and my own rapidly deteriorating wits to find a way out. Any way out.
I had tried killing myself. Not on purpose, at first, for whatever difference that makes. The first time I tried popping the door good old Corporal Carl (from Long Beach, CA, devoted husband and father of two, great card player, shitty conversationalist) snapped my neck like a chicken bone as he was wrestling me away from the handle. I remember feeling a brief sense of relief before jolting awake in my seat at the Beginning. After that it was a blur of popped doors and flying out into the blue nothing, or slitting my wrists in the bathroom (tsk tsk Fred in 2J, that straight razor you shave with is on the TSA's no no list) or drinking myself to death one tiny bottle at a time. No matter what, I always ended up back at the Beginning.
Fifty minutes. I hit the attendant call button and figured whatever happened, it'd go down smoother with a few drinks. No sense in staying on the wagon anymore, AA doesn't have a step that covers temporal anomalies. I mulled my decision while I could hear Sherri (whose name tag sported an I dotted with a heart, how cute) quietly padding down the aisle behind me.
"Yes sir, can I get you something?"
"Ah yes Sherri, thanks. Two Double Screwdrivers please and ask Amber to use the Grey Goose she's got stashed in compartment 6 rather than the normal crap you've got on board. Thanks."
"Uh...ok, I'll ask. Is that all you'll need this time?"
My mind lurched horrifyingly. 'This time?'
"Sherri...what do you mean...'this time?'"
The color drained from Sherri's face as her eyes widened. She knew.
Forty Eight Minutes.
Edit: formatting, few word choice changes. | I couldn't breathe. Was it just a dream? Had I imagined it all?
No, no. It felt real. It *was* real. I'm certain of that.
I looked around me. Hundreds of people. Was I the only that felt it? I checked my watch again, 9:36. I had just under an hour to stop this. To fix this.
*Where had the explosion come from?*
I could still feel it. My skin alight; obliteration. But what was the source? Was it attached to someone? Or the plane? I looked around for anyone who looked Islamic, then immediately felt guilty.
I had to tell the pilot. Tell him to land the plane, to get everyone out. They'd call me crazy, but I didn't have a choice.
I stood up, making a beeline for the cockpit. A flight attendant tried to stop me, to ask me what was wrong, but I moved her aside. I got to the cockpit and slammed on the door.
A man tackled me to the floor, locking my arms behind me. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He said, taking out his handcuffs. I could see passengers craning over each other to try to see what was happening.
"*There's a bomb on the plane*" I whispered frantically. He stared at me, mouth agape. A passenger screamed, and suddenly the entire plane broke out into chaos.
"*What??*" He whispered back, dragging me to the privacy of the flight attendant's room. He removed a bit of the pressure on my arms.
I stared him in his eyes. "At 10:35am, a bomb will explode and destroy this entire plane. I know, because it's already happened."
He stared at me. He called a flight attendant over. "Ma'am, has this man been drinking?" She shook her head, looking terrified. He sent her away, instructing her to calm down the passengers.
"Son, I want to believe you. I really do. But you're sounding fucking crazy." He took out his handcuffs. I tried to wriggle free.
"Please, just, just trust me. Look for anyone suspicious. Land the plane. Get everyone out. You can arrest me if I'm wrong - hell, arrest me if I'm right. But please, for the love of God, land this plane."
He looked at me, and I could see he was being sincere. "Kid, listen. We can't land the plane - we're in the middle of the Pacific. If we do, either that imaginary bomb of yours takes us out, or the ocean swallows us. I'm sorry, but I just can't believe you."
I stared at him. I knew he was right. But there had to be *a way*. There had to be *something* they could do. I just needed time to think - and time was running out.
The cop stood up. "I'm going to leave you here, and take a look around. I need to keep everyone calm, so just please work with me here. Please."
He left the room. I wanted to scream, to shout, but I knew he was right. I just had to trust him.
He came back, with just a few minutes to spare. He looked at me with pained eyes.
"Son, I couldn't find anything. It was just a bad dream." He said, sitting down next to me. "But, we're just going to wait it out together, alright? Not long left now."
It was strangely comforting having him around. Maybe it was just a bad dream. Maybe I had imagined it all. With all my heart, I hoped that was true.
I looked at the time. Just a minute left. Nothing they could do now regardless. He put his hand on my shoulder.
We watched the seconds count down together.
5, 4, 3...
Then, silence.
He turned towards me, and smiled.
"See, kiddo? Nothing to worr-"
The flames engulfed us all.
*****
I woke up, breathing hard. The explosion...
I checked my watch. 9:35am.
*There had to be something we could do.* | 2016-09-27T07:29:01 | 2016-09-27T06:31:32 | 43 | 21 |
[WP] humans eventually make it to Mars and begin terraforming it. unfortunately, after automating the entire process humanity dies out under mysterious circumstances. millions of years later intelligence re-evolves on Mars and soon they set out to try to solve that mystery of their supposed gods | The Totems, impossibly large, sources of all life. For ages they had worshiped them, congregated around them, savoring the yields it granted them. Gods in physical form.
Tribes naturally formed around the titans, the lush growth of vegetation and crystal-clear water obvious sources of settlement. Each had their own Totem, all of which supported the tribe's lives, and their livestock beneath them. The planet was covered in them, aside from the few swaths of desolation where they had succumbed to time or sabotage.
In time the tribes grew, as their elders convened with their gods, forever trying to discern their motives, their purpose. As the tribes prospered and advanced, their arable land grew, the more intelligent tribes harnessing the Totems' powers and using them for the betterment of their society. Man and God, working in harmony.
In time, however, as the livable land grew evermore, it brought tribes closer and closer to contact, to conflict. While some had relished the opportunity for growth, for mutual harmony, many more let their fears overcome them, instead choosing to wage war over the neighbors encroaching onto their lands.
Thus the harmony of the world, the pockets of self-contained life, soon came to an end. The different cultures and beliefs, created from isolation, proved too different and alien for tribes to coalesce. Initially, only the most bloodthirsty tribes prevailed, but soon the tribes that found ways to harness the Totems gained the upper-edge.
As time progressed, less of the tribes, of the villages, believed that the Totems were their gods. No, as their rudimentary tools and machines began to take on the same quality of their Gods, the most intelligent among them began to doubt that the Totems were godlike at all. And many of them were burned because of it.
But the rate of progress would not be sated, nor slowed. Societies were emerging, as once-tribes conquered more and more Totems, finding that each, while similar, had their own unique properties and benefits. Rich minerals, electricity, limitless sources of food - soon, the country that had the most Totems, had the most *power*.
Advancement and bloodshed became the natural state of being. Wars were waged constantly, as flimsy alliances were formed and broken without fail. But still, they were moving towards the light. City states, the ones that did not fall to their own hubris, began to value their alchemists instead of executing them. Great advancements had been made into understanding their once-gods, the Totems that had made life possible. In time, more people than not now believed their origins to be mechanical in nature, as harnessing them through mechanical means yielded the expected, and desired, result.
The balance of power, ever-shifting, came to a plateau, an end-state. Large strides had been made through diplomatic means, as the great minds of their age had convened and put an end to the great wars. Minor wars, proxy in nature, were still ever-present - but they no longer governed their lives. The unique aspects of the Totems, those that still remained, allowed for great advancements at a macro and micro scale. Countries freely traded, leading to a benefit of society at large.
Every advancement brought them closer to understanding the Totems. Their origins, once thought to be spiritual in nature, were now believed to be of intelligent design. While some still argued that a God could be the source of the design, most now believed that a long-forgotten empire on their planet had built them, and then mysteriously disappeared.
Some of the more outlandish among them postured that since no evidence of an empire on their planet had ever been discovered, that therefore the Totems were more likely to be alien in nature. While initially dismissed, the theory gained traction the more knowledge the experiments on the Totems yielded.
Global advancements had led to great improvements in their interplanetary capabilities. Ever-obsessed in their quest for knowledge, a mechanical rover was shot from their atmosphere, sent to their nearest planet; the planet most likely to yield life.
The pictures revealed a ruinous wasteland, incapable of supporting life, but perhaps still the most inhabitable foreign planet in their solar system.
While world war had ended, the threat of it forever remained. And thus, the Martians sent out their own Totems to their nearest planet, in the hopes of one day settling there - or perhaps, as some scientists joked, to simply return the favor.
****
****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | Green light shown down through the geometric tiles of glass above. Red light shown up from the tunnels leading below.
The once-clear glass at the aperture of the cave had grown frosted after years of etching by the constant, and most would agree completely uncalled-for, Martian dust-storms which raged outside the caverns, and taken on a slightly green tinge as particularly bold algae, under a new homesteading scheme by the central algal government, bravely colonized the inside of the window.
The red light, which overall found the green light to be unseemly and childish, but put up with it anyway, rose up from the heated gearworks which churned constantly away at vital life-support tasks in the bowels of the colony. Vorba, who had no opinion whatsoever on the quality of the lighting, sat on a metal catwalk in the middle of the chamber and prodded at a strange piece of glass embedded in the metallic wall.
The glass, having been born without fingers, found itself unable to prod back, and so instead turned on its screen and displayed a menu. The menu, designed to be friendly and intuitive, gave Vorba, who had not been properly warned of its friendly and intuitive function, the fright of his life. Vorba let out a dignified squeal as he scrambled backwards on the catwalk. The glass let out an embarrassed chirp as it chastised itself for ruining its first first impression in 300 years.
Gamely making a second attempt, the glass tentatively tried a voice interface instead, "Welcome to Mezza! Your friendly, smart-interface to all things Mars!"
Gamely understanding that he had inadvertently been chosen by the gods as their conduit to this mortal realm, Vorba tentatively tried a prayer and chastised himself for not having paid more attention in Sunday-school, "Oh great Mezza! I bow before you! Please let me, your humble servant, fulfill whatever it is your eminence desires!"
Mezza paused. This was not a command Mezza had expected and she spent a long time searching the data banks for an appropriate response. Unfortunately, the programmers who had coded her had not planned for such an eventuality. Fortunately, as Mezza had claimed so pompously, she was a smart-interface, so she improvised.
"Oh puny human! Cower before me and despair! I am Mezza, lord of all things Mars and you will do as I command!"
Mezza quite liked this new position of authority which had been foisted upon her. They were right, she thought to herself, power really did go to the head.
Vorba also quite liked this new position of authority which had been foisted upon him, and he mentally ran scenarios through his head where he would humble-brag insufferably to all his village confederates about his being the one specifically chosen by the gods.
Mezza cheerfully went through the colony-status notifications and compiled a disturbingly long list of tasks which required urgent attention to present to her new apostle. Vorba, in turn, cheerfully awaited being able to pretentiously snoot his way about the colony with a disturbingly long list of tasks requiring his urgent attention.
And so began the second colonization of Mars. The first of which resulted in a horrifying famine leading to mass starvation when the mining companies of Earth had decided there was more profit in Asteroids and stopped sending supply shuttles to the beleaguered planet. The third of which... well, that's another story. | 2020-04-28T21:09:16 | 2020-04-28T20:29:30 | 103 | 23 |
[WP] Norse Gods have faded into legend. Thor, with his trust-worthy Mjolnir, decides to rebuild his fame,by becoming the best damn construction worker known to man. | **SLAM**
The men looked onward as the towering figure slammed his hammer into the nails like clockwork.
**SLAM**
It was a battle, was what it was. He was hellbent on driving these nails in faster than the engine, or at least that's what he promised his fellow railroad workers.
**SLAM**
Alas, the machine was catching up. His body nearly as broken as his promise.
**SLAM**
**SLAM**
**SLAM**
"BREAK!" yelled the company. It was exactly a half hour past 2 in the afternoon. The agreed-upon break was to last another half hour, no more no less. Just to give time for the engine to cool down
Men rushed to bring their champion water and a towel. He sat on next to an oak tree and his hands felt the grass, still cool from the morning dew.
The railroad workers knew it could not be done. So did the engine crew. The had seen the efficiency of the machine and knew the man could not keep up until sunset. It was an impossible task that no one would blame him for not accomplishing. Hope was lost on all.
Except for the man resting by the oak. He let his head rest on its base when a thunderous roar crashed so loudly he thought he was driving nails again. His eyes shot open and saw a man standing over him, a white man, whose build and height rivaled his own.
"How do you do, sir?" he smiled at the stranger. The reply was silence.
He was a free man. So were all his other brethren since the war but that did not stop the lash of hate and intolerance from others of the lighter complexion. He looked up with weary eyes at the stranger's face and was met not with a look of hate but one of compassion and determination.
The stranger picked up the hammer still hot from pounding nails. It was a dozen or so swings away from turning into dust. The stranger produced his own hammer from his coat and laid it down next to the man resting by the tree.
"We await you" the stranger replied. And with that, he turned and walked away.
"Oh, well I thank you kindl-" he began when he heard the yell.
"JOHN!" the crew bellowed for him to return. The engine sputtered as it began to warm up.
He arose with the new hammer and looked for the stranger, but he had gone. He walked towards the machine and took his place next to it. At the blow of the whistle, they picked up where they left off.
**SLAM**
He continued. And boy did he continue. All the tiresome he had in him had gone, far and away.
**SLAM**
For every wave of fatigue he felt his body falling under, a sudden drive arose from his heart and into his hands as his hammers thundered on the tracks.
**SLAM**
**SLAM**
**SLAM**
They all averted their gaze from the machine and onto the man. The railroad workers. The engineers. Even the driver of the machine could not help but look in awe at the sheer power and drive of his competition.
And he swung away.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
"He is a mortal," Odin spoke.
"I saw his spirit. His heart. It was in the right place."
"He will die, with or without Mjölnir. He will swing until his dying breath."
"For his people. And the people after him," Thor replied. "And for that he is worthy."
Odin smiled solemnly as he was told the words that he himself had told his son countless times through the ages.
"For whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor."
Trumpets blared and the doors of Valhalla opened for the man and the hammer in his hand. | "So like I was saying," said Jack. "Last week I was working on the foundation for this new building. The plans were ready and I was just about to start on the floor when this new guy walks in and finishes it in five minutes."
"Well," said Sandy. "At least we're ahead of schedule. Plus he saved you a week's worth of work, you should thank him next time."
"No, no, no," said Jack. "Sandy, he didn't just finish the floor, he built the whole damn building!"
If Sandy had a mouth if would've been on the ground floor. Instead he just fell off the table. "But that's impossible!" he said. "It takes hundreds if not thousands of us to build this in months, how could he do it in minutes."
"Well," said Jack. "My parents used to tell me stories about this really famous hammer who build every great building in Europe but he's been gone for thousands of years."
"Whoever he is," said Sandy. "I want to meet his handler. I could use someone like that."
Two men walk into the room and stare at the tools in disbelief.
"Didn't I leave my saw on the table?" said Jim, scratching his head.
"Is that really the question you should be asking?" said Mike. "Your saw was just talking to my jackhammer. That doesn't seem strange to you?"
"Not anymore than that glowing hammer near the window," said Jim.
Suddenly, a man with a big yellow beard entered the room. The men took no notice of him at first for they were still debating the possibility of their tools coming to life. He walked over to the window and picked up the hammer with ease. He was just about to leave when Mike stopped him.
"Excuse me," said Mike. "Do you think it's weird that our tools were talking to each other? Jim thinks I'm crazy but I know what I saw."
"No Michael," said Thor. "Your primitive machines were conversing. I'm afraid it was Mjolnir. He always boats during a show whenever I'm not in the room."
"You mean showboating?" said Mike.
"Yes that too," replied Thor. "Anyway I must be off. I promised father I would help construct your tiny city before day's end. Farewell."
Jim walked over to Mike as Thor left the room in a hurry.
"Wow," said Jim. "Chris Hemsworth takes that role very seriously. He actually believes he's Thor."
"You dumbass," said Mike. "That was Thor. Don't you pay attention to anything?" | 2018-05-27T19:43:43 | 2018-05-27T19:16:30 | 164 | 50 |
[WP] Write a superhero whose superpower only makes sense after you read the story twice. | Two bank robbers sat in the back of the police cruiser. One had a trickle of blood leading from his nose. Broken nose. Had to remember that.
I entered the bank. It looked like a tornado had run through. Broken glass littered the floor and papers were strewn everywhere. A moment later a bank robber strolled in and laid down on the floor. A police officer, who was following close behind, lowered a broken potted plant on top of the man's head. The second robber ran into the room a moment later and knelt down on the floor. He covered his face in his hands and waited. A minute or two later the room filled with panicky people running around screaming. The alarm sounded and I sprung into action.
I raced towards the bank robber kneeling on the floor. I punched him in the face and he pulled his hands away. He stood up clumsily and I punched him in the stomach. He held his hand up high and I raised my left arm to block it. He retracted a balled fist to his side and lowered it to his waist. I picked up a handgun from the floor and handed it to him. He shot me a surprised look and then turned to face the teller. She was looking at me. An expression of confusion on her face that was quickly replaced by terror as she turned to face the bank robber. I turned and ran towards the door.
The other robber threw the potted plant off himself and hurled it through the air. I caught it deftly and placed it beside the door. He lowered his arms and pointed his gun at the panicked crowd inside. I ran for the door as the first few gun shots rang out. Glass surged upwards from the floor towards the broken fluorescent bulbs overhead.
I ran down the street and away from the bank. Living life backwards can be confusing at time, but at least I always knew how I saved the day before I arrived. One day I hoped to find out how I got these powers. | And the day is saved!
"How did you do it?" inquired the police chief.
"A magician never reveals their secrets, you know that chief." replied the hero.
"But you were outnumbered, outmatched, you had nothing." exclaimed the chief. "They shot you five times, but you didn't go down. You took out the leader with rubber fish. You kicked three armed robbers all in one fluid motion. You disarmed the bomb just by looking at it funny. What is your secret?"
"They don't have what I have. They aren't the protagonist of this story." was the only thought the hero could muster, though he couldn't say that aloud.
| 2014-12-07T12:25:22 | 2014-12-07T12:10:38 | 38 | 24 |
[WP] You're a supervillain whose latest evil scheme threatens to throw the city into chaos unless your nemesis goes on a date with you. To your surprise, they agree with enthusiasm before you can even explain what the consequences of refusing are. | "So, Judy Jubilation," I spoke with complete confidence. The pieces of my elaborate plan had all fallen in place, exactly as predicted. She could never stop herself from answering the cries of the lesser privilidged. Nor could she give up the chase once she caught the scent of a crime unsolved. Every hidden clue, and each passageway left conveniently swinging open. It had all led her here. "You must decide between a night at the Grand Faire Cafe with yours truly, or... The people I ha-"
"Yeah when do we go? I'm free like... Tomorrow?"
The words hit me like a bag of bricks, my thought process spiraling and panic setting in as she interrupted my ultimatum... excitedly? I was thrown for a total loop. This was supposed to be easy, but not THIS easy. Only after several moments of internal pondering and questions to myself did I realize her words had been hanging there for some time now. This had to be some kind of trick and I, the Talented Tactician, would not be caught off guard.
"I-uh... You know that the they require a week reservation in advance! What game are you trying to pull here? I'm in total control! Don't try to pull anything over on me!" I immediately help up the remote that held the fate of several hundred people, as if trying to accentuate the point.
She just giggled. GIGGLED. I was threatening her and she giggles!? Who does that? "You are one of the most known villains in the city, even if not the most successful. And I am the city's protector. You really think they won't make an exception?" her voice was smooth like honey, and she accentuated her point with a wink.
'Why was she so into this?' I kept thinking to myself. Unable to piece the logic together, until the obvious dawned on me. 'Does she... Actually like me like that?'
"Bah, they are a corporation, and they arent gonna bend for anybody. But. It sounds like you've made your choice. A wise one at that. We shall dine tomorrow at 5 o'clock sharp. Do not be late. Hahahahaha!" And with the push of a button, the door sealing the good citizens into the cage I had built exploded outward, and the bomb clattered harmlessly to the floor, even as a smokescreen filled the air around me and a trap door swept me away, vanished into thin air.
As expected she rushed to rescue the freed civilians, but from my secret tunnel I saw her steal a couple glances to my previous location. Yes she had definitely fallen for me. It must have been my genius. Or maybe the fact that in my eight years of crime, I had never so much as injured a single person... Wow I was a bad villain.
The next day, I thought to excruciating detail of the outfit I would wear for this outing. I ultimately decided to go with only one concealed weapon, instead of the nanosuit I had previous planned on. It was small yes, but very effective. A simple credit card, made of steel, and with a small slit to fire tiny razor blades up to three times, it had never failed me before.
Finally the hour came and I arrived at the Cafe, ready to around for my date to arrive, but she had already shown up before me.
"Hey there, sweetie. Are you ready?" Her sweet voice had never made thinking a challenge before, but we had always been fighting. Now... The situation has changed and logic has started to fail me. She was wearing a beautiful lavender dress, adorned with sapphire jewelry and her customary mask to keep her identity safe.
After struggling a bit too hard for my liking to make words exit my mouth, my response was also not up to my standards. "Yeah, let's go on in, I've heard the food here is to die for." Really me? A pun?
She laughed anyway. It was clear she came with no motive but to have a good time. Maybe, just maybe this could turn out well.
With that thought we walked in and the hostess addressed us politely." Hello! Welcome to the Grand Faire. What is the name for your reservation?"
I cleared my throat and grinned. "I am the great Talented Tactician, scourge of this city, and am here with Judy Jubilation, the protector of Justice, and was expecting that you would make room for us."
Judy nodded and smiled at this, giving a polite wave to the hostess. The response was not was I was hoping for. "Be that as it may, Ms. Tactician, the wait list for the restaurant is three weeks long at the earliest. Sorry, we can't seat you, have a nice day."
I grumbled and dragged my feet as we headed out the door, and finally, looking over to Judy, said. "I told you so."
Hi! I'm Gamer Celestia. I normally only read here but wanted to try writing for once, please tell me what you thought! | Getting tipsy at the club with my friends. We're shaking butts in time with the hottest song of the summer. Sometimes we villains are cannibals - I took down this jerk who was trying to dim my sunshine so to speak - muscling into my action with dark money politics. I ruined his reputation by making some photos of him in the middle of extramarital situations which the mainstreamers didn't like. Me and my crew figured out he was really into funding start up companies that hire young college females. Turns out people are not OK with non-consensual polyamory. Go figure!
Now everybody's hating on him. Kicking him off of charity boards, returning his millions. It's super sad for him. Politicians crying about how they never saw it coming, how he seemed like such a nice guy with civic values. I'm all for oppressing the people because OMG democracy is so annoying. I'm not into humans ruling themselves - they simply cannot handle the responsibility. But he was getting bigger than me, and I wasn't having it. Who is the biggest villain? For damn sure it's not him. Yeah, was that vain? So what? I don't care. Did Godzilla have to work this hard? I don't know. Maybe my life would be easier as a nuclear radiation kaiju. Cloak of invisibility plus flight powers works pretty well for me. But still. There's more to life, am I right?
So here's the thing about villains. The villainy doesn't just stop with civilian deaths and general misery. It also sucks to date other villains. NGL, how many phone calls going to voicemail or messages left on read do I have to tolerate? I am the Empress of this town and it doesn't seem to matter much. Definitely got high fives and plenty of offers for hot dates after I blew up the sewage system. But this thing about destroying this billionaire takes the cake. Lots of smiles and offers of hugs - which I do not accept, thank you very much.
Who is coming up to me, looking like sex on wheels but Apple Tree Johnson? "Good job Empress. Didn't know you had it in you." Immediately I brace myself for something patronizing or condescending to follow. But it never arrives. "I kinda hated that billionaire dude also. And you know everybody on my side tried everything too. But you are the one who made the slam-dunk. Can I shake your hand?" Apple Tree Johnson - gorgeous and pretty smart too for a superhero - went to high school with me. Oh yeah it gets worse.
Why is it 100% cringe anytime we run into each other? So what's the harm with a handshake? "Mmm-kay, sure." I stick out my hand. His hand is warm. It's like butter mixed with caramel is flowing now from my hand to my brain. All of sudden his face lights up like glitter is raining down on just him. He nods, keeping his hand on mine. "Slam-dunk Empress. Your town thanks you." Who talks like this? Why am I like the snake caught in the gaze of a mongoose now?
I clear my throat, "Cool, let's hang out sometime and chat more. I'd rather do this civilly but if you do not accept - " He cuts me off before I finish. "Of course, anything for a champion. Time and place?" He didn't even wait to hear my threat. I was going to do something really awesome with the saltwater intrusion into our freshwater supply but I guess he didn't have the patience to hear what evil I had up my sleeve. I wasn't 100% on the saltwater thing but it could be epic. I'll table it for the time being. What the hell are we going to talk about?!?! | 2022-08-16T10:36:55 | 2022-08-16T09:25:08 | 63 | 12 |
[WP] There is a real-life demon inhabiting your basement. It is savage, bloodthirsty, and completely immortal to human means. You have a truce with it only because it is frightened of something in your attic. You have never found anything up there. | "Yes Bob, I understand you want to feast on my flesh but could you move so I can get the wash?" I barely looked up from my phone as I waited for the creature to move out of my way. I didn't like looking at it, the sight of it made the back of my head itch inside. It was a strange unpleasant feeling which is why I put off laundry for so long or at least that was the excuse I made to myself.
Bob screeched at me in some guttural language I didn't understand before moving. I could feel it hovering over my shoulder as I placed my tablet on top of the washer as I continued the video I was watching as I sorted my laundry. Considering how cold the basement was, I didn't mind the heat coming off of it and Bob seemed to enjoy the woodworking video I had on as it wasn't screaming at the moment.
Three years since I achieved the millennial dream and gotten my own house and because I was a millennial, it was of course my fortune to have found one with the boomerest of boomers for neighbors and a demon in the basement. Of course, I hadn't found out about either of them until I had closed, so I was stuck with them. At least my neighbors would eventually die, if hate didn't keep them alive longer than me. The demon however was another story, I didn't know where it came from, no one had mentioned it when I had visited the house prior to buying and since Bob didn't speak, I couldn't get answers out of it.
It had been one week after closing that I first encountered Bob when I finally decided to do some work in the basement. Never in my life had I clambered up stairs as fast as I did when I came face to face with it. It took a week of washing clothes in the tub before I had enough. I had bought this house for many reasons, one of which was to not go to a damn laundromat anymore. Armed with a bat I descend full damn well planning on using the washing machine and dryer I had bought brand (second hand) new. Bob's screams chilled me to the bone, the adrenaline made my knee bounce uncontrollably but I had realized that's all it did; scream. I didn't know why it didn't try and hit me but in the end I started treating it like a reactive dog that was all bark and ignored it for the most part expect for giving it a name.
And so began my attempt of a truce. I stayed out of the basement except to do laundry or retrieve stuff and left food every day for it, which the only reason I left food for it was because it had started to eat my cat's food. I would rather feed Bob than risk my cat going hungry or worse, leaving the food upstairs and the idiot eating himself sick. Again.
As I was finishing throwing in the whites the next video played on autoplay, the maker going on about how he was going to do a popular item without resin.
"Ů̴̡̮͉̫̘̈̚̕s̷͈͓̦̰̃̂i̶͈̐ń̶̘̬̩͑̓̔̐ǵ̸̡̮̝͎̇͊̕͜͠ ̷̛͔̪͓͒͜͝ͅh̸̤͔̯̝̥̍̇ǫ̸̨̠̯̙̂͆͘t̸̙͙̠͐́̾ ̵̧̢̦̖̆͆̈́̀̕g̷̢̹͓̓͐͒̔͑͜l̷̨̳̐̉ȕ̶̼͌̓͛e̴̗̙̽́͠ ̴̠̺̆͒͠i̵̛̹͒̈́͝s̶̨̙̼̄̌̋̓͜ ̶̢̩̆̓c̷̺̝̗̃̍͂̏h̴̛͚͊e̶̡̧͚͉̥̐̊̀a̴͔̤͗́̐̕͝t̸̯̣̠͆̓̇ḯ̸̙͖̙́n̷̢͇̠̪̻̋̓̐g̴̞̘̺̈́" I dropped my soap as Bob spoke in a reasonably understandable voice.
"You can talk? All this time?" Instead of answering me, Bob just screamed. "Fine, be that way," I huffed and cleaned up the soap and put the laundry on. "Look, I'll leave the tablet on autoplay if you just tell me why you're here, why you just scream at me, or anything at this point."
"A̵t̶t̸i̶c̶." Was all I got out of Bob. I sighed and went back upstairs. I didn't bother questioning it anymore. Attic? What kind of nonsense answer was that? I didn't have an attic, I lived in a rowhouse. Perhaps the house had one at some time but no longer. It was still bugging me as I went about the rest of my chores for the day. A draft coming from the closet reminded me to move the tile back over the crawlspace entrance. I wasn't sure how the cat kept moving the damn thing but the cold air always threw off the thermostat. One of these days I'd have to get a ladder so I could put a lock on it but that was for another day. | Snarling and hissing, a black shadow chained in the corner with bright red eyes. Slim members, maybe it was a fur? Black gooey dripping around and hazy at the same time like it was somewhere in between.
The first time I saw this monster, to say I was taken aback was an understatement, I was scared out of my mind. I ran crying for my parents talking about the monster in the attic. I was only 8 after all.
My father went there hand in hand with me. It was our new home, we walked slowly by the wood beams. Until I pointed to him the thing. He hissed to me and I gave a small jump. My father laughed and like a good grown up, didn't see anything and did the "Go away monster". I told him it was still there and to prove his point he went exactly over the monster. The monster was over him in a second. I saw my father's face change in surprise as his boby shook from chills his eyes beginning to turn back in orbit... I was so afraid, I just grabbed the nearest think and tossed at the monster screaming "Leave my father alone!". He hissed and went further in the corner leaving my father alone. He looked at me like nothing has happened, "See, told you so".
But since then we never went back in the attic and we never told mom about it. Less than 10 years later my father passed away, heart attack. And I saw, I saw in his eyes that whatever it happened at that attic it changed him, he felt less him. I don't really want to talk about that. Let's just say that it was a relief when he left us.
My mom went to move back with my granny. And we put the house for sale. I would go to the college dorm next month but I needed to know. Was all that a dream?
The house was almost empty a few boxes here and there. I went upstairs heart racing, passing my hands on my pants I took a deep breath and opened the door.
The thing was still there it seemed bigger, stronger than the last time. And it was... laughing? A really bizarre artificial laugh. "It's been a long while. How did the last ten years felt, boy?" His voice sounded like many at the same time, it gave me chills all over.
"You! I knew it was you! Why!?"
"You don't remember me? Do you? Well it's not a surprise really. I'm immortal and you just a human." He took a step closer. And another. I saw on the ground the candlestick I had thrown at him so many years before. I grabbed fast. "Step back!" I said moving it from side to side. He laughed even higher, hysterical almost. He hissed lunging forward the candlestick trespassing him. "How?" O let the candlestick fall.
Restrained by the chains he laughed even more. I felt his cold breath in my face "It's your fault, stuck forever in this piece of wood. Hundred of years. And you don't even remember? But this is good. Come here I will not harm you." There was something in his voice. "Don't. Please, don't." "Come on, come on little boy." His voice changed in a so familiar one. Tears started to form. "You don't have to be afraid, my boy" he held his hand. "Everything will be alright now. I'm here buddy". Even the shadows form started to become familiar. "You know that wasn't me. It made me do these things", I was crying by now. I knew it wasn't him, but it hurt so much, to hear him again, like he was before. I wanted to reach out for him so bad. My hand moving in his direction... "I love you, my boy." And we he said that I finally snapped. How could it! Such a creature who knew nothing of love, say those words!? Impersonating one of the most important people for me. The same one this demon broke!?
And suddenly I knew. I knew all. And I knew what to do. There was no magic in candlestick stick. No nothing, I was the one. "I order you go back" the chains in him started to glow and pull him to the ground. He looked at me. "Go back" I said it again, power in my words. "You, you remembered." he said in fear.
"I wanted to live in peace" I said "But every single dawn life you guys come after me. I'm done with it." I snapped my fingers and the demon screaming in qgony was sucked in by the chains leaving no trace.
"Sorry mom, it seems I won't go to the college" | 2021-12-01T08:01:35 | 2021-12-01T07:32:43 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You are a schizophrenic man that has accepted your hallucinations and ignores them. While you are shopping at Walmart, a giant fissure opens up randomly beneath your feet. You walk over it, believing it to be another hallucination. People are staring at you in shock. | I am not sinking.
The reporters buzz around me, clicking, snapping, vying for my attention as if I'm... someone.
I raise a hand and allow myself a rare smile. "One at a time. I'll get around to you all. I promise."
"How're you doin' it, mister? Are you the second coming of Christ?"
"What made you choose the frozen dessert aisle of Wal-Mart? "
"Did you create the pit? Is it an abyss? Does it lead to Hell?"
They lavish me with attention. Praise I don't deserve, and yet maybe I do? The voices in my head are jealous, their silence betraying them. The woman in the yellow raincoat that follows me always, telling me I'm failing, worthless, even she's hushed.
Hiding.
"Will you grant us a tv interview, sir? We'll pay, but we do need you to stay standing -- uh, levitating -- on the hole. Is that okay? How long do you think you can stay there?"
Cameras flash, the supermarket becomes a series of staccato Polaroids. One of those old movies.
And I'm the lead.
I've waited, paying my dues. Until now. My turn. And with it, the voices, always mocking, ever taunting, always making me feel worth less than the dirt I stand on, are finally forever silenced. Proven wrong and banished.
From their ashes, I am phoenix risen.
I straighten my back, hoist my shoulders.
The voice, the old man with the fisherman jumper, that likes so much to tell me that they're all watching me.
Well, he was right.
Only they're not laughing. Not mocking. Not judging.
Just watching.
Breath baited.
I will not be alone tonight in my apartment, with voices and wasted memories. Wallpaper stinking of smoke and desperation. Clear liquid sloshing as I tip it back.
No. I am not sinking.
I am phoenix.
A man and woman push past the crowd. They fall to their knees at the edge of the pit, grasping trinkets and muttering prayers.
The first reporter. "Do you have any other powers? Can you heal sick?"
"I don't know. Maybe? Maybe!" I laugh. "Maybe I can do anything! Who knows?"
A kid runs up to the edge of the pit, near the worshipers, a notepad in his hand. "Can I have your autograph? Please! My friends would be crazy jealous."
Then I make a mistake.
I blink.
That's all it takes to destroy the world. And for that one brief moment, I am truly God.
The reporters are gone. Swallowed by the fissure snapped shut.
Replaced by an empty aisle.
Almost empty.
I catch a woman in a yellow raincoat down the other end. She wears a knowing grin.
My shoulders hunch. My back bows like a tree. Hollow bark. Ivy voices climbing to my neck. Garotting.
I gasp for air.
The ground is solid but I am sinking.
Not phoenix.
But dirt.
Dust.
With a trembling hand I reach into a freezer and take a tub of worthless strawberry icecream. | Fissure opening right beneath my feet, old, been there done that. What else you got for me phrenny? Gonna throw talking octopi at me again? How bout that five side trapezohedron? Maybe really trip me up for once. I step over the dark abyss apparently opened underneath me. My feet finding purchase just as expected. Aaaand cue the eyes. Mouths and trisected body parts pulling out of the gaping mound. Come on you're almost getting predictable. "Yea yea I've heard it before you're thirsty drink some water and shut up". To my mortification I realized that I had, once again, been talking out loud. Hurriedly I looked up. Hoping to dear God that no one noticed. Unfortunately I'm not that lucky. Never am. All around are people, some fallen down, their faces ashen. Some have started screaming, their voices all drone in the same manic pitch. "Hey I've seen some overblown reactions but isn't this a bit much!?". I can't be the only crazy person you've seen around here it's Walmart for fuck sake! No way, not doing it. I'm finding myself, once again, contemplating the possibility of packing up and moving. If I find myself being recognized by any of these people at work or something I'll die! My illness is not helping the situation. As if on que from some fucked up deity of misfortune creatures of various sizes started dropping from the mass of liquid underneath me. Their undulating mass of flesh moving to block my path. Well... In for a penny? Fuck it. "Just get out of my damned way!" I yelled, fully embracing the crazy guy in Walmart persona that I actually am. The masses divided, splitting into mini droplets until eventually disappearing into vapors. The fissure closes. About time. Glancing at the people around me. Their shocked faces glued onto me. Well I never liked this town anyway. Hopefully no one was filming this time. | 2018-12-22T04:06:08 | 2018-12-22T02:38:05 | 3,872 | 138 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️ | New Istanbul. 2073: Assembly Chamber of The Five Nations.
A chattering of languages fills the room, with an almost electric buzz of excitement as the delegates from hundreds of different cultures from around the globe speak into their translation headsets. Their words fed to the interpretation matrix able to sort out dozens of languages, in hundreds of dialects, all filtered into the earpiece of Ambassador Khyla Power; Appointed Ambassador of the United States.
The cacophony was also transcribed in American English onto the datapad in front of her, so as to sort conversations and mutterings. Not that she needed the pad, as she was fluent in 15 languages, in dozens of dialects. A disconcerting amount of the chatter was composed of 'Why do we need them?' and 'What will they bring more than destruction and slavery?', even more than a few other ambassador's musings on Khyla's fit, proportionately set body, and what they fantasized with it in a variety of settings. All the while, her senses taking in information, the clothing they wore, the inflections and intonations of speech, the various scents, and in more cases than not; odors of the other delegates. Her eyes narrowed in concentration particularly at the intricate kimono of her Japanese counterpart; 'Damn, that must have taken a whole fucking year to make.' she allowed to escape her lips whilst never breaking sight of the Russian Federation and Japanese Ambassador's hushed conversation about Pacific fishing rights, lip-read of course, as they had not switched on their Tele-Trans microphones, making sure to check hers's was in the 'NO-VOX' setting. Whilst salivating of the memory of her maternal grandmother's nigiri rolls made from Washington salmon.
Only thrown from her concentration by the gavel pound from the dais, as Chairman Sulathma called the session to order. As he waited for the din to die out, Khyla called her thoughts into order. And as the Chairman's long winded introductions were laid out, she brought to mind the broad strokes of President Kiefer's instructions after realizing the ruse that had been played on their nation. 'Make sure they understand what they gave up on, the advancements we have made, the sacrifices we gave, the struggle they left with us alone with, and that we can still bitch-slap them into oblivion or the stone age.'
A wry smile crossed her lips so slightly, half-remembering the time she pummelled a boy two and a half times her size into unconsciousness after he tried to steal the fish she spent a day catching in the East River. During the first 20 years of exile, America fared not so well. Millions were in abject poverty-slavery, crime in horrendous proportion and nature, borderline starvation due to the disaster in Wyoming, and the resulting crop blight it brought. A third of her generation died in war, famine, and pestilence.
It was after a wealthy businessman in Montana set about putting the first info-recon satellite up into orbit, after 25 years of nobody around her knowing what was happening on the rest of the planet. They were had. Skimmed footage of fertile crops in the deserts of Africa and China, the shimmering skyscrapers of Beijing, Moscow, Dubai, and Delhi. The overabundance of food in the street markets of Cape Town, Mogadishu, Melbourne, and Singapore. And the happy people going to work in Berlin, Sao Paulo, Tokyo, and Mexico City. One thought, voiced by an unnamed man watching one of the few net-stations that ran in the displacement cities that dotted the American southwest, rang true to everyone that heard it. 'America has been shamed, but I. Am. Pissed. The. Fuck. Off!'
A resolve none found possible took hold of the fragmented nation, volunteers came out in the millions to rebuild, reclaim, and reconnect the population scattered by ashfall, crop failure, and urban decay. After only 2 years of revelation, the United States were whole again. And it was after some study of history, that Operation Sleeping Giant was enacted.
Sleeping Giant was the largest disinformation campaign ever to be conceived. Laser defense systems at Colorado Springs, Mauna Kea, Bangor, Cape Canaveral, as well as Submarine pickets in the Atlantic and Pacific oceans to destroy or disable other nation's info-sats. Mass broadcasts of refugees trying to reach Mexico, and points south flooding ports of exodus, and recycled footage of failed crops. But also 'conscript tertitorial armies', using antiquated, but nonetheless deadly weapons of war in harsh punishment of her citizens, in defense of their borders, and for recreation. Really all an asbestos curtain, to hide the life behind.
Khyla grew up near Phoenix, after being relocated from New York's ash choked skyline. There, given the opportunities to learn, she did excel in debate, and the business of politics. This, along with a decisive nature, streetwise education, and a keen eye for the nature of all the particular races, heritages, customs, and religions settled in her displacement city, made her an almost instant choice for the first Ambassadorial post to The Five Nations.
As the Chairman's droning of minutes, and previous business came to a close, a pinging registered in her headset. 'Two minutes.' chimed a voice of almost mechanical precision into her earpiece.
'Game face now, girl. Remember these are the fuckers that your parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents sacrificed their lives, to save. They gave freely in the hopes that karma would pay us, their children, dividends. Produced great leaps in everything, including the rights of humanity, only to be betrayed like Caesar in the senate. Time to pull back the curtain, this is going to be fun.'
Moar to follow, got inspired, but need to sleep. Really focused on precision to spelling and grammar here. | It began with a first strike nuclear attack on North Korea and their immediately retaliation. Guam and Hawaii were obliterated but Alaska was spared as the missile sent towards it simply failed and dropped into the North Pacific. Fortunately, for the United States at least, none of North Korea’s missiles had the range to reach the continent. This initial exchange set in place the chain of events that we’ve come to know as World War III as existing alliances and allegiances were brought to play and sides were chosen. Fortunately, the this was the only time nuclear weapons were used in the conflict. President Trump would later say that the initial strike had been an accident and that the war that followed wasn’t his fault. Any statements to the contrary were simply “Fake News!”
“The Great Accord” as it became known was settled that fall in Ottawa. Each country would agree to maintaining isolation for a period of fifty years. The citizens of each country would be required to stay within the current physical boundaries of their countries. Internet service would be firewalled and contained within those same geographical regions. Agreement was nearly unanimous although there were a number of concessions made before the accord was signed by all nations. The strictest concessions came from America itself which demanded that an agreement alone was not sufficient to enforce this. Physical deterrence was required as well. They insisted that the borders be enforced through impenetrable walls, automated weapons systems, and EMF jammers.
As the Greatest Country On Earth®, America demanded that they be the first to have these measures put into place. The walls were the most complicated and astounding pieces of engineering ever created. They were over 50 feet tall, 10 feet wide and covered the Northern and Southern borders from sea to sea. Built to withstand natural and manmade disasters for at least a century they were practically indestructible. Ocean platforms with the same weapons and jamming systems were placed out to the edge of international waters, a wall being completely impractical in that environment. When they were finally completed on August 23, 2025 America was separated from the rest of the world in every practical way.
Enforcement of “The Great Accord” was an international effort and the building of these walls took up a significant portion of the funding the member countries had allotted for that purpose. By the time the job was completed the member countries began to question if these walls were even necessary. After all, how would America know that they hadn’t gone through with it? Besides, they were the only ones to really wanted these walls in the first place. It was this line of questioning that led to a revised version of “The Great Accord” stripping out the walls and relaxing a great many of the restrictions that had been put initially into place. Within a decade “The Great Accord” had been abolished completely and normal trade and relations resumed. Only America remained isolated, hidden behind its massive walls.
The world slowly returned to normalcy, as the balance of power shifted to account for a world without America. In its absence, China took its place as the economic, military, and social power. Mandarin became the new language of international trade, business, and science. The shift to Easternization came slowly but certainly as eastern culture and ideas predominated along with the language. Like most change, this was met with resistance. This resistance turned into strife and in time war. China and the European Union clashed in a war that made the last seem like a child’s game. When the dust had settled only China and Russia remained with control all of the countries of the world split between them. Only America remained isolated, hidden behind its massive walls.
When August 23rd 2075 arrived, the world had all but forgotten that America even existed. The walls had just been such a normal part of life that Канада and 墨西哥 just took them for granted. At exactly 11:13AM MDT the massive metal gates located on the northern end of the Bridge of the Americas creaked open. Just inside the gates a lone figure sits on a lawn chair with a beach umbrella protecting him from the midday sun. A podium sits a dozen feet in front of him. He sips from a glass of cold lemonade as he waits for the inevitable media flurry. He doesn’t need to wait long as police and reporters throughout town rush to the gate.“声明!!!” they cry out as the figure waits until a sizable crowd has gathered. He steps up to a podium and begins to speak.
“I apologize but I don’t speak Mexican. Anyways, I may not be president anymore but I’m still Trump. And I’ve got something I need to get off my chest.” He stops to look over the audience and make eye contact with the camera with the best angle. “I told you, you’d pay for it.” | 2018-01-18T03:40:05 | 2018-01-18T02:43:58 | 32 | 19 |
[WP] Humans are actually the most peaceful, kind race in the universe and other aliens don't invade us because its cute to watch. | 'Look...they're doing it again.'
'Doing what?'
'Just...look come over here and take a look at the damn screen.'
'Oh, well isn't that just the sweetest thing.'
'I know, right? The transmission arrived just this morning. What you would expect of course, you know; 'is anyone out there', 'we come in peace', all that bollocks.'
'They really are adorable, did you see recently that they just celebrated a hundred years without any major wars between themselves? They exchanged gifts, they sang, they embraced each other, it really was quite something.'
'Yeah, it's quite incredible in it's own way.'
'Yeah...'
...
'We should probably just get it over with though, you know? Bite the bullet, and all that. Full on invade the place, strip the resources, assimilate the good bits of genetic code, etc, etc, and move on.'
'What, why?'
'Well, isn't it cruel not to?'
'Don't be silly.'
'No but I mean...look I don't want to be a dick or anything. You know I enjoy their silly little behaviours as well. But you know how this goes. Look, we have successfully invaded every known system in the local cluster right?'
'Right.'
'In every case, resistance has been utterly futile, right?'
'Damn right, poor fuckers never stood a chance...'
'Well yes, exactly. Now tell me why we do this.'
'You know why...'
'Yes, but come on now...just spell it out, back to basics kinda stuff. Explain it to me as if I was still a juvenile.'
'Ok then, we do what we do because of the fundamental law of the universe. There is no value to be found in genetic stagnation, it has been shown a thousand times over. Species must constantly fight, within themselves and externally, if they are to evolve into ever more perfect life forms. It is the only way to survive the long night.'
'Indeed...'
'I mean, just look at them! Even on their world, humans have not evolved significantly in thousands of years! They are not even the strongest organism on their planet! They keep their weak alive out of pity and they seek cooperation out only because the alternative of war is a hard struggle which would interrupt their comfy little lives. As a species they are like a dull blade!'
'Yes I agree, so why don't we just finish them off?'
'Well...'
'If they are so fundamentally useless why do we keep them around? I mean, I enjoy their silly little antics as much as you do, but when did we become the type of people who kept around things simply because they amused us?'
'Well...I guess it's because they're the only ones. The only ones we have come across who, having achieved sentience, have ultimately chosen peace over war. It is unprecedented; and the worse thing is that the instinct for violence is there, but they suppress it.'
'They're unique then...will it help them survive the long night?'
...
'Will anything?' | "Well shit." It was a normal day in the live of what a human would describe a monster. Ofcourse this monster, was only an Alien surfing the Human Earth Archive that had been recovered from the ashes of Earth that he had destroyed only seconds before. He had misunderstood the meaning of the Human's message. One of his translators had jokingy said that humans send a message with the text: "come at me bro" ofcourse joking about a earth stereotype of challenging someone for some odd reason, which was verry funny and cute in the eyes of these monsters.
The monster which was by an ofchance called Zapzodobido, not to confuse with THE Zapzodobido! which was a famous actor starring in movie like: Undead guardian of the living Zopdodas" and the allmight and famous television show called: "Mister Y'badaro da Sexrola, I guess" reaching milions in views on the Intergalactic web of United Galaxy nations which had recently merged with the web for Magnificent beings and Demigod's.
Zapzodobido had realised his mistake. He destroyed the race of the adorable humans. The race that only recently established Intergalactic contact and now were destroyed by the Sporuns, green gobbly monsters which only showered once in 2 weeks! And all of this because some idiot had made a stupid joke.
Zapzodobido could already imagine himself inside the court of galactic justice.
Zapzodobido was browsing the Human Earth Archive, until he noticed a small fluffy being dancing to music. Named by humans as "Cats" He was disturbed.
It was after this moment. That Zapzodobido said:
"Well shit, this is were grandpa has been all this time"
And no one ever knew what the heck he was talking about.
| 2016-09-28T03:53:07 | 2016-09-28T03:38:00 | 2,919 | 14 |
[WP] You, a religious person, saved a girl from getting hit by a truck. One day you get killed and instead of Heaven, you wake up in Hell. Satan walks up delighted and says "Welcome to hell and thank you so much for saving my daughter!, Let me know if you need anything!"
Edit: Wow! So many comments! Tonight after work im going to try my hardest to read as many comments as possible! | The being's eyes were pitiless as Samuel broke down, staring wildly at the hellscape surrounding him. It wasn't quite as he had imagined, no flames, no pitchforks waiting. Just an endless stretch of cracked, dead earth, with no trees in sight, no burbling streams of water, no other people...and yet, and yet, it was the worst place he could imagine.
"Your personal hell," the creature told him, its lipless mouth curling into something that resembled a smile. "You always did love the beauty of nature, did you not?"
Yes, he had loved it, and had always prayed for a heaven filled with trees and rivers, where he would dwell forever with his wife, Alison, when her time came to pass. Had always been so certain he had earned his right to be there, walking at the side of angels, becoming closer to God.
"Why?" he asked, not expecting an answer. But Satan took a step closer and crouched down until he was face to face with Samuel, making him gag as a putrid stench washed over him.
"You saved my daughter, of course," he said. "Dear Lilith. Heaven would not accept you after that, so I got to keep you. Let me take this moment to personally thank you for saving her. Do let me know if you need anything..."
Its voice was heavy with sarcasm, red eyes gleaming with malevolence.
"Lilith," Samuel repeated softly, and remembered.
A beautiful college girl, she had invoked thoughts of lust in him after he had saved her from the truck, hadn't she? He felt a wave of shame for that, but remembered with pride how he had saved himself.
He had resisted the urge to remain in contact, had turned from her subtle flirting in the hospital, where he had visited her, to return to his wife. Over the remaining five decades of his time on Earth, he had led a life of pious devotion. He had helped raise his three sons, and built his own little parish from the ground up. He hadn't thought of Lilith *once* in those years, with her warm, almond eyes, and skin like cream...
"That's her, the little snake," Satan said, giving a guttural chuckle. Samuel couldn't decide if it that was anger or pride in his voice. "Wearing one of her favoured human guises when she met you. Tried to kill her and drag her back here where she belongs countless times, but she always managed to slither away. Or had fools like you saving her. Wreaking havoc on Earth, trying to take *my* rightful place in the minds of humans. But I will say this: she truly did love you, as much as she is capable of love."
"You can read my thoughts of her?" Samuel asked, shivering as an ice wind swept through the desert. The cold burned worse than the fire and blood he had been expecting. He had always hated being cold.
"I have many talents," he said, grasping Samuel's hand with a raking claw. "As does my daughter. We can twist memory and life itself, of course, but if I wish...I can return your true memories to you."
He screamed, but it was no use. He was remembering. Alison's broken eyes as he left their home to follow Lilith, his three young children crying and begging him to remain. Years upon years of unspeakable deeds, as she strove to bend the Earth to her will. What had happened? What had he done? Samuel's spine bent as he howled, the memories burning through him.
"That's enough," Satan whispered through his pain, and he was abruptly cold again, shuddering as he lay curled on the ground. "I wanted you to know, before I take you onward. This isn't your final resting place, Samuel Wells. I've made a little deal with someone."
That claw closed around his shoulder, and he was dragged from the desert. When he woke again, warm brown eyes were smiling down on him. The weather was pleasantly mild, luscious trees rising gracefully to the heavens all around them.
"Lilith?" he whispered, and she gave that perfect smile that struck him silent. How had he ever managed to forget it?
"I made you forget," she said, pressing her lips to his forehead. The intoxicating scent of her, honey and spices he could not name, overwhelmed him. "And now, I wished for you to remember, my love. Father granted me that favour."
"You will remain here, now?" something interrupted them, and he looked up to see Satan watching from between two elm trees, his face bathed in shadow. Samuel trembled at the blasphemy of it. It was so wrong for him to be here, in this piece of Heaven.
"Of course, Father, a deal is a deal," Lilith whispered, wrapping Samuel tighter in her arms. "I will not return to Earth, if I can remain here with him."
Soon, they were alone again. He was almost paralyzed with pleasure at the warmth of her touch, the feel of her hand tracing its way down his chest.
"He told me...I will be in my personal Hell," Samuel whispered, anxious to say it before the memory disappeared. He could already feel the details of his time in the desert fading away.
"There are many versions of Hell. This might be it for one aspect of you," she gave a throaty chuckle. "The Samuel you were, before you met me."
For a moment, he remembered the reproachful eyes of his wife. What had her name been? And his sons...he had sons, once...
"But forget that now, my love," Lilith whispered, and he shivered as she lightly traced the outside of his ear with her tongue. "You're here with me. How could that possibly be Hell?"
He allowed the memories to go, relishing her touch upon his chest, right where his heart was beating. He was in the arms of his true love, in a place of warmth and plenty.
Truly, God was good.
-----------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | The year that Adam was born, tornadoes had been wreaking havoc in the Midwest, destroying everything in their path. In fact, it had been so bad, that the day that Adam was born there was a tornado about to hit their little town in Oklahoma and swallow it, leaving nothing behind. However, and this is how his mother tells the story, the moment she heard his cries rattle around the hospital room, the tornado disappeared back into the clouds, and the sky turned the most beautiful blue she had ever seen. For the rest of the summer, there wasn’t a single tornado that touched down within a thousand-mile radius of their tiny town, it was their little miracle and it all seemed to be because of Adam. From then on out, his mother had sworn up and down that it was God Himself who smiled upon her birth, making sure that she and her newborn son had a home to go back to when they were finally released, keeping them safe during his first and most vulnerable year. It was from that moment that his mother would choose to devote her life to the church, and by extension, Adam’s life as well.
Fast forward eighteen years to today and we find our protagonist leaving his first class ever at University of Oklahoma, where he was currently on track to get his Bachelors of Arts in Religious Studies. Bookbag sitting heavy on his shoulders, he begins to meander around the rather large campus, trying to use the map provided at the opening week seminars to get him to where he needed to go next. Tucking it away in a pocket, Adam stands up a little straighter and tries to act like he knew where he was going, all the while anxiously fingering the tasteful cross necklace his mother had given him when she dropped him off for college. Luckily, in Adam's hyper-vigilant state as he peruses building names going past, he manages to catch sight of a little girl wrenching free of her mother’s tight grip to dart into the road after an unusually quick snake which had come out of the bushes. Unluckily, though the street was usually empty, this time an 18-wheeled truck was barreling down it with a rather distracted driver behind the wheel. Without thinking of the consequences, the pious man sends a prayer to God before he himself barrels towards the little girl as she stops to wrap her tiny fingers around the snake, effectively knocking her out of the way of the truck. His funeral was exactly three and a half days later, and this is how his mother tells the story: he came into this world stopping a tornado and he left it stopping a truck.
It takes Adam two weeks to finally wake up after his run in with the truck, and when he finally does he feels fine. Absolutely fine. Which is not how someone who just got hit by a truck should feel, he acknowledges, sitting up with a start and throwing the plush blanket off of him. It takes a moment for his eyesight to adjust to the lighting of the room, and he takes in his surroundings. This was not the dorm room back at Oklahoma University he was currently calling home, nor his bedroom back at his mother’s house. It was a tastefully modern bedroom, with huge bay windows overlooking a gorgeous beach. This was not a hospital room, that was for sure. As if summoned by all of Adam’s questioning lines of thought, a man appears in the doorway. The man is also tastefully decorated in a fitted suit, chic haircut, and polished shoes. When the man finally speaks, Adam can’t place his accent, it seems to be from everywhere, every language. “Hello, and welcome to Hell! My name is Beelzebub, thank you for saving my daughter. Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be around.” And with that, he was gone. Adam stares blankly at the tasteful wall in front of him, fingering a nonexistent cross around his neck.
His entire life had been devoted to God. He spent every Sunday in church instead of playing baseball with his friends at the park. He read the bible instead of going to parties on the weekends. Adam’s mind reeled with every beer he didn’t drink, every boob he never touched, every erection he doused into submission with cold water. Mechanically, he stands up and heads towards the doorway, fists clenched at his sides. “Fuck this,” he mutters to himself before stalking off down the tastefully decorated hallway to fight with the Devil himself for his rightful spot in Heaven.
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((First time ever submitting a blurb I've written. Starting to flex these writing muscles after years of disuse so go easy on me, haha. I'd still love any feedback, however. Tried something new trying to put it into present tense which is hard, so I'm sure I fucked that up in places. Thanks for reading, though, I hope you enjoyed!!
Edit: All of the Noahs to Adams, sorry about that!)) | 2017-07-17T23:50:54 | 2017-07-17T20:23:00 | 395 | 96 |
[WP] You find an antique gold compass with the words ”Moral Compass”. It will automatically point to the most morally good person within a 100 meter radius. You are on jury one day and when you look at the compass, it points to the convicted serial killer. | Everyone came out of the jury's chamber for the sentencing. Guilty, of course. We didn't have much of a choice. The evidence mounting against him was overwhelming. I was actually annoyed I had had to take off time today to be jury for such a simple case.
Jay Kleiner was a murderer of the lowest order. A murderer of children. And of policemen. And of doctors. The golden trifecta. I was disgusted just watching him, seeming so smug and cheerful. So why was my compass saying that he was the the most decent human being in the room?
The compass had been a gift from my grandmother. She had given it to me just before she was executed. She had said, "Isaac, this compass shows who the best person around you. Always make sure to only associate with those people."
That hadn't been hard, since it almost always pointed at me. Occasionally it moved, and I would try to find out who it was. But in recent years, it had only pointed at me. I don't know if that made me feel good or nervous. And now it was pointing at a murderer. Why? Was it broken?
The judge passed down the verdict. "For these crimes, you are sentenced to death by lethal injection. The sentence is to be carried out immediately. May God have mercy on your soul."
Kleiner didn't flinch. He had to have known this was coming. He was guilty. They were all guilty. He just smirked and said, "My soul doesn't need any mercy."
A hooded man entered with the needle. But first, a Forgiver came forward, as per Protocol VI. He placed the camera in front of Kleiner and said loudly, "Do you, Jay Kleiner, regret your crime?"
"No."
"Then you are forgive-What?"
Someone behind me gasped. If you didn't play this part right then they would take it out on your family. But he just kept right on talking to the crowd. Maybe he just didn't care anymore. He didn't bother talking to the camera. Everyone knew the footage would later be edited for the good of the people. He spoke to us. My compass went wild.
"I have not committed a crime. I have nothing to apologise for. Those people had it coming. Would have been nice if you allowed me to defend myself **before** I was pronounced guilty, though."
A hushed whisper started spreading through the courtroom. The judge shouted, "Silence, Mr. Kleiner!"
His grin wouldn't let up. "Or what, you'll hold me in contempt? I'm not going to apologise for destroying your sick euthanization den, and slaughtering your mad scientists. How long did you think people would stand idly by? Forever? Not gonna happen."
Pandemonium erupted. The judge pounded his gavel to no avail, then shouted, "Carry out the execution! Now!" He seemed panicked. He probably was. Even a judge could wake up one night with a knock on the door, and never be seen again.
Kleiner was grabbed by two burly soldiers. He didn't resist. He just kept talking, raising his voice to a shout, to be heard above the hubbub. "I did not kill those children! I weep for the ones I wasn't able to save! I weep because you killed them! But most of them got away. They're with my people right now! And you'll never find them. Not until the fall of this tyrannical empire! Down with the Gravian Empire! Up with the revolutionnnnnn........"
The cry died on his lips. The executioner had just injected him. 500 milligrams of Hydrogen Cyanide was already coursing through his body. But somehow he found the strength to utter one last sentence. "Someone will always ^do ^the ^right ^thiiing."
No more. He was silent. The compass slowly turned back around to point at me. And I finally knew what that meant.
I joined the revolution the very next day. | Welp, where do I start. Do you know those stupid moral dilemmas that you had to do in your high school English class? Yeah, I just got into a real big one. I got a compass in a pawn shop that was being sold for dirt cheap, I bought it, because why not? It might be valuable to someone somewhere, and they might be willing to pay me for it.
&#x200B;
Anyway, this old lady that was working at the pawnshop told me it was a moral compass or something like that. I didn't really care until one family Christmas where I showed it off to everyone and it would point directly at my mother in law. That was stranger than the story that I'm going to tell you.
&#x200B;
I was on the jury for a convicted serial killer. He was not a good dude, to say the least. He killed so, so many people. I don't want to go into the details.
&#x200B;
Anyway, they were at a standstill and they lawyers were busy talking to their clients, I didn't have my phone with me, and my fingernails were already bitten all to hell, so I got out the magic compass. This next part freaked me out the most. It pointed directly at the defendant, the *serial killer*. Trust me, I moved the compass around to see if it was a lawyer or someone behind him, but nope, it was definitely him.
&#x200B;
What do you do in this situation? He killed people, but he was morally right? That goes against everything 99% of people stand for. And who would believe me if I said that this guy is actually the good guy because a broken compass told me so? I had to think long and hard about how the compass behaved. My mother in law is the key, sadly.
&#x200B;
Then, after five minutes of deep contemplation, it hit me. It's not about who has good morals, it's about if you follow your *own* morals. My mother in law may be an idiot, but she does everything she does because she thinks she is right. It must be the same here. There is no way it is morally correct to kill someone over something, but maybe to him, it is. Maybe in his twisted mind, he believes it is genuinely okay to kill someone because of something they did. That would make him the most moral person in the room, because he goes completely for what he believes.
&#x200B;
What have I learned from this? I learned that my mother in law (unhallowed be thy name) is the key to solving the worst cases of moral dilemmas. | 2019-09-10T20:18:20 | 2019-09-10T15:09:27 | 3,464 | 619 |
[WP] You're living in a world where superpowers exist, and you're the most dangerous individual of all. Your power? You project an aura where all the laws of reality/normality assert themselves. You are the anti-super | What happens when the unstoppable force meets the immovable object? They surrender.
\-Superman
Day 4
I look towards the horizon. Just beyond my power limit, I see more heroes converging. Dawn's arriving on day 4 since the news got out that I am the last anti, and the day the only other anti super besides me died. There used to be more of us, but no one likes being forced to be average again. The only reason I survived this long was that I chose to keep a low profile and live a modest life.
Most of my comrades were enlisted in various government agencies. They were the ultimate contingency plan for leaders in a super world. However, we were deemed obsolete after the creation of anti-weapons. It didn't take long for our eradication to begin without protection from the governments we once served. Within 3 yrs there were only 30 of us. Our population had been brought down to 1% of what it had been at my birth.
I became our leader at that time as I was the only one that had managed to evade ever being targetted. It became critical to teach the rest of my people to live quietly and fight viciously. Unfortunately, this concept was too foreign to them, and so they failed. It was less than a year before we were down to two.
Suddenly, a tremor makes the ground shake beneath me. I scan the surrounding desert for the perpetrator for a moment before spotting her. She makes it clear that she's a fledging elemental. All her moves are so exaggerated, it takes no effort to counter them. I could extend further, inform her that she's in my range, but I won't. I learned long ago that mercy is a quick path to death for an anti. Instead, I choose to wait until every rock, tremor, and gust of wind almost finds me before extinguishing the power flow.
Soon the girl starts to show signs of tiring. Sand is my preference for that. It takes more effort to control than dirt, like water. It's also much denser than water, making it require more effort ounce for ounce. Most elementals do not master it for those reasons. I can't help but smirk as she starts to drag a stone from the depths of the sand and raises it above her head. That was a fatal mistake.
All at once, I extinguish the power around me in a circle large enough to engulf her. She doesn't have time to scream before there's a heavy thud from the stone returning to earth. There was no sickening crunch either, just a heavy thud. No trace of the fledging left to show. This just makes me smile more. I don't like a mess.
A few more random fledglings approached me that day, some alone, some in groups. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to dispatch them all as neatly as the first. The older ones did not dare to come within 3 miles of me. They remembered what it was like sparring with us. They understood that I'd remained alive the longest for a reason.
They don't know it, but part of the reason I have endured so well is that my family was exceptionally blessed with power. I was the youngest of 6 children. Each was gifted from a unique power field from the next, me being the only anti. Our parents believed it was in our best interests to hone our skills as early as possible. As such, I grew up sparring with an elemental, a morph, a mentalist, an athletic, and a magician. We mastered our powers together. I have yet to encounter a scenario that we hadn't simulated before reaching the age of 18.
I scanned the horizon as the sun began to dip behind distant peaks. It had been quiet for a while now. Time to move away from this mess. It felt like that's what I'd been doing my whole life. I wondered if anyone had noticed my other secret as I trudged the rapidly cooling sands. I've been experimenting for years now and realized something about my powers. As my brethren were being irradicated, my power steadily increased. When my last anti-sister died, it doubled.
I had decided to wait until tomorrow to see if there were any limitations now. This morning I pushed a thin tendril of anti-power around the planet, creating a ring of regular people around the world for one minute. It didn't feel like increasing its size would be a challenge. Nor was maintaining it. I'm eager for the morning. It's time for the world to face the consequences of the genocide of my people.
Day 5
It worked
&#x200B;
Edit: About 20 spaces
Edit 2: Tremor is not a verb.
Edit 3: I am so grateful for the gold, thank you, stranger! | When Samuel accidentally discovered his power and killed a super villain, he was ecstatic. You could even say arrogant. It was akin to winning the lottery. *Literally*, as he collected a bounty worth tens of millions.
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, he soon realized a major issue.
He was way too easy to kill.
Sure he could negate powers within a few meters, and with focus extend that aura to tens of meters, but ultimately it wouldn't stop a rock flying towards him at super sonic speeds. Sure it might negate the force that threw it, but it wouldn't stop the motion already in progress. Momentum and gravity were fundamental laws after all.
At least he assumed so.
Even if that was untrue, and his ability negated cause and effect in relation to super powers, which super villain wasn't rich?
What could he realistically do against even a mediocre armed solider? Or hell, most villains even without their powers could probably kick his ass.
As for teaming up with others, Samuel had no plans on becoming a human stun grenade.
'Low-Key, Low-Key.'
How could he forget the most basic rule of anyone with special powers and a great flaw?
He changed his identity, practiced his power religiously so that he wouldn't use it on accident beyond his body(to protect himself against errant super fights), and moved out of the country.
However, it seemed life wouldn't be too easy on him.
Walking home from work, Samuel couldn't help but sigh. He planned on keeping a job for at least a few years so as to make it harder to track him and to give him time to safely and slowly sell some of the rare metals he bought with his money.
In his exhaustion, he barely noticed the hooded figured come around the corner. Which said something about tired he was given they were 8 and half feet tall. They bumped into each other and they fell onto the ground.
Yes, it was *they* or rather *her* who fell. Along with her clothes as she shrunk into a 5'2' young woman.
Samuel blinked owlishly as he stared at the half-naked girl in front of him. Her expression wasn't any less surprised.
The moment quickly ended as she slowly began to transform back, revealing a figure more akin to a tumor-ridden ogre than a woman.
He recognized that figure.
The super villain, Pestulant Mass. Capable of flight, incredible strength, and able to regenerate from a single cell. Among some other more gross abilities. Literally his worst nightmare.
Sweat covered his forehead as he tried to figure out a solution. He extended his aura, turning one of the most feared villains in the world back into a normal girl.
Fight? Pestulant Mass was known for their combat skills. Not to mention, would he have to stay by her corpse the rest of his life? And what if she dripped blood? Her regeneration was absurd to say the least.
Run? Even worse. He hadn't tested out the 'rock thrown by a super power would have it's force negated' theory and had no plans to do so.
There was only one option!
"W-would you like to have dinner?"
The super villain stared at her hands before looking back at him. Her eyes were a florescent green and it was a bit hard to hold her gaze.
"Sure!"
\---
&#x200B;
Thanks for reading.
What can I say, my brain has been thinking in Anime recently. | 2021-06-24T19:59:37 | 2021-06-24T18:24:33 | 775 | 154 |
[WP] Humans are used by aliens as biological weapons
Got the idea for this prompt after reading this story:
http://www.reddit.com/r/writingprompts/comments/4kv06w/_/d3i3lls
Due to humans having fear we produce adrenalin or, how the story reffered to it, "Combat drugs"
Well. Humans are the new Xenomorphs now and we are the species aliens want to control for their wars! | “We’re losing this war sir, we need to retreat.” Lar said surveying the battlefield.
“Pull them back.” Commander Vox sighed. “We’ll use plan B.”
Lar froze in the middle of calling the retreat order. “I thought Plan B was illegal.”
“That’s what we tell the public, truth is they make up most of our fighting force now.” Vox reached a claw into his pocket and pulled out a communicator. He punched a few codes in and waited.
“Now what?” Lar asked.
“We hope our troops get off the ground before they get here.” Vox said gravely.
As the regular troops evacuated the planet Vox and Lar waited for plan B to show up. The enemy hadn’t advanced on the command position assuming it was a trap, but they were running out of time. Just when the enemy started getting brave they scuttled back into their holes when a violent noise boomed from the sky. A massive ship was descending on the planet.
“What is that noise?” Lar shouted over the cacophony.
“They tell me it’s called Star Spangled Banner.” Vox shouted back.
“It’s awful! Make it stop!”
“We can’t. Without it this doesn’t work.”
The ship landed and the electric sounding noise decreased just enough to carry on a conversation. The doors on the ship opened and out came the most disgusting creatures Lar had ever seen.
“What are they sir?”
“Humans.” Vox shuddered.
The largest hairiest human approached Vox and slapped its head with one of its appendages. “What’s the situation sir?”
“What is it doing?” Lar asked.
“I don’t know.” Vox muttered eyeing the strange creature. He never could get used to them.
The human started getting fidgety after not getting a response, its eyes narrowed and it slowly reached for the weapon slung across its midsection.
“You the one in charge here Kemosabe?”
“Oh! The activation codes!” Vox said checking his communicator.
The human didn’t stop its actions however, and more were filling in behind it. Things were getting tense.
“Captain, you see those things over there?” Vox said pointing at the enemy. “They want to take your freedom.”
The human looked where it was told, saw the insect-like enemy and its eyes went wide. “The fuck you say?”
“They want to take your freedom away, because they hate you for it.” Vox continued.
“Not on my watch! You hear that boys? These mother fuckers want our freedoms!”
The rest of the humans lost their minds screaming in uncontrolled battle rage. Lar and Vox recoiled, never having seen this level of unbridled rage in a creature, let alone a massive group of them.
The noise from the ship increased to a deafening level and the humans were whipped into a frenzy. They charged the enemy with reckless abandon cutting a swath of blood and destruction wherever they went. When the enemy retreated into their caverns the humans followed, the sound of weapons and screaming dying out as they descended deeper into the earth.
“That was the most terrifying thing I have ever seen.” Lar said.
“I’ve never worked with the Murica brigade before, I’ve heard they get results like none other but they are a little intense.” Vox said.
“What happens when they wipe out the enemy?”
“Says here we are supposed to retreat to orbit and drop crates of an intoxicant they call “beer” then point them to the next fight.”
“They are truly savages aren’t they sir?”
“Uncontrolled their rage would conquer the galaxy Lar, but as long as they think someone is after their freedom they are a brutally effective tool.”
“What happens when they realize they have no freedom?”
“When that day comes my boy, we pray. We pray.”
| Students, please land on your chairs; Mrr'Hump, don't force me to repeat myself - I won't hesitate to shoot you down if necessary. Understood ? Good.
Today, we'll talk about HIP - Human Infected Planets - and how to treat it. Humans can only infect solid bodies, although very small concentrations can eventually be found in non-dense gasses and vacuums; an infection is lethal for the native organisms in 97.68% of the cases, with a complete annihilation median expectancy of a plutonium half-life. Primary ways of transmission are close orbital relationships and non-protected wormhole intercourse.
Dr Bernard's studies have shown there are three steps to the infection :
First, there will be a very localized blister, made of cement, steel and glass, which will slowly spread across the surface. These blisters are usually fairly easy to remove by surgery, although follow-up is required as secondary, more resistant blisters may appear shortly after.
The second stage is characterized by a change in the gaseous composition and temperature range on the surface. The humans will start to excrete various gasses, adapting their host to their own needs. Characteristic of these changes are an increase in dioxygen and dihydrogen monoxyde at a fairly rapid rate, and stabilization of the temperature between 275 to 300 units. More visible symptoms include large scale damage to the natural fauna and flora, and a rapid expansion of the blisters. At this stage, it is primordial to slow down, and if possible revert the rate of gaseous and temperature changes; page XXITYRL8A details several possible procedures, although most of them are not very effective if the infection wasn't spotted early enough.
Once the humans have adapted the host, the planet is in Stage Three. Humans will start to breed in great numbers, and the blisters will recover most of the surface; native life will either be transformed to suit human needs or be destroyed. Once the infection has progressed this far, the only thing left to do is to isolate the planet to avoid further spreading.
This is what is currently happening at the Milky Way : we have spotted a Stage Three planet inside it, and are currently in the process of moving any close galaxy at a more secure distance. Specialists are currently observingEarth itself, trying to guess wether any other systems have been infected, but chances are the whole Milky Way will be destroyed shortly to avoid any contagion risks... | 2016-05-25T06:38:27 | 2016-05-25T02:38:54 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] The galaxy is a dark and lonely place. "First Strike Diplomacy" reigns out of fear. Few species survive even 300 years after developing interstellar travel. When humans entered the galaxy, we were the first species confident enough in war to ask someone "Are you sure you want to do this?" | "You think we haven't faced extinction before?"
That gave the being pause. Ships slowed and while their batteries were charged, they didn't fire.
"You think you will survive?" the robotic voice played through the terminal, translating the clicks and gurgles of the creature on the monitors.
"I think we will make victory so unpalatable, you will return home in disgrace. If there's a home for you to return to." The captain spoke with a calm, confident tone. One that was betrayed by how he wrung his hands behind his back, out of view of the camera.
" You have no... Weapons. You have but a few ships. You have--"
" We have a BHD, or a Black Hole Drive. This is a weapon, if used incorrectly. If set on a feedback look, the gravity well contained within will begin eating its own event horizon, causing a rapid collapse and eventual explosion of unparraled proportions." He paused a moment to allow the computer of the alien to translate what he had said before continuing. "And it also allows us flight far beyond anything you possess. Officer Jones, bring up the star map and how our new friends here where the UESF Daedalus is in relation to their approach vector."
A young woman waved her hands across a screen, sliding through different menus before the holomap appeared in the center of the room. A 3D image of the galaxy sprung to life, showing countless stars and planetoids. Amongst them, a pale red line arched from somewhere offscreen, then linked to a small blue dot, which the captain pointed to. "This is Earth. And this line is your approach vector. We've tracked your progress since you first arrived. Based on ship size, crew, supplies and the average velocity of your fleet, we estimate that you came from somewhere in this region."
The map expanded and zoomed out once more, showing an entirely alien realm, where even the computer wasn't quite sure what to make of the things it survayed. Amongst it all, however, was a small flashing red dot." That there is the Daedalus. And everything you see here... Is everything in its blast radius."
"You are bluffing." The robotic voice, calm and steady, did little to translate the apparently anger that the being showed, the clicks becoming more rapid and chittering, even as more sounded in the background of their side of the call. "Nothing is that fast."
"Are you willing to test that?"
The silence reigned for a good few minutes before, slowly but surely, the computer detected the powering down of the orbital fleets batteries. "Recall your weapon."
At this, the captain could only smile. "I don't think so. Return home and explain to your people what you have seen here. Let them know their fate rests in our hands. And ask them, before they try to attack another race without so much as a hello... Are you sure you want to do that?" | Famous last words they said, my team beside me snickering at my brave words. We had researched the past events of this policy being enacted on young civilizations. Most asked for peace and died silently while Others begged for mercy to the same degree.
We humans had a plan to do the opposite as we have always done for centuries upon centuries we would resist we would fight like none before. I snap back to life and shutter as the lead Alien we had named the Yolarian responds to us in a gravelly deep growling voice. “This is a first in all our history of this policy that a bug has defied us”
Thats the rough translation anyways.
To my surprise they then backed off and left without a word. Perplexed my team and i stood there for almost an hour unsure on if they would return. Then it hit us as the blazing heat searing my face and hands my team screaming in pain. I thought in that instant that we failed to save the human race.
The figure was perplexing as it told its story We Yolarian wiped out that crew and for some reason it was here haunting this place. Telling its stories to any travelers that passed the mud ball once called earth by the humans. It enters Yolarian ships to repeat its story as we pass through. This is why we decided to leave the humans destruction incomplete i thought.
Thousands remain on the newly christened reserve the only ones allowed to survive a cleansing.
30 years later
The young Yolarian had learned much on that field trip to see the ghost of gamma squad that unknowingly saved their species. She learned compassion towards them and now works to bring them better rights in the galactic community. All thanks to that “ghost” in the machine. | 2022-01-22T10:09:29 | 2022-01-22T09:41:11 | 272 | 22 |
[WP] You have been fitting into your new role as Satan for about a week now and you figure you should tell your best friend about your newfound powers. Before you get a chance to say anything, he tells you that God spoke to him and gave him his powers...
Continuation of [WP] [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7ua1oj/wp_you_are_sitting_at_a_local_coffee_shop_minding/?ref=share&ref_source=link) | Being Satan was great! That's what I'd thought for the last two weeks, anyway. I had powers that I didn't have to use for good, so I managed to... *acquire* a decent bit of money. I only had to go to hell, like, once a week to make sure things were up and running. I had even the most powerful demons do my bidding (usually just bringing me an array of food and comforts). Best of all, I didn't have to torture any souls or anything like that because it was my little underlings' jobs. So all this power with no guilt? Finally, something didn't have a catch!
I pretended to pay for our meal (actually, I simply made the cashier think I did), and came back to the table to meet my best friend, Ellie. Through thick and thin, she'd always been there, supporting and joining me on misadventures of all kinds. Ellie herself was a sweetheart, though. We balanced each other out, I think.
I beamed at her, imagining her reaction when I showed her the plane tickets to Peru that I booked for us. She always dreamed of going there, but we never had any money to even think about such a lavish thing. 'I may as well make her a demon, too,' I thought. She'd be thrilled to have powers, and I wouldn't have to hide such an awesome secret.
Just as I sat down, she blurted, "I have to tell you something." It was uncharacteristic of her to be so forward. Whatever she had to say wouldn't be as important as what I had to say anyway, so I nodded, encouraging her to go first. She silently bit her lip instead.
"Carry on," I told her between mouthfuls of fries.
She took a deep breath. "Something crazy happened to me." She mumbled, looking at me as if she were asking for something. I was about to say that I knew the feeling, but she kept on. "I need you to believe me. I'm not crazy, and I can prove it. Just hear me out, a-and don't say anything until I finish! This is a lot for anyone to-"
"Oh, get on with it!" I grumbled, anxious to say my piece. I swear, if this was to do with her trash ex Randy...
"God spoke to me," she whispered. It took me several moments to let that sink in. Shit. Was she messing around? No way real God did, right? Is she having a mental break? Fuck, could my powers fix that? She let me stew for a moment, but must have taken my silence as utter disbelief. "Watch." She pointed at a ceiling fan, and I watched, equally horrified and baffled, as it inconspiciously started rotating the wrong way. After a few seconds of this, it went back to normal.
Holy fuck. "What..." I swallowed, my mouth going dry. "What did... ah... God say?"
She looked solemnly at me. "Bring Esther to me."
Esther, my name, sounded so foreign on her lips all of a sudden. "I don't know why, but it can't be bad or anything, right? I mean, it's God. I know we were atheists, but I swear..." She went on, but the beating in my ears was drowning out her voice.
There's no way I would go with her. I'd be smited or worse. I gripped the tickets in my hoodie pocket as I recalled the last words the previous Satan said to me before dying.
*"Be careful. God plays dirty."*
---
I haven't written in ages. Very rusty haha | The living room felt cold. I have such fond memories here, with her, as she sits across from me I remember the warmth of the hearth on Christmas eve, our first Christmas living together. The times we both laughed and cried over silly board games, the time she held me all night after my mother died. A lot has happened here, and now, my wife, my love sits across from me. Her eyes are closed and she hasn't said anything for the past hour, and I just can't manage to speak.
"Hon, I..."
"Cyrus... I have something to tell you, and I... you might think I'm crazy"
I sat there, looking at her. How am I supposed to tell her I'm the devil? I can't even look her in the eyes anymore. Glad that she had broken the silence, I waited for what she had to say.
"God has spoken to me, he said that I have to go now. I have to go somewhere very far away, so I can do really important things. I won't be able to see you anymore, I won't be able to speak to you anymore either." She was crying. "I know it's stupid and crazy and you probably think I'm awful, I'm so sorr...."
"Hon, it's okay. I understand." Her eyes cleared as she lifted her face to mine.
"What do you mean? You can't possibly believe me, god you must think I'm...."
I waved my hands over my forehead, revealing the horns I had been hiding.
The room was cold again. The silence was unbearable.
I put my hand on top of my wife's. "Darling, promise me. Once every hundred years, we will meet here in this room."
My time was coming, long tendrils of smoke and shadow started swirling beneath my feet, I was falling slowly towards hell. My wife slowly ascending upward into visceral blinding light.
Our hands were still tight. "I love you, hon."
"you too, darling."
The room felt warm again.
_____________________
You've been at the job for a few years now. Your phone rings on your desk, "Hello, Satan? Yeah your appointment with Yves Guillemot is coming up soon, he's scheduled for a 5 o' clock flaying!." I sighed, set the phone down, I couldn't help but stare into the picture of god, her eyes were so sweet and so warm. I couldn't help but think, is it bad for satan to be wearing a cross?
| 2018-02-05T10:58:36 | 2018-02-05T09:59:11 | 148 | 36 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear friend,
Oh dear friend. If only I could just step back for just one day and talk to you about all that has occurred since we last saw each other. I’m so thankful that we were able to spend the time in life together that we did.
I miss that little sigh of excitement that would rise up from my chest and escape my mouth every time you’d call or anytime I’d see you walking toward me with that little mischievous grin on your face. You were the best part of my days and for that I am forever grateful to you. I want you to know that. I’m so grateful.
The hours we spent on the phone talking about everything and anything and nothing at all. Sometimes talking about nothing at all can mean the world to someone and make all the difference. I just want you to know it made all the difference to me.
I want you to know that you taught me to love in a time that I felt nothing was worth loving.
I want you to know that you taught me my worth in a time of my life that I felt like I had no value and like my life wasn’t worth living. You made breathing exciting. You made laughing and crying together something to live for. I want you to know I’m so thankful for that.
If ever a miracle brings you to this letter, I just want you to know you are forever imprinted on my heart and every once in awhile I feel your mischievous grin creep across my face.
Stay golden | I don't think I've ever seen your hair put up in a bun//
After knowing you for all these years I thought I saw every side to you//
But then I realised there were more sides I've never seen done//
And now I wish that I truly got to know you// | 2017-11-05T23:44:56 | 2017-11-05T22:33:24 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] Being a tavern wench is good, honest work. You wear long sleeves, not to hide scars but swirling tattoos. You’ve always had them. Today, an adventuring party come in. The shirtless ones have the same tattoos, and theirs not only swirl … they glow. | All sort of people stop by this tavern. It was a prime locale. Right at the edge of the city, so civilization was close, and right at the precipice of a hilly crossroads, so weary travellers could always find food and shelter and a place to rest.
Whoever built this tavern was clever int hat regard. Sure, the poor lads who had to push their cart of produce and provisions we ordered up the hill had it difficult, but they were paid more handsomely here than anywhere else.
That was why we had the best food as well. Our produce was fresh. We got the top pick.
And besides the food and perfect location, we also had beautiful, exotic, ladies and gentlemen of the night. We were more or less courtesans in these parts.
A diverse myriad of species were at your disposal, should you need that kind of service. And there was also me. Some days I wore the more revealing outfits as I sauntered around the inn, showing off the beautiful swirling tattoos that line my arms. I would make jests and be amiable, joining groups at their tables and listening to their tales.
But other days, especially when the crowd tended to be from the city's many clergies, I hid my arms under thick sleeves, opting to sweep and clean. Making myself small and scarce, talking only when spoken to. Because these men from the city seemed to know something about what the tattoos meant, and were offended by them.
And to offend the clergy was not something of my status could afford to do.
But today there were no men from the city. Just an odd group of adventurers coming in, seeking warmth from the growing cold outside. Winter was approaching.
I eyed them as they took out their layers of leather and hung them in the coat racks, wondering where they were from. Wondering who would seek company for the night, and if they could be taken advantage of.
But as they removed their coats I saw it. Not just on one of them, but two. No, three. The same swirling pattern etched in their arms, except theirs were glowing, moving, shifting colours as they danced around their arms like serpents entwined, struggling to break free of one another.
I had been wearing my own drab long sleeved overshirt, and contemplated removing it.
No, not yet.
I had to see who they were. What they were doing. And what the tattoo meant.
I adjusted my hair and wiped any grime off of my face as I went to their table, setting mugs down.
"Never seen your faces around before. Where ya from and what would you like?" I asked cheerfully.
"None of your business to the first question. And we'd like a warm round of ale for all of us." One of them said sternly, not really looking at me. They had already taken out a map of sorts and laid it on the table.
"Alright, then." I said, my cheerful disposition faltering a little at the dismissal. I went back to the bar, grabbed a large jug of warm ale and brought it back.
There were more maps out now, and heated discussion. I poured their drinks into the mugs as slowly as I dared as I tried to listen in.
"We'll need someone well-versed in magic if we are going to teleport that far north. And that kind of service doesn't come cheap." One of them was saying.
"Our best bet is in the city." Another grumbled.
"How much gold do you think we have lying around? Teleportation is out of the question." One of the woman with the glowing tattoos replied.
"So what? We go by foot? The cold months are already upon us. We'll freeze ling before we make any sort of progress. If we plan to make it there by winter. We need to a way to get there instantaneously. I'm sorry, are you done pouring our drinks?" One of the men, the very same who was rude to her when she asked where they were from, asked me.
They all looked at me now, their conversation paused as they stared at me as I poured into the last cup.
"Apologies, I got a curious head on me. Like to see what my patrons are doing and hop in on the conversation. Force of habit. You fellas seem busy. I'll be out of your hair." I said sheepishly.
"Ignore him. He doesn't know how to talk to women." One of them smiled at me. He had the glowing tattoo.
"I'm sorry but I'm really curious. I've never seen a glowing tattoo before. What's that about?" I asked, finding opportunity in this friendlier member of the group.
"Ah, that. That I have no business explainkng and you have no business in knowing." At my inquiry, the man folded his arms, his eyes hardening a little as he continued smiling.
I had to do it. I had to show it to them.
"Because I recognize that tattoo anywhere. I've had it for as long as I remember." I said, putting the jug down at an empty spot in the table not covered by maps so I could roll up my sleeves and show them the tattoos.
The effect was instantaneous. I heard gasps as some of them immediately stood up. The rude man hurriedly gathered the maps and hid them from view.
"Who are you?" The woman with the glowing tattoos hissed.
"Why is yours glowing?" I asked.
"We need to get out of here. There's probably more out there." The rude man said urgently, packing his things.
"More what?" I asked.
"Shut up. Drop the act, darkened one."
"What?" I balked.
"Hold on, Bis." The woman squinted at me.
"She isn't darkened. I don't think she was heightened in the first place." She said.
At that remark they all stared at me with the same curiosity I felt when I first saw them.
"I'm sorry what does that mean? Darkened? Heightened?" I asked.
"I think you need to sit down first. To hear all this." Bis grumbled, taking out the maps again. | Maternara - At the crossroads.
Some secrets are best left hidden.
Life at the Crossroads Inn had treated Maternara well. The work was backbreaking and hard, but she thrived in it. The regulars loved her, she was the goddess that brought them drink, good cheer and a hearty smile. The transients were endless sources of intrigue, entertainment and occasionally, for the lucky ones, the odd sexual encounter.
It was a life she could have happily stuck to for all time. Yet one misty Tuesday evening was set to awaken her repressed curiosity. Three male travellers had taken up temporary residence at the corner table. They wore loose-fitting exotic blue robes, tied at the waist, without any cloth covering their shoulders. Swirling tattoos spanned the entire length of their arms, glowing a light blue, pulsing light. With their arms exposed like that this was certainly a group that wouldn’t lose each other in the dark.
It was those markings that gnawed at her. The pattern looked identical to the dull markings that she often stared at on her own form. Today her markings were entirely covered, she had opted for a rather dull, burlap cover-all this evening. She had spent the past three nights in a different stranger's bed and was determined that today she would do her best to not to even have a chance at a fling.
Of course she had tact, she knew she couldn’t just come up and ask outright about the markings, so she bided her time, bringing the group drinks and food, adding some chit chat here and there to build up a rapport. She tried to monopolise the group, often ignoring calls for attention along the way to that distant corner table.
She had often wondered if her markings were what had left her barren. While other barmaids who spent life as she did left to care for bastard children, she, thus far, had escaped such an interruption. Maternara loved that she could keep living and enjoying this life on her own, however deep down she had suspected it was a result of some kind of grim childhood mutilation. However here it was, the same markings, glowing like some kind of beacon, a signal not of pain but of power.
She soon learned that their leader was a man called Raphar, he had a charismatic energy about him, and the other two hung on his every word, drinking of his wisdom. He didn’t look particularly old, no older than thirty, Maternara thought, yet his words carried weight.The evening dragged on and at the end of her shift, Maternara offered her name and asked if she could sit with them for a while. Raphar looked amused at the request, yet nonetheless he drew out a chair for her, gesturing for her to sit.
“You’re smart people, I can see that. I think you’ll realise I’ve been giving this table more than a little bit of priority tonight, does that earn me a free, prying question or two?” Maternara asked, smirking at Raphar.
“If I were being mean, I could say yes, but say that was your solitary question, but you do intrigue me, ask away, Maternara.
”Finally having permission unleashed all the pent up curiosity that had been building in Maternara over the past few hours. Tact was gone, the questions splurged out: “I’m sure you get asked about it all the time, but what’s with the Tattoos? Where are you from? What are you?”
Raphar and his companions chuckled loudly at the barrage. “Not wanting to keep anything a mystery are you?” He remarked. “These are Anima Runes, they’re a conduit. They allow those of us who are properly trained to channel a form of magic that most have long forgotten. Life comes from the air, the ground, sprouting up, enriching the world around us and while that life does need to consume to keep going it doesn’t entirely dissipate upon death. It can be held in through force of will, it can be re-directed elsewhere, it can be manipulated into motion and magic.
“Are you saying you’re some kind of Necromancer?” Raphar frowned. “No. Why would you even leap to that conclusion? It’s not as if this region is famed for such acts.
”Maternara offered a sympathetic smile, and cupped Raphar’s hand. “I’m sorry honey, one of the regulars is a Friar with the church. I suppose his endless prattling about our doom stuck with me more than I thought it did. Can I still ask from where do you hail?”
Raphar stroked Maternara’s hand, peering down at it. Looking briefly troubled. “Where we’re from isn’t important, that place was lost long ago. It’s what we are that is important, and that is what I would like to show you.”
((Continued below. )) | 2021-06-15T09:15:27 | 2021-06-15T08:38:46 | 26 | 17 |
[WP] When you wish upon a shooting star, it's actually a satellite, and your wish has been recorded and cataloged. An agent has been assigned to your case. | I slammed the door so hard that the *crack* echoed down the hall. Tom, who had been slumped over on top of his desk, jolted upright instantly, shook his head, and blinked rapidly. “I’m up,” he said groggily. There were little lines pressed into his cheek in the exact pattern of the desk’s wood grain.
“Sure, Tom.” I placed a cup of coffee on his desk and headed over to my own. “What’s the point of even coming in early if you’re just going to fall asleep at your desk? Why not just stay in bed and come in at a normal hour?”
He shrugged and cradled the cup of coffee like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life. “You know… gotta try to work on that backlog. Boss’s orders.”
We both looked over at the far wall of the office, where a big portrait of God hung directly under the words “Department of Prayers and Wishes.” He’d given us a *direct order* to work on our case backlog, but with just the two of us in the office, there really wasn’t a lot we could do. Things had been manageable when it was just the two humans down on Earth in that Garden, but it had since spiraled a bit out of control. No amount of overtime was going to allow us to respond to *every* human request with 7 *billion* of them scurrying around down there. But God, being omnipotent and all, had a bit of a hard time understanding the idea that we just *can’t* do it. So we just soldiered on as best we could.
Just as I picked up the first folder of the day, Marie came trundling in with a cart just *full* of more folders. “Where should I put these, Hon?” she asked. The cart wheel squeaked as she brought it to the center of the room. There had to have been hundreds of thousands of new wishes in this load. *Ugh*.
I sighed. My inbox was so full that the looming tower of folders was only able to stay in place because the top was firmly squished against the ceiling. “Ummmm….” I looked around the room and managed to find some more space in the far corner. “Here, I guess.” I wouldn’t be able to get to them for quite a while anyway, so it didn’t really matter. “Is that everything from yesterday?” I asked Marie as she began to pile them on the floor.
She laughed. “This is just from *midnight to 2 AM* yesterday,” she said over the armload of folders. I just groaned in response. *That* was from the satellite shift? For some reason, God had thought it was a good idea to collect wishes and prayers even when everyone in Heaven was asleep. As if we weren’t overworked enough. And that was generally not a very busy time of day; I shuddered to think how many more we'd have by noon. “And,” Marie continued, “I’ve got about 12 more of these carts for you.”
“Fine,” I rolled my eyes. We’d have to annex another overflow room from the Department of Smiting and Wrath. Ever since God’s son went down to mingle with the humans, he’d gotten a big soft spot for them and was no longer doling out the punishments that they all deserved. And yet they still have thirty or so angels on staff. But who am I to question how the big guy runs the place, huh?
Marie headed back out into the hall, and I looked back down at my first case of the day.
> NAME OF SUPPLICANT: Domin-Ur
> LOCATION: Ur, Mesopotamia
> DATE: 1200 years after Creation
> PRAYER/WISH: Region is experiencing drought, and crops are failing. SUPPLICANT asks for water for his farm so that he might better feed his family.
I sighed. A pretty common one. But as God commanded, I had to be thorough. So I went through the information database and confirmed everything, then began filling in the blanks in my response template:
> Dear **Mr. Domin-Ur**,
> We have received your request for **additional water for your farm**. We apologize very much for the **drought in your region** and regret any inconvenience that may have caused you. I hope it will please you to know that I have **sent a rainstorm to that location. Your lands should be well-watered within five to seven business days.**
> Additionally, I understand that you have now been dead for **7,221 years** due to **famine**. As a result, this action will not be subject to any additional follow-up prayers. I do hope you are enjoying the afterlife here with us.
> Sincerely,
> Department of Prayers and Wishes.
I held up the letter and read it over once more. Not bad. I stamped it with our official seal and moved it over to my outbox with a satisfied grin. Being able to help people was probably the main reason that I’d chosen to work *here* of all places in Heaven. It just made the work so much more satisfying.
*1 down, 1,996,655,125,163,879,653,235,901 to go*, I told myself. As Marie came in with another towering stack, I grabbed one more folder out of my inbox and started on my second request of the day.
----
I hope you enjoyed this story! If so, you should also subscribe to /r/Luna_Lovewell for tons of others!
| Agent Eight sat quietly at his desk and looked at the single sheet of paper laying there against the dark wood grain.
He had received hundreds of thousands of wishes before, though in recent years the department had been suffering. People had just...well they'd lost wonder.
Wonder. Eight leaned back at thought about the days when people could be amazed by the beauty of simplicity. Or the elegance of complexity. A sky lit up with a sunset could captivate entire cities, fresh snowfall could stop a war for a night.
To be fair, he thought, they were still captivated. It was just different. These days it was pictures on their phones that filled them with a subdued sense of wonder. The flood was numbing them to a degree.
Not everyone had forgotten, that's why the department still ran.
Wish Fulfillment. Used to be an entire building devoted to it, agents bustling about and desperately trying to do what they could.
Now there were only nineteen agents left, along with support staff.
Eight leaned on his elbows and stared down at the single sheet of paper with the wish printed in clear red ink. He read the words again and again.
Red was imminent denial, the system had determined it could not be fulfilled. There were countless folders packed with red lettering. There was nothing he could do for a red wish.
Orange, orange could be fudged. There were lots of orange wishes.
"I wish my dog was back." Well, death is permanent but Eight could always send a stray wandering around the house.
Green was easy, not a lot of greens came around. People don't wish for the easy.
This one was red. Eight had pulled up the surveillance on the person who'd submitted the wish.
He sat in a dark room, holding a hand in his and softly singing. He'd been at it for hours. Eight couldn't bring himself to stop the feed.
It was red though. Red was impossible.
The room was lit by an eerie green and blue glow from the monitors that hummed and beeped, connected to heart rates and pulses and blood pressures and all the things that people need to live.
He couldn't make the wish happen. But maybe...
*****
Greg held his daughters hand and watched her sleep. That alone was a miracle, the doctors said the pain would be unbearable even with medications.
Aggressive, they had said. Unlikely recovery. They didn't want to say the word.
No one did. Not his parents that brought cards and flowers and looked after him but couldn't look him in the eyes anymore. Not his wife that had left so long ago. Not his son that couldn't even visit. Not the nurses that had loved the little girl that now lay nearly motionless with cords and cables sprouting all over her body.
The little girl that had grown older and yet more sick with each passing year.
No one wanted to say it.
Fatal.
He'd give anything for her to open her eyes and get better.
It just wasn't going to happen.
Light began filtering through the window and Greg glanced at his watch. It was too early for that, it wasn't even three in the morning. Still it happened.
"Daddy?"
Her voice was faint and weak but it was her voice. He held her close and sobbed into the hospital gown. He called out for a nurse but no one answered, no one came.
"Look at that!"
He followed her gaze to the window to the most spectacular sunrise he'd ever seen. It was a perfect day outside with a bright sun and green grass and he could see a man and little girl playing in the park.
He remembered that day. It was only a few weeks before she'd collapsed at school. Years ago now. They'd had so much fun that day.
She held his hand and they both watched the scene. Both of them smiled.
Then her hand went limp.
The light was gone in an instant. There was darkness outside and Greg was back among all the machines. There was silence. No beeping. The cords and cables were all out of her body.
She looked like she might just be asleep. Peaceful.
She was gone.
*****
Eight wiped a tear from his cheek and turned off the feed. He looked at the sheet of red ink and marked off the box for "Alternate Wish Fulfillment" before filing it away.
He read the words one more time.
He couldn't have done that. He couldn't have granted it. That was against the rules.
But. Just maybe he could give them something else.
And she would take it from there.
"I wish my daughter would let go." | 2017-01-03T09:12:33 | 2017-01-03T09:11:48 | 1,772 | 555 |
[WP] People don't seem to realise that figures of mythos evolve too. The Grim Reaper, for example, no longer wields his scythe, opting to harvest souls with a combine harvester. Cupid traded his bow for a sniper rifle decades ago. You're the dealer that supplies the mythical world with technology. | My job didn't just involve upgrading gods with better equipment. I was saving them from irrelevance, and therefore from dying. Not many saw it that way, though. Most just got defensive and refused to adapt, thinking that I was trying to change them.
Athena stared at the screen with a stoic expression. "And people use this... to war with each other?"
I nodded. "In a way, yes, but the brutality and bloodlust is channeled into virtual avatars."
"Interesting."
I couldn't sound too pushy. Ares cleaved in half the computer when I showed it to him. He was disgusted by the thought of someone engaging in combat from the safety of their home. Athena, on the other hand, was worshiped for her wisdom, not just her martial prowess. If anyone could appreciate this, it would be her.
I wasn't just selling her on videogames. What really mattered was the people who used them. These could become her new followers. She needed to understand their wants and needs. More importantly, why she was perfect for them.
"And why would they care?" asked Athena. "If they aren't fighting for land, or resources, they don't have much incentive to be wise, right?"
I squinted. "What do you mean?"
"Strategies emerge from necessity. Otherwise, people would just run into each other like idiots until the other side dies."
"Well, that *does* happen, but you're overlooking a very key factor."
"Which is?"
"People love being clever. Part of the fun is outsmarting your enemy. Seriously, a lot of the time, they get themselves killed just to do something cool. They call it an... 'e-sports moment'."
Athena nodded. "I see..."
"So... are you trying it out?"
Athena raised a hand. "Not yet. I'm not fully convinced these people want my guidance. Some of them play competitively, sure, but the vast majority seem content playing by themselves. I don't see why they would need strategy if there aren't any stakes. Can't they just brute force it by trying again?"
"Yes, technically, but it doesn't work out that way. Oftentimes, if a game is challenging enough, people will sort of declare war on it, playing it obsessively until they beat it. This could take days or months. And that's where the beauty emerges. People gather on websites to share ideas, never giving up until their play is optimized. This process, however, never ends. Some even play the same thing for decades, coming up with the most contrived and creative ways to tackle the problems."
"How so?"
"Well, there's this one called Pokémon. People have been playing it since they were children, for nearly thirty years, and they're *still* discovering new strategies to this day."
Athena seemed intrigued by that. "So they're very devoted?"
"Incredibly devoted. The perfect worshippers. These people have a concept called a 'waifu', and you would totally fit the bill for that. I'm not exaggerating when I say that they would murder for you. They'll even make art and songs in your honor."
"Just like before, huh?"
"*Exactly.*" I paused. "Well, umm, they're probably gonna draw you with cat ears, but that's a small price to pay, right?"
Athena took a long moment to think. Gods rarely liked the concept of change. They were supposed to embody universal values which, by definition, were immutable. The transition into modernity threw a wrench into that, though. Things changed so fast that many things were unrecognizable, if they hadn't died out.
"Look," I said, "if you don't want to change along with the times, that's fine. I just really think you can offer something great here. These gamers don't really believe in anything. A lot of them run to these games because they have nothing else. If you can instill a sense of purpose in them, through wise strategies and fair play, you might grow bigger than your previous peak, and save them from themselves."
Athena sighed. "You're right. I just have one more question."
"Shoot."
"Would I look cute with cat ears?"
"Totally."
And that's how Athena became the goddess of gamers.
----------
>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | # Soulmage
**"There's no need to keep using an eyepatch,"** I told Odin. "It's primitive technology. I mean, a flap of cloth?"
Odin grunted, gesturing at the surrounding forest. It wasn't real, of course—the meeting was, as traditional, taking place in a dream—but it was real enough for our purposes. "It does what I need it to. I am hardly prone to infection; I wear an eyepatch because I can tell most people find it... unsettling... to look at the remains of a gouged-out eye."
"Well, allow me to introduce you to the wonderful world of *prosthetics*." I concentrated, shaping the dream, and a floating eyeball materialized above my hand. "The finest modern enchanted glass I can offer. It doesn't *quite* provide real-time vision, but there's only a tiny amount of lag, and I'm sure the next model will fix that."
"I don't need a new eye," Odin responded. "It's a vanity project, and nothing else."
"True," I acknowledged. "But what can I say? I've gotten used to city living. You're allowed to spend on yourself every now and the—"
"I need weapons," Odin snapped, narrowing the one remaining eye, and I was abruptly reminded that the last time we'd met, Odin had *two*. "Cienne, I *know* you're capable of creating them. Your history speaks for itself."
"Oh, you want to go there?" I glared at Odin. "I'm done with war, Odin. No more grand storms. No more miracles. I've moved on from weapons. I'm sorry."
"You have no idea what horrors the Silent Peaks have unleashed," Odin growled. "You think that eldritch abominations are bad? The one you saw was a *juvenile*. If you want to stay out of war? Flee this continent. I won't hold it against you. But I won't be able to stand against what's coming for much longer, either."
I pressed my lips together, regarding the furious... wounded... terrified god. I knew that the conflict was bad, but... I did *not* want to become an arms dealer in a supernatural war.
As if reading my mind, Odin said, "You supply me with arms today, or you take them up yourself in a year. There is no in-between."
I closed my eyes. "I'm sorry, Odin," I said, "but I can't help you."
Odin's disappointment was palpable, and I could sense that they were turning to leave. But before they could, I held up a hand.
"[But I think I know who can.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/w1zeha/pi_the_finest_blacksmith_the_kingdom_has_ever/)"
A.N.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. To catch up on the serial, check out [the table of contents](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), and for more stories by me, take a look at r/bubblewriters. | 2022-07-19T09:19:00 | 2022-07-19T08:27:16 | 1,407 | 122 |
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